Read part One here. Or you can jump in here.
Beverly took extra care choosing her outfit for work. Ever since her Friday cam show, she’d been distracted thinking about her boss. The voice of the man watching her show, watching her fuck herself to orgasm with a dildo, had sounded so much like him. She’d spent the weekend masturbating to the recorded track of his, “come on slut, fuck that pussy.”
Monday morning she donned her cooperate mask, a black pencil skirt with a slit cut a little high, and a white button up blouse. She picked out one of her favorite lingerie sets, a pale lacy set that was utterly see-through. The one element she forgot was that the office had a meeting that morning.
She’d have to stay focused listening to the boss for an hour. Her mind kept drifting back to the sound of his voice talking dirty to her while she’d fucked herself for a livestream audience. She crossed her legs tighter, wondering what he’d think of the lingerie she was wearing under her professional attire. She wondered if he’d be the type of man who would invite her into his office, and bend her over his desk. Would he have her strip, or just hike her skirt up and push her panties out of the way? She found herself intrigued by the idea of being naked in his office, while he was still in his suit.
By the time the meeting ended, Beverly was distracted and beyond turned on. Luckily she didn’t have any cases going on, so she wasn’t asked to contribute anything to the meeting. She tried to get out the of the conference room quickly, wanting to sneak away to the bathroom for a quick masturbation session.
Instead she heard her name come out of his mouth.
“Yes, sir?” she answered, not sitting down again, but turning back toward him.
“I wanted to congratulate you on your great work on your last case.”
It took Beverly a few seconds to recall what case he was taking about. “Thank you, Mr. X” she answered, and smiled.
“You did a great job taking on so much.”
Beverly blinked, recalling the dildo and the live stream. She knew he couldn’t be talking about that, but the idea had her flustered. She managed to stammer another thank you and excused herself.
She hurried to the bathroom and was relieved to find it empty. She stepped into a stall and hiked up her skirt. She plunged her fingers into her sopping pussy. Rubbing her clit frantically, she imagined his words again, “come on slut, fuck that pussy.” This time picturing him in the conference room, fully dressed in his suit and her reclined on the conference table, skirt hiked up, panties crumpled on the floor, that same dildo from the livestream filling her pussy, while he watched. She tore at the buttons on her shirt, reaching a hand into her bra to knead her tits, before teasing her nipples.
Plunging her fingers inside her pussy, she ground her clit against her hand. She could hear the business of the office going on just outside the door, but that did nothing to diminish her arousal. She pulled her fingers from her pussy, feeling her wetness drip down her thigh. Rubbing her clit in slow circles, she let out a soft moan. She heard him say again, “You did a great job taking on so much,” and pretended once again that he had been talking about the dildo, about her show. The idea that he did know about her other life, and he was teasing her, toying with her was fueling her masturbation.
She bit her lip as she came, trying not to make a sound. She sagged against the bathroom wall, her panties slipping toward her ankles and her shirt hanging open. Catching her breath, she grabbed her phone, and angling it down, carefully framing out most of her face, she took a picture. She loved the idea of posting a picture like this on her blog.
She cleaned up, wiping her fingers and thighs. Pulling her panties, she wondered just how winkled her skirt was. She was grateful that she hadn’t lost a button in her haste to open her shirt.
When she returned to her office, and looked at the photos she’d taken, she noticed the icon for a message from her cam account. She rarely opened those messages at work, finding them too distracting. Of course, she was already so distracted, nothing could make today worse. She tapped the message icon and her jaw dropped.
I’m the viewer you called Mr. X. How much for a private video?
Beverly stared at the message. The message couldn’t be from her boss, right? It was obviously the guy from Friday, but he wasn’t saying it was his name. But a small voice in her head reminded her that she wouldn’t have admitted her real name either.
She closed the message and returned to her office. Her panties were distractingly damp, but she pushed aside everything and focused on work. Her eye kept drifting back to her phone. How much would she charge for a private show? She’d never done one. And could she do a show for this man? She let her gaze follow her boss as he walked across the office. And once again heard his voice, “you did a great job…” She typed a quick reply with a ridiculously low price.