We clean afterwards, of course.
Oliver's little cucumber thing earlier might have been juvenile, but that doesn't mean I'm not desperate to feel him as we collapse onto the couch. I'm pushing him back and tugging at his chef's pants, yanking them down until his impressive cock pops out and up right in front of me. Oliver hisses and groans as I wrap my lip around his shaft, my mouth stretching to fit his girth as I swirl my tongue around the crown and run my hands up his thighs.
I'm starting to slide up and down before I squeal as he grabs me and start to flip me around, "Oy, not so fast, darling."
He's become a master at stripping my clothes off, and before I know it, I'm pants-less and laying on top of him with his head between my legs and his cock in front of me.
It's almost alarming how good he is at having us end up in positions like this.
I moan quietly as his tongue finds me hot and wet, dragging up through my folds and pushing inside to tease around my opening before he flicks it against my aching clit. I muffle my cries with his cock, slipping my lips back over the head and sucking him as deep as I can as his tongue starts to work magic on me.
Suddenly, he pulls away and starts to push me off of him, "Oh, wait, hang on a tick."
I look up at him quizzically as he jumps up from the couch, "Huh?"
"Stay put, I'll be right back," he says with a devious wink that sends a shiver down my spine.
He's back roughly thirty seconds later, holding something behind his back, "Now, where were we?"
I arch an eyebrow at him, "What are you up to?"
He slides back onto the couch and starts to pull me back on top of him. "You've gotta trust me, luv."
I yelp and giggle as he pulls me back to his face, and then gasp as his tongue finds my pussy again. I'm melting all over again, moaning at his tongue as he licks me perfectly.
I'm just moving my mouth back to his cock when I suddenly freeze, my eyes going wide; "Oliver- what the fuck is that?" I can practically feel him grinning against my thigh, and I hear him chuckle deeply behind me. But then the lick of his tongue across my clit brings a gasp to my lips.
"Do you trust me?"
I bite my lip, "Should I?"
"That all depends if you do or not."
Slowly, I find myself nodding, "Yes," I whisper quietly.
"Then just relax," he growls, his tongue darting out to lap at my wetness, "I promise you'll enjoy this."
Something is pressing against me; something big. Maybe not as big as him but- "Jesus, what-" I start to turn to look over my shoulder, but whatever he's got starts to stretch me so perfectly as it slides easily inside that I moan in spite of myself.
"Oliver," I gasp out, feeling his tongue dance across my clit as the very cock-like thing slowly entering me glides over my wetness; "What is that?"
"What?" He chuckles behind me, "Didn't you like my little friend from earlier?"
"What?" I gasp as the thing presses deep, hitting such a good spot inside.
"My little friend that couldn't get enough of your bum, earlier at your station."
Suddenly, I freeze; he cannot be serious.
"Is-!" My eyes fly open, "Is that seriously a fucking-"
"It's literally a fucking cucumber at this point, but yes, luv, it is."
I start to make a move to jump off of him, but his arm holds me tight, and suddenly I'm moaning out in pleasure as his lips and tongue find my clit again.
"Shh, just relax, luv," he murmurs, gently licking me and making my eyes flutter shut as I bite my lip, "If you're not into it, I'll stop, but I swear you're going to enjoy this."
And the problem is, I am enjoying it.
A lot.
I can feel the condom stretched over it now, but it feels staggeringly naughty, and dirty, and so unbelievably kinky. The feeling of something sliding in and out of me like a cock while Oliver's tongue dances across my clit has me gasping in a whole new type of pleasure I've never felt before.
His lips wrap around my clit, his swirling around the little pleasure spot as he starts to fuck me slow and rhythmically with the cucumber, pushing me deeper and deeper into my own pleasure.
I can't come like this; I can't let myself come like this. It's too … dirty.
What, like fucking your stepbrother?
"I want to feel you come for me, Chloe," he growls, "I want to taste you when you come."
I'm gasping into his thigh, writhing on top of him as he slowly coaxes the impending orgasm from my trembling body. I open my eyes and see him rock hard and throbbing right in front of my face, and before I can even think about it, I'm reaching for him. He groans as I wrap my lips around him and suck him in deeply, and suddenly, the kink factor of this whole thing ratchets up even higher inside my head, sending me spinning.
It's so dirty, sucking him like this while he licks me and fucks me with that … thing. It's like being taken by two Olivers at the same time, from both sides, and the utterly naughty image of that very scenario inside my head sends my body reeling as I start to claw at the precipice of my climax.
There's nothing slow about the way I suck him, all but gagging as I hungrily take him as deep as I can. I'm swirling my tongue around him while I stroke the part I can't fit, wanting to taste him; wanting to make him come just like the way he's about to make me- "Oh GOD!" I cry out as the wave crashes over me suddenly and without warning. I'm coming, and the orgasm tears through me from both ends as his tongue beats across my clit and the cucumber hits that perfect spot inside again and again and again.
He groans into my pussy, and then he's filling my mouth. I'm swallowing through my own climax, swallowing every drop of him as my body shudders and stutters through the tail of my orgasm and the world starts to blur a bit at the edges.
Having a secret affair, at work, with my boss, who's also my stepbrother, who just fucked me with cucumber while teasing my clit with his tongue …
Yeah, we have officially left sensible, straight-laced Chloe behind long ago, and whoever this new version of me is?
I kind of like her.
I straighten the tie as I glance in the mirror, frowning at what a fuckin' nance I look like.
Okay, I look sharp as fuck, truth be told, but I'm just not used to putting on nice clothes and pretending I'm proper. I mean shit, I spend 75% of my time in loud, messy kitchens wearing what really amounts to fancy pajamas and an apron.
I'm amazed I even remember how to tie a tie.
I have a brief memory of my mother trying to show my how to do it in the mirror one morning before church, back when we used to go to church. I'm standing on a stool and she's laughing as she stands behind me and tries to tie the damn thing before she gives up with another musical laugh. She finally just puts the thing on herself. And I remember laughing my head off at how funny she looked in her Sunday church dress with the cardigan on and the pearls dad bought her for their anniversary, and my short little striped kid-sized tie tied around her neck.
Of course, after she died, we stopped going to church at all, which I guess suited both my dad and I just fine.
"Like saying ‘thank ye' to the fookin' tax man, son, and we ain't doin' that no more."
Makes decent sense to me, truth be told.
After that, I went eight years without tying a tie, until the army. And then I tied a shitload of ties, and usually multiple times a day at first since I kept mucking it up. Course, I also learned how to turn shit ingredients into something proper over a stove. I learned that even in the middle of Afghanistan, in the middle of a fuckin war-zone, you can find people selling probably the best spices on the planet in their old little stores, as if the apocalypse isn't happening all around them.
Some blokes went over there and learned how to kill people, or learned how to shove it all inside and slowly turn themselves crazy. Me? I got pinched lifting a case of soda my third day there, and after a fucking court martial hearing - for stealing what amounted to what, like ten quid worth of soda? - I was demoted and banished to the kitchens for the remaining year of my service.
It's probably one of the best thing that ever happened to me.
See, Danny had taught me how to hold myself in a kitchen pretty proper. He'd taught me how to hold a knife, how to dice any vegetable out there and how to clean a cut of meat. Foundations is what he taught me; and that shitty little kitchen in the middle of the desert forced me to build my fucking tower.
I shake my head, clearing it of the memories of that place that are best forgotten anyways as I finish straightening my tie before I walk out the door, stroll across the hallway, and knock on Chloe's door.
Gotta pick up my date for date night, you know.