[F]ucking a jackass colleague in A[M]sterdam

Wappenin Reddit. Long time listener, first time caller here. As a long-term hobag I’ve got a fair few stories to tell, so hopefully this is the first of many. For the record, I’m a 24 year-old brunette from the UK. I am also prone to veering off-topic, so apologies if that happens here. Also also, every time I’ve tried to write this down I’ve just ended up getting too horny to carry on, so if it’s disjointed I apologise.

A short while ago, I was invited to Amsterdam for work reasons (result). It was me, my fusty old boss from work and precisely no-one else that I knew in attendance, apart from about 20 delegates from other labs. Unfortunately, my hopes of sneaking off to the coffeeshops were dashed by the full agenda they’d set out for each of us over the two days, but on the bright side the company that had brought us out there had clearly spared no expense. We were put up in a five star hotel, taken to Michelin starred restaurants, and generally treated like royalty, which is a bit of a rarity in my profession.

One thing about me is that I get horny in hotels. I don’t know why, I think it’s just the knowledge that nobody knows you, and you’re sleeping in a bed that hundreds of people have probably fucked in. So it goes without saying that the first thing I do after arriving at the hotel and checking out the room (sea view, nice!) is to get naked and masturbate, leaving the door to the room unlocked for that extra thrill. I had an hour or two till they took us to the restaurant, so I figured I might as well.

The problem with this is that masturbating often doesn’t make me any less horny, and I just keep going until I run out of time, or I get exhausted. In this case, the former brought my session to an end, and I hurriedly got into my LBD and put my face on before heading out, still tingling.

The lobby was where I encountered the other delegates for the first time. Mostly dumpy old men like my boss wearing cheap, ill-fitting suits (my profession is not known for being a fashion-conscious one), but there were a couple of younger (by this I mean about 40ish) people there, both of whom were good looking.

I’m quite good looking, too, if I do say so myself, and because it was summer and my Italian half gives me something of a year-round tan, my LBD has a bit of an emphasis on the L, showing a considerable amount of leg and boob. Needless to say, I was on the receiving end of a lot of stares as we waited for the taxis to arrive, which didn’t help me to get any less horny (I have many sordid fantasies, and getting used by a lot of older men at once is most definitely one of them).

We crowded into a few town cars, me doing my best to remember to cross my legs and not to flash them all my arse as I climbed in, with I think some success, and then we were off.

During the drive to the restaurant, one of the 40 year olds, Dan, received a call. He was a hot guy in a rugged kind of way. I like pretty boys for the most part, so ordinarily he wouldn’t have done it for me, but in his suit all I could think about was straddling him and grinding my clit against his dick… until he opened his mouth.

He was a complete helmet. Talking loud so we’d all hear his conversation, and making sure to say things that hinted at how important he was, and how ‘in command’ he is of his employees. To make it worse, his ringtone was that of a rival football team to mine, which instantly put him waaay down in my estimation.

It was only natural that I ended up sitting opposite the twat at the restaurant, and had the privilege of listening to him prattle on about himself for a few hours. I might as well have been a fucking spider plant for 90% of the conversation, the only focus he had was for my boobs and being astonished that I came from the city from which his football team hailed. He kept sticking his legs out far enough in front of him that they took up all my space and brushed against mine. It would have pissed me off more, but I’d just had them waxed, and the sensation of his trousers against my leg was melting me. As they continued to ply everyone with free wine I stopped pulling my leg back, and by the end I was being quite daring with the amount of contact between us.

He sat by me at the back of the town car on the way back, one arm draped over the seat behind me as he mocked the city I came from. He made some tenuous excuse to pass me his phone number, but I was so pissed off by him making fun of my city that I deleted the contact right after. I went back to my room, buzzed, and passed out.

The next day was the bulk of the reason for our trip there, and mostly passed in a boring manner. I stuck around with the guy I worked with, keeping my professional hat on, and I avoided Dan like the plague. Even then, I still had to hear him imposing himself and trying to take the lead at every damned moment.

It got to the point where by the end of the day I was exhausted from them all, and made some arbitrary excuse up to skip the dinner they had planned that night (the company that had brought us out there offered to pay for room service as well, which I happily accepted).

Unfortunately, as time went on I began to get horny again. I’d been sent a bottle of champagne with the meal, and the glasses I had went straight to my head. My mind wandered back to Dan, and the bulge you could vaguely see through his suit pants. I was wet, and drunk, and I knew that my faithful right hand wasn’t going to cut it tonight.

Without his number there wasn’t much I could do. I fired up Tinder, and flirted with a few guys, but I always wimped out of those meetups. I went as far as googling how to retrieve a deleted contact, but to my equal relief and disappointment, it could not be done. Then I remembered that there were email addresses for all of the delegates in our welcome pack. Dan was always checking his email from what I had seen so far, and I drunkenly typed out a message.

‘hey. Lost ur number,’ forgive the text speak, I was hammered, ‘pass it on? x’

Even putting the x there was kind of risky. I was messaging him from my work email account, and they have been known to review what we send.

I expected no reply, and that I’d eventually fall asleep disappointed, but only a couple of minutes later he replied. ‘Thinking of me? You should come watch the sunset with us outside. <his number here> x’

The foolish part of my brain had truly won by this point, and I immediately messaged him a picture of my bare legs on the bed, along with the caption ‘Or you could come watch it with me. X’

His reply came instantly: ‘which room?’

I immediately got that sense of butterflies in my belly, and a rush of blood going all the way down. ‘409. Door’s open.’

I walked over to the door and unlocked it, even going so far as to crack it open a little and leave it ajar so he wouldn’t need a card to get in. By this point my heart was hammering in my chest as my brain told me in a tiny voice just how dumb this was, and how much I’d regret doing anything with someone whose guts I hated, but I was past the point of no return. I pulled off the tank top I was wearing and tossed it aside. Then I laid down on the bed and stared at the ceiling as I rubbed my clit, my pussy facing the door.

Nothing happened for a long time. I was still rubbing my clit, and getting close, but no-one had shown up. Then, almost imperceptibly quietly, I heard the door get pushed open, closed and locked.

I kept looking at the ceiling as I heard him move into the room. ‘Fuck’ he mumbled as he saw me. The desire in his voice just spurred me on. When I heard the sound of him removing his belt, it was too much and I fell over the edge.

When I came back around after my orgasm I could feel his weight was now on the bed. He grabbed the hand I was resting on my belly by the wrist and brought it to his mouth, sucking the cum off my fingers. When I finally looked down, he had his shirt mostly unbuttoned and that bulge in his pants had turned into the clear outline of a cock straining against the fabric. I had to have it.

I got on my hands and knees and crawled towards him on the bed. As I reached for the zip of his trousers he pushed me up by the shoulder so I sat up. His eyes raked over me in that way that raised goosebumps on my skin. I fumbled his cock out and took a second to admire it. Thick, and with a vein up the back that really did it for me for reasons I don’t understand. I took him in my mouth.

I lost myself in giving this guy head for a while. When I give a guy a blowjob I enter a weird, almost trance-like state. The muscle of his thigh under my hand, the smell of him when I take him deeper, the smooth, neutral-tasting head of his dick. Yeah, I’m a total slut, I know. I love the moans a guy makes when I swirl my tongue over the underside of his dick (the frenulum if you want to be specific; I am a scientist after all). I love the feeling of a man’s hand on the back of my head, pushing my throat down onto his dick.

I came back into the real world with a thud when the fucker opened his mouth and called me a <term for the people who come from my city> slut. I forgot what a gobshite he was for a second. Still, I’m ever the practical girl. I pushed him down onto the bed and swung my hips over his head, lowering myself down onto him. The feel of his stubble around my pussy and the first few strokes of his tongue over my clit gave me one of those waves of pleasure that goes all the way to your toes and makes your vision dim. I’m normally quite quiet in bed, but I let out a few moans as I ground myself into him. We *were* in a hotel, after all.

One thing about 69 is that as much as I love the idea of it, my blowjob skills go to shit when I’m getting my pussy eaten. I was in heaven, but if I kept him in my mouth any longer there was a risk I’d bite down. I swung off to the side and lay back in the bed, ready for the main event. My eyes are pretty expressive even when I’m trying to be subtle, so when I gave him my best come-here-and-fuck-me look, he didn’t hesitate. He stripped out of his clothes and climbed onto the bed. I just got a sight of his cock, covered in pre-cum and my spit before he loomed over me, and it was pressed onto my pubic bone.

I could taste myself on his lips when he kissed me. Then again when his tongue pressed into my mouth. One of his hands found my breasts, and pinched my nipple hard (a high risk strategy, FYI, since a lot of girls don’t like that, but I suspect my nipple ring gave the game away). I moaned into his mouth, but my breath caught when the hand on my breast moved up to my throat. He pulled out of the kiss and looked me in the eye, presumably checking I was okay with it, and being greeted with the sight of 7.5 stone of putty-like submissive. When his fingers tightened around my throat my legs opened reflexively. I wrapped them around him and locked my ankles, doing everything I could to grind him against my clit.

I pawed at the space between us. Trying to get my hand to his cock to guide it into me, but he kept himself pressed tight, forcing me to wait for him. He leaned in close to my ear and told me to beg for it. I did, ignoring the part of me that knew I’d hate myself for it in the morning. When I’d satisfied him, he sat up. He took one of my legs by the ankle, and used his arm to move the other aside, keeping me spread. He guided his cock to the opening of my pussy and paused to look at me before he pushed it in.

I closed my eyes and leaned my head back, succumbing to that pleasant fullness that comes from a cock in your pussy. As he started to thrust I pulled him back on top of me, guiding his hand back to my throat.

He didn’t last long, unfortunately. Maybe 2 minutes before I felt him swelling up inside me. He gave me the look, and I nodded. I’ve got an IUD and I didn’t want him messing up the sheets. He lay on top of me for a while after he came. His dick was going soft, but it stayed in for a while. I love that feeling. Still, I could tell he was getting sleepy, and while I’m comfortable having that dickhead in my pussy, I will not tolerate him sleeping in my room. I kicked him out.

After the traditional waddle to the bathroom and peeing out most of the champagne (it’s a glamorous thing, being a woman) I got into the shower and had some solo time again. This time when I came my knees nearly gave out underneath me, and I returned to bed just buzzed enough to fall asleep before the self-recrimination kicked in.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/78bw3a/fucking_a_jackass_colleague_in_amsterdam