Office Fling

by Amy Brent

  “Fuck her! Fuck her, Wynn! Go on! You know you want to! FUCK HER!!!”

  I smiled and tugged the key out of the ignition, then got my bag out of the trunk and walked up to Holden’s front door. I still had my house key, so I opened the door and quietly let myself inside. I set my bag in the foyer, closed the front door, and stood listening for a moment. I could hear soft music coming from the bedroom. Then I heard glass tinkling from the kitchen.

  I tiptoed across the hardwood floor and peeped in through the kitchen door. There was my man Holden, standing at the kitchen island fiddling with the seal on a box of cheap wine. There were two empty glasses on the counter. He was totally naked. His long schlong dangled like a meaty sausage between his legs.

  “Still drinking that convenience store box wine?” I asked, leaning against the door frame with my arms folded over my chest.

  Holden looked up at me, startled for a moment, and smiled. “I am unless you brought something better.” He picked up a towel to wipe his hands and came toward me with his cock swinging. He put me in a bear hug and grunted.

  “Okay, get that thing away from me,” I said playfully, holding up my hands and taking a step back. “God only knows where that thing has been tonight.”

  “That things, as you call it, has been to paradise tonight,” Holden said, grabbing his cock and wiggling it at me. “See? It’s smiling.”

  I smiled back as he moved back around the island. He pulled a third wine glass from the cupboard. I held up a finger. “Hang on, I brought you something from Cali.” I went back into the foyer to retrieve my bag and brought it into the kitchen. I set the bag on the counter, unzipped it, and brought out the bottle of wine I’d brought along wrapped in a t-shirt.

  “Let’s drink this,” I said, handing him the bottle with the label up. “It’s a Cabernet Sauvignon from Oprah’s vineyard in Napa Valley. It beats the hell out of that swill you call wine.”

  “That swill I call wine costs $10 a gallon,” Holden said as he found the cork screw in a drawer and proceeded to open the bottle of wine I had brought. He popped the cork and poured us each a glass. He held his glass up to his nose and inhaled deeply. “Okay, that sure smells better than the 7-11 brand.”

  “Wait till you taste it,” I said, taking a sip from my glass. “Go on. Try it.” Holden took a cautious sip, then titled the glass high to drain it dry.

  “Mmmm… okay… that’s pretty fucking good,” Holden said, smacking his lips. He smiled at me with his eyes. “So, how was your trip?”

  “My trip was good,” I said, nodding. I glanced around the kitchen. It looked exactly as it had the last time I was here. “Place looks the same. A real shit hole.”

  “It’s not a Malibu beach house but it’s home,” Holden said with a smile. He pulled a third glass down from the cupboard and picked up the bottle of wine. “Want to meet Jude?”

  “She’s here?” I asked innocently, though I knew she was.

  “She is,” Holden said proudly, like he was about to show me something magical. “She is in the tub.”

  “Lead the way,” I said, sounding nonchalant. “I’d love to meet her.” The truth was, I couldn’t wait to meet her.

  “One thing,” Holden said, hesitating before going through the door. “We haven’t really talked more about the three of us partying, so…”

  I held up my wine glass and my free hand. “Hey, no worries. Honestly, I’ve been awake going on twenty-four hours. I’d rather get a good night’s sleep and talk about that tomorrow. If I tried to have sex now, I’d just embarrass myself. I’m sure you’ve created quite a legend for me to live up to”

  Holden gave me a frown, though I saw relief on his face. “You sure?”

  “Positive,” I said. “Why don’t you introduce us, then we’ll see where things go tomorrow.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Holden said, hitching his head toward the door. “Come on. Let me introduce you to Jude.”

  CHAPTER SIX: Jude

  I closed my eyes and sank down in the bath, letting the smell of the lavender bubble bath sooth my soul. It had been a rough week emotionally, primarily because I had let a past relationship interfere with my relationship with Holden. In short, I had gotten involved with another professor who ended up being married (I swear I did not know) and more than a little nuts. He started stalking me. He lost his family, his job, and his freedom after he attacked me and tried to drag me off in the woods. If Holden had not have shown up, I might be lying in a shallow grave somewhere at this moment rather than soaking in his master bathroom tub.

  I had tried to stay away from Holden, but it was hard, especially when he kept coming around being so sweet. Finally, with a swift kick in my ass from Izzy, I came to my senses, showed up on his door step, and we had spent the night having amazing makeup sex. Now, after hours and hours of very energetic and creative sex, I just wanted to soak in the tub and go to bed.

  My nipples were peeking out of the bubbles. They were happy, but tired and a little sore. I was giving them a nice soapy massage when Holden came in wearing nothing but a smile, dangling two empty wine glasses in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. I relaxed while he poured us each a glass of wine. I was already a little drunk. One more glass would send me off to lala land. I grinned as Holden’s long cock swung like a pendulum as he stepped into the tub, then handed me a glass before settling in at the other end of the soaker tub.

  “Mmmm, this is good,” I said after taking a sip. I licked my lips and held up the glass and frowned at it. “I don’t think I’ve had this before. What is it?”

  “It is a Cabernet Sauvignon from Napa Valley, California,” Holden said. He took a sip and smacked his lips. “My friend Wynn just brought it to me.”

  “Your friend…” I’m sure my mouth hung open as my eyes went wide. I knew Wynn Driver was coming in tonight. I had no idea he had arrived. I felt a little tingle between my legs at the thought of meeting him. Then, he was there, standing at the door with a grin on his face.

  “Is there room in that tub for one more?”

  His deep voice startled me for a second. I looked toward the open bathroom door and there he stood; one of the most handsome men I’d ever seen. I looked back at Holden to find him smiling at me from over his wine glass.

  “Jude, I’d like you to meet my best friend,” Holden said proudly, holding up his glass of wine to toast his friend. “This is Wynn Driver. And we share everything.”

  “Hi, Jude,” he said, smiling at me. I saw his eyes dip down to my soapy tits. I forced a smile and covered my hard nipples with my arm.

  “Uh, wow, this is a surprise,” I said. I’m sure the look on my face was one of shock and anticipation. As Wynn smiled down at me, I let my eyes wander over his body.

  Wynn Driver was tall, tanned, blond surfer good looks, with a smile that would charm the habit off a nun. He held a glass of wine in his right hand. The thumb of his left hand was hitched atop his belt buckle.

  He was wearing an expensive suit, and a white button-down shirt open at the collar. I recognized him right away from the photo I’d seen on the back of his book and various photos Holden had sitting around the apartment. Beneath the warm bath water, I felt my own hot juices begin to flow.

  “Wynn just got in from Los Angeles and just wanted to say hello before crashing,” Holden said, staring at me reassuredly as he spoke. I got the message. Wynn was not going to just strip off his clothes and climb into the tub with us. I was at once glad and a little disappointed.

  “Right, I’ve been up almost twenty-four hours,” Wynn said. “I just wanted to stick my head in and say hi before calling it a night.”

  “Uh… well… hi,” I said, starting to giggle at my own awkwardness. “Nice to meet you. Holden has talked so much about you I feel like I already know you.”

  “Don’t believe everything Holden says,” Wynn said. He had a dazzling smile and bright blue eyes. “Unless it’s flattering, of course.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind
,” I said. I watched him as I took a sip of wine. I couldn’t help but glance down at his crotch. Holden said Wynn’s cock was twelve inches long. I could tell by the bulge in his tight jeans that he was not off the mark. I felt my pussy start to warm beneath the water. I sighed and casually dipped my hand between my legs. I was wet with my own hot oils.

  “So, I assume the guest room is still in the same place,” Wynn said, arching his perfectly-manicured eyebrows over the wine glass.

  “It is,” Holden said. “I even put fresh sheets on the bed for you. The black rubber ones you like so well.”

  “You’re too good to me, old pal,” Wynn said, flashing the smile again, causing my nipples to plump beneath the bubbles. He held up his wine glass and gave us a little nod. “Well, that’s it for me then. Jude, I look forward to seeing more of you this weekend.”

  I briefly thought about standing up so he could see more of me at that moment, but the wine had worked its magic and he had made my knees wobbly, so I stayed put.

  “Night, buddy,” Holden said. “Glad you’re home.”

  “Me, too,” Wynn said, his eyes dancing as they bounced between us. “Me, too.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN: Wynn

  I was practically asleep before my head hit the pillow. It felt so natural, being back at Midwestern, sleeping in the old twin bed in Holden’s guest room. I felt a little like I did when I was a kid off at college and I’d come home for the holidays or breaks, back to my parent’s house in Midland, Texas.

  It was a reassuring feeling as a kid away at college, knowing that I could always come back home to mom and dad, sleep in my own bed in my old room, with the Dallas Cowboy cheerleaders posters on the wall, and Sports Illustrated Magazines strewn all over the desk, and the faint smell of pot in my underwear drawer, the smell of my mom’s homemade soaps in the only shower.

  All of those things still reminded me of home, at least the concept of home as I defined in my mind, though I knew in my heart that version of home was a place I’d never visit again.

  Two thousand years ago, the Roman philosopher known as Pliny the Elder (probably just Pliny to his friends) said, “Home is where the heart is.” I didn’t know if that was true or not, but I’d go with that philosophy for now. It sure felt like I was home back at Midwestern with Holden.

  My parents had been dead for nearly a decade and I had no siblings. The bank took the house when they died, and I had never bothered to put down roots anywhere I’d lived since college.

  The beach house in Malibu was the first house I had ever purchased outright, and I bought it more as an investment than with the thought of making it my home. Most of my time had been spent sleeping on Holden’s couch until he bought a bed for his spare room and dubbed it my space. I was glad he did. It felt like home. It was the best night’s sleep I had had in a very long time, even if it was filled with visions and dreams of Jude.

  Seeing her in the bubble bath with her pink plump nipples peeking out at me was almost more than I could stand. It took every ounce of willpower not to tear off my clothes and jump in the tub with her and Holden. But I could tell by the look in her eye that she still was not sure that having sex with us both, either separately or at the same time, was such a good idea.

  Some people found it difficult—if not downright impossible—to separate the emotional drive from the sexual drive, even though they were clearly two completely different parts of the brain.

  Science would probably never concisely be able to separate the two, so why should we mere mortals even try?

  There was no wrong and right.

  It was not a matter of black and white.

  It just came down to how people were wired.

  People either related love to sex—and vice versa— or they didn’t. The in between was a gray area of many different shades. Sadly, most people, i.e. men, tried to use the divide between emotions and sex to defend their infidelity by saying things like, “She meant nothing to me. It was just sex.”

  While the statement was probably true (guys like that usually lacked emotions on any level), that was usually just the guy trying to beg his way out of getting caught sticking his cock in a pussy that did not belong to his wife.

  Yes, you can have sex without getting emotions involved.

  Yes, you can have sex with someone without attaching feelings to it.

  Feelings like love and jealousy and commitment and resentment and possessiveness.

  It was possible to have sex just for the sake of doing so, to satisfy the most primal of urges in all of us. I fuck because I like to fuck. I fuck because that’s what my body tells me to do. I fuck because it fucking feels good.

  That does not mean I must possess those I fuck or vice versa.

  Hmmm…

  I think I just came up with the topic for my next book…

  As I knew I would, I dreamt of Jude all night long, her naked body covered in bubbles, her nipples peeking through, her eyes dreamy as they lingered on mine, her lips on the wine glass, smiling at me.

  I explored every inch of her in my dreams, and when the sun shined through the window waking me at seven o’clock in the morning, I had a raging hardon. My cock was so hard it throbbed with my heartbeat. It literally felt like it was going to burst.

  I raised my head off the pillow and listened for a minute. The house was still quiet. The only sound was my own frustrated breathing. I wondered if Jude was still in bed with Holden; naked, her long legs wrapped around his, her head on his shoulder, her hand resting casually on his sleeping cock.

  I closed my eyes and pictured her lying in bed naked while Holden slept beside her. She was on her back with her eyes closed but smiling. Her left hand was on her left breast, kneading the flesh, pinching the nipple so hard it turned crimson between her fingers. Her right hand was at her shaved pussy (all pussies are shaved in my imagination). Her legs were spread wide. She was pointing her toes, biting her lower lip. She was rubbing her clit. Her pussy glistened as hot oil seeped from deep within her well.

  I inhaled deeply and could smell the salty tang of her pussy. I licked my dry lips and imagined it was her tongue at work. I wrapped my hand around my cock and started to slowly milk myself, squeezing tight, rolling the thin skin over the hard muscle from sack to tip. I closed my eyes and watched Jude do the same.

  She had both hands at her pussy now. She was holding open her pussy lips with two fingers on her left hand while the fingers of her right hand rubbed all around her hole, lubricating her hand with her juices.

  She moaned as the two fingers pulled back the hood of her clit to expose the little pink man in the boat. She rolled her fingers over the nub and her body went rigid.

  She sighed my name.

  My right hand started milking my cock faster as my left hand kneaded my ball sack. Her fingers went back to her pussy. She spread her pussy lips again and slowly slid two fingers inside her wet, hot hole. I felt my balls twitch as I slid my finger down my taint and rubbed the tender spot between my asshole and balls. The orgasm was building inside me, threatening to erupt at any moment. It would be a marvelous release.

  Jude started plunging the two fingers in and out, in and out. She licked her lips and slid in another finger, then another. I sped up my hand on my cock as I imagined Jude plunging the four fingers in and out of her beautiful pussy, ramming them in to the knuckle and back out again. Her hand quickly became drenched with her juices.

  “Fuck… Fuckkkkk…”

  I moaned as the hot load shot from my cock, sending milky ropes into the air and splashing back down on my stomach and chest. I imagined Jude coming at the same time, squirting, gushing, teeth gnashing, groaning my name.

  I milked my cock until there was nothing left to give, then blew out a long breath and opened my eyes. I glanced toward the closed door, almost expecting Jude to be standing there. Sadly, she wasn’t. I closed my eyes to find her smiling at me in my mind.

  I blew out a long breath and with my hand still on my cock, and my stomach
covered in jizz, paddled off the bathroom to take a hot shower to start my day.

  CHAPTER EIGHT: Wynn

  I was sitting at the table in Holden’s kitchen nursing a cup of black coffee when Jude appeared at the doorway. I was wearing a black t-shirt and a pair of loose-fitting black silk boxers. Jude was wearing a long white t-shirt and nothing else. Her thimble-like nipples poked through the thin cotton material and there were no panty lines that I could see. She had obviously just woken up and put the t-shirt on. Or maybe she wore it to bed. Either way, I couldn’t help imagining what she would look like with it off. Her hair was messy, and her eyes were puffy. She rubbed them like a little kid and gave me a smile.

  “Good morning,” I said, getting up from the table to hold out a chair for her. “Did you sleep well?”

  “I did, thanks,” she said, sitting down with a heavy sigh. She stretched out her long limps and groaned, then narrowed her eyes at the coffee maker sitting on the counter. “Is there coffee?”

  “There is,” I said, already moving toward the pot. “Would you like a cup?”

  She gave me a sleepy smile. “Oh my god, yes, please.” She rubbed her cheeks between her hands and glanced around the kitchen. Holden’s empty cup was still on the table. “Has Holden left already?”