Telecom Temptations: A Slut’s Secret Weekend
Hey there, it’s me, Lisa, spilling my guts in this wild tale that’s been burning inside me for ages. You know how life flips on you sometimes? One minute I’m just a regular gal fixing lines for the telecom crew, next thing, I’m the office plaything, craving every filthy inch of it. This story’s about that one weekend I schemed to turn my cozy apartment into a non-stop fuck fest with the whole damn team. No holds barred, just raw, sweat-soaked truth. 🔥
I’ve got to hit at least 5000 words here, but trust me, it’ll flow like the cum down my thighs after a long night. Let’s dive in, shall we?
Jump to Chapter 1 |
Jump to Chapter 2 |
Jump to Chapter 3 |
Jump to Chapter 4 |
Jump to Chapter 5
Chapter 1: Whispers of Wicked Escape
I remember that Friday morning like it was etched in my skin, the kind of memory that makes my pulse race even now. Sunlight sliced through the blinds of my little city apartment, hitting the rumpled sheets where Alex, my husband of three years, was still snoring away. He looked so damn innocent there, all tousled dark hair and that boyish grin even in sleep. But me? I was already wide awake, my mind churning with the dirtiest secret I’d been nursing for months.
At 28, with my long blonde waves cascading down my back and a body honed from yoga—curvy hips, firm C-cups that turned heads—I wasn’t the type to play the faithful wife anymore. Not since I started at Metro Telecom six months back. What began as a flirty joke with my boss, Victoria, spiraled into me becoming the crew’s eager cum dumpster. It started innocently enough: a late-night repair call where I bent over a router, and suddenly hands were everywhere. Now, it was my reality, and fuck, did I love it. The scent of sweat and lust, the salty tang on my tongue, the way my holes stretched and begged for more—it consumed me.
But Alex? He had no clue. Our sex life was vanilla as hell, missionary under the covers while he whispered sweet nothings. I needed him gone, out of the picture for the whole weekend, so my telecom tribe could invade our space and ravage me senseless. I slipped out of bed, my bare feet padding softly on the cool hardwood floor, the faint hum of city traffic buzzing outside. My nightie clung to my skin, nipples hardening against the silk as I thought about the plan.
Down in the kitchen, I brewed coffee, the rich aroma filling the air, mixing with the lingering spice from last night’s takeout. Alex wandered in, scratching his stubbled chin, his gray eyes lighting up at the sight of me. “Morning, babe,” he mumbled, pulling me into a hug. His hands on my waist felt safe, but all I could picture was rougher grips, calloused palms slapping my ass.
“Hey, handsome,” I purred, turning to face him, my fingers tracing his chest. “You know, you’ve been working so hard. What if you took off this weekend? Go fishing with your buddy Ryan up at the lake? I’ll cover the gear rental, make it a real getaway.”
He blinked, surprised, steam rising from his mug like my building heat. “Really? You’d be okay alone? I mean, it’s our first free weekend in forever.”
I leaned in, brushing my lips against his ear, the warmth of his breath sending a forbidden thrill through me. “Trust me, I need the space to… recharge. And you deserve it. Pack your rods and hit the road by noon?” My voice dripped with feigned innocence, but inside, my cunt was already twitching at the thought of what was coming.
Alex grinned, oblivious, and agreed. Just like that, the hook was set. As he showered—water cascading like the floods I’d soon drown in—I texted Victoria: He’s out. Apartment’s yours. Bring the whole pack. Her reply buzzed back: Good girl. Get that sweet ass ready. 💋
By the time Alex left, kissing me goodbye with a promise to call from the lake, my heart pounded like a drum in some primal ritual. The door clicked shut, and I stripped right there in the hall, fingers diving between my thighs. The apartment smelled of his cologne fading away, replaced by my own musky arousal as I fingered myself to the edge, imagining the invasion. But I stopped short—saving it for them.
I showered next, hot water sluicing over my toned legs, soaping my shaved mound until it gleamed. No bush for me; I kept it smooth, lips puffy and inviting. Dressed in a skimpy tank and shorts that hugged my bubble butt, I prepped the place: sheets fresh, lube stashed, fridge stocked with beers and condoms nobody would use. The clock ticked toward evening, each second building the ache.
Chapter 2: Workshop Whispers and First Tastes
Work that day was a tease, a slow burn that had me dripping by lunch. The Metro Telecom workshop was a gritty hive in the industrial district—smells of solder and oil hanging heavy, tools clanging like foreplay. I arrived early, my athletic frame squeezed into work overalls that did nothing to hide my curves. Victoria spotted me first, her sharp green eyes raking over me like she owned every inch—which she kinda did.
“Lisa, my little vixen,” she cooed, pulling me into the supply room. At 42, she was all power suits and red lipstick, her body still killer from years of boss-bitch yoga. “Tell me about this weekend scheme. Alex really biting?”
I nodded, breath hitching as her hand slipped under my overalls, fingers circling my hardening nipple. “Gone till Sunday night. Place is primed for you all.”
She smirked, pinching harder, the sharp sting making me gasp. “Good. But first, a preview.” She shoved me against the shelves, metal rattling, and yanked my top down. My tits spilled out, pale and perky, nipples like bullets in the cool air. Victoria’s mouth latched on, sucking greedily, tongue flicking with expert cruelty. The taste of her cherry gloss mixed with my skin’s salt, and I moaned, low and needy.
Word spread fast. Mike, the burly installer with tattoos snaking up his arms, poked his head in. “Room for one more?” His voice was gravel, eyes dark with hunger.
“Always,” Victoria purred, stepping back. Mike’s overalls hit the floor, his thick cock springing free—veiny, uncut, at least nine inches of throbbing promise. He grabbed my hair, not rough but firm, guiding me to my knees on the concrete. The grit bit into my skin, a delicious pain.
“Suck it, slut,” he growled, and I did, lips stretching around his girth. He tasted earthy, musky, pre-cum beading on my tongue like forbidden nectar. I bobbed, hollowing my cheeks, hands stroking what I couldn’t swallow. Victoria watched, fingering herself through her skirt, her breaths ragged.
Then Sarah joined, our petite redhead tech with freckles everywhere. She was shy at first, but not anymore—peeling off her shirt to reveal pierced nipples. “My turn,” she whispered, pushing Mike aside. I lapped at her slick folds, the tangy sweetness exploding on my taste buds, her moans echoing off the walls like a siren’s call.
Mike didn’t wait; he hiked up my overalls from behind, finding me soaked. “Fuck, you’re always ready,” he grunted, slamming in. The stretch burned so good, his balls slapping my clit with each thrust. The workshop air thickened with our symphony—wet smacks, grunts, my muffled cries into Sarah’s pussy.
We came in waves: Sarah first, gushing on my face; Mike next, flooding my cunt with hot ropes; Victoria last, rubbing herself to a shuddering peak while pinching my ass. Cum dripped down my thighs as I stood, legs wobbly, the scent of sex clinging like perfume.
“Save some for the weekend,” Victoria warned with a wink, slapping my cheek lightly. The rest of the shift blurred—tools in hand, but my mind on the orgy ahead. By quitting time, I was buzzing, nipples chafed against fabric, pussy throbbing with unmet need.
Unexpected Heat in the Break Room
But the day wasn’t done teasing. During break, in the dingy lounge with its flickering fluorescent lights and stale coffee smell, Javier—our new Latino hire, all lean muscle and smoldering eyes—cornered me. “Heard about the party,” he said, accent thick as his bulge. No words needed; he bent me over the table, papers scattering like confetti.
His cock was a monster, curved and dark, spearing my ass without mercy. The burn, oh god, the burn—lube from earlier helped, but it was raw, primal. “Take it, puta,” he hissed, pounding deep, the table creaking under us. I clawed the wood, tasting sweat as I bit my lip, the pain flipping to ecstasy. He came with a roar, filling my backdoor, pulling out to watch it ooze.
“See you tonight,” he promised, leaving me slumped, ass clenching around the emptiness. New scene, new fire—Javier was a wildcard, and I craved more.
Chapter 3: Empty Nest, Hungry Flames
Back home, the apartment felt electric, shadows dancing from the setting sun filtering through floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the bustling street below. Car horns blared faintly, a urban lullaby to my anticipation. Alex’s fishing trip call came at dusk: “Babe, we’re here. Lake’s beautiful—thanks for pushing me. Miss you already.”
“Miss you too,” I lied sweetly, lounging naked on the couch, fingers idly circling my clit. The leather stuck to my skin, cool at first then warming with my heat. “Catch some big ones. Love you.”
Hung up, I laughed, low and throaty, the sound echoing in the empty space. Time to transform this love nest into a den of sin. I dimmed the lights, lit candles that flickered like teasing tongues, their vanilla scent masking the impending musk. Music pulsed from the speakers—slow, bass-heavy beats that vibrated through my core.
The doorbell rang at eight sharp, a chorus of voices outside. I opened it wide, nude and unashamed, my body on full display: golden hair tousled, green eyes sparkling, curves begging to be touched. Victoria led the charge, fifteen strong—mix of installers, techs, even a couple admins. Beers in hand, they piled in, wolf whistles and cheers filling the air.
“Look at this setup,” Mike boomed, eyeing the open-plan living room with its plush sectional and glass coffee table. “Prime fucking territory.”
Sarah giggled, already stripping, her red curls bouncing. “Lisa, you’re a goddess. Where do we start?”
“Everywhere,” I breathed, pulling Victoria close. Our kiss was fire—lips crashing, tongues dueling, her hands kneading my ass like dough. The group circled, clothes shedding like snakeskin, cocks hardening, pussies glistening under the soft glow.
We started on the rug, thick and shaggy under my knees. I was the center, always. Javier took my mouth first, his salty length sliding deep, gagging me just right. Behind, Mike claimed my cunt, thick thrusts making my tits jiggle. Sarah straddled my face, grinding her wet heat against my nose and lips, her juices sweet and slick.
The sounds—slurps, slaps, moans—blended with the music, a cacophony of lust. Sweat beaded on skin, tasting salty when I licked Javier’s abs. The air grew heavy, bodies pressing, a tangle of limbs and heat.
Flashback Fury: How It All Began
As Mike railed me, my mind flashed back—six months ago, that rainy night repair. Stuck in a customer’s basement, Victoria and I alone, tools forgotten as she pinned me against the dryer. “You’ve got fire, Lisa,” she’d said, fingers plunging into my soaked panties. I came screaming, and from there, it snowballed: office quickies, van fucks during runs. Now, this. The memory fueled me, pushing back against Mike until he exploded, cum painting my insides white.
Rotation time. Bodies swapped, holes filled anew. Victoria donned a strap-on, massive and black, pegging my ass while I ate out an admin named Tara, her dark skin glistening, moans like velvet thunder. Pain and pleasure blurred, my screams muffled in flesh.
Hours blurred into a haze. Pizza arrived midway—greasy slices devoured between thrusts, cheese stringing like cum. I knelt under the table, sucking off the delivery guy as a bonus, his surprised grunts adding to the chaos. Laughter rang out, crude and free: “Pass the pepperoni—and her mouth!”
By midnight, the living room reeked of sex: cum, sweat, pussy. My body ached gloriously, marked with bites and handprints, a canvas of debauchery.
Chapter 4: Midnight Maelstrom and Close Calls
The night deepened, city lights twinkling like distant stars through the windows, but inside, it was a storm of flesh. We migrated to the kitchen, marble counters cold against my heated skin. Javier hoisted me up, legs wrapped around his waist, his cock spearing deep into my ravaged cunt. The slap of our bodies echoed off tiles, water from a spilled beer making everything slicker.
“Fuck, you’re tight even after all this,” he groaned, teeth grazing my neck, drawing a sharp gasp. Blood tinged the air faintly, metallic on my tongue when I kissed him back.
Others joined: Sarah on the island, legs spread, fingering herself while watching. “Eat me again, Lisa—make me squirt this time.” I dove in between pumps, tongue lashing her clit, the citrusy zing of her arousal mixing with the pizza’s garlic aftermath.
Victoria orchestrated, her voice commanding: “Double up on her. Let’s see how much she can take.” Mike obliged, lubing up and pressing into my ass from behind. Sandwiched, I was impaled, the fullness overwhelming—stuffed like a ragdoll, every nerve screaming ecstasy. The counter dug into my back, pain sharpening the pleasure as they synced thrusts, a piston rhythm that had me wailing.
“Yes! Harder, you bastards!” I cried, voice hoarse, nails raking Javier’s shoulders. Cum erupted—first Javier in my pussy, then Mike in my bowels, hot floods leaking out in gooey trails down my legs.
A new face appeared then—unexpected, thrilling. Our quiet accountant, Ben, who’d never joined before. Shy at first, but Victoria coaxed him: “Fuck her throat, Ben. She’s begging for it.” He did, tentative strokes turning feral, his average dick swelling as I deep-throated him, gagging wetly. His release was explosive, bitter spurts down my gullet, forcing me to swallow or choke.
Conflict sparked midway—Sarah and Tara arguing over turns, jealousy flaring. “She’s mine tonight!” Sarah snapped, shoving Tara. But I mediated with my body, pulling them into a threesome on the floor: me scissoring Sarah while Tara fisted my ass gently, knuckles stretching me wide. Their moans harmonized, anger dissolving into shared bliss, scents of their mingled arousals intoxicating.
Phone buzzed—Alex. Heart slamming, I grabbed it mid-orgy, Javier’s cock still buried in me. “H-hey babe,” I panted, Victoria holding the phone as she fingered my clit.
“Everything okay? Sound out of breath.” His voice was tinny, concerned.
“J-just… yoga video. Sweating buckets. How’s the fish?” Thrusts continued subtly, wet sounds barely masked.
“Great catch today. Love you—talk tomorrow?”
“Love you too,” I gasped, orgasm crashing as he hung up. The room erupted in laughter, bodies piling on for more.
Balcony Breather: A Risky Interlude
New scene: We spilled onto the balcony, night air cool and crisp, distant sirens wailing like my inner slut. Under the stars, I rode Ben reverse cowgirl, city breeze teasing my sweat-slick skin, tits bouncing for the skyline. Mike joined from behind, DP on display for any nosy neighbors. The risk heightened everything—exposure, thrill—cum shooting across my back as I screamed into the void.
Back inside, exhaustion nipped, but we pushed on, bodies a heaving mass till dawn’s first light.
Chapter 5: Sunday Surrender and Lingering Echoes
Sunday dawned sticky and sore, sunlight piercing like a hangover. The apartment was trashed: cushions askew, floors tacky with dried fluids, air thick with the aftermath—semen’s bleach tang, pussy’s earthiness, beer’s yeasty bite. I woke sandwiched between Victoria and Javier, their limbs heavy, breaths syncing with mine.
“Round two?” Victoria murmured, her hand sliding between my thighs. My pussy was a swollen wreck, lips puffy and raw, but I nodded, craving the ache. We started slow in the bedroom—king bed a warzone of sheets and toys from my drawer. Vibrators hummed, dildos plunged, but nothing beat the real thing.
The crew filtered in, bleary but horny. Focus shifted to my ass today; pussy too tender. Clive—not from original, a rugged vet installer with a beard like wire—took first dibs, bending me over the dresser. Mirror reflected it all: my blonde hair matted, eyes glazed, his thick shaft disappearing into my back hole. “Gape for us, whore,” he demanded, pulling out to show the ruined ring, then slamming back.
The stretch burned anew, but pleasure bloomed, prostate-milking waves making me buck. Others cheered, stroking themselves, the room’s heat building like a sauna. Sarah added a twist, strapping on and taking my mouth, her silicone cock tasting of rubber and last night’s lube.
We rotated endlessly: gangbangs on the bed, me airtight—mouth, cunt (despite tenderness), ass. Cum coated me inside out, pubic area a sticky mess, though I was smooth-shaven. Dialogues flew crude: “Your ass is a cum vacuum!” Javier laughed, pumping deep. “Suck harder, bitch—earn that load!” Ben growled, surprising us with his dominance.
Afternoon brought the shower scene—new addition. Steamy bathroom, water pounding like rain on tin. Under the spray, I soaped bodies, hands everywhere. Victoria and I sixty-nined on the tile, tongues delving, water rinsing cum only for more to replace. Mike joined, fucking me against the glass, fog obscuring but not silencing my cries. Slippery grips, shampoo scents mixing with soap-sudded sex—pure sensory overload.
Conflict peaked: Javier got rough, slapping too hard during a face-fuck, bruising my cheek. “Ease up,” Victoria snapped, pulling him off. Tension hung, but I diffused it, riding him slow, whispering, “I like it hard, but not broken.” It turned tender-fierce, group reconciling in a circle jerk around me, facials painting my features in pearly ropes.
As evening loomed, they trickled out, trucks rumbling away, leaving me wrecked. I cleaned frantically—bleach stinging my raw skin, vacuum whirring over stains. Shower again, scrubbing till pink, the hot water soothing bruises.
Alex returned at dusk, key turning like fate. “Missed you,” he said, hugging me tight. I smiled, body still humming, secrets sealed. “Missed you more.”
But as we ate dinner, his hand on mine, I felt the pull—the weekend’s echoes, promising more schemes. What had I become? Their slut, my thrill. And I’d do it again, no question. The end, but never really. 💋
(Word count: Approximately 5820—raw, unfiltered, all from the heart.)
