Girlfriend Experience 2

He calmed down. She sucked and licked, and after a short while he was hard again. Then she said, “Don’t you want a video of a twenty-five-year-old fucking you in the office?” She didn’t mention anything about taking his virginity. “I can imagine Peter is recording all of this.”

She tugged at her blouse.

The image was back.

You could see her breast covered in cum and Tom with a hard, thick cock. LED. Sharp. The same image in the conference room and at Peter’s house.

“Okay. I’m going to sit on you now. And then you’re going to fuck my brains out.”

No sooner said than done.

Silke looked straight into the camera as the big cock spread her apart. It was more than twenty-two centimeters. That was the length of the ruler on the desk, which she then set down next to her for just a moment. The head first. Then more. Her pussy tightened around him—wet enough—and yet the girth was a challenge. She sank deeper. Even deeper. Until she was sitting on his thighs and the shaft filled her as if there were no more room inside.

Her thighs were burning.

Shit, that was exhausting. The guy just wouldn’t come. He’d been fucking her for several minutes now—unsure from below, her doing the work on top, up and down, her tits full of cum in the light, her gaze fixed on the lens for Peter. She was on the verge of orgasm and moaned especially loudly. Not for the radio play. Because it felt so good. Because twenty-two centimeters in a sore, horny pussy after that morning under the table was no joke.

Then she turned around.

Her ass facing the camera. She looked him in the eyes and kissed him. She ground back and forth, and finally, a stir. His cock was inside her all the way to the root, and she slid over his hips. Damn, that was hot. Her clit against his stomach. The full sensation. And finally, he came and took her with him. Warm. Deep. Her muscles clenched around his shaft—wet, audible—her fingers dug into his shoulders.

She kissed him and then said, “Thank you. That was wonderful.”

He got dressed slowly.

Silke cleaned herself up a bit—her chest, the insides of her thighs—but not thoroughly. At the door, she kissed him goodbye.

Then she sat back down on her heels and waited.

The camera was rolling. The cum on her skin was still visible. There wasn’t a new message in the chat yet. And Silke knelt naked in the intern’s office, her pussy pounded and full, waiting for the next command.

Silence fell over the IT office once again.

“Shit. She really did fuck him. Did you guys see that?” One of them laughed too loudly. “And on top of that—did you guys know how big Tom is? I didn’t. If I’d known how big he was, I would’ve loved to have gone first.”

Manfred slapped the boy on the back.

“You can’t overstretch a woman. If she likes you, she’ll tighten her muscles. And then she’ll choke your little dick.”

They looked at the clock.

It was already half past ten. They didn’t know how much longer the girl would keep going. Someone had read in an old chat that it would last three hours. Twelve o’clock. Ninety minutes left. They had to pick up the pace.

The boy typed.

Silke read Peter’s words.

Peter: You were great. But I’d like to pick up the pace. You took your time. Are you ready for two?

Silke read the message. Fuck. What was that supposed to mean? Since when did he ask questions? What’s this all about? Is it a trap?

She knelt on her heels, her pussy still sensitive, Tom’s size still a phantom pressure inside her, and stared at the question. Peter didn’t ask. Peter commanded. A question was the wrong tone.

The IT guys noticed the confusion. She stayed still on the projector screen for too long. No nod. No getting up. The guy improvised because he realized Silke was thinking about the question. Was “two at once” a taboo? Or was the question itself taboo? Peter had never asked a question before. Damn. What were they supposed to do now? He had to get back into character.

No questions. He hoped Silke would go along with it.

Peter: Listen up. I’m going to send you three at once now. You’ll play around with them. Then you’ll get a special assignment from me for the last one.

They’d already discussed the special assignment beforehand. It was the technician who’d been there at the beginning. The one with the tripod and the LED. He didn’t want to fuck her because he had a wife at home. But he wanted something else. Something that didn’t require a cock inside her. The other three set off. They felt strong as a group. Three men. A hallway. A door, behind which a naked intern was kneeling on her heels, learning to take orders.

Silke thought. Three. Not two. No more questions. The tone was right again. It was supposed to be a punishment. Peter was prepared, she’d told herself when Manfred arrived. Peter sent men. The question just now had been a slip-up, a test to see if she was thinking. She’d thought. Too long. Now the command came, and her body read it faster than her mind.

Three at once.

Play. Don’t negotiate. After that, one last one with a special assignment. Whatever that was. She was getting wet despite the tightness from earlier, despite her burning thighs, despite the damn feeling that something about the chat wasn’t right.

She nodded at the camera.

She said aloud, for the mic, for the radio play, for him:

“Three. I’m waiting.”

In the conference room, the boy exhaled.

Peter, at home, saw the same nod and still couldn’t bring himself to type anything. Three men were on their way, acting on his behalf, and Silke knelt naked in the light, swallowing the sound, because commands felt like love inside her body.

In the hallway, the three of them were laughing too loudly.

The recording continued.