Exhibitionist to Swinger: Chapter 13
Renée’s new role kept her busy and exhausted her. As a bog-standard employee I looked at my executives and believed that my company paid them extortionate sums for the work that they did, and that they trousered “easy money,” but seeing the workload of my girlfriend as she juggled dozens of projects, staff management, strategy and more, I quickly realised how uninformed my opinion was.
My partner had time and energy during the weekdays to work, run for an hour, eat, and have sex once – or maybe twice. And sometimes, if she was really busy, she could only squeeze in 45 minutes of exercise. As the summer faded to a distant memory, the cooler temperatures meant she was less able to jog in her skimpy running gear, and she’d swap riverside runs for gym sessions at our local fitness centre.
I often trained with her; she could set her treadmill for a faster speed and we could still be side-by-side. I also loved to see the sly looks and peeks she received from other people training as she exercised in ludicrously revealing outfits. Teasing and exhibiting without doing much. It was another pinch of spice for our relationship, and lingering glances always made her hornier when we got home.
She travelled for work every week; half of those trips were with Angelica as they visited their company offices across the globe, mostly in Europe, for a couple of days at a time. When my partner was away, I’d often meet up with my friends: Dave, the builder; Iain, the personal trainer; Robbie, the wellness guru; and Ibrahim, the writer. It gave Poppy and Ben the opportunity to be together in the house, when they would not be disturbed.
Poppy effortlessly adopted the sexual role while my lover was away; we didn’t hide it from Ben, but she’d slip into my bedroom for twenty minutes for a blowjob or quickie, and he’d know. We just shared the nymphomaniacs, and while Poppy gave me more sex than our young lodger received from Renée, neither of our partners were remotely monogamous in the house.
And then, in October, I got to travel with Renée. Over forty apprentices travelled to the Northern city; as autumn draped itself over Manchester, making the imposing mills and converted warehouses a more vibrant hue in the bright light of the setting sun, the cohort of 18 to 21-year-olds settling into their first twelve months of employment at the major employer had four days of intensive team-building exercises.
All departments represented, from offices and locations across the country, the junior employees travelled to enjoy the colourful murals in the Northern Quarter, the infamous Canal Street and the cosmopolitan districts of the vibrant conurbation. Renée stayed in a two-bedroom suite and worked from the firm’s Manchester office for the three days, culminating in a meal on the Wednesday.
Ben had to get special dispensation from the probation service, and Poppy – who took some annual leave from her employment – and I travelled, staying in Renée’s penthouse hotel suite while she worked. I also had to work, but I could do that remotely, and I crammed in an escape room, a visit to the Museum of Science and Industry, a shopping trip and a couple of wonderful lunches with my girlfriend’s exhibitionist friend.
She didn’t really have many boundaries. Every day she sent half-naked or nude pictures to our house group chat, which included Renée and Ben. Poppy bent over a sink in the hotel bathroom. Poppy’s bare thighs pressed against the steamed-up shower glass. Her fingers teased beneath the hem of her skirt at a café. And then my cum leaking from her puffy cunt. The seductive and the sordid.
Renée’s replies were succinct, such as thumbs-up emojis, fire symbols or peach stickers. But Ben’s responses grew increasingly explicit. The company had arranged an intensive schedule for its new staff members, and he didn’t get too much time when they weren’t working, team building, or organised socialising. Furthermore, the accommodation booked by the firm for their junior employees were twin rooms, which severely limited the nymphomaniac’s opportunity to be physically intimate with her boyfriend; they had to rely on snatched rendezvouses after her partner’s programme of activities when his “roommate” would be otherwise engaged.
As dawn broke on Wednesday, I awoke with the soft lips of a delicious blowjob. Wonderful, delicate strokes of my prick, sliding over my morning wood as I groggily came around. “Oh, hello love,” I called out with closed eyes, waking from my slumber.
A giggle, and the fellatrix continued to suckle. “Hiya!” Poppy said, her voice muffled by my dick, her mouth detaching from my slick shaft. “Renée’s left. But she told me to say that we have to be at the restaurant by six!”
“Ahh fuck! I thought …”
“Film me, please.” Ben’s girlfriend smiled as her lips returned to my erection.
I glanced at the bedside clock – only just after 7am – then reached for my phone, fumbling to unlock it as her tongue swirled beneath my crown. The camera focused on Poppy’s face as she bobbed up and down on my cock. She was enthusiastic, lips tight around my shaft, cheeks hollowed as she sucked me with a hungry rhythm. I stroked her blonde hair as she worked, filming every second, her fingers kneading my balls with expert pressure.
She pulled off with a lewd pop, grinning up at the lens. “Send it to Renée,” she whispered, her touch trailing up my shaft. “And Ben. Tell him to come to Renée’s suite before breakfast if he wants the same treatment.”
My thumbs flew over the screen as Poppy resumed, attaching the video and firing it off before dropping my phone onto the sheets. She moaned around my cock- half-theatrics for my benefit, half-genuine – and I tangled my fingers in her hair, willing her to increase her pace. But within a minute, my device buzzed with her boyfriend’s response.
Tell her I’m coming up.
The reply flashed on my screen just as Poppy’s tongue swirled around the head of my cock, her fingers working my shaft with rehearsed skill. She grinned up at me when I relayed Ben’s message, lips glistening, then sank down, taking me deeper. Her free hand slid between her thighs as she played with herself.
A sharp knock at the suite’s door startled us both. Poppy popped off me with a gasp, wiping her mouth. “Fuck, that was fast! Be back soon!” she said, giggling and scrambling out of the master bedroom and inviting Ben into the top-floor apartment. Breathless and panting, his brown hair tousled from sleep, topless and dressed in just flimsy sleepwear. His eyes locked onto Poppy’s naked form as she kissed him, pressing her lips that she’d wrapped around my prick twenty seconds previously against his mouth.
Ben’s hands immediately slid to her waist, gripping her bare flesh, as Poppy broke the kiss and grinned. “Come on.”
“I’ve only got twenty minutes,” he muttered. She pushed him towards our private lounge, away from where I remained reclined on the mattress, still erect. Ben hesitated only a second as she dragged him into the room between the master and secondary bedrooms.
I struggled out of bed, horny and aroused, and padded softly out of our sleeping space. Her boyfriend had disrobed in seconds: his shorts discarded on the floor with his shoes. He sat on the white leather sofa, his legs spread with Poppy kneeling between his thighs, sucking his prick.
She hollowed her cheeks, enthusiastically taking Ben’s cock deep into her throat. One hand cupped his balls, rolling them gently in her palm while the other stroked the base of his shaft in time with her bobbing head. Ben groaned, fingers tangled in her blonde hair, eyes flicking to me briefly; I leaned against the door frame, still painfully hard, watching as Poppy teased him with her tongue, circling the tip before plunging down again, her lips stretching obscenely around his girth.
I ignored the ping of my phone on the bed, as I watched the debauched sight in our private lounge. Poppy slid herself up Ben’s body, kissing his naked chest, and she knelt over him, sliding down his erect prick as she pressed her bosom into his face.
Her blonde hair fanned out as she leaned back, moaning as she bounced on her boyfriend’s dick, her thighs tightening against his hips. His hands gripped her waist, fingers digging into her flesh as Poppy rode him with unrestrained enthusiasm. “Been thinking about this all night,” she murmured, rolling her hips around his erection. “Wanted your cock so bad!”
Ben groaned, and she gestured to her phone on the desk. “Film us,” she demanded. I picked her device from the charger, on top of Renée’s papers, and unlocked it; we all knew Poppy’s passcode. She cried for the camera as I pointed the smartphone towards her.
Her boyfriend bucked his hips upward, pushing deeper into his lover. Poppy squealed, her back arching as I angled the phone to capture every inch of penetration. “Oh, fuck!” she gasped, bouncing faster, her slick folds gripping Ben’s cock with each downward plunge. Her arms wrapped around his neck as the leather sofa creaked under their frantic rhythm. I adjusted my grip on the device, my arousal obvious.
Poppy’s moans grew louder; her boyfriend’s breathing more erratic as he neared climax. “Don’t stop,” she begged, grinding down harder on his prick. Ben’s groan was raw as he obeyed, pistoning into her with desperate urgency. “Oh, yeah … do that,” she squealed, looking into his expression as he grunted and his cock pulsed, erupting and shooting cum into his girlfriend.
Poppy rode out his orgasm with slow, deliberate rolls of her hips, milking every drop. She sighed, turning her head toward me, mischief glinting in her eyes. “Now you,” she muttered, her expression hungry. “Come here.” I stepped forward still filming, and she leaned over the arm of the sofa as her fingers wrapped around my shaft, stroking lazily.
While kneeling over her partner’s cock, cum dripping from her cunt, she took my prick in her mouth. Ben was inches away from my erection as Poppy fellated me, while still sat on Ben’s lap. I groaned as she sucked me off, her lips warm and wet around my shaft as her boyfriend fondled his lover, playing with her tits as she pleasured me. The sensation was overwhelming: her tongue flicking beneath my crown, the slick sounds of the young blonde working my dick.
And the realisation of how sordid and obscene this was. I came quickly, my orgasm rising sharply from deep within me as Poppy swallowed my cum eagerly, her fingers massaging my balls to ensure she got every drop. “Tasty,” she giggled, licking her lips, still leaking on Ben’s softening cock.
I panted, taking deep breaths, and looked up to see Angelica and a maid in the doorway. “Oh, Jesus Christ! Sorry!” Renée’s colleague cried, shutting the door and speaking through it to me. “Renée left some papers here and asked if I could get them.”
In the commotion, I wrapped a gown around me, and the pair of lovers dived into Poppy’s en-suite to clean up. Angelica gave me a weird look, and I reached for my phone when they left to see two messages from my girlfriend.
I’ve booked a breakfast in bed for you and asked that they put it in our little hallway so as not to disturb you. Happy slut fucking! Love, R.
This was followed by:
Hey, I’ve left next year’s projections on the desk. Angelica’s picking it up for me and bringing it to the Manchester office. She’ll be up in five with room service and they’ll let her in. Make sure the bedroom door’s closed! Sorry to disturb you and your sex life. Love, R.
I had to phone my partner and explain what her colleague had witnessed. Renée answered on the second ring, her laughter already bubbling through the speaker before I could even finish speaking. “Oh my God,” she gasped between giggles. “Angelica just texted me saying she walked in on you filming a sex show in our lounge! Christ, Tom, I leave you alone for two hours and you scandalise my employees!”
“I didn’t see your message! We weren’t to know she was coming!”
Renée’s laughter was infectious, but I groaned, rubbing my temples. “I’m so sorry. We just … well …”
“You were left alone with a nymphomaniac and … I get it … what’s a swinger supposed to do?” She laughed. “And, if she didn’t know about our lifestyle before, she does now!” Her voice petered out. “I’ll let you explain it to her later!”
The three of us had breakfast in the lounge; Ben had little time until he needed to be in his room, dressed, and the sudden shock had dulled his appetite. “She’s like my boss’s boss’s boss!” he remarked as Poppy teased him. She was unfazed, happily eating scrambled eggs and bacon, while stroking Ben’s thigh as if nothing had happened. “Do you think Angelica will tell anyone?”
I shrugged. “Renée wasn’t too worried about it.”
“Well, she’s a big boss!” Ben replied, almost panic in his voice; his eyes narrowed a little as he spoke. He’d eaten half a pancake and still held on to the remainder as he fretted. “Renée’s been there for fifteen years. I haven’t! She could fire me!”
Ben left shortly afterwards; I had a quiet day at my work with just a few tasks to complete, and then Poppy and I met for lunch. Renée sent us a couple of errands, which involved buying “a sexy nightdress in a size eight” and “some decent massage oil.”
Several senior managers attended the meal for almost a hundred people in the hotel restaurant. Poppy, me and the handful of partners from the Manchester-based junior apprentices were sat away from the firm’s employees in the corner, and Renée wore a lovely pantsuit at the top table.
Her voice carried across the room, and she thanked the junior staff members for coming to the mandatory sessions in Manchester.
“You are the company’s future. You may not think it or feel it as you are at the beginning of your careers, but some of you will rise to senior positions. Six of the eleven members of our executive committee started at the lowest rung, including myself. So, the opportunities are there. To build and develop and improve yourselves. We can teach skills, but we can’t teach hunger. We cannot give you desire. That comes from within.”
She continued, giving them a short, fifteen-minute speech before sitting down to a smattering of polite applause.
It had been an intense three days for them, starting the day at 8:15am and finishing after 6:30pm, staying in a hotel in a faraway city, a long way from home. They’d been out drinking and socialising each night, while keen to impress their peers and leaders.
The Apprentice Away Week was a major part of their annual development, but with the addresses concluded, the waiters and waitresses collected the dirty plates. Poppy leaned over to me. “She is so fucking hot when she’s in charge.”
“I’ve already had one relationship end because my partner decided she wanted a girlfriend and not a husband. Please don’t turn Renée!”
The young blonde laughed. “You know I’m not full-on lesbian. Sort of part-time enthusiastic amateur.”
“I thought you were a full-time greedy slut,” I teased, and Poppy did not disagree, although she reminded me I’d sated my horniness three times with her body while we’d been in Manchester. But her outfit was short, borderline inappropriate, and highly revealing. Ben blushed when she kissed him before the meal, and the colleagues surrounding him didn’t avert their eyes at the overt sexuality.
The company served plenty of wine at the function; every table of six people had four bottles, and the bar did a good trade in alcohol. Everyone had lots to drink, and as my girlfriend – and many of the senior managers – rotated around the tables, talking to their young charges, they drank more.
By mid-evening, Poppy and Ben had left to go to Ben’s shared room, and Renée tapped me on the arm as I debated protocols with a junior developer. “Angelica and me are going back to our suite. I want a private word with her,” she said, slurring her words. “You coming?”
There were two other occupants in our lift, so I waited until we reached the penthouse before speaking. Angelica, rather tipsy, flopped on the settee, thanking Renée as my girlfriend opened a bottle of wine and poured her a glass of Prosecco. “I’m so sorry for earlier. I didn’t get Renée’s message, so we didn’t realise that you might come in,” I explained, apologising to my girlfriend’s colleague.
Angelica bit her lip. “It’s OK. It’s your private room. I just did not expect it. And I did not know you did that sort of thing.”
Renée chuckled as she sat down, stretching her legs and groaning as she kicked off her shoes. “We do. But I never thought they’d be awake so early up to naughtiness. They’ve had lie-ins all week! But I keep my private and my corporate lives separate.” She put her hand on Angelica’s knee, fraternally not sexually, and turned in her seat. “In your work life, you should never be exposed to anything like that. I don’t care if you have your own OnlyFans or are chasing Bonnie Blue’s gang bang record in your spare time, that sort of behaviour is never appropriate to be exposed to in the workplace. So I am truly sorry, too. I should have been more aware of what my best friend and my boyfriend might have been up to in my absence.”
“Honestly, it’s fine. I’ve seen worse.” She sipped her wine as my partner’s face screwed a little. “I’m not a delicate flower! I’m a big girl!”
Renée’s scowl lessened. “And while that wasn’t intentional at all, the next thing I am about to say is.” She gestured to her bedroom. “There’s a nightdress there in case you want to do what we did at the company party again. A few glasses of fizz between adults, feeling sexy, and we’ve had a busy time of it. Some of the board have been muppets and I am desperate for a girl’s night in, being naughty and drinking more and more wine! And I heard you’ve had a shit week with your boyfriend and all that.”
“Yeah, he was a dick. I don’t know what to do with him. I think it’s over, but I still like him. I just can’t be dealing with his … twattery.”
“Indeed. I heard. He doesn’t realise how good he had it with you. You could bin him off and you’d have tons of amazing guys and girls fighting over you. To think that he actually refused to come here this week.”
Angelica recounted the row that she’d had with her partner on Sunday before she travelled to Manchester, with him accusing her of “sleeping her way to the top.”
“He knows it’s not true. And if it was, it’d be with you as you’ve been my boss. Which is ironic, as he really wants that to happen. He’s begged me to have a threesome with another girl,” Angelica added, slurring her words slightly. “Ever since I said I was … er …” She stopped and looked at me and then Renée. “Bi-curious,” she admitted, choking out the revelation. “But he was so turned on after the company party! He is desperate for me to give in and explore my ‘wild side.’ Which I don’t have!”
My lover smirked. “That, I cannot believe!”
The red-headed manager shrugged. “No, really. I’m pretty plain. I don’t have threesomes or …” She waved her hand at me and the room. “Whatever happens here.”
“I have an open relationship,” Renée explained. “And I play with Poppy and Tom and others. It works for us. We trust each other, and we’re happy.”
“Well, I need to have a make-or-break chat when we get back. He is so fucking anxious because of my success and he can’t handle it.”
I broke my silence. “I’m not asking for specifics, but I reckon he’s on twenty-five grand a year, and you’re on a hundred and thirty. Plus bonuses. Or something like that. He should be grateful that he has a successful girlfriend. His life will be much more comfortable if he accepts he could never be the primary breadwinner and supports you. And not feel challenged or threatened by your success.”
Angelica shrugged. “Exactly! I love him to bits, but I can’t be dealing with his insecure nonsense. It’s draining. Every time I mention a guy’s name, he’s asking if I’ve slept with him. And he knows I haven’t.”
Renée leaned forward, studying Angelica with a wide grin. “We could tease him, y’know. You could send him some half-dressed pictures of us two and tell him you’ve embraced your role and you really will ‘sleep your way to the top’ from now on!”
A slow, dangerous smile curled Angelica’s lips. She looked drunkenly at her boss. “He’ll be so pissed at me.”
“As pissed as you are at him?” Renée asked, sliding her hands a little higher. “I really do want to get out of my formal wear. Shall we change at least? Into those nightdresses?”
A perfectly reasonable suggestion. But Angelica’s white blouse, black skirt and stockings were very respectable, and didn’t look uncomfortable. However, my girlfriend’s fingers strumming on her nylon hosiery, gliding towards the hem of her clothing, combined with the mischievousness of the dare and her alcoholic intake, encouraged her to acquiesce.
Renée’s hand traced the bottom of Angelica’s skirt, her smirk deepening as she tugged it upward just enough to reveal the lace-top of her stockings. “Photo number one,” she murmured, passing me Angelica’s phone before her protégé could protest. The flash illuminated the redhead’s flushed cheeks as my blonde girlfriend leaned in, lips brushing her colleague’s ear.
My partner took the device from me and typed out a message, reading it out. “Hi babe, I’m sleeping my way to the top, like you suggested. I wonder how far Renée wants to take me.”
“Oh my God,” Angelica squealed as her tipsy boss sent it to Angelica’s boyfriend.
More photographs followed; my girlfriend hooked her thumbs into her colleague’s stocking, and she unbuttoned the top four buttons on the younger redhead’s blouse.
On the fourth picture, Angelica’s phone buzzed, and she giggled as she read out the message. “Oh, he thinks this is just staged.”
“Well, shall we take it up a notch?” Renée asked. “Why don’t we get changed into that nightwear?”
“Yes!” she squealed, her eyes glistening as she passed me her phone. Renée’s fingers lingered on the last button of Angelica’s blouse, her breath warm against the younger woman’s collarbone as she leaned in to kiss her colleague’s bare skin. The phone’s camera flashed once more, capturing the redhead’s parted lips and look of lust in her gaze – far too genuine for mere acting.
“He’s typing again,” I announced, watching the three blinking dots pulse like a heartbeat on her phone screen. “He says this isn’t funny anymore.”
Renée giggled, and her colleague downed the Prosecco in her glass, wobbling as she stood up. The two women entered our bedroom, and returned to the lounge ninety seconds later, dressed in just silk babydolls – a white one that my lover had brought with her, and a lacy scarlet and black silky chemise that I had purchased earlier in the day under direction from my girlfriend, adorning the redheaded Angelica.
Hand-in-hand, they looked at me, smiling at the camera, and Renée took the phone, typing out the message. “This is so sexy, honey. You want me to explore with women, remember?”
Her colleague whimpered as she read the reply, and my impetuous girlfriend tossed the device to me, smirking as she sat on the settee and put her hand on Angelica’s waist. Renée’s fingers curled around the silk strap of her colleague’s babydoll, pulling it down just enough to expose the swell of her breast while keeping the nipple tantalisingly hidden. “Perfect,” she murmured, angling her body so their flushed skin pressed together in the frame.
Angelica giggled. “Tell him that “I’m ‘negotiating my promotion,’” she told me, as she looked up at my girlfriend; their lips touched. Not for another photograph, but because they both wanted it. Both pairs of hands embraced, and the electrifying pictures showed two women, dressed in flimsy and sexy nightwear, embracing in the soft-light of our lounge.
Renée’s fingers traced the lace hem of Angelica’s babydoll nightie, raising it enough to tease the shadow between her thighs. Her colleague mewed as my girlfriend’s lips brushed her earlobe, soft and deliberate, while I captured the moment. The camera flashed, freezing their flushed cheeks and lust-fuelled gazes in shot; a prelude to sexual exploration. “Send it,” Angelica urged, her voice thick with amusement as her fingers glided over the silky smoothness of my girlfriend’s nightwear.
“Negotiations are getting intense. Should I accept her terms?”
The three dots flashed once more, as Angelica tugged the strap of Renée’s nightwear to free a nipple. Their bodies pressed together, her head dipped to push her lips against her boss’s bosom. “Tell him Angelica’s negotiating very hard,” my lover murmured. The phone trembled in my grip as I snapped the shot and added it to the chat.
The device buzzed in my hands, and I read the reply out loud. “Fuck, babe. Are you serious? You’re acting, aren’t you?” Renée’s fingers tightened around the younger woman’s waist, her smirk sharpening.
“Oh, he thinks this is acting?” She purred, dragging her nails down her colleague’s silk-clad hip, raising the hem of her nightwear. Her fingers rested on the crest of her mons, as I captured the photograph of Angelica’s soft groan.
“Negotiations require hands-on work,” I typed under direction from my lover.
“Bullshit, babe.”
But this wasn’t teasing anymore; Angelica pulled Renée towards her, kissing her boss as she pressed her tongue into my girlfriend’s mouth. The very sudden shift from playful provocation to fiery foreplay left me gripping the phone tighter, watching as Renée’s hands slid up the younger woman’s thighs, bunching the silk nightdress around her waist. A sharp gasp escaped Angelica’s lips when my lover’s fingers dipped beneath the edge of her colleague’s pubis.
But her friend rested her palms on Renée’s bare buttocks, her nightie pushed upwards, and she squeezed, groaning into their kiss as their hands explored and groped.
“Negotiations require concessions when your boss is on top!” I wrote.
Renée gripped her colleague’s hair, pulling her head back as she kissed Angelica’s throat, and worked down the young woman’s torso, taking her exposed nipple between her lips. “Tell him she wants performance-based initiatives,” Angelica whimpered. “But I need to give her honey.”
Her boyfriend replied. “Stop, babe. You ain’t a lesbo. You wouldn’t.” Renée’s teeth scraped Angelica’s nipple just as her phone buzzed again. “He says you’re bluffing,” I added, watching her colleague respond to my girlfriend’s intimate touch.
“Send a video clip then,” Angelica squealed. “That OK?”
“Yeah,” my lover giggled as her fingers hooked under the silk of Angelica’s nightdress, lifting it slowly as the younger woman arched into her touch, eager and responsive. The camera captured every tremor of the redhead’s lips, every squeal and groan as Renée’s mouth closed over her nipple, while my girlfriend traced her younger colleague’s slit.
A five-second video, but it showed what was really happening in that room.
“I would,” I added as a message, pretending to be the recipient’s on-off lover once more.
But just a few moments of Renée’s mouth on Angelica’s nipple, fingers sliding between her thighs, was met with stunned silence. Then the phone erupted.
“WHAT THE FUCK, ANGELICA,” her boyfriend’s text screamed in all caps.
The tipsy manager giggled as I read it out, and my exhibitionist partner pulled her flimsy silk nightdress off, tossing it aside. “Tell him negotiations escalated,” Renée murmured, her fingers working into her friend, her thumb sliding against Angelica’s clit as she probed inside the young woman’s cunt. “And that they require full disclosure.”
I filmed them for another few seconds, recording the intimate sapphic foreplay between my girlfriend and her subordinate, before sending that to Angelica’s boyfriend. I didn’t accept the call that he made to his beau, but received three texts in rapid succession, each one more frantic than the last.
“He’s panicking,” I summarised. But Angelica melted onto the leather sofa, groaning as my lover’s fingers worked her G-spot, pressing into the walls of her pussy. I had to record the sight and sound of Angelica’s orgasm; her breathless whimpers, the arched back, the squeals and groans and then the desperate cries as her climax overtook her, shuddering on our hotel sofa.
The phone vibrated again with a video call request, and Renée told me to decline it. “Say that she’s too busy taking orders from her boss!” The screen lit up with another flurry of caps-lock fury, but Angelica ignored the anger of her boyfriend and sat up, freeing herself of my partner to toss her nightdress onto the floor.
Both naked, they kissed once more. Renée’s hands slid down Angelica’s trembling thighs, spreading them wider as she glided from the sofa and positioned herself between them. The camera flash caught the redhead’s erect nipples and parted lips as she gripped hold of the back of Renée’s head, guiding my girlfriend’s face into her slit. “Tell him…” Angelica groaned. “… that I’m interested in the benefits of my new position.”
Angelica’s grip tangled in my partner’s hair as my lover’s tongue flicked against her button with slow, deliberate strokes that drew out whimpers instead of screams. I sent a twenty-second clip of their cunnilingus, and Angelica’s phone buzzed again with her boyfriend’s fifth unanswered call. “Tell him,” Renée murmured against her friend’s thigh, as her fingers spread Angelica wider, “like GCSE French, all promotions require an oral evaluation.”
The recipient of my lover’s skills groaned as lips swept over her button once more, firmer and harder, and I recorded a clip of our naked guest’s toes curling, her eyes glazed and her body shuddering. Their teasing had escalated into something unmistakably real.
Renée’s tongue swirled around Angelica’s clit as I angled the phone for another damning video, this time capturing the precise moment the redhead’s body lurched into violent eruption, her fingers twisting in my girlfriend’s hair.
Angelica collapsed onto the sofa, groaning and panting. “Oh, fuck!”
“You could tell him you passed the oral test,” Renée replied. “And that many company benefits are open to family members as well as our employees.”
“Yeah. Do that!” Angelica squealed. “He so has the hots for you.”
“Really?” my girlfriend asked, intrigued, eager to encourage her latest sexual partner to explain. I typed what they said, and the tipsy redhead poured more wine into her glass, downing it in one gulp.
“Since your suite at the party when we flashed him. He hasn’t stopped speaking about you!”
“Oh. Now, that was fun. But this evening is better,” Renée replied, running her hands over her naked lesbian lover.
The phone screen lit up with her boyfriend’s frantic response: ANGELICA ANSWER ME RIGHT NOW WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING.
“He’s typing in all caps,” she mused, licking her lips. “That usually means panic or arousal. In this case, probably both.”
“Do you want to give him a proper show?” Renée asked, her eyes looking toward the bedroom. “We could do a video call. From our bed.”
Angelica gulped. “You’re crazy. And fuck, you’re serious.”
“Of course I am.” She ignored the cam request from Angelica’s boyfriend once more and grabbed her friend’s wrist to pull her into our master bedroom. The king-sized bed didn’t offer anywhere to rest the phone, so I had to hold it as the pair of naked women bounced onto the mattress, looking at me, and the screen.
A front-row view of their sinful naughtiness; but an erotic show that I, the camera man, could enjoy but not savour. Renée pressed the “Dial Video” button on the app as I held it out for them, and the anxious boyfriend answered immediately; the back wall of Angelica’s lounge coming into view on the call.
“Evening, darling,” Renée purred, her voice dripping with saccharine cheeriness. “Your girlfriend’s just been thoroughly probed in her performance review. And she’s exceeded all expectations.”
“This ain’t funny. Angel, babe. What the fuck’s going on?”
“You accused me of sleeping my way to the top. So I am. And you wanted me to play with women. So Renée’s helping me explore. With girls.”
“As a threesome,” he snapped. “’Cause I wanted to watch and take part.”
“You can watch,” Renée interrupted. “When you’ve taken your clothes off. I want to see you get horny as I make your sexy, wonderful girlfriend my plaything.”
The screen shook as Angelica’s boyfriend hesitated, his face contorted between fury and arousal, and then he placed his tablet or phone on the table in front of him and pulled his shirt over his head. Renée’s fingers slid possessively up her colleague’s inner thigh.
She addressed her stunned boyfriend on screen. “Stroke yourself,” she commanded, her voice low and edged with amusement. “Or I’ll have Tom hang up. And don’t come.” Angelica whimpered, her hips lifting involuntarily as Renée’s thumb pressed against her clit in slow, deliberate circles – just enough to tease, not enough to satisfy. The camera captured the exact moment her boyfriend’s resolve cracked, his hand disappearing below the frame with a muttered curse.
Renée’s fingers worked Angelica, her eyes locked on the phone screen where Angelica’s boyfriend fumbled with his belt. “Show us,” she commanded, her free hand pinching the redhead’s nipple hard enough to elicit a groaning gasp. “Or I’ll make her come without you seeing anything at all.” The threat dripped with playful malice.
The screen wobbled as Angelica’s boyfriend tugged his jeans down to his ankles and adjusted the phone, his erection springing free. “There,” he muttered, gripping his prick with a rough stroke. Renée giggled as she spread the younger woman’s thighs wider for the camera. “Better,” she murmured, then glanced at me. “Tom, zoom in on where I’m touching her. He needs to see how wet she is for me. How horny she is. How much she wants me to play with her.”
The phone trembled in my grasp as I moved closer, capturing every glistening inch of Angelica’s swollen folds where Renée worked, touching her. A sharp gasp escaped the redhead’s lips as my girlfriend crooked two fingers inside her, twisting them so the motion that always made her squirm. Her boyfriend’s groan came through the speaker. “Fuck,” he muttered, his fist pumping faster. “You’re really, oh Christ!”
“Yeah, she’s fingering me good,” Angelica moaned, arching her back as Renée’s fingers curled deeper inside her colleague, her thumb rubbing tight circles against her friend’s clit. The camera captured every twitch of Angelica’s thighs as her boyfriend swore again, his hand moving frantically now, his breath ragged through the phone’s speaker.
“Fuck, babe … You’re actually … oh God!”
“Don’t come,” Renée warned him. “Not yet.”
The phone slipped slightly in my sweaty grip as Angelica shifted her hips, angling her body to give her new lover a better angle. “Tom, show him how her tits bounce when I finger her,” Renée ordered. “And how her expression is just pure lust.” I adjusted the frame as she thrust her fingers deeper, and Angelica’s breasts jolted with the motion, her eyes glazed as she whimpered. “Jesus Christ, Angel, you’re … fucking hell … you’re loving this.”
“Of course I fucking am. She knows what’s she’s fucking doing!”
Angelica’s back arched off the bed, her hands screwed into the duvet as her orgasm crashed over her – raw, unfiltered and unrestrained – and captured in perfect clarity by the phone’s lens. Her boyfriend’s choked groan echoed through the speaker, but Renée didn’t let up, her fingers still working inside her colleague even as the younger woman thrashed beneath her, letting her savour the aftershocks.
Then she slid her hand free from Angelica with an obscenely wet sound, glistening under the bedroom’s dim lighting as she brought them to her lips. Renée sucked her fingers clean with deliberate slowness, her eyes locked on the screen. “Tastes much better than your insecurities and jealousy,” she murmured, then pressed her palm against Angelica’s trembling abdomen.
“Still think we’re acting?” She asked him. “We should definitely show you more!”
“He loves 69.”
“Oh, I love that too!” Renée’s lips curled into a wicked grin as she stood onto the bed and straddled Angelica’s face, lowering herself over the younger woman’s mouth. The camera caught the redhead’s startled gasp morphing into eager suction as Renée ground against her tongue.
I fidgeted; the sight of my girlfriend licking her subordinate’s clit, as they orally worshipped my lover’s cunt, was deliciously erotic. Meanwhile, the sounds of Angelica’s boyfriend matched those in the room as he pleasured himself; Renée rolled her hips, groaning as they savoured each other.
The pair treated the watching voyeur to an agonising 45-minute session of edging. They spanked each other, used Renée’s dildo, gave cunnilingus and then fingered one another to delicious, loud climaxes. “I’m done,” Angelica cried, spread-eagled on the mattress, sweaty and exhausted. She stared at the phone in my hand. “OK, now come for me.”
“Yes, squirt. Jerk your fucking prick. Because if you were here, you would have been in this room. I’d have let you rubber up and fuck me. Either hole. Or we both could have sucked on your cock until your cum leaked from your dick and covered us both.”
His hand became a blur; he groaned, panting as his prick twitched and he covered his abdomen in stickiness.
Renée looked directly at him once more. “When you accuse my staff of fucking their way up the ladder, you’re not playing nice, so we don’t let you play,” she barked. “Your girl has worked her tail off to get where she is. She doesn’t need to dish out sexual favours for advancement. But you left her lonely and upset and angry, which means we’ve got pissed and explored those curiosities she has. You should and could have been here for this. But you were nasty and insecure.” He gulped as the naked woman berated him. “Oh, and if you wanted a threesome with me, then you should have just asked. I may have said yes or no.” She hesitated. “Probably would have said yes. That’s how I like to dance. But I don’t play with insecure little bullies. So, clean yourself up. And I don’t want to hear from you again. Not tonight. Angel and me have unfinished business.” She leaned forward and tapped the screen to disconnect the call and turned to Angelica, sprawled across the bed, her chest rising and plummeting as she panted.
“Now, Poppy’ll be back soon. Let’s send Tom into the spare bedroom and Poppy can either choose to come and play with the boy or the girls.”
“Aren’t you tired?”
“No,” Renée replied. “I’m just getting started! I have a new female friend to enjoy.”
And twenty minutes later, Ben’s girl returned to the suite, and I had a bed to myself as I heard the lesbian orgy next door until the small hours.
But having three women wanting to share my cock in the morning as we ate a room service breakfast was a welcome surprise. And Angelica couldn’t walk in this time; she was on her knees in front of me, sucking my prick with an amazing technique as Poppy and Renée 69-ed in the bed opposite.
