*Part 1 is* [*here*](https://www.reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/ol4a4a/sexting_you_at_work_mf_cheating_humiliation/)*. The final part will be out in a week or so, in the mean time please let me know what you think. Always happy to chat about my writing, and open to any constructive feedback, positive or negative.*
It has been over a month since your boss called you into her office convinced she’d caught you browsing porn on your phone. The humiliation you felt as you begged her not to fire you, but instead to look through our conversation and see for herself what I had done. You sat there as she took her time reading the messages, looking at the images of your girlfriend being taken by another man. With each ping of a new message arriving, you winced in your seat, imagining what horror was appearing on the screen before her. I continued to send them unaware of her intervention. The knowledge your boss was seeing these violations before you as you sat in confusion, making it all so much worse for you. Why was I doing this? When she handed your phone back, seemingly satisfied you weren’t the instigator of this situation, you went back to your desk to finish your work. Only then were you able to see for yourself, what she had seen. As she sent you on your way, what was it you saw in her eyes, pity, or something else?
You came home late that night, to our quiet apartment, nervous about what would happen, how you would react, what you would say. But there’s something about walking into an empty house, a stillness, and you knew instinctively there was nobody home. You sat alone in the kitchen nursing a beer for an hour, your calls and texts unanswered, before finally going up to the bedroom to find my clothes gone, the wardrobes and drawers even the bathroom cabinet empty. The next day, you found the courage to call my sister and ask where I was, what I was doing, who was Gareth? She said she didn’t want to get involved. You asked if I was ok, still worried about me even then, and were relieved when she said I was fine. As she said goodbye there was sadness in her voice, I know she always liked you. It has been over a month since I left you.
Not for the first time in that month, you’re sitting alone at home. It’s a Tuesday evening and your drinking again, drinking to forget. The football is on and your team is playing in the semi-final of something or other, the furthest they’ve gotten in years everyone is saying. This is one thing you’ve been looking forward to, to take your mind off me, your one remaining pleasure. Your friends tried to persuade you to watch it with them in the pub, but you can’t face going out, you haven’t been out in weeks. The game has just started and already you’re on your third beer when your phone rings, glancing over you see it’s your boss. You need to keep her on side after everything that’s happened, you can’t afford to lose your job as well and you’re not quite sure you’re out of the woods yet.
“Hi Rachel” you say, trying not to sound too disappointed to be speaking to her this late.
“Hi David, sorry to trouble you, are you free to talk?”
You turn the TV volume off but leave the picture on. “Yes, no problem”.
“I reviewed the report you sent earlier, about the place on Henderson Street, it needs some work. I’ve an 8am with the developer. Can you rework it tonight please?”
“I was planning on watching the game…” you start to say, but she continues.
“… it needs quite a lot doing, I’ve sent over my comments. I’d like to see another draft tonight if that’s ok?” She speaks with a friendly but firm tone. You both know you’re her best performer, her most reliable team member, you could get out of this if you tried. But your confidence is broken, this is what I’ve done to you. You should say you want to watch the match, instead you say, “Sure Rachel, I’ll get something over this evening.”
“Thanks” and she hangs up.
You contemplate leaving the TV on while you work, but when you see the length of the list of comments she’s sent over, you know you’ll be at it late into the night even without any distractions. So reluctantly you turn it off and settle in. You’ve been working for a couple of hours, when your phone pings again with a text.
“How’s it coming along?” Rachel wants to know.
“Getting there, with you in an hour” you respond.
“Great. Bill and I are having dinner with some friends. I’ll read if after.”
“Ok” you send and return to your screen, annoyed that you’ve given up your evening while she continues to enjoy hers. A few minutes pass before your phone pings once more, and again it’s Rachel.
“Want to see what we’ve eaten, it was lovely?” is her unusual question. Why would you want to see photos of her food? She knows you’re busy trying to get this done for her, why is she distracting you.
“Sure” you reply, as much to get rid of her as anything. A moment goes by then the phone pings again. Before you pick up, you finish updating the section you are working on, not in any real hurry to see your boss’s dinner. There is an image of a green salad with flakes of salmon on the top, “Starter” she says along with it. She’s correct, it does look nice. A few seconds later another image comes through showing a larger plate of the same subtle floral design with what looks like risotto, pieces of chorizo sliced through it and coated with parmesan “Main” is the caption. When the third image arrives however, you can’t quite believe what you are seeing.
The picture shows a spacious dining room you don’t recognise, Rachel’s you assume, but you can’t be sure. In the middle is a generously sized table around which are set four chairs at spaced out intervals. In front of each chair there is evidence of where a place setting used to be, recently cleared away. There are four wine glasses, with varying levels remaining and a couple of empty bottles at one end of the table, a third in the ice bucket. Two of the chairs are occupied, one by a man who looks to be in his early to mid-fifties and the other by someone much closer in age to you, perhaps twenty-five. Both are looking at the camera smiling, but you don’t recognise either. The other two chairs are empty, one presumably belonging to Rachel who you assume is taking the photograph. The thing that grabs your attention however, is me.
I’m lying on my back in the middle of the table, along its length. My head is slightly tilted off to one side so I too can see the camera, my arms lying lazily above my head, crossed at the wrists and my long blonde hair cascading around me. One leg is straight out towards the bottom of the table whilst the other, the one nearest the camera, is slightly bent at the knee creating a seductive curve that runs its length into the small of my back which is arched slightly up off the table. The black Basque set I am wearing is completed with a pair of black nylon stockings and black patent heels with red leather soles. The frilled straps of the Basque which press gently into the soft skin on my shoulders lead your eyes down to the floral lace trimmed cups holding my breasts firmly in place, pushing them into a generous cleavage. This is the same cleavage that you used to encourage me to display in low cut tops teasing your friends on nights out, then you’d tell them how I’d let you fuck my tits and cum all over them. Around my neck I’m wearing the silver necklace you gave me on our first valentine’s day, the small silver pendant sitting in the gap between my breasts. After lying back onto the table, I took the time to place it carefully so you wouldn’t miss this little detail. There is a small silver zip running down the front of my Basque, passing between the bones which narrow the satin and lace fabric around my waist exaggerating my shape. Lower, I am wearing a black G-string which covers me to the front as the narrow strap slips between my legs, pressing into me. The black stockings are held up by thin suspender straps clipped to the top. The caption below the photograph simply reads “Dessert”.
For the second time in little over a month, you’re caught completely off guard, your head swimming with confused questions. How do I know Rachel, why is she sending you pictures of me in lingerie, who are the other people in the photo? You correctly assume the older man is Bill, her husband, but the second you are less certain of, is this Gareth? You stare at me posing seductively for the camera, and you must assume I knew why it was being taken, that I know Rachel is your boss and this isn’t just some coincidence. I left you weeks ago and you haven’t heard from me since, so why now suddenly am I back to torment you. As if reading your mind, Rachel sends you another message.
“She looks stunning don’t you think? I want to start tearing off her clothes with my teeth. She’s been dressed like that all night, right through dinner since before I called you” she taunts. This further realisation that I was like this when she called you earlier asking you to work unpaid overtime and miss your beloved match, adds to your pain.
“WTF is going on!” you respond. You try calling Rachel’s number but you can tell from the speed of disconnection, she declined the call. You try my number next, I can hear it ringing in the other room, we all can, but we ignore it.
“I was intrigued by Claire’s photos, so I made a note of her number. We’ve been chatting since, met up for drinks a few times. We’re becoming quite good friends.”
“Answer your phone please” you fire back, but she ignores you and continues.
“My husband and I like to entertain from time to time. When Claire found out, she thought it sounded fun and wanted to try. But of course, she doesn’t have a boyfriend, so she found someone to join in. His name is Mike.”
“Who is he, is he her boyfriend, what happened to Gareth?”
“No idea, not sure she even really knows. I can’t wait to see what he has under that suit though; he’s had a nice bulge watching Claire all evening. She says Gareth was just a one-time thing. Sounds like she’s been having quite a lot of fun these last few weeks!”
One of the things eating you up inside since I left has been who I left you for, who was Gareth. But you slowly realise now, Gareth was nobody. Mike is nobody. I didn’t leave you for anyone, I just left you. You realise I chose being with nobody rather than being with you. This feels like cuts on your skin, the deep emptiness inside you returns as it did that day a month ago. You loved me, you still do, more than anyone or anything before and now you begin to wonder if I ever loved you back. What you don’t yet know of course is that when I say, ‘being with nobody’, it is far from the truth. It would be more accurate to say ‘being with anybody’ or even, ‘being with everybody’ but that’s for another time.
Your phone pings again signalling the arrival of another photograph. Things have moved on, and I am on my knees, looking up at the camera, the expression on my face one of lust, desire, want. In each hand I have a hard cock which I’m stroking, you can’t see who they belong to but one is cleanly shaven with no pubic hair at all which makes it look larger than it is, although it isn’t by any means small. The other is smaller but still a nice size with a gentle upward curve. You assume from the thick greying bush of pubic hair the second belongs to Bill meaning the first must be Mike’s. You feel the dread flooding through you as you know how this goes, there will be more photos, this is just the beginning. You know you won’t want to look at them, but you also know you will. “I can’t do this again” you think.
In the next image you receive, I am still kneeling now with the younger man under me. I’m sitting astride him with his cock buried deep inside me, facing towards his feet so you can see both of us in the shot. My thin G-string is pulled aside to allow him entry. He has his hands on my hips where he is helping me rhythmically rise and fall as I slide up and down his hard shaft feeling every inch, every bump of him inside me. With a cock that size he must be bottoming out in me you decide. Bill’s cock is in my mouth, and I’m holding the base firmly in place, I don’t want him to slip out as I ride my friend. Bill has a hand resting gently on the back of my head to encourage me, but I don’t need it, you can tell from my eyes that I am loving the taste of his cock as Mike penetrates me from below.
You open another and see Rachel lying naked on her back on the table, I’m still in my lingerie as I stand bent over her, my head between her parted raised knees. My breasts press heavily at the fabric of the Basque as it frames my chest. My heels exaggerate the length of my straight nylon clad legs as I work my tongue into her. You had no idea I liked women, in fact this is first for me and another fantasy of yours you were unable to persuade me to indulge, much like when Gareth took my anal virginity as you looked on helplessly from work. From the look on her face, I’m not doing too badly for my first time. Behind me is Bill, he is ploughing into me as I pleasure his wife. You can tell Bill isn’t holding back either, as the skin is slightly rippled on my normally tight ass from the force of his thrust. As you look at me eating your boss on her dining room table, while her husband thrusts into me, you wonder if you’ll ever be able to look her in the face again.
Image five arrives and now we’re in a bedroom. I’m naked and on all fours on the bed, Bill must be holding the camera you guess as he is the only person not in shot. Mike is sitting in a chair next to the bed, his large cock erect in his hand as he slowly pumps it to keep himself hard. I’m on the bed on all fours facing the camera, kneeling behind me is Rachel. She has one hand holding my long blonde hair, pulling it back like a leash, my eyes popping and mouth wide open in pleasure, pain, or maybe surprise, you can’t tell. Her other hand is on my ass which is red where it’s been slapped more than once. It takes a minute for you to realise what is happening, the giveaway is the thin black strap you can see around Rachel’s hips which is just visible above my rounded cheeks. She is wearing a strap-on, and she is pounding me harder than any man has done. Harder even than you when I’ve begged you to be rough, something you’ll never hear me say again, at least not to you. She is dominating me, owning me and showing you that even a woman with an artificial cock is better at fucking me than you are. The two men are watching me take the pounding of my life, masturbating as they do, whilst you sit home alone desperation flowing through you, the adrenalin it causes having long overcome the numbness of the beer.
By now you’re begging in your head for it to stop, you can’t take any more. But you can’t type a reply let alone send it between the images arriving. Each one causes you to pause as you take in a new scene, and by the time you’ve done that another has arrived. The photos are coming too fast to be real time, so you know this has been happening while you were working. As you were helping your boss out, working late into the evening, she was stretching out your ex-girlfriend’s pussy with her plastic cock while her husband and a stranger watched it, photographed it. You start to wonder who I am, who I’ve been all these years to have become this… slut, in such a short period of time. Was I always this way, was I holding back from you or, it dawns on you with a sudden coldness, was I doing this the whole time and cheating on you behind your back?
Image six arrives. Again, I’m on all fours, this time the men are back and Rachel is holding the camera. Mike is under me on his back, my breasts swinging between us close to his face as I ride his cock. My skin is slick with sweat and the glow in my cheeks gives away the multiple orgasms I’ve already had. Bill is behind me with his hands on my shoulders, using them for leverage. I appear to be ion my way to my next climax, a big one you correctly judge. You realise with horror that they are both inside me at the same time, both my holes being filled and used, my ass by a man more than twice my age, and I’m clearly loving it. Mike is gripping me around the waist as Bill pounds into my ass, the force of his movement pushing me up and down on Mike’s shaft, grinding my clit against him.
“Enough” you finally send “no more please I beg you, why are you both doing this to me, what have I done?” the desperation clear in your typing.
“Are you not enjoying yourself David. Are you not hard?”
“Please don’t send me any more pictures, I can’t take seeing her like that. Whatever I’ve done, tell her I am sorry. Tell her to call me. Tell her I love her and to come home.”
“Ok, no more pictures” finally you read, “But she isn’t going to call and she certainly isn’t coming home any time soon. We’re not finished with her yet for one thing.”
Ten minutes goes by and no new messages are received so you’re hopeful your ordeal is over. Still, you can’t figure out what has happened, why I seem so determined to torture you. I’m enjoying knowing you are suffering, knowing you are tormented by me unable to sleep as images of me being used so freely swarm around your head, whilst knowing it will never again be you. It excites me to know that you still love me which makes it so much more gratifying, although I am unsure you yet realise there is no going back. I wonder if I was to come home, despite everything I’ve done to you in the last month, would you forgive me? Of course you would, you’d want to look at the pictures of me being unfaithful as we fucked on the living room floor while the TV played to itself. You are a weak man, I know this now, and I despise you all the more for it.
True to our word, we send you no more pictures throughout the evening. At around midnight you finally send Rachel the updated document she requested, after having worked on it sporadically, distracted by the images of me you kept returning to throughout the night. You send her a text confirming you’ve completed the work as you finally crawl into bed knowing you have a sleepless night ahead of you and tomorrow you’ll have to face her in the office. Your phone pings with her reply and to your dismay it isn’t a message or even a photo, it’s a video. It is futile to pretend you can get to sleep without watching it, so you press play.
I am naked on my knees again, looking up at the camera. I have my head tilted back pushing my chest out, my big blue eyes looking right at you. My mouth is open, tongue sticking out as if to lick some invisible ice cream. Either side of my face the two cocks are again in view as they were before, this time being pumped furiously by their respective owners while I reach under each stroking the two sets of heavy balls, the middle finger of each hand stretching out to press at more sensitive parts unseen by the camera. The angle of my arms pushes my breasts together creating a generous cleavage. You can hear the sloppy slapping of the two men’s hands sliding up and down their shafts lubricated by my juices. Less than five seconds into the video the longer, fatter cock of Mike erupts as he grunts off camera. A huge rope of cum shoots out across my face stretching from my chin, up over my nose and into my hair. My eyes smile, as I shut them just in time for his second rope to land more diagonally across my face and over one eye again landing in my fringe. I used to hate cum in my hair, I’d get angry afterwards if you did it, but this time I moan with pleasure at the sensation of this warm liquid hitting me and immediately starting to run down my cheek, dripping from my chin to my chest. The third rope I manage to catch in my mouth as I lean towards him using my tongue to capture his shaft and guide it into my waiting mouth. You can see my cheeks compress as I suck out the last of him and his hand finally slows.
“I’m about to cum too” you hear Bill say off camera in short breaths, followed by “Cum for her baby! Cum all over her” from Rachel.
I pull myself from Mike’s cock and turn slightly to angle myself towards Bill, I can only open one eye but I want to see him unload on me. “Cum on my tits” I command, and you watch as he angles his shaft downwards just in time for the first spray to hit me square in the chest. His load is huge and the first shot has the upper part of my chest soaking, but there is more to come. A second and then a third are angled over each of my breasts in turn, and then the fourth back at my face. By the time he finishes I am glistening with cum running off me, dripping onto my legs and the carpet below. The necklace I am wearing which you gave me all those years ago, the first jewellery you ever bought me which I’ve worn nearly every day since, is coated in these two men’s cum.
“Get this tacky piece of shit off me” you hear me say and an arm appears from behind the camera, grabs the necklace and yanks it from my body snapping the silver chain irreparably in two. Dropping it out of sight, her hand returns to rub the remaining cum around my chest like it was moisturiser. You watch as her sticky hand glides down my stomach and I rise off my heels into an upright kneeling position, parting my legs slightly as I do, allowing Rachel access to rub the cum into my soft damp pussy. You hear me say “Push it inside me” as the video abruptly ends.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/pnltu1/sexting_you_at_work_part_2_mmff_cheating