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“John, may I ask you a question?”

I picked my head up from my desk to see the always welcome vision of Candace Bosch standing in my office doorway. Candace was an assistant buyer for women’s dresses in the department store, undoubtedly the hottest of the hotties who worked in the main office. I was the distribution manager whose primary responsibility was to assure the many shipments coming in from all over the globe were received, processed, marked, and shipped to the individual store locations as quickly as possible.

It was a high-pressure, fast-paced responsibility that I enjoyed for many reasons, not the least of which was that it put me in a position where many beautiful young women, whose quotas and bonuses were based on their merchandise sales volumes, relied on my ability to get their products on the shelves in the most expedient manner.

While I strived to be professional at all times, I confess that over the five years or so that I have held this position that I had occasionally succumbed to a discreet, um, personal favor, to alter my judgment regarding which buyer’s delivery might receive some priority treatment.

I’m not proud of that revelation necessarily, and so for the last few years, I had been loyal to my girlfriend, Sherry, herself an assistant buyer in women’s shoes. Sherry was a knockout, tall, lean and buxom, a splendid combination, but the lack of variety and innovation in our recent sexual escapades had made me contemplate straying.

Candace would be high on my list of potential possibilities were I ever to regress from self-imposed monogamy, and for that reason, I almost went out of my way to keep the relationship between Candace and myself strictly professional. Indeed, I had almost been aloof to Candace, which went against my normal gregarious nature. Apparently, she had noticed, unaccustomed to a man not fawning over her at every opportunity. Hence, today’s inquiry.

As beautiful as Candace was, and her beauty could certainly not be questioned, she bore a resemblance to Molly Sims when Molly decided to dye her hair platinum blonde, she wasn’t exactly the sharpest blade in the tool shed. I was used to at least daily visits by Candace as she struggled to organize her spreadsheets that each assistant buyer utilized to track their individual department’s shipments.

Most of the young assistants were recent college grads who were ambitious and aggressive piranhas on the fast-track to high-fashion buying careers. Candace was now in her tenth year as an assistant, virtually unheard of by someone still employed.

The unsubstantiated yet widely believed rumor implied she was still retained as an employee solely because she moonlighted as an unofficial ‘ambassador’ at the chairman’s many social events, the proverbial eye-candy. Oh, yes, and the rumor went on to imply that she was fucking the chairman’s son, Bill Hearn, the senior VP of Operations, my direct boss. So, the risk-reward aspect of any dalliances with Candace held many potential consequences.

I nodded pleasantly at Candace and smiled, trying hard as usual not to let my gaze lower noticeably to her delectable body, today’s attire being a simple but tasteful sleeveless pink blouse and a pair of conservative white capri pants that held Candace’s incredible ass, which I already looked forward to observing when she did leave the office. It was a daily highlight of my day.

Little did I know that my anticipation of Candace’s seemingly innocent question on this particular day would open the door to unforeseen opportunities. She glanced quickly over her shoulder to assure that no one else was approaching the office.

“Why don’t you ever hit on me?”

This unexpected inquiry certainly got my undivided attention. Before I could gather beşiktaş escort my wits, Candace followed up with, “Have you ever thought about fucking me, John?”

“Only about a thousand times,” I thought. What I said, though, trying to be cute, was, “That’s two questions, Candace.”

Candace remained still, unabashed, her lips pursed slightly, staring at me intently. “Well then, answer them, please.”

I swiveled away from my keyboard and let out a mighty sigh, which was really designed to buy a few extra seconds time before replying, as I was acutely aware of the gravity of my responses. I decided to try a diversion disguised as candor.

“Candace, you’re gorgeous, sensational, every guy wants you, you know that.” She did not smile, instead she looked a bit confused, her lightly freckled button nose wrinkling slightly. “Well, then, why not you?”

I squirmed in my seat, my brain sending messages to my tongue that my cock was intercepting as sheer bullshit.

“Well, for one thing we work together.”

She folded her arms across her firm chest, my eyes riveted to that very location.

“So do you and Sherry.” I nodded meekly in consent. True enough.

“And so did you and Donna Fishnets when you slept with her.”

I blushed, genuinely surprised that Candace knew about my brief liaisons with the coats’ buyer named Donna Yocum, who garnered her nickname because of her almost daily affinity for wearing fishnet stockings.

“Yeah, well, that was two years ago,” I stammered, losing this cross-examination.

Candace smiled at me in the same manner as a leering defense attorney breaking down a shabby alibi. “Fishnets said you were really fun in bed. Do you also want to know what Jamie Bobman said after you fucked her in the fire stairwell at that year’s Christmas party?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely, I do,” I thought.

“Not especially,” I said softly.

“She said you were a hot fuck.”

Realizing I was crumbling under the facts, I tried to switch gears. “Well, you and Bill are supposedly an item yourselves.”

“Not anymore. I gave my two weeks’ notice yesterday. I’m going into a private enterprise venture that I anticipate will be very lucrative. It’s called ‘professional escorting’. Think I have the talent for such a career move?” She turned slowly on her heels so that I could absorb her wonderful body.

My mind was reeling now. If this conversation were to be adjudicated by a boxing referee, I would be approaching a standing eight-count. For whatever reason, stupid, stubborn pride prohibited me from throwing in the towel, so I tried one last desperate jab.

“Well, I go out with Sherry.” I was weaving and bobbing now, reaching for the ropes.

“That doesn’t stop you from getting those weekly blow jobs from Terri Nottle in Human Resources. You wanna know what she says about you?” She didn’t wait for my answer, sensing the fight would soon be mercifully stopped. It was true that cute, sweet little Terri in HR performed some oral hijinks on me occasionally when I had to bring my weekly payroll sheets up to her for review and confirmation.

“Yep, Terri and I share a lot of info, which helped me negotiate a nice severance package in return for a confidentiality agreement when I told her the sordid details about Bill and myself. Anyway, she told me that you have a great cock, and that since Terri was married and I was now leaving the company, she suggested that maybe you and I share some mutual entertainment. So, you see, John, I’ve done my homework, you come with three solid references. Fun, a hot fuck, and a great cock. And now soon to be an ex-fellow employee.”

I sat there dumbfounded. “You’re not as dumb as everyone seems to think, Candace,” şişli escort I thought to myself.

“You’re pretty damn smart, Candace,” I said out loud. “And perhaps convincing, too.” I was coming around to her way of thinking, but there was one last speedbump.

“But, what about Sherry?” I was hoping Candace would have a plausible rebuttal for my weak argument. She did. Candace’s pretty face contorted in disgust at Sherry’s name.

“I overheard that snooty bitch in the cafeteria this morning saying she was going to visit her sister in Avalon this weekend, starting tonight. Correct?”

I again nodded in confirmation. I was looking forward to a rare free weekend, but Candace’s next invitation instantly sealed my whereabouts for the next forty-eight hours. It was the carnal equivalent of surprise last-minute tickets to the Super Bowl.

“I need a date to a swingers’ party in Atlantic City tomorrow night.” I’m not sure which rose higher in reaction to this sentence, my cock or my eyebrows. (Upon further review, it was my cock.)

“And, I want to warm up tonight. My house, eight o’clock, six-fourteen Spruce Street. Laurie Timmons will be there with her boyfriend. She applauded my choice of partners, and she looks forward to playing in our foursome.” My valiant attempt to remain nonplussed was betrayed by my gaping jaw. Laurie Timmons was a pretty, preppy brunette who would have looked right in place on the set of ‘Little House on the Prairie’, such was her conservative manner and attire. Who knew, who would have guessed? Laurie Timmons, a swinger?

Candace continued, moving toward me slowly, licking her lips. “You’re a golfer, right, John? Consider this hitting a bucket of balls tonight, yours. Then, we’ll find all the many, many holes tomorrow. I’ve already booked the room at Caesars.” She opened her mouth and gave me a slow, wet, warm, lingering kiss. My tongue met hers in response, and our bodies wedged together as I felt the heat in her loins as she rubbed against me and inhaled her flowery perfume.

I stood on Candace’s doorstep at precisely eight-oh-one that night and hesitated as I glanced down at my faded jeans and gray sports jacket before ringing the doorbell. Was this the proper attire for a swingers’ party, I wondered. I mean, it’s not like there’s a manual for this type of thing on the Internet. (Yes, I checked.)

Turns out it didn’t matter if I wore a toga. Seconds after ringing the doorbell, Laurie Timmons greeted me and led me by the hand to Candace’s small living room, where Candace was down on her knees, her miniskirt bunched up around her waist, sucking a tall man’s cock. “Hi, I’m Kevin, Laurie’s boyfriend,” said the well endowed recipient of Candace’s oral administrations, extending his hand. “I’m guessing that you’re John?”

A brief scan of my internal memory inventory confirmed that I had never shaken hands with a man who was having his cock sucked before. In five seconds, I was able to extend that to never before having shaken hands while having my own cock sucked, because in a flash, Laurie knelt next to Candace and began to extract my cock from its jeans-ensconced hiding place, and eagerly began bobbing her pony-tailed head as my cock quickly grew and just as quickly disappeared into the preppy woman’s mouth.

Candace brought her mouth away from Kevin’s dick and acknowledged me for the first time, gazing at my cock entering and exiting Laurie’s lips. “Mmmmm, you come as advertised, John, very nice dick. Jackpot. Isn’t that nice, Laurie? Almost as thick as Kevin’s but maybe even a bit longer, wow.”

Laurie gurgled her assent, never relinquishing hold nor pace, as Candace continued. “I call this fluffing, John. No sense in wasted foreplay, is there?” bahçeşehir escort bayan

Candace continued to manually stroke Kevin, who watched his cute girlfriends’ oral attack on my cock, and strangely, Kevin felt it was an appropriate time for small talk. “So, I understand you’re the shipping guy, huh, John?”

The surreal atmosphere hit me then like the proverbial truck. Did he really expect me to say, “Spot on, Kevin, and you’re in real estate?” Instead, I did the only socially acceptable thing I could think of, given the circumstances, I kicked my jeans off of my ankles and grabbed the back of Laurie’s head tightly.

Candace went about her business as the gracious hostess, accelerating her stroking of Kevin’s impressive rod, while encouraging Laurie’s expertise by exclaiming, “Isn’t that beautiful cock just wasted on that Sherry bitch, Laurie?” I could feel Laurie’s mouth curling in a grin around my shaft, but if anything, she sucked even harder.

Candace looked up at me before resuming to blow Kevin. “Nobody likes that cunt, John. Trust me, this will be the weekend where you will officially declare emancipation from Sherry once and for all.”

On cue, Laurie pushed me down on the couch, raised the hem on her own cocktail dress, exposing her panty-less buns, and grabbed my cock and lowered herself onto it in one motion, reverse cowgirl style. Kevin reached over to pull the buttons from her blouse and sucked on her pert, firm tits, while Candace crawled a few feet to her right, still grasping Kevin’s twitching manhood, and lowered her face and began to alternate licking Laurie’s bare twat and my shaved testicles.

Kevin soon walked behind Candace and mounted her doggy-style, and I absorbed the incredibly erotic view of Laurie’s ass bouncing up and down frantically on my cock while her cunt was licked by Candace, who sucked my swollen balls at the same time, when she wasn’t screaming in delight from Kevin’s big, thick dick assaulting her pussy.

The combination of tactile sensors caused me to shoot the first two bursts of my seed deep into Laurie’s warm cunt, who was spasming in orgasm herself, while the remainder splashed onto Candace’s face, as she herself came after Kevin deposited his sticky semen into Candace’s sopping love tunnel.

My waking thought the next morning was trying to count the many times my now red, sore, and chafed cock had ejaculated into the two women’s various orifices the previous night. My attention was diverted as Candace’s tiny hands rubbed the warm oil over my flaccid cock, while sensitively and gently running her soft lips along my balls and the tender spot between my scrotum and my anus.

“You’ll be ready for tonight, John,” Candace cooed, while her tongue snaked teasingly around the rim of my asshole. “You’ll be surprised how I will assure to that.”

Maybe it was the fact that my anus being licked, but I couldn’t help but to be anal and take this opportunity to ask the nagging question. “By the way, Candace, just what does one wear to a swingers’ bash, anyway? Is there a preferred fashion attire?”

Candace took my stirring cock in her hand and lifted it to her gorgeous face, licking the shaft for emphasis. “Just bring this big thing locked and loaded, John, and no one will even notice if you wore a sombrero.” Sound advice, I reasoned.

I didn’t know it at the time, of course, but eighty or so miles to the east in Bill Hearn’s lavish beach house in Avalon, my so-called girlfriend Sherry and her younger sister Maureen were welcome visitors.

A weekend of their pleasant company in exchange for a nice promtion for Sherry was the way that Bill put it, as I would find out later, quid pro quo. Sherry was auditioning to replace Candace for the role of unofficial company ‘ambassador’, and Maureen was willing to assist her big sister while also introducing her to the lifestyle, since Maureen was an active member.

“You’re going to be such a big surprise hit at the party in Atlantic City tonight, my dears,” Bill told them at the breakfast table. “Such a big surprise.”

To be continued.

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