I slid into the vinyl booth, the silk of my dress catching with the friction. I winced as my bare ass skid against the cold seat. Mr. Bradford had kept my panties this morning. He'd also sent me back to my office without allowing me to cum. My clit ached as it throbbed.
I'd arrived at the office at 6:45 and he immediately called me in for my morning spanking. The past month, we had all fallen into a routine. Mr. Bradford dominated my ass each morning. Mr. Porter gently ate and fucked my pussy at lunch and I'd have Mr. Jenkins's cock for dinner. Monday through Friday this was my routine. At first, my cunt and ass had been worn out by Wednesday, but by now hump day was just the beginning and I was wet and ready after day. I'd recover on the weekends and show up ready to do my part on Monday.
But today, Mr. Jenkins had invited me to lunch with you, Mr. Carter, our largest client. Thanks to your wondering eyes and hands, your sexual harassment lawsuits kept Bradford Jenkins law firm floating in cash.
I'd taken to wearing tight dresses with easy access, they made my busy days easier. No buttons to fiddle with and no pants to slip off. All any of the partners had to do to get to my goods, was flip up a skirt and reach in. Most days I didn't bother with panties, but Mr. Bradford had demanded I wear them today. He said my mouth was ruining his ties and his wife had become suspicious.
Today's dress was a red wrap dress and the silk clung to my curves in all the right places. My black lace bra played peekabo under the deep plunging neckline. Mr. Porter had been looking forward to popping my tits out of the top and sucking them raw, or so his email had said when I'd told him I'd be busy at lunch.
When we arrived at the restaurant, your wondering eyes lived up to their reputation as you took me in. You'd insisted we wait for the round corner booth in the back of the restaurant so both you and Mr. Jenkins could sit beside me. While we waited for the table, you'd stood behind me and showed me just how adventurous your hands were. By the time we sat down, I was afraid the hostess would see the juices dripping down my thighs.
"Wine?" Mr. Jenkins asked as we sat down and winked at me. I nodded and requested red. You agreed.
Mr. Jenkins was on my right and you were on my left. Both of you had a hand on my thigh. Your hand drifted further north and I heard you gasp as you discover my naked, hairless pussy. Mr. Jenkins laughed.
"I told you you'd be pleased with her work," he said as his own hand touched my lips. Both of you took turns teasing my opening. I knew I was in for a long, enjoyable lunch.
You shoved my skirt up my thigh just as the waiter returned with the wine. A burst of cold air sent a shiver down my spine. The waiter blushed and stammered as my bare pussy flashed. Mr. Jenkins quickly pulled the skirt down enough to cover me and we ordered lunch.
I watched as you pulled the cork from the wine bottle and smiled at me. You inserted it into your mouth and licked the wine off. Then, you ducked your hand under the table again. Mr. Jenkins spread my pussy lips gently as you pressed the cork against my wet, gaping hole. I let out a low moan and you pushed it in.
"Cross your legs," you whispered. Your hand nestled into my cunt as I obliged. Mr. Bradford had taught me a thing or two about following directions. I no longer hesitated. I shifted slightly as the cork pressed into my hole. It hit just the right spot and I settled into the warmth of your hand. As it pressed into my clit, I wondered how anyone could not enjoy your touch or advances. I started to slowly rock my hips, causing your hand to rub my clit. I moaned again.
Mr. Jenkins patted my knee and said, "that's our girl."
As quickly as you'd put it there, you withdrew your hand but left the cork. Both you and Mr. Jenkins removed your hands as you slid my skirt back down.
The conversation turned to your latest lawsuit and I took notes as Mr. Jenkins referenced the women involved and the dollar amounts for the settlement options. As the conversation wore on, my pussy clinched around the cork. It tried to escape more than once, but each time I tightened my legs and worked it back in.
The waiter, still flustered by the bit of pussy he'd seen earlier, returned with our food. You and Mr. Jenkins dug in, but I just stared at my salad. I was starving, but my appetite wouldn't be satiated by a salad.