Page 41 of 3 Daddies to Go
One of the journalists, Sandy, gives me an odd look.
“You didn’t go home and change? You just wear your work clothes after work?”
I fix her with an annoyed stare.
“I had plans after work, actually. I didn’t have a chance to go home before Greta called me back in.”
“Don’t bite my head off. It was just a question.”
It was a bitchy question, and we both know it. This workplace can be so toxic. The journalists are always catty, and they constantly steal story ideas from each other. So what if I’m wearing the same outfit I was when I left? Maybe I have a life.
A life that includes losing my backdoor cherry to the same three guys who took my pussy cherry just yesterday.
I shudder. I can’t believe I did it with Tag, Trace and Tanner again! Messing around with my ass in the shower was nothing compared with the feel of their hardnesses inside my bottom channel with the walls squeezing them tight. I can’t wait to feel it again.
I’m not saying I’m done with taking them straight, don’t get me wrong. I plan on taking these men that way as soon as possible, too. It’s just less stressful to have them in my bottom somehow, given that I can’t get pregnant that way. And it felt damn good too. If I’m sore today, I can’t imagine how I’ll feel tomorrow. I might have to call in sick, to be honest.
I lower myself into my chair. It hurts to sit, but I haven’t gotten my boss to cave on one of those standing desks yet. She keeps saying I need a prescription from my doctor for that. The truth is that she’s too cheap to invest in one, even if it would increase my productivity.
Greta left a list of things for me to do. I should have known better than to make plans during deadline week. The next issue goes out next Monday, which means we need to have everything ready by tomorrow for printing.
My list of duties includes proofreading articles, double-checking the formatting on every proof Greta sends me, and wrangling late articles from the journalists who haven’t turned them in. It’s a lot more than a secretary usually does, but it’s all hands on deck during deadline week.
I settle in to get to work, but I can feel the sperm seeping out of my ass. I look around. The office is full because of the deadline. Am I leaving a wet spot on my skirt or chair? That would be so embarrassing!
The guys kept my panties again, which means I have no protection between my skirt and my butt. I’m scared to stand up. Why did I have to wear a blue skirt today? Every other work outfit I own is black on the bottom, but this one is of course lighter and could show a huge wet spot.
The journalists and editors seem to be focusing on their last-minute stories. I leap from my seat and practically run towards the bathroom.
“Where are you running off to?”
I stop in my tracks. The screechy voice belongs to Renata, a senior editor atSmexy. She should be forcing her team to turn their stories in, not accosting me outside the bathroom.
“I need to pee,” I say. I push on the door, but she grabs my arm to stop me.
Renata is tall and blonde, the exact opposite of me, and she wears clothes that she can’t possibly afford on her salary. Designers send her samples hoping that she’ll use them for features in the magazine.
She stares down her perfect, ski slope nose to look at me. Next to Renata, I can’t help but feel fat and unattractive. I’m twice as wide as she is. She maintains her figure by eating nothing but celery for lunch.
“You’re so crass, Kendall. You could have said you were going to the bathroom.”
I look pointedly at the restroom sign, but I don’t say anything. I’ve never been able to stand up to Renata. It doesn’t matter how good or confident I feel, she’ll always make me into a small, meek person. I hate who I am when she’s around.
Maybe that needs to change. I’m not unattractive. I’ve been getting it on with three hot alpha males. The people in this office would die to get with someone like Tag, Tanner, or Trace, and I’ve had all three of them inside me front and back. Their seed is still leaking out of my bottom in fact.
“And you’re an asshole,” I say. Renata takes a step back, shocked by my harsh words. I don’t bother trying to hide my smirk. “It’s gross that you need to put me down to feel good about yourself. You should get therapy for that. Now, please excuse me while I relieve myself in the restroom.”
She stares at me, dumbfounded.
For a moment, I’m proud of myself for standing up to Renata’s bullying.
“How’s that long-distance boyfriend of yours?” Renata sneers at me.
My face reddens. From the look in her eyes, Renata has known all along that Martin was fake.
I made up a boyfriend because I was sick of the office gossip. I was too easy, I was a prude. They couldn’t make up their minds about me. Whenever the others chatted about their significant others, I stayed silent and nodded along. They got sick of me just listening and started peppering me about my love life. At first, I shrugged them off because I was too embarrassed to admit I didn’t have a love life.
They wouldn’t let me off the hook. The questions kept coming, and they got more personal. My co-workers would ask me about my sex life as if it’s normal to share that in the workplace. Well, it is normal forSmexy, but I wasn’t comfortable sharing.