Car Show Slut Ch. 08

"Well, let me just do your feet," said Darren. "A nice foot massage."

"No, it's OK," I said. I hoped that would be enough. I didn't want to make a scene – these were clients, after all.

"Come on, Anne," said Ron. "You know you'll enjoy it." He knew it, too. As he spoke, he swung the chair around so that it was facing off to the side of the table. So that Darren could give me the foot massage.

"Darren, this really isn't necessary..."

"Nonsense," he said, as he rolled his own chair across from the side. He sat down and lifted my foot up onto his thigh. Ron wasn't saying anything, just continuing with his rather glorious massage of my upper back. Darren held my left foot as he undid the strap of my shoe.

"Well," I said, "alright." By then he already had my shoe off and had begun. At that point, what else could I say? And by then I was well and truly feeling the combined effects of the alcohol and Ron's deft ministrations. A foot massage? Why not? It's only a foot massage.

But Darren certainly had skilled hands. I hadn't had a foot massage since I knew not when, and it felt exquisite. His fingers firmly working into the arch of my foot, across the heel, the ball... ooh, just to the point where it was almost too ticklish to withstand!

With one foot done, he gently placed my leg back down and picked up the other foot. I hoped he hadn't been able to see up my skirt as he did, but I realized the chances were, from where he was sitting, that he might have. Still, I was kind of OK with that, if only just – to be honest, the massaging had lulled me into such a deliciously relaxed state which, helped along by the soothing effects of the beer, had me feeling quite mellow indeed.

I took another sip of my beer as Darren began to massage my other foot. I felt such a sense of relief and satisfaction as his fingers worked their magic – isn't it strange how when you get, say, your foot massaged, and while that foot is luxuriating under the manipulation, the other foot almost seems to be crying out for attention? That's how it felt, so when Darren got going on the second foot, it was just, aahhh...

He kept at it for a little longer as I felt myself slumping down a little in the seat, so thoroughly relaxed. One hand was cupping my heel, massaging it firmly, while the other drifted up my leg, along my calf. I wasn't sure that this was such a good idea, but it did feel oh so good. His thick, slightly rough fingers massaged firmly up my calf muscle, gently kneading the muscle, but not too hard. God, yes that felt good! I felt so relaxed that, had the circumstances not been on the verge of being inappropriate and I had not felt the need to be on my guard, I am quite sure I would have drifted off into a blissful slumber.

Soon Darren switched to my other leg, starting again with the ankle and rubbing his way up my calf. The way he pushed his knuckles into my outer leg and ran them down the outer muscle, his touch was spot on – just hard enough, and nor too soft either.

In the meantime Ron's back massage had been continuing, which only contributed to my state of relaxed bliss. I felt like telling them they could earn good money as masseurs with their skills if I hadn't been worried they might take it the wrong way.

Ron's hands soon moved up to my shoulders. They were particularly sore after the gym weights session. Ah yes, that's it, he was getting right into the area, between my neck and shoulders. God, this man seems to KNOW my body. After a little while his hands drifted up to my neck, his fingers gently manipulating the muscles at the back of my neck. So softly; ooh, it almost tickled! He was giving me goose bumps! Then after a little while of this his hands slid down my neck he ran his fingers inside my blouse, so that his hands and fingers were now gently rubbing the bare skin of my shoulders. My blouse was fairly loose fitting, and the fact that the top button was undone must have provided him enough clearance to get his hands inside.

He wasn't doing anything more than he had been doing before, simply massaging my shoulders, no more, but ohhh, the feeling of his hands against my naked skin on my neck and shoulders – it had hit me like a jolt! So delicious... His slow sensuous massage continued, and I continued to luxuriate in it. But I knew this was wrong, this was not proper at all – especially now that his fingers were in direct contact with the straps of my bra! And soon I felt his fingers slide under the straps. I felt my body tense as he gently slipped the straps down and slid them over my arms, allowing him to gain unimpeded access to my shoulders. And it did feel nicer that way, oh yes it did, even though a part of me was starting to have serious misgivings about this. Yet it wasn't as though he had removed my bra or touched me inappropriately. Still, I would have to stop this soon.

This would have to stop. This was not the done thing – these were work associates, and one had his hands inside my blouse, the other was massaging my legs. Worse, their attentions were really heating me up. Really heating me up. As the two guys lovingly rubbed my skin, the more I relaxed they made me feel, the wetter I was becoming. I could feel my nipples stiffening, could feel my breath quickening, so much so that I had to consciously control my breathing, slow it down, so neither of them could see that what they were doing was making me aroused – I was worried what they might do if they knew. Yet it was as though my body and my mind were involved in dual and conflicting conversations: my brain was saying 'stop, you shouldn't be doing this, stop it right now', but my body was thinking something else entirely. My physical being felt overheated, tingling all over.

Meanwhile Darren's foot massage continued. Well, by now it was really a leg massage, and now that he'd thoroughly soothed my feet and calf muscles, he was drifted further upwards, his hands now sliding across my knee and reaching into my lower thigh muscles. As he reached up to rub his fingers into my thighs, he shifted forward in his chair. So that my foot, lying on his thighs, brushed briefly against his crotch. Oh God, my foot had brushed against him – and he was hard! And just as he moved in that little bit closer, so that the arch of my foot was nestled against his member as he massaged my lower thigh, I felt Ron's hands slide down the front of my collar bone, gently massaging the skin above my breasts, inching lower, till I could tell his finger tips had reached the top of the cups of my bra. Ooh, how great that felt! My pussy throbbed, my nipples bristled, almost aching for him to plunge his hands down and grab my breasts hard. Darren's cock felt so big against my foot, and almost before I realized myself what I was doing I noticed that I was actually wiggling my toes against it! And yet even as a part of me was thrilled to the core at the notion that this man's cock was hard, that I had made it hard, panic began to overwhelm me as I realized that if I didn't stop this now, there was no telling where it might end up! God, it had already gone too far – I simply cannot get involved like this with work associates! Anne, I thought to myself: what are you doing! It had to stop. Now!

I sat up and pulled my leg from Darren's thighs, signaling clearly and firmly that the massage was done.

"Thanks guys, that was a very nice massage. I feel a lot better now."

"Glad to be of service!" Darren said. I got up and stretched, leaning across to switch off his computer. Darren and Ron were packing up their gear.

"I've got to go to the bathroom," said Darren. "Back in a minute."

"Hey, could you bring some more beers on your way back?" said Ron. Darren nodded as he left of the room. For a moment I wondered what he might be doing in the bathroom – attending to that hard cock of his, perhaps? I had a little laugh to myself as I pondered that thought.

I was packing up my stuff when I felt Ron's hands on my lower back.

"Just stay like that a minute, Anne," he said. "Now that you're standing I can give your lower back muscles a bit of a massage."

I felt it would be churlish to refuse, and in any case I had diffused the situation as it had been before when both of them were massaging me. A little lower back rub – why not? I certainly needed it.

And yes, his touch was fantastic. He began to manipulate the muscles firmly with his thumbs, using his fingers and palms as kind of anchors across the sides of my back. Ooh, yes, that felt good, so good... I leaned across to place my hands on the desk as he worked his magic; up, then back to the base of my spine, then up again, in a kind of circular motion. This went on for a minute or so when I realized that Ron's hands were beginning their 'stroke' lower and lower down my body, moving down my back gradually, so that each time his hands were straying down onto the top of my ass just that little bit more. Bent over a little, my ass kind of almost pointing up at him, I hoped he wouldn't get the wrong idea.

But then I felt him grab my ass, rubbing his hands all over, gently feeling it, as if assessing its firmness. Ooh God, his hand is on my ass! But still I hadn't said a word! I was almost embarrassed that he had taken such liberties, but ooh it felt so good! Then I felt his hand stray lower, down below the hem of my skirt, until his hand was on my bare upper thigh. The memory of the beach came flooding back into my mind as my body luxuriated in his touch; it was as though his fingers almost burned into my skin, sending a message of wanton desire straight to my pussy. I was wetting myself. Oh God, his hand was on my upper thigh, fingers gently touching, tickling...

My pussy throbbed under the feeling of his finger on the bare skin of my thighs. But my mind was in turmoil. Anne, I thought to myself: what are you doing! Stop him!

Still not wanting to make a big deal of this, but desperate to put an end to it, I kind of shook him off me and made to get up. But his free hand grabbed my hips and held me in place. The nerve of this guy! It was as if he was daring me to struggle, to make a scene.

"Ron, stop. Please." I said firmly.

"Oh come on Anne, it's just a little massage. We both know how much you enjoy a massage." There was a slight hint of the sardonic in his tone which I didn't like at all.

"Come on," he said, as his hand returned to my upper thigh, languidly rubbing it up and down, tickling, "you liked it at the beach didn't you?"

"Yes, but no!" I said confusingly, feeling my cheeks glow red with embarrassment that he had mentioned 'the beach'. "Ron, I'm asking you please, just stop."

But he wasn't stopping. His left hand was anchoring my hip now as his other hand began to roam all over my ass. Oh God, but that did feel good! But I wished he would stop! I could just let go of the table and dart away from him, but something was holding me back. Was it just that I didn't want things to be uncomfortable – but weren't they anyway? – or did he have some kind of power over me? Or was it that I just liked it too much? And oh yes, I was loving this, the attention, his skilled hands, reveling even in my shame, yes, I had to admit, somehow getting off on the fact that I shouldn't be letting a work colleague take advantage of me like this. It was so wrong!

His hand drifted to my inner thigh now. God, he was close to my pussy – God, this was just like last time at the beach! And just like last time, my pussy was aching for his touch. Oh please stop him! But my body didn't care what kind of turmoil my mind was in, what kind of highly improper personal interaction I seemed to be letting myself slide inexorably towards. My pussy wanted only one thing, and its desires seemed to be overpowering, almost consuming my conscious mind.

I was panting now, so heavily that I could barely conceal it. His hand was reaching between my legs. Then I felt it – his hand cup my pussy. Ooh God! My body was in exultation, as if in triumph as my conscious mind sank in shame, defeat. Oh my God, I'm letting him feel me up - and he will know, he will feel how wet I am! His fingers grazed lightly across my lips, sliding gently along the now wet material of my panties. He just kept rubbing me; oohh, but his touch was so light, his fingers gently rubbing up and down, almost tickling me... I felt my lips opening under his touch, moistening, getting wetter... Ooh, I wished he would stop doing this to me! Please!

Then suddenly I felt my skirt raise – with his other hand he'd yanked it up around my waist! Oh God, no...

"Ron, please!" I pleaded, trying to shake free. "Don't!"

"Anne, are you sure?" he whispered into my ear, his breath hot on my neck. I could smell his sweat, male sweat. "Your pussy is all wet."

But he was right, as ashamed as it made me feel. I was wet. I was on fire. All the while I was telling him 'no', my body was saying the opposite as I felt his fingers slide under the elastic of my g-string, until I felt his bare hands rubbing gently up and down my shamefully slick lips. Oh God, he was touching me! His fingers felt like velvet. I was so wet, they just slid effortlessly along my slick, craving pussy. Ooohhh... I felt so ashamed of myself.

"Mmm, nice," he said, as his finger probed my opening. "Just spread you legs a little bit for me."

When I didn't respond he roughly pushed my legs apart, and as he did he pushed his finger inside me. Oohh...

My brain tried to reconcile the situation, tried to act. My skirt was my around my hips. I was bent over the table, legs spread, and Ron was gently fucking me with his finger. Ron, my client. And I seemed to be letting him. And I was wet for him. Soo wet for him. I wanted him so much! But I couldn't! No!

But the more he kept that slow rhythm of his finger sliding gently in and out, gently touching me, the less and less I felt I had any power to stop him. I wasn't doing anything to stop him other than my feeble, pathetic protests. I felt my hips arch back against him, almost of their own volition, as if trying to coax him further inside. No, my mind screamed, I cannot be doing this!

Then he withdrew his hand, and I almost sighed in relief as the torment to my brain ceased. But it wasn't over, I realized, as I felt his fingers slide under the material of my panties. He peeled them over my thighs till they got caught around my knees, the elastic stretched tight against the opening of my legs. His hand returned to my pussy, his fingers feeling my wetness, my lips; I felt him touch my clit ring and I felt a sudden surge of shame – oh God, he knows I've got a clit ring!

"Hey, nice jewelry Anne!" he whispered softly into my ear as he fingered the ring, squeezing my clit, tugging lightly on the ring. Bent over the table, as I looked down I could actually see him doing it. Such a vulgar sight, my bare pussy with a ring pierced through my clit. How could I be behaving like such a slut? And letting Ron play with it!

Hs finger returned to my opening. It slid inside with such ease. And yes, it felt so good! Ooh, he was gently probing me, and then I felt him plunge deeply inside! He started roughly fucking me with his finger, and my hands gripped the table tightly under his assault. Oh God, I was giving in, my defenses were weakening, disappearing almost completely. I still managed a meek 'No!' but that was a pathetic sham; my body was doing the talking now, and the itch in my loins was deepening. God, I could feel myself, oh no, I could feel that sweet release coming, not far away... No!

Then, suddenly I seemed to open my eyes to see Darren standing there in front of us! God, I'd almost forgotten about him! How long he'd been there I don't know, but God, he was seeing me like this! His sudden presence jolted me back to reality. I felt like I would die, die of shame. There was no mistaking the situation now; absolutely no ambiguity. His work buddy had me over the table, my skirt up around my waist, panties pulled down, and fucking me with my finger – and I must have looked like I was loving it. And the sad fact was – I was loving it!

Darren was watching me with a strangely serious look on his face. He looked shocked.

"Ron, no!" I suddenly yelled. But as the words echoed through my head, he just held me harder, his finger still sliding effortlessly in and out, in and out.

"Honey, your brain might be saying no, but your body's saying something else."

Then I felt Ron jerk me away from the table, so that now I was almost fully upright. With my legs now together there was nothing to hold my panties around my knees and I felt them slip down my legs to the floor. Ron saw it too. He lifted my legs, one after the other, so that I could step out of my panties. That I actually helped him do it, I almost couldn't believe myself. What was I doing?

Darren was still standing there in front of me, saying nothing. I glanced down at Darren's body there in front of me – I was too ashamed of myself to look him in the eye – and I saw the huge bulge in his trousers.

Then Ron pushed me down, down to the floor. I sunk down, down onto the polished hardwood floor of the boardroom, down, as if trying to disappear. With my legs together, I could feel my juices coating my thighs. God, how could it be, how could I be so wet for them, acting like a slut in front of my clients? Tears welled in my eyes as I contemplated my degradation, and as I knew what was coming. It seemed almost inevitable now. I looked up at them and I saw Ron grinning menacingly down at me. I watched as his pulled down his zipper. He unclasped his belt and dropped his pants. His huge, thick cock sprang free like some kind of beast. He smiled as he took his cock into his hands and gently stroked it. It was hard, thick, shinning with wetness. It was right in front of my face. It looked huge, powerful. God, no, my mind screamed. No, don't let this happen! Not with my clients!

"Give me your hand, Anne," he said, with a certain authority in his tone that I'd never noticed before. I lifted my arm up to him. He took my hand and placed in on his cock. So warm. So hard. So wet. I held it in my hand. I felt my hand slide along it a little, sliding on the wetness. The skin of his cock was so soft, yet underneath so hard. Somehow it felt like the first penis I had ever seen. I watched as my hand began to slide up and down. It was somehow mesmerizing, as though I was watching all of this take place from some vantage point, as if I was watching a movie, rather than being a participant. But I was the star player, and this was real; his cock was right there, right there in my hand, right in front of my face. I looked up at him. Up at his big hairy balls hanging down, his cock, and above that his face. He was smiling. He looked pleased.

My palm was now sticky with his precum. I could not help but glide my clenched palm up and down it; it was as though my hand was somehow magnetized to his member. I squeezed it, and watched as another bead of clear sticky liquid oozed out of the head. God, I could hardly believe it - I felt my mouth watering as I saw it shining on the end of his cock, like some kind of exotic, irresistible nectar. I felt my own juices seeping through my pussy once more. I lifted my head towards his cock. The head was a few inches in front of my face, weeping fluid, enormous.

"Suck it," he commanded. I looked up at him, shocked that he was say that. But then what should I expect in such a situation. His cock was in my hand. Darren was standing there alongside of him. He was rubbing his cock through his pants. It felt like the ultimate degradation, as low as I could possibly sink. In my mind it was utterly inconceivable that I could possibly contemplate taking Ron's cock into my mouth, under any circumstances, least of all like this, in the boardroom of his company, and with Darren right there with him – and with Darren rubbing what was no doubt his hard cock through his trousers...