Nailed by the Office Bitch - Part Two - She Drinks my Cum.
A Christmas Office Party Adventure in Three Parts

by Bryce Denison 

Synopsis

Blackmailed by Katrina an angry and sexually frustrated accountant during
 his wife's company Christmas party, Pete is unwillingly sucked dry under
 the table while conversing with a bright young woman. A discussion that
 ends with a kinky surprise.

******

Returning from my face fuck in the company van. I hurry to the dinner
table just as we are called to take our seats. Pitt Pringle's, 
Christmas party is in an Italian restaurant entirely reserved for the 
affair. The company had pulled out all the stops for its friends and 
employees.  I head right for my wife Tisha and gallantly pull out her 
chair then take my seat beside her. Yet some other man's name is on the 
place card in front of me. 

"Hey? I am not Legge Frampton" I start to say. 

Tisha interrupts, "I know you want to be by my side sweetheart. But
tonight we are doing things differently. Katrina thought it would be 
more lively if we mixed it up a bit. We decided that spouses or 
partners would be seated apart from each other."  She smiles and blinks 
at my bewildered look then continues, "we can talk to each other any 
old time dear, go, have fun."  She squeezes my hand. 

Only moments before I had completed the most intense cunnilingus of my
life in the back of a van, prior to that the finger fuck of the century 
in the restaurant's handicap washroom.  Yet my treasured wife was not 
the beneficiary of my handiwork. It was Pitt Pringle's office manager 
cum accountant Katrina.  I had just been blackmailed by her. Kinky sex 
with a sexually frustrated nymphomaniac may not sound like such a heavy 
toll to pay. But for me it is. 

I had fallen back in love with my wife, our relationship is having a
renaissance, the dark age of my Internet philandering a thing of the 
past. At least it was until I had run into Katrina an hour and half 
ago.  At this moment all I want is to be near my wife. Yet I am led 
away from her by a hostess. Tisha waves me goodbye. Oh jeepers is all I 
can think to say. 

My seat is at a long table at the opposite end of the restaurant, on a
comfortable bench against the wall.   I am seated between two junior 
staffers. To my left Marco who looks like a harried George Michael and 
to my right, Erin, a homely young woman with doleful brown eyes. I 
introduce myself as Peter, order a cocktail and take a deep breath to 
compose myself. 

Feeling violated by Katrina (see Part One) and a bit fed up with woman
right now, my mental 'chick scan' circuits at last permanently fried, I 
turn first to Marco for some mano e mano sports talk. A bit to my 
chagrin Marco has already turned his back on me and is talking 
animatedly with a stylish young woman.  Who could blame him? Your 
choice: either talk to an anxious looking 40 year old dude; or to Pitt 
Pringle's foremost blond hottie? Tough decision. 

Ignored by my male brethren, I turn to acknowledge Erin. I soon realize
there is more to this round faced woman than meets the eye. A young 
anthropologist working as a consultant on the firm's Brazil Project, 
Erin is the perfect dinner companion to soothe my anxious mind.  We 
begin to discuss her project. She sips on her glass of wine as she 
talks. I am distracted by the large milky cocktail with an umbrella, 
straw and cherry that sits untouched by her plate setting. But soon I 
am listening intently to this softspoken, somewhat nerdy young woman 
with beautiful eyes. 

She is researching the effects of resource development on a stone age
rain forest tribe. Fascinated I decide to regale her with tales of a 
college term paper I had written twenty years ago. About an Amazonian 
tribe and the famed French anthropologist who studied them. Erin perks 
right up and tells me that he has since been debunked and outed as a 
fraud and sexual abuser of his subjects. 

Shocked and genuinely horrified that this once great anthropologist is
now reviled. I frown and look into my glass.  Lost in thought for a few 
moments, Katrina's bathroom finger fucking and my subsequent face fuck 
in the company van, at last momentarily forgotten, I wonder and sigh to 
myself - is nothing sacred anymore? 

"Is something wrong?" Erin asks. 

"It is just that in my day that anthropologist was THE pre-eminent..." I
begin to say, then stop abruptly.  Under the table I feel the familiar 
clasp of small hands above each of my knees. Katrina! I can't believe I 
forgot her her evil promise to suck me off at the dinner table.  Having 
never been in such a situation, my mind reels, I need to get a handle 
on things fast. 

Katrina's hands moved up my inner thigh. My brief sex charged Internet
encounter with her months before is now coming back to haunt me. I am 
being blackmailed by her, under threat of public humiliation during the 
upcoming Pitt Pringle Christmas slide show, to submit to her sexual 
whims. Tonight she is taking no prisoners. 

I lean forward in my seat to avoid discovery. The hands under the table
move to my pant fly and slowly, quietly un-zips it. 

Breathing in deeply, I have no choice but to resume my conversation with
Erin as if nothing is happening.  "I am positively shocked to hear 
these allegations about him."  I say referring to the Frenchman. 

"They are not allegations." She says, then stops and looks into my eyes
more intently.  I feel Katrina's cold hands massaging and pressing my 
shaft, thumbing my head, cajoling me to hardness. "Go on," I squeak and 
clear my throat. 

"It has started already?" Erin asks. She tilts her head and looks
directly into my eyes. 

"What do you mean?" I feel a moist warm tongue pressing against my
flared cock head. 

If I let on what is happening I am dead meat. I glance across the room
to where my wife sits.  She is drinking and laughing with Legge 
Frampton, oblivious to her husband's cock sucking only fifty feet away. 
I look back at Erin then feel Katrina's mouth engulf my cock. 

"What do you mean?" I ask her again. 

She looks down at her place setting then back at me with a pleading
expression, "something pretty perverted is about to happen to you...to 
both of us." 

All I can do is open my mouth and gape at her.  How is it possilbe this
calm, gentle woman, is a willing participant in Katrina's revenge 
fueled sexual assualt on me? Looking at Erin I realize that the 
pleading look I thought she has is in fact a look of fear. She looks 
genuinely scared.  

Realizing that fear is not going to help the situation, but confused
about Erin's complicity in it, I decided to fess up. "It has already 
begun. Don't feel scared, you can rest easy.  In fact it feels pretty 
amazing right now," pausing and looking downward and then back at 
her,"down there." 

Erin's expression relaxes, she leans a little closer to me. "So your
cock sucking has already started? Don't worry no one else notices."  
She pauses, sips her wine nervously. "That little bitch I can't believe 
she is doing this to us.  I suppose things could be worse for you.  But 
for me? you have no idea." She raise her eyebrows and swallows 
nervously. 

"How are you involved in,".... oh my God Katrina's is a cock sucking
master..."in this?" I ask Erin incredulously.  If this doe-eyed young 
anthropologist is involved with Katrina, then accepting the demise of 
the Frenchman is not such a stretch. 

At this point my blow job is in full swing. I lean inward so that my
stomach pushes against the table edge, the long red table cloth 
completely conceals Katrina. The fact she is petite also helps. The 
dinner now served, the clatter of eating and conversation drowns out 
the slurping sounds that are undoubtedly being generated by her hungry 
assault on my cock. 

"Go on." I squeak. 

"Please understand this is an uncomfortable situation for me as well."
Erin pauses, reaches for a bottle of wine and pours her wine glass very 
full. I notice her hands are shaking a little. Turning back to look at 
me she whispers, eyes downcast, "she has given me a script to follow. I 
am going to say and then do something really dirty to you. I am sorry, 
but honestly I don't have a choice.  Please understand I am a good 
person, and would never in a million years say these things to you if 
the circumstances were any different.  But I have to, I must." Her 
voice was soft and a little desperate. 

It is obvious to me that she is telling the truth. I can tell by her
looks and demeanor that she is a modest young woman. I suspect that 
somehow Katrina is blackmailing her as well. Perhaps I had it coming, 
some may say I deserve it, but Erin? She doesnt deserve to be dragged 
into this. Yet now as I look at her, I am glad that somehow she is. To 
have this earnest, innocent looking woman participating in this amazing 
blow job is starting to really turn me on. I notice that her brown hair 
is rather shiny and long. For a homely girl, she is kind of hot. Not 
suprisingly my perennial 'chick scan' seems to be back on-line. 

"Here goes," she sighs deeply then says to me as if in a regular
conversation.  "I wonder how it feels Peter to have your cock sucked 
while your wife is here in the room? To have your big fat juicy cock 
sucked just how you like it, finally at last?" 

During my email correspondence with Katrina I had indeed described in
detail exactly how I like my dick worshipped. Now under the table she 
is proving to me that she had absorbed everything I had wrote. 
Katrina's hands are jacking swiftly on my cock and her thin lips are 
pushed suction like against my pee hole.  Soon her lips are replaced 
with the flat of her tongue.  Her mouth now engulfs the head of my 
cock. Her lips form an O around its flared ridge.  Despite the stress 
of it all I start to feel very aroused. 

"I find this situation extremely difficult." I gulp and look into Erin's
eyes. 

Katrina is positively milking my fat cock with her hands and mouth. From
the way my precum is flowing it must be getting pretty juicy down there 
under the table. 

I continue, "the fact that you are involved in this makes it all so much
more..." 

"I am not willingly involved in this. Katrina's got me under her thumb.
She is blackmailing me just as she is blackmailing you."  Erin say 
rather despondently. 

My eyes widen not at the sensation emanating from my dick. But, at the
words coming from Erin's mouth. 

"She caught me last night taking money from the petty cash box - $300 to
be exact.  I am not a thief, it was going to a good cause, and I had 
every intention of replacing it when I got back to the office first 
thing Monday.  Nevertheless it is enough to get me fired, arrested or 
both.  Goodbye future, goodbye research, goodbye career, before it has 
even stated." 

This well spoken young woman a petty thief!  My mouth opens wide in what
looks like shock but is in fact due to a particularly titillating 
technique Katrina is using on the base of my cock.  Erin continues to 
tell me, despite knowing my cock is being sucked to high heaven, about 
her persecution by Kat. 

The money from petty cash was destined for a family of refugees stuck in
detention. Her sister owes her a few hundred dollars and promised she 
would have it on... 

That was about as far as I could concentrate on her story. The blow job
sensations had begun to overwhelm me.  If I cleared my mind my release 
was very close at hand.  However, if I looked around the room, at my 
wife, at all the office party guests I am pushed back from the orgasmic 
edge.  By the way Katrina is working my cock it is a clear that she 
wants me to blow my load.  I realize that cumming is my only salvation. 
Only then will she let me be. 

"I sense you are about to orgasm." Erin giggles.  Her lips and teeth
marked reddish purple from the glass of wine she just downed.  I can 
tell she is pretty tipsy right now.  Putting her hand down by her side 
she whispers to me "here take my hand Pete. It'll be fun." 

The air of openness she has toward my oral assault makes the
circumstances even more perverse. Here is this innocent looking woman, 
bright, young, and now obviously turned on and probably secretly 
wanting to take part in this highly erotic, anxiety ridden sexscapade. 
I discreetly lower my right hand to my side and take hold of Erin's 
soft hands.  Her fingers are long and entwine nicely into mine. 

Katrina is completely deep throating me. Though I cannot see it, I can
feel it.  The tip of my cock is nestled into the soft flesh at the back 
of her throat.  It is a soft pushing pressure sponge=like in feeling 
causing tingling, rich and wonderful, to course through me.  I cannot 
moan, I cannot let on, the only thing I can do is squeeze Erin's hand. 
Which I do as Katrina bobs her face open mouthed up and down on my 
fully erected nine inch cock. Full, fat and hard as I will ever be. 

My ball sac tightens, I have hit the edge, and there is no doubt that I
will be going over it any second now.  I turn and look Erin square in 
her face.  Her brown eyes show a hidden lust, her face is flushed.  My 
mouth is clamped shut. Oh my God I am going to blow my load any second 
now. 

"I am so completely wet right now. I am soaked clear through." She says
her voice hushed. 

Erin's sweet words flick my switch. Unable to moan bloody murder, which
is what I normally do when I cum during an atomic blow job, I have to 
stifle the urge to do so by squeezing her hand firmly, which I am doing 
as the first pump of my cock sends squirts into Katrina's mouth. I can 
feel the inside of her cheek rubbing the side of my cock shaft as I 
pump and squirt again. This time my sperm surge seems to last many 
seconds. 

I notice Erin's chest is rising and falling rapidly, she is breathing
hard because I have to look somewhere else other than her eyes. She 
holds my hand as I orgasm. I squeeze it in equal time and measure to 
the pumping of my gooey jizz that is flowing from my balls directly 
into to Katrina's cum starved mouth. Erin meets my hand clenching with 
an equal reaction. She grips me tightly as if she wants to feel my 
orgasm herself through the palm of my sweaty hand. 

Wow. I had blown my load like none other, and apparently none of my
dinner companions had noticed a thing. None other than Erin. 

Tilting her head to the untouched cocktail to her right she continues.
"I don't normally drink White Russians. I know this is gross and wrong. 
But I have no choice. If I don't do it Katrina will ruin me and I don't 
want to go back to waiting on tables. Promise me you understand that I 
don't want to do it. Please?" She pleaded quietly. 

Not sure what she meant I just stare at her and nodded.  Then she picks
up her milky cocktail, the White Russian, and discretely slides it 
under the table, handing it to Katrina. I can only imagine the huge 
volume of sperm that must be dribbling and drooling from Katrina's 
mouth into Erin's drink. I had cum buckets, no doubt about it, and now 
this darling young woman, this hard working and eager company 
consultant, is forced to drink it. 

After a few moments Erin reaches under the table, takes the cocktail
glass from Katrina and places it on the table.  We both look at it, my 
milky wad distinctly floating on top. Erin shrugs her shoulders and 
begins to slowly stir with a swivel stick ice cubes rattling. 

The glow of my orgasm receding, I feel real bad for Erin almost panicy
bad.  It was after all entirely my doing. In fact one of the activities 
I had done with Katrina during our Internet encounter was role playing 
the drinking of my sperm. It had obviously left and impression on her. 
Katrina, hell bent on implementing the perverted things we had 
discussed online months before, has manipulated her young colleague 
Erin into participating in our fantasy. 

I stared in wonder as Erin raised the White Russian to her lips and took
a sip. She stared back at me.  She took another sip, this time a little 
longer. I looked down at my plate, feeling ashamed for her and for me. 

"I am sorry Erin."  I said. 

At that point the activities of the past hour and half, the initial
threats from Katrina, my subsequent anxiety, the stress of it all began 
to take its toll on me.  My eyes moistened. Not wanting anyone to 
notice my tears, I hide my face in my wine glass. 

Feelings of anger toward Katrina surged within me. Unwittingly forced
into drinking my cum this poor girls Christmas is ruined.  Not to 
mention the shame I feel for having disrespected my dear beloved wife 
Tisha; or how my self esteem is eroded by being forced to go back on my 
promise to myself to never cheat on my wife.  The finger bang, my face 
fuck, the cum draining blow job, Erin's bukake cocktail, the news of 
the French anthropologist, my college hero, fall from grace, was all 
too much to bare. I sniff. 

"I am so so so sorry Erin." I said again sighed. 

"Would you relax Pete." She patted my arm congenially. "It is not the
end of the world." She smiled and took another long swig of White 
Russian. "I am sure the vodka will kill off all your critters, don't 
worry about it." 

Feeling somewhat heartened by her good natured reaction. I nod my head
and looked down at my lap. Katrina had the decency of zipping up my fly 
at least, and her mouth had expertly sucked me clean and dry so I am 
pleased to see there is no messy white stains to deal with.  While my 
mind reeled in the glory and humiliation of my orgasm she had slipped 
away from me unnoticed. Now looking up I see Kat has reappeared at her 
seat across the table and several seats down from mine. 

I glower at her. She smiles back at me curtly then motions to a waiter
by tapping on her glass to pour her some mineral water. 

Just then I feel a tap on my shoulder. I look up to see the face of my
wife Tisha smiling down at me, a glass of white wine in her hand. 

"Are you enjoying yourself dear?" She asks happily. 

But before I could answer Erin raises her cocktail and says "cheers!",
clinking her glass against my wife's. Tisha responds with a hearty 
"cheers!" Together the women take a long sip of their drinks.  My wife 
exchanges a few words with me but I couldn't concentrate on what she 
was saying. The sounds of Erin sucking every last drop of her White 
Russian from a straw, right down to the empty gurgling sound of air and 
ice cubes, is too distracting. 

"Come sit beside me for the slide show." Tisha says to me. 

Hiding my nervousness with a dumb open mouth smile I give her a goofy
nod. "You bet honey."   I just pray to myself that Katrina will keep 
her word as I had kept mine. 

A few hours later, the Pitt Pringles office party finally wraps up.  My
reputation had survived untarnished. Katrina's had not projected my 
filthy pornographic Internet exchange with her for all their staff to 
see.  I had played by her rules and was off the hook. What a complete 
relief. 

Here I am in the cloakroom gathering up my wife's and my belongings,
hoping for a speedy exit. A hand touches my back. I freeze. But then 
relax as it is not the small hand of my tormentor but the larger more 
slender hand of my cum drinking companion. 

I turn to face Erin, who is now drunk as a skunk. She leans forward
close to my face.  "Can I let you in on a lil secret?"  She asks 
boozily.  Seeing this darling young woman with her big brown eyes so 
bloodshot from drink normally would have surprised me. But by now 
'surprise' had lost its currency. 

"What?" I asked somewhat exasperated.  Then added "sshhh keep it down." 

"I liked it. I liked drinking it." She points her finger and stabs my
chest, "I liked drinking you."  Teetering on her high heels. "You 
tasted HOT you are hot. I would do it all over again given the chance." 


Just then my wife appeared. I stared so intently, so viciously into
Erin's eyes that even in her drunken state she understands to keep her 
mouth shut. 

I turn and smile at Tisha, "ready to go honey?" 

"Good news Peter, Katrina has offered to give us a lift home, we don't
have to wait for a Taxi." 

A chill ran down my spine. 

Tisha looks at Erin assessing her inebriated state.  "It looks like you
are going to need a ride home as well dear," my wife says, kindly 
offering her young co-worker a lift with Katrina our new designated 
driver. 

"No!" I say in exasperation. "We are taking a taxi on our own." 

Just then Katrina appears, busty petite, and sober. Her blue hair neat
and tidy reveals nothing of its ruffled state earlier in the evening.  
"Ready to hit the road?" She asks chirpily. 

My wife leans close and whispers in my ear. "Do you have to be so rude?"
She turns toward Katrina "ready when you are, and if you don't mine 
Erin is joining us to." 

TO BE CONTINUED 
"Nailed by the Office Bitch" Copyright Bryce Denison Dec 2007,2008,2009"



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Other Stories by Bryce Denison: 

DENISE SEX PERSONALS - Treadmill to O, The Mercy Fuck 

THE RED FLAME - The Red Flame, Talking to Denise in her SUV, The Off
Campus Ass Licker Part One and Two, The Psych Lab

MISC - Yellow Ribbons. 
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