The weekend my Team lead ruined me - Part 1

I'm the kind of woman who walks into a room and every married man's vows start sweating. I've been called a slut, a seductress, a homewrecker; and I wear every name like a medal. My name is Aashini Patel. I am 26 years old from Ahmedabad, with a body built to ruin men and a secret life that would make my mother faint.

Let me tell you about the weekend I let my team lead, my sugar daddy, the man I'm hopelessly addicted to, own every inch of me for 60 hours straight; while his god-fearing wife thought he was on a business trip.

I stand 5'6" with measurements that make men stop and stare. My stats are 38-30-40. Big boobs, a small waist, and wide hips that make men stupid. My bust is 34D. My nipples are pink, perky, and super sensitive. I love having them sucked, bitten, pulled. My areolas are big, coin-sized, dark black, impossible to ignore even through thin fabric. I have thick thighs that Harsh loves to grip when he fucks me from behind. My skin is milky white, soft, smooth. I take care of my body like it's a temple of sin. I dress to seduce. Tight western outfits, crop tops, shorts that ride up my thighs, deep necklines that leave nothing to imagination. That is my uniform. I am a complete seductress and, when it comes to Harsh, a submissive slut.

My pussy is always wet. Always. It has a mind of its own. The moment I see Harsh, the moment he looks at me with that hungry stare, my panties are soaked. My pussy is sensitive, loose, and greedy for dicks. Harsh loves touching it, fingering it, fucking it mercilessly. He uses my body roughly, and I love being used. My pussy and asshole are often swollen from his endless fucking, from his thick four fingers stretching me open, and that only makes him want them more.

Harsh is my team lead, my sugar daddy, my man. I never want to get married to anyone else. I just want to be his mistress forever. He is 38, 6'0", handsome, with an athletic body, broad shoulders, and abs I love to lick. He has a very big, thick dick. 8 inches long, 6 inches in circumference. I know because I measured it once just after our fucking marathon. He has been married for 10 years. His wife is a cold, god-fearing, boring woman who hates sex and absolutely refuses oral sex. She doesn't satisfy him. So he cheats. He has been cheating since the wedding. I respect that. An unhappy man has every right to find his pleasure elsewhere.

I joined the office when I was 21. Fresh out of college, hungry for attention, **** to be seen. Within months, I had him wrapped around my finger. I wore my sluttiest outfits to the office. Sleeveless tops that showed my clean-shaven underarms, tight skirts that hugged my ass, deep necklines that made sure he saw my cleavage every time I bent over his desk. Harsh loves to lick my clean-shaven underarms; fresh out of the shower, still damp and soft, or sweaty right after office, he doesn't care. He buries his face there and tastes me like I'm his last meal. I made sure he saw my bare thick thighs, the sweat on my neck, the way my lips parted when I spoke. I was 22 when we started properly. Now I am 26, and he owns me and I own him.

People see us as professional colleagues. Team lead and subordinate. They don't know that we've fucked in every possible place. My apartment. His apartment when his wife is away. Open balconies at midnight. Empty office parking spots. Public washrooms. Dark roadsides inside his Fortuner with the windows fogged up. His office cabin with the blinds drawn. In 4 years, we have had sex hundreds of times. He has taken my pussy and my ass more times than I can count. He has cum inside my mouth, on my face, on my boobs, on my ass, on my back and on every single inch of my body. He has licked every inch of my body. I have sucked his dick in moving cars, in stairwells, in places anyone could have walked in. We are addicted to each other.

But that is not the whole truth.

Harsh is not my only man. He doesn't know that. In front of him, I am his good little one-man bitch. His loyal slut. His personal whore. But without him, I am a tigress. Over the last 7 years, I have been fucked by more than 80 men. I have had group sex and orgies when Harsh was away on business trips or at his home with his wife. I have smooched and fooled around with countless men whose names I don't even remember. I have sucked stranger's dicks in club bathrooms. I have let multiple men fuck me in one night. I use condoms with every one of them. Always condoms. With Harsh, I go raw. Always raw. No barriers between us. I want his baby. I want to carry his child as an unmarried woman. I want to tie him to me forever. But he avoids it. He pulls out, fucks me only on safe days, or makes me swallow i-pills the next morning. I let him, because I need to keep him happy. I am terrified of losing Harsh. If he finds me unattractive or boring, he will walk away. So even if another man has fucked me just two hours earlier, I will never deny Harsh. I will spread my legs, wet or not, and take everything he gives me.

Harsh, too, sleeps with other women. On business trips when I am not there, he finds someone. Some client, some receptionist, some random woman in a hotel bar. I know this. He doesn't hide it, and he always tells me about it. We talk about it openly, and I know everything. It turns me on. The thought of him fucking some stranger in a hotel room, then coming back to me, makes my pussy drip. I only care about one thing: his wife hates oral, and I love it. The moment my lips wrap around his dick, that unhappily married 38-year-old man becomes my total ****. I can ask for anything. Gifts, money, attention, everything and he will give it. I use my mouth, my pussy, and my ass to keep him completely drained and addicted. He needs me. His wife can never give him what I give her.

Now let me tell you about that specific weekend. A weekend that started like any other Friday but became something I still touch myself thinking about.

It started on Thursday night. We were sexting on a video call. I was nude on my bed, my legs spread, fingering myself while he watched. His wife was sleeping in their bedroom and he was here talking with me from another room. I demanded we spend the weekend together at my place.

"Baby, please," I moaned, pushing all four fingers inside my dripping pussy, spreading my legs wider so he could see everything on his screen. "I need you so badly. My fingers aren't enough. Ahh... I need your thick dick inside me."

Harsh groaned on the other end, his face illuminated by the blue glow of his phone. "Look at you, my dirty little slut. Fucking yourself for me while my wife sleeps twenty feet away. You have no shame, do you?"

"No shame," I gasped, thrusting my fingers deeper, my hips lifting off the bed. "Mmm... only hunger. Harsh, it's been fifteen days. Fifteen fucking days. I'm going crazy. My pussy is so wet right now... can you see it? Can you see how much I'm dripping for you?"

"I see it, jaan. Fuck, you're gorgeous when you're **** like this. Spread your lips for me. Show me your clit."

I used my other hand to spread my pussy open, my swollen clit throbbing under his gaze. "Ahh... fuck, Harsh. Even through the screen, your eyes feel like they're touching me. Please, baby. Please let me have you this weekend. Tell your wife it's a business trip. Come ruin me completely."

"Ruining you is my favorite thing," he said, his voice low and rough. "I want to bend you over and fuck you until you forget your own name. I want to cum inside you so many times it drips out of you for days."

"Haan, baby, yes! Oh fuck... that's what I want. I want to be your cum dumpster. Your personal whore. Ahhh... I'm cumming, Harsh, I'm cumming just thinking about it-"

My back arched as my orgasm hit me, my pussy clenching around my fingers, my cum gushing out, coating my inner thighs. I cried out his name, loud enough that anyone in the next room might have heard, but I didn't care. Harsh watched with dark, hungry eyes, and when I finally collapsed back onto the bed, trembling and panting, he spoke.

"This weekend. Friday evening to Monday morning. 60 hours. I'm going to make you beg for mercy, Aashini. And then I'm going to make you beg for more."

"I'll be waiting, sir," I whispered, still breathless. "I'll always be waiting for you."

It had been almost 15 days since we last had sex at his place. 15 days of masturbating alone, 15 days of craving his thick dick inside me. My body was ****. I told him I needed him. I told him I wanted him to ruin me. So we decided that weekend would be ours. As always, he told his wife that he is going on a business trip. From Friday evening after office to Monday morning shower and beyond... Almost 60 hours of togetherness. 60 hours of fucking, sucking, sleeping in each other's arms naked, waking up to his morning erection, starting again.

On Friday, I woke up early. I bathed, shaved every inch of my body smooth. My underarms, my legs, my thighs, my pussy, my asshole. I wanted to be silky soft for him. The razor glided over my sensitive skin, and with every stroke, I imagined his hands on me, his mouth tasting my smoothness. I chose a black sleeveless low-neck knee-length one-piece dress. It showed my cleavage and my thick arms. Underneath, I wore nothing except a thin thong and a lacy bra. I wore them specifically to keep my pussy wet and ready. Harsh loves to devour my thong when it's soaked with my orgasms. He loves to pull it aside and smell it, taste it, rub it against my clit until I'm begging him to fuck me. When I raised my hands that day, my clean-shaven underarms and thick arms were visible to every man around me. I made sure all the dicks in the office saluted me that day; including Harsh's.

Throughout Friday at the office, we exchanged flirty messages on WhatsApp. I sent him photos of my cleavage when no one was looking.

"Missing something, sir?" I typed, attaching a photo of my deep neckline, my boobs pushed together, my dark areolas barely visible through the thin fabric.

His reply came within seconds: "Missing my face between those gorgeous tits. My wife never lets me near her chest. You've ruined me for anyone else, you know that?"

"Good," I sent back. "I want to be the only pussy you ever crave."

"You already are. I'm hard at my desk thinking about you. My dick is throbbing, jaan. I want to bend you over this desk right now and fuck you until you scream."

I squirmed in my chair, pressing my thighs together, feeling my thong getting wetter. "Then do it, sir. Lock your door. I'll crawl under your desk and suck your dick while you're on your conference call. I'll swallow every drop so no one hears a thing."

"Fuck, Aashini. You're going to get us caught."

"Worth it. I'd rather get caught with your cum in my mouth than go another minute without tasting you."

"Tonight. Patience, my dirty little slut. Tonight I'm going to make you pay for teasing me all day."

"Ahh... I'm counting the seconds, baby. My pussy is literally dripping right now. I've already cum three times just thinking about us, reading your messages and rubbing my thighs together under my desk."

"Show me. Go to the washroom. Send me proof of how wet you are."

His messages made my pussy wet. I had three orgasms just from rubbing my thighs together under my desk, reading his words, imagining his hands on me.

We stole glances constantly. Every time he walked past my desk, his eyes went to my boobs. Every time I walked past his cabin, I made sure my hips swayed. We were like two addicts waiting for our fix.

At 5 p.m., I couldn't take it anymore. I went to the washroom, locked myself in a stall, and removed my thong. It was soaked-drenched with my cum from three orgasms during the day. As soon as I removed my thong, my cum flowed down my smooth hairless legs. I was still dripping wet. My pussy was swollen, my clit throbbing.

I clicked a photo of the soaked thong lying on my palm. Then I clicked a photo of my wet, swollen pussy, my fingers spreading my lips open, showing him how ready I was. I sent both photos to Harsh.

"Look what you've done to me, sir. This is all because of you. My pussy is begging for your dick. Ahhh... I need you so badly."

I saw his status change to "typing..." and then nothing. He couldn't control himself. He went to the washroom, locked himself in, and shagged looking at my photos. A few minutes later, he sent me a photo of his rock-hard dick, his cum dripping from the tip.

"Look what you've done to me, you filthy temptress. I just came in the office washroom like a fucking teenager. Your photos are too much. This is your fault."

I stared at his photo, his thick, beautiful dick with his cum glistening on the tip. My mouth watered. My pussy clenched. "Mmm... I wish I was there to lick that off you. To swallow every drop. Ahhh... your cum looks so delicious, baby."

"Stop talking or I'm going to get hard again and my wife is waiting for me to come home before my 'business trip.' Counting the hours until I can bury myself inside you."

That made me orgasm two more times within five minutes. I fucked myself with all my four fingers right there in the office washroom, imagining his thick dick pounding me. I leaned against the stall wall, my legs spread, four fingers buried inside my greedy pussy, my thumb grinding against my swollen clit. "Harsh... oh fuck... ahhhh!" I whimpered, my voice echoing in the empty washroom. My cum coated my fingers, my thighs, my hand. But my fingers could never do the magic that his fingers do!

Finally, at 6 p.m., we left the office casually along with other employees. Nothing unusual. Just two colleagues leaving work on a Friday evening. No one suspected anything. No one looked twice.

We went to the parking basement. The lights were dim, the concrete walls echoey. I could hear my own heartbeat thudding in my ears, my heels clicking against the concrete. Every step brought me closer to him. I was still wearing my thong just for Harsh to feel it and remove it, my pussy slick and aching under my dress. As soon as we found a dark corner, hidden from the cameras, Harsh pulled me fiercely.

"Finally," he growled, his breath hot against my ear. "I've been hard for hours thinking about your filthy messages."

His hands grabbed my waist, his mouth crashed into mine. He smooched me deeply, hungrily, like he was starving. "Mmm... Harsh, baby... ahh..." I moaned into his mouth as his tongue pushed into my mouth, and I opened for him. I love how roughly he handles me when I'm already this **** for him. His teeth scraped my lips, biting my lower lip hard enough to sting.

"You taste like sin," he murmured against my mouth. "Like everything I shouldn't want but can't stop craving."

"Then take me," I gasped. "Right here. I don't care if anyone sees. Ahhh... please, baby, I need you-"

His fingers dug into my hips, pulling me flush against his erection. I could feel his hard dick through his pants, pressing against my belly, and I whimpered with need. He left a love bite on my collarbone, sucking the skin hard, marking me. I gasped at the sharp sting, then moaned as the pleasure-pain radiated through my body.

"Mine," he whispered, his teeth grazing my skin. "This mark says you're mine."

"Yours," I breathed, my head falling back. "Always yours, baby. Ahhh... everyone will see it. Everyone will know I belong to someone."

"Let them see. Let them wonder who marked you like this. You're my dirty little secret, Aashini. My beautiful, filthy slut."

The mark was clearly visible from my top. A dark red spot that anyone could see if they looked. I loved every bit of it. I loved wearing his mark. I loved that his wife might see it and wonder. I loved that everyone in the world would know I belonged to someone, even if they didn't know who.

Once partially satisfied by the kiss, we got into his Fortuner. The windows were tinted black. The back seat was spacious. But that day, we didn't make it to the back seat.

As soon as we were inside, he started kissing me again. His hands roamed over my body. My thighs, my waist, my boobs.

"I've been thinking about your body all day," he groaned, his hands sliding under my dress, gripping my bare thighs. "So smooth. So soft. I could eat you alive."

"Please do," I whimpered, spreading my legs wider. "Ahh... Harsh, touch me. Your hands feel so good on my skin."

He pulled open my bra and removed it, throwing it somewhere in the back. My boobs were free under my dress, my nipples hard and aching. He then went for my thong, pulled it out of my legs and discarded it somewhere in the back of his car. Throughout the drive, Harsh kept his left hand on my thighs and pussy inside my dress. His fingers traced my slit, pressing against my wetness.

"Fuck, you're dripping," he growled, his fingers sliding through my slick folds. "Without thong it feels so good to touch and feel you."

"Anything for you, baby." I moaned, my hips lifting to meet his touch. "They were soaked. Mmm... Anyways I couldn't wear them anymore. My cum was running down my legs."

"Filthy girl. I love it. My dirty little office slut, sitting at her desk all day with a soaked pussy, dreaming about my dick."

"Ahhh... yes, baby. Haan... I was thinking about you inside me. Your thick dick stretching me open. Your cum filling me up-"

His fingers slipped inside me, two at first, then three, then all four, stretching my greedy pussy open. I cried out, my hands gripping the door handle, my body shaking with pleasure. His thumb found my clit and pressed down hard, grinding in circles.

"Oh fuck! Harsh! Ahhh... right there, baby, yes! Your fingers feel so good inside me. Mmm... deeper. Please, deeper!"

At the signal, his right hand mauled my boobs over my top, pinching my nipples through the fabric. I spread my legs wider for him. I couldn't think. I couldn't breathe. I just wanted his dick inside me.

"You're so wet I can hear it," he whispered, his fingers fucking me with a wet, obscene sound. "Squelch, squelch, squelch. My wife's pussy is dry as sandpaper. But yours? Your cunt is a fucking ocean. I could drown in you."

"Drown in me, baby. Ahhh... oh god... I'm so close. Your fingers are going to make me cum. Right here in the car. In the middle of traffic. Fuck!"

We drove through the city streets, past traffic lights, past other cars, past people walking on the sidewalks. They couldn't see inside. They couldn't see his fingers buried in my pussy. They couldn't see my head thrown back, my mouth open, my body trembling. Every red light felt like ****. Every time he stopped the car, I wanted to climb on top of him and ride him right there.

"Green light," I whined as the car accelerated. "Why are there so many red lights? I need your dick, Harsh. Not just your fingers. I need to be filled. Ahhh... please, baby, pull over. Find a dark spot. Fuck me on the side of the road. I don't care who sees."

"Patience, my **** little slut. We're almost there. And when we get there, I'm going to take my time with you. Every inch of you."

When we reached my apartment's parking lot, he smooched me once more; hard, rough, possessive.

"I can taste myself on your fingers," I moaned when he pulled back. "Mmm... I love how I taste on your skin."

"You taste delicious, jaan. Sweet and musky and all woman. I could eat your pussy for hours."

"Please do. Ahhh... my clit is throbbing, Harsh. It's been throbbing all day. Please make it stop. Please make me cum on your dick."

Then we headed toward the lift. My legs were shaking. My pussy was throbbing. My mind was blank except for one thought: I need him inside me.

We got into the lift. The doors closed. And I couldn't stop.

I grabbed his collar and pulled him to me. "I can't wait anymore," I gasped. "I need you right now. Right fucking now."

He pushed me against the wall, his hands sliding under my dress, gripping my bare ass. His mouth found mine, and we smooched each other passionately, desperately. I could taste his hunger, his need, his desperation matching my own. His tongue fucked my mouth the way I wanted his dick to fuck my pussy.

"Your ass is perfect," he groaned, squeezing my cheeks hard, pulling them apart. "I'm going to fuck this asshole later tonight. After I've ruined your pussy. After you've begged me for more."

"Ahhh... yes, baby. Yes! I want you in every hole. I want to be completely yours. Use me, Harsh. Use all of me!"

His hands squeezed my ass, pulled me against his erection. I could feel his hard dick through his pants, pressing against my stomach. I wanted to unzip him. I wanted to take him out. I wanted to drop to my knees and worship him.

"Let me suck you," I begged, my hands fumbling with his belt. "Please, Harsh. I need your dick in my mouth. I need to taste your precum on my tongue. Mmm... let me worship you."

"Not here," he groaned, pulling my hands away. "Not yet. I want to savor this. I want to make you wait. I want you **** and dripping by the time I finally let you have my dick."

"You're cruel," I whimpered, my whole body aching with need. "Cruel and perfect and I love you so much."

But we didn't have time. The lift was moving.

That lift was just the appetizer. The minute we stumbled through my apartment door, I'd finally find out how many times he could make me scream before sunrise.

Part 2 - where he ruins me completely - is coming.

You can reach out to me at me[dot]aashini[at]proton[dot]me