I felt a few people rub up against me, and I felt more than one hand brush over my tight ass, and I suspect that at least one of those times it was a ...oman. Soon I was directed to the kitchen, which was slightly better lit. I was met by the scene of my father, the jester, making punch while regaling a rapt audience about an accident he had last winter, slipping on ice outside our house. He had made a complete fool of himself and was rushed to the hospital with a bruised coccyx, but he was such. About a year ago my HR people found a well qualified new assistant who apparently could handle the long hours and frequent Saturday and Sunday work. Her name is Kristy and she is a knock out. She is about 5'6" with shoulder length blond hair, piercing blue eyes, and a very nice 36C rack. I have also been impressed with her intellect and ability to focus. Kristy, who is with me almost all the time, observed my lack of a personal life. Regardless of whether I want to have a personal life or not,. “I can’t believe you’re so calm about this,” I gritted through the queasiness that the alcohol had triggered. “And I can’t believe you’ve suddenly developed a conscience,” he shot back with amusement. I glared at him mutinously. “This is not fucking funny. How do you know you can trust them?” “Believe me,” he answered darkly, taking my empty glass, “by the time tonight’s over no one in this room will be telling anyone anything.” “That’s because I’ll have been forced to murder you all,” I shot. “Oh, God, Brad…what are you doing to me? That’s SO good…”He doesn’t answer, since his mouth is otherwise engaged, but keeps tormenting my clit with his strong tongue…circling it, flicking across it, faster and faster. My hips come off the table as I try to grind into his tongue, chasing that elusive orgasm.“Oh…oh…oh…I’m so close Brad…yes, right there…oh, Brad…oh, fuck, yes…” My orgasm is swift and amazing, making my whole body shudder with pure pleasure as I cry out Brad’s name and thrash on.
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