Bill needs you to take over his end of the dresser, resulting in a bit of an awkward problem

You trot up to the top of the stares, tottering a little thanks to your absurdly high four-inch heels. Your arms feel limp as noodles, while your calves burn from the ridiculous exertions you've been performing in stilettos.

"Clear," you sigh back down at them, eying the corridor for another moment before turning. The guys seem to have stooped for some strange reason and you look down at them suspiciously, legs akimbo and hands on waist. "Would you hurry up? I'm tired."

"Oh ow, I think I felt a twinge in my back," Bill says, having for some reason taken the top end of the dresser.

"Damn, you better take over for him, Jenny," Tom says, earning a dirty look from you.

"You could help," you grumble, but sidle up alongside Bill.

"Oh but my arms aren't that strong," he says, giving you an innocent look that earns him a suspicious glance.

In order to take the dresser from him you slip between Bill and the dresser, ducking down to get under his arms. Unfortunately, you're facing him, and he's facing the dresser, so while he gives you a little space in which to slide Sam doesn't seem to have gotten the message and pushes the dresser just as your face is at crotch level.

"Mmmph!" you protest, finding your face mashed into a very stiff tube-like appendage.

"Damn Sam, why'd you move?" Tom asks, sounding none-too-concerned.

"Had to. My grip was slipping."

"Can you breath, Jenny?" Tom asks in that same lackadaisical voice.

"Don't disturb her," Bill urges, and if anything seems to push his crotch forward into your face.

"My knee's a little sore. I just need to rest it a minute," Bill says.

Your arms flail helplessly, fighting the urge to push Bill away, knowing that if you did he'd drop the dresser, which might slide down into Sam. Your only option, it seems, is to hold this pose for a minute while Sam's knee stops acting up. Or until Tom takes over for him. Like that would ever happen.

"Hey Bill, if you lowered the desk the legs would rest on the steps," Tom said, providing the first bit of help all day.

"Okay, but 'cause of my bad back I'm gonna have to keep my back straight. That means you have to stay still, Jenny. Jenny, you understand?"

Muffled by being pressed against denim and swollen ballsacks your lips manage only indecipherable sounds. Sighing, you nod, feeling a twitching in his pants.

"Okay. On three," Tom says.

"One," Bill begins, lowering a couple of inches slowly, ballsack giving way to hard shaft against your crushed lips.

"Wait, I'm doing the counting," Tom objects, and with a sigh Bill straightens again, shaft pulling upward and spongy roundness taking their place against you.

"One," Tom counts, and once again the denim slides against your mouth.

"Wait," Sam objects, making Bill straighten again. "How come you get to count? One...."

Bill dips, then straightens as Tom objects. "I get to count because I can see what's going on. Now, one..." Bill dips.

"But..." Sam objects, and Bill straightens again.

"Two..." Tom counts, and Bill automatically dips, bringing you midway up the shaft. You can feel and smell the head against your nose, but Sam automatically straightens again.

"Hey, how'd we get to two? We hadn't even done one yet," he says.

"Okay, fine." Bill straightens. "One...." Tom counts, and Bill dips, balls giving way to shaft.

"Two..." The shaft rubs firmly against your face as his body descends.

"Three...." the head passes your nose and nuzzles against your lips.

"Wait, my knee's twinging," Sam calls out.

Bill grunts, holding the position, wavering a little from side to side as he presumably adjusts his grip. Finally he opts to straighten, denim scraping your face as he slowly moves back to beginning position. "Almost had it," he says hoarsely.

Sighing you wait helplessly for the three stooges to get their act together, uncomfortably aware of the throbbing pulse of Bill's dick squished along the length of your face and beyond.

"Okay, I think we can do it this time," Sam says. "One..."

Bill dips, even as Tom cries out, "Hey! I do the counting. One," he says, and Bill does an abrupt up and down motion as if confused.

"Am I going up or down here?" he complains, up and down motion continuing.

"Okay everyone, pay attention. We're doing it this time. One!" Tom cries out. "Two! Three!"

"Okay, now what?" Bill grunts from the three position, then straightens a little. "Is there a four?"

"You put it down," Tom says with a sigh and a wink you don't see.

"Yeah dummy. From the top?" Sam asks.

At long last the three dolts seem to figure out what they're doing and the long thick pole (and balls) that have been squishing and rubbing against your face for five minutes descend (or ascend, depending on your viewpoint), leaving Bill leaning slightly forward against your face. The head of his dick, shielded only by threadbare denim, presses firmly between your lips.

Unfortunately, the whole fiasco results in...