Four days into their five day trip and all Paula and the guys wanted to do was leave DC before being summoned to the Pentagon. Being that their current mission was the Y2K rollover project, they were often asked to give impromptu briefings; this is where the three of them shined. Charlie, the highest ranking, was most conversant on the project; Shawn was the color commentator, bringing his wit to an all to often dry circle jerk.
And then there was Paula.
Being a Department of Defense contractor, Paula was somewhat of an anomaly. Her duties mirrored Charlie and Shawn’s; she worked along side them and shared their headaches. Yet given the xenophobic attitudes of the DoD, she often disappeared into background until called upon. In the confines of their world at Gunter, all things were equal. The brass treated the enlisted and contractors the same. The guys were aware the stark contrast in perception drove Paula mad and they went out of their way to include her in their discussion not for sake of fairness but because her input was imperative. She knew the source code like the back of her hand—she was their equal in all but dress, and they made sure everyone damn well knew it.
There were some crumbs of comfort: Paula ran into a fighter pilot, Captain Rhodes, whom she’d been corresponding with since her first week on the job. At the time he’d been nursing a sprain wrist and commuted to light desk work. He was a married father of eight who lived in Boston and flew an F-22 for Otis Air National Guard. For a fighter pilot he didn’t have the trademarked God-like complex, he was upbeat and approachable. There were many days when his phone call or email kept her from strangling her colleagues especially when Charlie and Shawn were out of the office.
In their close quarters Paula and Charlie managed to keep their relationship concealed from Shawn. No sleeping together, no touchy-feely action…just friends as they’d always been. But things were literally coming to a head. She’d never understood why some women denied themselves sex or the intimacy that it brought. In comparison, men had no problem acting on the desires that beset most women. But why, why fight it? There were times when her pussy registered images of a feral cat pacing quiet paths in anxious patience for Charlie’s attention. And if he took too long satisfying her needs, she’d take him as she saw fit; coercing a begrudged bellowing orgasm from him, leaving him slumped and spent against her breasts.
She and Charlie fed on one another. Sex for them wasn’t merely two-stepping toward orgasm; it was a wild unabashed need of epic proportion. For most women, being awoken to her body being held protracted between her lover hands while being screwed without thought of how she felt would’ve been a civil matter---but for Paula, it was Charlie’s way of saying good morning.
However, that was the physical aspect of their relationship. In the long days and somber nights that passed, it was his presence and those the gray sweatpants, no makeup, ‘baby come and read to me’ moments that she missed. Here, they playacted with benign reserve and satisfied by a few stolen glances. These brief glimpses of their private life sustained them but couldn’t compare to the metaphysical sublimity they found in one another touch.
But the hundreds on miles that separated Paula and Lisa were no match for Lisa’s dogged determination to pull Paula kicking and screaming into her wedding plans. The wedding was less then a month away and Lisa hadn’t found a dress. Her willingness to label her blind ambivalent as being selective was enough to send Paula into a white-hot rage. Yet this is where Paula found herself, tied to her laptop, combing eBay and local bridal websites while Charlie and Shawn went bar hopping with guys from the office.
“What about that one?” Lisa said.
“Half way down the page, the one with the two foot train and lace bodice.”
Paula scrolled down the page. “Lisa, this is horrible! You do want to get married don’t you? Try to find a dress that covers more flesh. Your mother will be there for goodness sake.”
“Tony wanted me to wear something sexy.”
“Sexy and trashy are polar opposites. This dress is two seconds away from slutty.”
“Well you find one,” Lisa sighed. “My eyes are going cross.”
“Lisa, you need to take a break and focus on something else. Mo and I will find the dress.” Paula said.
Charlie walked in and began undressing at the foot of her bed. He knew she was trapped and couldn’t protest his advances with Lisa on the phone. Carefully he moved her laptop to the nightstand, removed her night gown and panties and ignored the “what are you doing?” look she gave.
Lisa was still rambling on and Paula pretended to listen attentively as Charlie spread her thighs and licked slow lazy circles down the center of her abdomen. “I’m still here,” she lamented as Charlie, lying prostate between her legs, cupped her ass, palming a cheek in each hand. “We need Tony’s guest list before we begin working on the sitting chart.” She said anticipating his oral assault.
He placed one tiny wet lick on her pussy lips, educing a faint sigh from Paula. “Shhhhh, someone will hear you,” he breathed against her lip while smiling up at her. With her ass cupped in hand, her wet quivering slit pulsating before him, he licked and sucked at her lips, tasted and savored her girlie juices and rhythmically moved her ass in a way that ensured his tongue, his suckling mouth, his gripping hands worked in quiet concert.
“Yes, that’s a good idea,” Paula observed, trying to keep her senses focused on the conversation rather then the raging tsunami Charlie’s insistent lap-lap-sucking was invoking. “Lisa, can I call you back?”
“Wait, one last thing. I should’ve asked you earlier,” There was a pregnant pause. “Paula, are you there?”
Paula breathlessly watched Charlie’s head bobbing between her thighs, tonguing her clit. “Yes, I’m here. What were you saying?”
“I wanted to ask you if you’d be my maid of honor. My sister and I are on bad terms and I’d like you to take her place.”
Paula’s orgasm unrelentingly swelled under Charlie’s oral craftsmanship. His pleading words pass over his lips and caressed the nether regions of her aching core. “Cum,” he implored looking straight into Paula’s eyes.
“Okay Paula, enough hemming and hawing. Are you in or not?” Lisa interrupted.
Stuck in a virtual foursome: Shawn in the next room, Lisa on the telephone and she lying spread-eagle under Charlie’s unanticipated tongue fuckery, Paula limped towards her orgasm, unable to scream out in the evangelical tongues she was accustomed.
“Cum,” he said, locked eyed and suckling. “Cum.”
Paula nodded teary eyed “Yes, I’ll do it.”
“Great!” Lisa said giddily. “I’ll give you a call tomorrow and we’ll go from there!”
Paula clicked the phone off, dropped it on the bed and fisted the sheets, the pillows, and the mattress…anything and everything to keep from calling attention mind-bending orgasm. Her head back, her mouth open, and her body arrested with tension, Charlie gripping her ass---she came with such intensity sounds, words, time and space failed her.
Charlie lingered between her legs lapping the last remains of her sanity. “Hey baby,”
Without a word Paula pull him on top of her and kissed him deeply. His cock entered her slowly and deliberately, pausing to make her feel his fullness. Her lips open like the pages of a book, her desires written in cryptographic symbols that only he could decode.
“Charlie, I’m cumming” she moaned and slowly surrender to his prowess. She basted in the feel of his weight against her, his muted pleasure groaning in her ear, his breath on her neck. And then it happened---in one sweet breathless moment she felt him cum inside of her for the first time. They both exhaled a long hot breath cementing their bond.
They lie holding one another and fell fast asleep.
The next morning Shawn, still half drunk, awoke and started breakfast. Paula and Charlie emerged from their rooms shortly after noon to find him collapsed facedown on the living room sofa, shades drawn.
“Fucking hell man,” Charlie plopped in the recliner and covered his face. “What did we drink last night?”
“The hell if I know. I can’t feel my tongue. I vaguely remember a round of shot at one point but…was that before or after the beer?”
“I don’t know. I can’t remember a thing. How did we get home?” Charlie asked.
Paula pushed Shawn’s legs off the sofa and sat down. “What, you guys are kidding right?”
“No, I don’t remember anything.” Charlie leaned back, his stomach boiled with regret. “Seriously Shawn, how did we get home?”
“I was hoping you’d know. The car’s not outside so I’m assuming neither of us drove. Maybe one of the guys brought us back, who know.”
Paula stared quizzically at both men. Clearly their were in agony. “You’re not kidding are you? You really don’t remember anything?”
“No!” Shawn labored. “I recall leaving the NCO club and heading into DC but nothing else afterward.”
“Shawn!” Paula slapped his leg playfully. “I gave you the best sex of my life last night and you don’t even remember it.”
Aware that her comment might have been meant for him, Charlie’s eyes flew open.
“Well I’m glad you enjoyed it because I don’t remember a damn thing.” Shawn staggered from the sofa. “I’m going back to bed. What time does our flight leave?”
Spread The Word
This article is part 5 of a 13 part series. Other articles in this series are shown below:
Office Politics: Part Five