Chapter 11: Jemma the Sweater Girl

It's paradise.

I keep thrusting, keep enjoying my newfound freedom and the vulgar bliss that is consequences-free public sex, eager to enjoy my new power or whatever the fuck this is to keep fucking that smug expression off of Christine's face, leaving her a drooling wreck.

I keep going, hammering on back and forth until finally, I've just had too much. With a hard groan I pull back, and Christine assumes the submissive position of leaning her head back and opening her mouth even as thick drool spills from her mouth.

She's the only one who's in on whatever the fuck this is, but even she won't say no to showing me the submissive respect I deserve and taking her facial in stride. In fact, Christine may be the only person who knows she's being submissive, and she loves it.

I blow my load onto her face, which marks the fourth load she's taken, as the cum from the titfuck earlier still isn't actually gone.

She's covered in spunk and spit, looking like a complete mess, especially with her hair all out of place from all the pulling and tugging, but she happily leans back, gathering her breath and shuddering. "You're..."

"The best facefuck you've ever had?" I ask with a smug smile and finally slump back into my chair, needing to take a break after everything else I've done.

After the first facefuck in the middle of the cabin aisle, I pulled her to the break room to go for two rounds back to back violating her pretty face, and now I need a second to sit down and for somewhat rest.

"Fucking boring!" she groans, rising up to her feet and taking her place beside me on the table.

"Are you for real? You have the power to make people do whatever you want and have all of your behavior be completely justified by it just being you. And the sex? I get the sex. Sex is fucking great." As she speaks, she pulls her skirt up and starts to rub her sopping wet pussy like it's just a thing to do.

"I love sex! Do you want to use it just to have sex? That's hot. But we're in a fucking break room! You can go anywhere you want, why hang around a fucking break room? It smells like cheap coffee and Freon."

"Two reasons," I say, leaning back and relaxing. "One; every fuckable woman on this floor is going to be walking in here at one point or another, and rather than try to figure out who I want to rail next, I can just sit here and let them walk in and decide for me. Two; it's not cabins. There is nowhere in this world I want to be less than out there right now, because you know what's there? Bullshit is there. Reminders of work, computer screens, people talking about numbers I don't care about, lots of cheap phones ringing and the second someone answers and the shitty ringing stops, someone else's phone starts. It's fucking terrible. But in the break room, I get to relax, and if a boss comes in, they get to see me lounging around for hours with my cock out and apparently that's just cool now, so yeah, I'm going to enjoy myself here."

"You really hate this place, don't you?"

"How can you tell?"

"Well good thing I've come along then." She leans back in her seat, shoulders relaxing as she starts to rub her pussy right in front of me and seems completely unapologetic about that fact.

Not that I can blame her; if we two can just get away with this, I'm basically in the same boat as her, and if I'm indulging why wouldn't she?

It's just natural that the two of us get to enjoy ourselves, although it does pique my suspicion quite suddenly that not only does she know what's going on so intimately, but she isn't taking advantage of it herself.

Not that I worry too much about those matters, pushing the thought out of the mind and savoring the view.

Although I don't get to enjoy the sight of a hot blonde jack off for too long as Jemma enters the room, the cute brunette in HR who always wears just slightly too-tight sweaters that hug her luscious tits and leave very little to the imagination.

Today she's got on one that's hugging them so hard I can almost see the outline of her nipples underneath her top, and some people might consider that an embarrassing thing, but I think it's great.

She heads over to the fridge to grab the container full of salad she brought from home and then takes her seat over at a table to start eating.

"I love your sweater, Jemma," I say, rising up to greet her and take my seat beside her.

My hand goes right for one of her amazing breasts, giving it a nice squeeze as I test the waters a little bit.

She lets out a little bit of a moan, but nothing too vigorous, like she barely even notices I'm doing anything to her.

"Thanks," she says, flashing me a happy smile as she stabs some of her pasta salad with a fork and starts to eat it like I'm not doing anything, even though I am very much still fondling her amazing chest through it all, my fingers even tightening against the outline of her nipple to tease and roll it a little bit for good measure. "I got it this weekend, and I'm already loving it."

"It looks great on you, especially with how tight it is; really makes your tits look big to have them held onto so tightly. More women should walk around with extra tight clothes and let the world see how huge their chest is."

"I couldn't agree more." Jemma's acceptance of my words feeds my boldness; I really can get someone to go along with anything, can't I?

It's all to my benefit as I continue to feel her up and she just nonchalantly keeps eating. It's the perfect crime, it seems, and I'm all too eager to keep it going as I feel her up.

"Mm, did you--I probably shouldn't be telling anybody about this, but I'll make an exception for you, since you're usually pretty nice. Did you hear that Rachel in IT was having sex in here?" Jemma said.

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