Work Drinks

This is the sequel of a sort to Girlfriends

***

I’d noticed her before, all bossiness and tits.

Not her friend, though. She was new. A dark-haired piece in a too-small dress. It clung to her body, to everywhere. Stomach rolls, and fat acres of thigh.

They might as well have been on a date, ignoring the rest of us, crammed in the smallest bar of the pub because the Christmas do hadn’t been booked until October. I turned back to the knot of management behind me and when I next allowed my gaze to flutter over to those women, they were still talking, avoiding the rest of us. They could have been on a date. Lesbian canoodling on the company dollar.

I snorted into my pint and, catching Jay’s eye, went to join in with the departmental singalong of We Are the Champions. And every so often, I’d turn back and look at them, at their heads bent together, still ignoring the rest of us. I must have known.

The night wore on and some people left but the bar grew busier and noisier. I struggled to keep them in my eyeline, struggled to come up with a reason why I was making this effort to. They weren’t pretty, they weren’t young – my ceiling level was thirty, thirty five at a push and these two must have been pushing forty at least. Cougars, they call them these days. The short-haired one had her hand on the other’s thigh, sinking in deeply, imprinting. My cock twitched, without consent.

Dark hair blushed as short hair took a sip of her drink, casually shifting so the hand crept higher. Their heads were close again, whispering, gossiping.

I was drunk. I was tired.

Dark hair wiped the corner of short hair’s mouth and I watched the thumb travel down her cheek, her neck, and over her cleavage. They kissed, like they couldn’t help themselves any longer. How was no one else seeing this? Staring?

Short hair took dark hair’s hand as they pulled away, and nodded. They rose and made their way through the crowds , heading for the exit.

I watched them leave.

I stared at the empty booth where they had been sitting.

I followed them out of the bar.

It was dark out, pitch black after midnight and bitterly cold. The bar complex management had chosen for the works do was outside of the city, quieter, by the riverside. The courtyard was virtually empty, only one or two clutches of smokers braving the outside world. They were almost out of view, heading down to the banks where the water slid by lazily. I needed to keep a distance, really. I knew what I was doing wasn’t absolutely ok. A man, pursuing two women. But they had years on me individually, as a pair they could hobble me in a heartbeat. And I just wanted to watch. Watching couldn’t hurt anyone.

They were sat a way down the path where the river curved inwards, same configuration as before – short hair dominant, dark hair deferring – facing half towards me. From the safety of my own seat I watched them kiss again, illuminated from the reflection on the water. Short hair stood after a while and was evidently giving instruction; dark hair shifted around, and then short hair got on her knees, her head and shoulders disappearing from view as dark hair tilted her head back and moaned loudly enough for me to hear it from my vantage point. I could guess what was going on, out of my eyeline. Short hair plunging her fingers into dark hair’s cunt, holding her down with her free hand and sucking on her clit until she screams in pain or pleasure or a combination of both.

I thought for a moment, then began to step closer. If I could make it to the gardens behind them – ringed with dense green bushes – I could hear more, if not see. Be calm, be normal. It’s socially acceptable to walk along a towpath at midnight, less so to eat pussy on a park bench.

I was walking away from them, to the gap in the shrubs which I could slip through. If either of them noticed me passing, they didn’t let on and soon I was stood directly behind, just tall enough to see over the hedge; and the sound of dark hair’s moans as clear as a bell, as well as short hair’s clear instruction.

“Dress off. Now. I know it’s cold but I want to see you naked.”
Dark hair didn’t even hesitate, standing to peel off her jacket, and then the sheath of her dress. As she sat I caught the heavy fall of her breasts, even her nipples, diamond hard in the icy air. She moaned louder, her arms spread over the metal slats of the bench and I could see so little but hear everything and my cock was painfully hard in my jeans, it was almost as if someone else’s hand moved to my fly, unbuttoned and spread the gap so I could take out my swollen cock and stroked it to the scene before me. This was not the plan. This must have been the plan.

Dark hair squirmed in the seat, she must have been getting closer, the shadow of her arms no longer visible and I pictured her grabbing at her flesh, her tits and stomach straining as her orgasm built, as my orgasm built.

I pictured coming over dark hair’s stomach, as short hair squeezed my balls and drained me. I pictured short hair making her fat little bitch suck me hard again even if I protested, making me use her cunt and at that thought I doubled over, coming over the frozen ground to the high pitched squeals of dark hair’s climax. I righted myself, stuffed my cock inside my boxers and began to walk hurriedly away, back to the bar, back to warmth and a drunken karaoke rendition of Turning Japanese.

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