by Abby Angel
Ethan’s standing there, maybe ten feet away.
I guess the people were filming the whole time.
But who cares about that. Do you see the more important thing?
Ten feet away stands Ethan Kane.
His eyes are staring directly at me.
With the biggest fucking cock tent on his crotch that I have ever seen.
Me. An ex-porn star. I thought I’d seen everything.
Have never seen a cock this big.
This could be my ticket in, I think, no?
What do you think?
No, don't answer that. I’m already off the bed.
I need to get into his office to figure out what the hell I would need.
I sway my hips. I don't even know if I mean to do any of this right now.
It’s like my body has taken control.
Like I’m thinking with my pussy, and not my brain.
Ethan looks at me as I walk over. His eyes are devouring me.
I get to within inches of him, and without touching him, lean over on my tiptoes, bringing my mouth to his ear.
Here goes nothing.
“I want you in my mouth, Ethan Kane,” I whisper in his ear. “Right now.”
I can tell he stiffens at hearing me.
But he grabs my hand and starts walking to the door.
This assignment might not be so bad after all.
Ethan
Holy fucking shit, I’m going to fucking cum.
I groan loudly, my back bracing against my office door and I feel my nuts twist up as electrical impulses shoot from my cock to my brain.
I’m having the familiar tingling sexual seizure as my body freezes up and my muscles involuntarily contract.
Yeah, that’s right, I’m about to fucking cum.
Sure, you may have thought you knew what was going to happen the moment I took Brittney by the hand and began dragging her to my office, but trust me, if you came in at this exact moment somehow, you would be fucking shocked as soon as you saw us.
Once the shock passed, you would probably start getting fucking hot.
And before you knew it, your panties would be fucking soaked, dripping with desire.
I mean, I’m about to cum and just what we’re doing is getting me there halfway. God help the hapless window washer who all of a sudden decides to clean my windows. Poor fucker would probably fall off his platform once he saw what we’re up to.
Brittney’s on the ground on her knees. She didn’t waste any time as soon as we got into my office.
She pushed me against the door as I closed it and sunk down to her knees.
With expert fingers, she unbuckled and unzipped my trousers, letting them fall. She yanked down my boxer briefs and took my already semi-hard cock in one hand, bringing her tongue out of her mouth as she licked the underside of my shaft.
Pleasure went through me like a tingling current, and before I knew it, both her lips were wrapped around the head of my cock as her mouth created a suction.
I mean that was good, but holy shit, with her free hand she just unclasped her bra and threw it across the room.
Fuck, her stroking my cock is so fucking good. Just thinking about this whole experience and telling you about it while she does her thing is too much.
I can’t hold it in any more. I’m going to fucking cum…NOW.
That’s when my world almost blacks out as Brittney begins the process of milking my cock.
I spurt.
Let me just tell you that me saying I spurt is a fucking understatement.
I erupt gets close to what's happening. I shoot may even be more appropriate. But still, it pales in comparison to the semen that arcs out of my tip, shooting out toward her.
And as if absolutely ready, Brittney moves her head in such a way and sticks out her tongue that my cum hits her tongue and splatters.
A lot of it lands in her mouth, but enough of it drips down.
I’m still shooting cum out here. There’s a stream that hits her on her forehead. Another that gets her on the cheek.
Thick. White. Milky. Creamy. Hot. Gooey. Sticky.
Five. On her neck.
Six. On her tit. She arches her back backwards and holds out her left tit. As if I have the mental fortitude to fucking aim. I’m basically twitching here as my foot-long cock shoots another volley of cum. But it manages to land on her nipple and she begins cooing in delight at the sight as she takes her hand and smears it around her areola.
Fuck, the whole thing is so fucking dirty. But it's so fucking hot at the same time.
My last few shots go out. One lands on the top of her head. Another sails into her mouth, which she lets drip out in tiny droplets. And the final one lands on her cheek.
Brittney wastes no time as cum starts dribbling out of my cock, bringing her lips back onto the head and sucking out whatever wasn’t shot out.
Fuck, let me just tell you, after an explosive fucking orgasm like that, feeling her lips on my sensitive tip, feeling her tongue on my slit, oh my fucking God.
This woman is a fucking goddess.
I shiver uncontrollably as she gives one final goodbye suck, and then takes her mouth off. But she doesn’t stop there.
With all the meticulousness of a cat cleaning herself, she begins to scoop up my cum off of her body.
First her tits. What she doesn’t smear on her chest, neck or tits, she scoops up with one finger. And brings to her mouth.
Keeping her eyes fixed on mine, she slowly brings her fingers toward her opening mouth.
I watch, transfixed as her tongue darts out and licks her finger clean.
She closes her mouth and swallows.
I swear to fucking God I’ve never been this fucking turned on by the moments after sex before.
This is fucking unreal. Like I can feel my cock start to twitch again.
Which Brittney sees.
She gives me a lascivious smile.
“You’re already for Round Two?” she asks me. “That was pretty fast.”
“I could fuck you all night, babe,” I tell her, sneering down with undisguised lust at her. But there’s something more. Something in her eyes. Something inside of her. She’s not telling me everything.
I mean, I’ve fucked chicks in porn before; whoever thinks I’m playing the chaste CEO of a pornography company is seriously fucking delusional, but this girl is something else.
A blowjob is just a blowjob, but she’s made it something that I can’t really forget. I don’t actually know how Brittney made it about more than sex.
But whatever she’s doing, whether it's the slow and languid way she’s got her hand wrapped around my cock again, gently massaging me back to life, or the way she’s looking up at me with those wide, large doe-like eyes in a totally submissive look.
“Why don’t you start by fucking me all afternoon?” she asks me, giving me a leer that makes my knees fucking buckle it's sizzling with so much lust.
“I guess you’re not wanting to wait,” I tell her with a grin. “But don't worry. After I’m done with my cock, you’ll barely be able to walk—let alone think.”
Brittney gives me a quick kiss on my tip, and my cock starts flaring back to life.
“Oh please,” she tells me with a sexy pout. “Once you’ve tasted my pussy, you won’t care where you are, you’ll want it again.”
“I want to fuck it now,” I tell her flatly. I’m not looking to play games. I’m open and upfront about who I want to fuck.
“You think your cock can handle it?” she asks me. “You ever seen my videos? I leave guys broken…”
I laugh. She’s never met me then.
And if you’re wondering, which I know you are because your mind's just as filthy as mine—yes, I’ve watched all her videos. The moment she gave me the lap dance I had Cheryl pull everything Brittney has ever worked on.
All the stepmom shit. The neighbor next door scenes. The getting picked up by two guys in a van scene that went viral on
the Internet back in the day. I watched it all.
But I didn’t jerk off to it.
Because why waste all that cum?
No, I saved it. To spray it onto her face just now.
“Babe,” I tell her and bend over to pick her up, and bring her to her feet. “I’m just going to fucking defile you like you’ve never been before. I’m going to do ungodly fucking things to your body and you’re going to cry out for more.”
I think this gets her attention, and I run my hands over her body as I continue. “By the time I’m done with you, you’ll be lucky if you remember your name,” I tell her, looking her directly in the eyes. “But I guarantee you, you’ll be screaming mine.”
She’s excited.
I can tell. I see the spark in her eyes. It’s a mixture of fear, excitement, apprehension, and lust. Lots and lots of fucking lust.
I bare my teeth and reach over, cupping her ass cheek and bringing her closer.
She comes willingly.
And that’s when the fucking intercom goes off.
“Ethan, are you there?” the speakerphone blares. It’s Cheryl.
God fucking dammit.
Not now.
Not now, of all times.
“Ethan, we need you in the product launch timeline signoff. We’ve been planning this meeting for months and the bankers are here,” Cheryl says, a touch of urgency in her voice.
Cheryl is never fucking urgent. She’s always got everything so fucking organized and so on point that if I hear urgency in Cheryl’s voice—and I think I’ve only heard it five times—I know it’s fucking important.
But even then, Brittney is right fucking here. Her fucking luscious ass. Those big, giant titties. That beautiful face. Those fucking eyes.
“Ethan? Ethan are you there?” Cheryl asks again.
She must know I’m in here. She must know what I’m doing. That’s why she hasn’t gotten off the phone.
Fuck.
Fucking fuck.
“It’s okay,” Brittney says, looking into my eyes and placing a hand on my chest. “We can do this later, maybe?” she asks smiling at me. Not just with wanton lust anymore.
But with warmth.
Fuck, and with compassion?
“Go, do your job, Ethan,” she tells me. “I’m just going to freshen up and tidy up a bit in here before I head out.”
I let out a long fucking sigh and my body literally quivers in disappointment, but I know she's right.
I nod to her, and pull up my boxer briefs and pants as I walk to my desk.
I clean my cock with a towel nearby as I push the speakerphone button on my phone.
“On my way, Cheryl,” I tell her and hang up as I zip up my trousers.
Brittney turns and smiles to me as she walks over to where she threw her bra.
“You’re going to be okay?” I ask her.
She nods and smiles. “I’m just going to clean up a little bit,” she says with a smile. “Get less sticky before I go out into the world, you know?”
She laughs a small laugh and I smile before I walk to the door.
Five minutes later I’m sitting next to Cheryl in the conference room still thinking of Brittney.
Fuck.
That’s five minutes longer that I’ve ever thought of a girl after sex.
There’s something going on with her here.
Brittney
"Brittney, can you hear me?"
I hear Walter's voice coming in through my tiny earpiece, which is hidden underneath my long hair. The sound is low, but the quality is good.
"Loud and clear," I say.
"Are you at Ethan’s computer?"
"Yes, but now what? I don't have the password for this machine, you know. It's locked."
"Okay, I'm going to walk you through this," Walter says. "Are you ready?"
"As ready as I'll ever be, I guess. I don't hear anyone coming, so it's now or never," I say, looking tensely over my shoulder.
"The first thing you need to do is shut the computer down."
"What? Why? Doesn't that seem counterproductive to be turning this thing off?"
"Just trust me, okay?" Walter says. "I know what I'm talking about."
"Okay, it's off."
"Good, now reboot it in Safe Mode," Walter instructs. "You need to do this so that you can effectively login as an administrator to the machine."
"You're speaking another language … but sure," I say. "Okay, done. Now what?"
"Now, you'll need to reset the password."
"The password for which account?"
"For the account that's locked," Walter says. "If we're going to gain access to the Illicit Escape software and plans, we'll need to change the administrator password so that we can unlock it all."
"Since when did you get so high-tech on me Walter?" I joke.
"Just here to help, darling. We've got to move quickly."
"Okay, that's done; now what?" I ask. I'm acutely aware of noise now coming from down the hall and I wait a few extra seconds before making any noise in case anyone walks in. After those moments are up, it seems like the coast is clear, so we resume.
"And for the record," I say, "I've given this account a password that no one is ever going to fucking crack. I think there's enough letters, numbers, and symbols for it to be its own equation."
"Nice work," Walter laughs. "Okay, now we'll need to shut this machine off."
"Again?" I ask.
"Yes, shut it off and reboot," Walter says. "When you're turning it back on, you need to immediately hold the F8 key."
"Why is that?" I ask. "Is something about to melt down on me? You'd at least warn me if that was the case, right?"
"Very funny," Walter says. "No, you need to do this so that you can be taken to an advanced menu."
"And what exactly am I looking for on that menu?" I ask.
"You're looking for the advanced boot options."
"Got it!" I say. Adrenaline is coursing through my veins. It already feels like an eternity to just get to this point, and all I want to do is get the hell out of here.
"Okay, now insert the USB stick and start downloading all of the data from the I.E. folders."
"It's downloading," I say, clicking them all and pressing the download option. "But it's taking forever Walter! You'd think the connection speeds would be faster in a high-tech company like this. You even said this was one of the most high-tech buildings you'd ever been in." I'm tapping my feet against the floor with nervous energy. I can practically feel the minutes going by, and with every passing minute, the likelihood of someone finding me increases.
My thoughts go back to what Walter and Simon have both told me separately.
There’s no stealing bits of data. It’s either steal the physical prototype or steal all the files.
Because overtime they upgrade the software to fix bugs or whatever, all of the old data becomes useless. They rewrite a whole new operating system. It’s a failsafe to make sure that old data doesn’t get lost or misplaced and a new product reverse engineered.
It also means I have at most 24 hours to get this to Simon once it finishes downloading.
If it finishes downloading that is.
50 percent—75 percent—92 percent—shit, it's stalled on 92 percent.
"Walter, it's frozen on 92 percent!"
"Calm down. Give it a minute."
"We don't have any extra fucking minutes!" Now I'm really stressed. If this data doesn't load—and soon—I'm fucked. I check back at the status bar.
"Oh good—Walter it's done; it's at 100 percent! I'm ejecting the USB stick; we did it."
I pop out the USB drive, and it slips out of my fingers and onto the floor. Shit. I look around, trying to find it. Just great. Where the hell is it? I get down on my knees and search for it, and I finally find it, nestled behind the leg of a chair. As soon as I have it in my hands, I hear the sound of footsteps approaching.
"What are you doing in here?"
It's Ch
eryl. Shit.
"I—uh—I just—"
Then I hear Walter in my ear. "Tell her you were looking for an earring that you lost; she'll believe that," he says.
"I was just looking for an earring that I must've dropped," I say.
Cheryl raises one skeptical eyebrow. "You dropped an earring? Here, in Ethan’s office?”
"That's right," I say. "Well, I'm not sure if it was in here, per say. It could be somewhere else, but I just wanted to make sure."
"And why would it be in here?" Cheryl asks. "Or maybe the better question is, why would you have ever needed to be in here? To say the earring might be here is to imply you've spent time here. Only our developers come in here."
"Oh I—uh—I was taking a tour of the place the other day," I say.
"In here?"
“Well, Ethan and I…” I trail off.
Cheryl looks at me. “Ethan and you, what?”
I roll my eyes as if asking her if she really needs me to spell out the fact that we were fucking.
“Right,” Cheryl says after a minute. “You fucked him.”
“Or he fucked me, you know?” I say, giving her some sass. “It was kind of mutual.”
“Do you always sleep with your clients?” Cheryl asks me.
“It’s been my philosophy to get to know someone since high school,” I tell her sweetly as she raises her eyebrows at me. Fuck her. Interrogating me and shit.
"Did you just so happen to develop that philosophy at … say … Man Chasers LLC?" she asks.
When she says this I'm floored. How did she know that? And I'm sure that shock is written all over my face.
"What are you talking about?"
"Oh come on Brittney," she says. "Do you think I don't know? I know all about your business."
"This has nothing to do with my business," I say. There's no use lying and trying to tell her that Man Chaser's LLC doesn't exist. She obviously knows all about it. I have to just go with it.
"I hope not," she says.
"Being an actress for Illicit Entertainment has nothing to do with my previous work," I say, confirming my stance.
"For your sake, I hope you're right," Cheryl says. Her gaze has intensified. "Because if you try to pull something here, you'll regret it. That much I can promise."
