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They were in Italy. Officially, it was a business trip to establish the Grateau Agency’s headquarters in Rome, but Emily and Sylvie’s love lives always managed to complicate things.
They were staying in a luxurious hotel in the city center. They’d been given adjoining rooms —Sylvie had protested, unwilling to have just a door separating her from Emily, who would surely bombard her with nonsense at all hours. But there were no other rooms available, so there they were. And sure enough, Emily kept walking through the door between their suites to comment on everything to her boss.
“And now Marcelo’s angry with me,” Emily complained, sitting on the edge of Sylvie’s bed while her boss did her makeup for the party they had in an hour. “But it’s not my fault Gabriel came all the way here looking for me!”
“Of course not, Emily. Nothing is ever your fault,” her boss replied sarcastically, already exhausted from hearing about Emily’s affairs.
“I don’t know which one to choose… if I even want either of them. Maybe I’d be better off alone,” Emily went on.
“Okay, let’s toast to that,” Sylvie interrupted, grabbing her purse.
“Huh?” Emily asked, snapping out of her thoughts.
“We’re getting a drink before the party. I need it,” Sylvie declared.
Emily didn’t really want to show up drunk to a work event, but if her boss said so...
They went down to the terrace bar of their hotel and had a drink there. With a cigarette in one hand and a cocktail in the other, Sylvie finally began to unwind a little. The problem was that once Emily finished dissecting her own love life, she moved on to Sylvie’s.
“Sorry to say it, but Laurent seems like a pathetic excuse for a man. You should divorce him,” Emily said, her gin and tonic hitting harder than expected —she wasn’t used to drinking.
“Excuse me?” Sylvie snapped, stunned and angry that her employee would speak to her like that.
“When you reported that businessman who harassed you when you were young, what did your dear husband do? He whined because it ruined his plan to partner with that scumbag and open a club in Paris. He emotionally blackmailed you, saying he couldn’t stay in Paris anymore, so you felt compelled to find another way for him to open his club.”
Sylvie would’ve liked to argue, to defend the man she’d been married to for decades (even if it was more of a… open marriage). But Emily’s words had hit too hard, too precisely. And she didn’t stop there:
“Any man —or woman— who finds out someone treated their wife like that, would go after the bastard and break his face and balls. Did Laurent do that?”
No, Laurent did nothing. Nothing except make Sylvie feel guilty. That was why she had hooked up with her old Roman lover, Giancarlo. Out of spite, out of fury. To feel good. But it hadn’t worked...
“I’m angry,” the French woman finally admitted, “I’ve always been a master of the art of love, always had whoever I wanted, however I wanted. I could read the darkest desires in anyone... And now... between one man and the next... I don’t even know what I want anymore,” Sylvie muttered, exhaling the smoke with irritation.
Emily swallowed hard —her boss never opened up to her like this. So she simply nodded, and they drank in silence. They hadn’t even had dinner, but the idea of suggesting it didn’t cross Emily’s mind.
Afterward, they went to the party. And kept drinking. Both were far too drunk to talk business, so they just let themselves drift.
Sylvie tired first and left without even saying goodbye. When Emily realized, she decided to head back to the hotel too: it was late and she’d had too much to drink, the only thing left was to do something stupid. And with all her boyfriend drama, she was feeling ridiculously horny and scared she might hook up with just anyone (again).
Once back in her hotel room, Emily took a shower to clear her head —she didn’t like drinking that much. Then she put on a nightgown, ready to call it a night.
She didn’t know why she did it, but some invisible force made her quietly open the door connecting her room to Sylvie’s. She tiptoed toward the bed, though stealth wasn’t necessary: her boss was in a deep sleep —more of a drunken coma than actual rest.
Judging by the state of the suite, Emily pieced it together: Sylvie must have stumbled in —drunk and drained— stripped off along the way to bed, and hadn’t even bothered to draw the curtains through which moonlight now poured.
So Emily found Sylvie tangled in sheets, naked and sprawled facedown on the bed, dead asleep after an exhausting night —and month and year. Seeing her boss for the first time bare and vulnerable like that ignited an irresistible urge within her. So, drunked and horny because none of her boyfriends fucked her well, Emily decided to have some fun on her own, with Sylvie as an unwitting participant.
Carefully, silently, the girl removed her clothes before slipping into bed beside Sylvie’s slumbering form. Emily didn't even think about what she was doing, she just let herself be led and guided by her baser instincts (which were there even if she tried to repress them).
With gentle touches, she began to explore her curves, mapping out unfamiliar territory with reverent caresses. The girl had never touched a woman before (and she was almost sure Sylvie hadn’t either). The sleeping woman didn’t react, her breathing was still slow, only momentarily interrupted when Emily's fingers stopped on her nipples. The girl deduced that her boss's tits were a very sensitive spot, best not to obsess over them —she feared waking her. So she slid her hand between her legs and began to gently caress her pussy.
“So warm and inviting…” Emily thought delightedly, gently tracing with a finger every crease of that tight cunt.
“Hmmm...” murmured Sylvie stirring softly in her sleep.
Emily managed to withdraw her hand just a second before her boss crossed her legs in her sleep —otherwise she would have caught her hand between her thighs and it would have been difficult to remove it without waking Sylvie. She gave the woman a few seconds and when she confirmed that Sylvie was still asleep, Emily continued her exploration.
As Emily grew bolder in her ministrations, her explorations became less innocent. She allowed her fingertips to dip teasingly between Sylvie’s buttocks, feeling how she clenched instinctively even in sleep. Instantly, the girl's interest in an area that until then had been taboo for her, multiplied. Intrigued, Emily leaned down and pressed feather-light kisses along the cleft of her ass, inhaling the intimate scent of Sylvie’s skin.
“Naughty girl, getting so worked up over such scandalous imagery,” Emily scolded herself. But still she grew emboldened, spurred on by Sylvie’s lack of protest. She massaged her buttocks, gently at first but soon moving on to mauling them. Her boss moaned softly but didn't wake up. Emily had never played with someone's ass... and now she found herself unable to let go of her boss's, she felt as if possessed by desire.
Emily’s desire reached a fever pitch: unable to resist temptation any longer, she positioned herself behind Sylvie’s prone form, gripping her hips firmly to steady them both. With a shuddering sigh of anticipation, Emily lined herself up, her slick folds parting easily to nestle against Sylvie’s ass. Thus, she began to use Sylvie’s body to masturbate.
Emily was absolutely dripping wet, sliding against Sylvie in the most obscene caress. She couldn't stifle a muffled moan when her clit accidentally rubbed against her left ass cheek. But the Frenchwoman didn’t react to that other than by pulling her legs closer together, as if unconsciously trying to hold back the wetness dripping from her core.
Emily grabbed Sylvie to get her closer to her body. “Oh, yes…” the girl thought, lost in pleasure.
She imagined how Sylvie would react if she woke up at that moment. She would probably kill the young woman. And Emily? She realized that even then, she wouldn't be able to break away, she would simply hold her lover tighter. She would try to immobilize Sylvie and convince her that this was the best thing for both of them, she would hold on to her tits and try to stay fucking her for as long as possible.
Emily had never been a dominant girl and would never have dared to even kiss Sylvie, not even in her best dreams. But circumstances had simply led her to... No, they had forced her —the girl told herself— to fuck her sleeping boss hard.
The friction of their intimate parts combined with the pressure of Emily’s hands on Sylvie’s hips nearly succeeded in awakening her from her restless sleep. Nearly, but not quite awake, Sylvie remained suspended in that liminal space between dreams and reality as Emily continued her furtive exploits.
Emboldened by Sylvie’s lack of conscious resistance, she began to grind against her with increasing fervor, chasing her own pleasure using her slumbering body as a tool for her gratification.
“Finally my boss makes up for the indifference and coldness with which she has treated me all this time..." Emily said to herself.
The girl, drunk on lust and empowered by her lover’s helpless state, allowed her wandering hands to drift lower. They skimmed over the globes of her ass, squeezing and kneading the pliant flesh appreciatively.
And then, Emily couldn't resist the tempting pucker presented so invitingly before her.
With a single, curious finger, Emily traced the circumference of that hidden entrance, marveling at the way it clenched reflexively at the unfamiliar touch, even in Sylvie’s unconscious state.
Emily, ever the adventurous minx, couldn't resist the temptation any longer. With a wicked grin, she pressed her finger against that forbidden entrance, applying just enough pressure to make her boss squirmed in her sleep.
“Oh, yes… I’m gonna make this ass mine!” the girl encouraged herself.
She was dying to feel that tight little rosebud clench around her greedy finger. Emily pushed insistently, breaching that resistant ring of muscle inch by tortuous inch. A shudder wracked through Sylvie’s sleeping frame as she hilted deep inside, stroking secret places that made her twitch and whimper.
Slowly, teasingly, Emily withdrew her finger from her clenching hole, leaving Sylvie feeling empty and wanting, even in her oblivious state. But Emily wasn't finished with her yet, far from it. The wicked girl had a new idea, something to push the boundaries even further.
Keeping one hand occupied by roughly palming the globe of her ass, Emily brought her other hand into view: she'd retrieved a small bottle of oil from Sylvie's bedside table, one for facial care. Only Emily wasn't planning on using it on her face...
She drizzled the slick liquid over her fingers, working them together to coat them thoroughly. Emily's oiled fingers glided effortlessly back to their target, slipping once more past that straining sphincter without pause.
This time, however, she didn't stop at one probing digit. No, Emily had grander plans in mind that night... One hand dipped teasingly beneath Sylvie’s breasts, grazing the soft swell of her tits. And then, two fingers plunged knuckle-deep into her ass, stretching her open. Claiming her. Owning her.
“Oh, yes… You are mine now, my darling,” Emily whispered.
The girl pulled back slightly to look at Sylvie, a wicked gleam in her eye. Miraculously, her boss was still asleep. Despite the intrusion, despite the shameful wetness gathering between her thighs, Sylvie’s subconscious refused to relinquish its hold on the dreamworld.
So Emily took her time, enjoying the slow and deep fuck she was giving to Sylvie’s asshole. She began to wonder if any of her lovers would have taken Sylvie's ass before. Surely not the dull Laurent, but Sylvie was a woman of many lovers… Though also very dominant, she wouldn't offer her asshole to just anyone.
“Maybe someone forcibly conquered it,” Emily thought, “In the heat of battle it would be easy to turn her around and penetrate her ass in one quick thrust.” She certainly couldn't resist doing it. Just the thought of it made the wetness between her legs rise. She wanted to believe it hadn't happened: she was the first, she was taking the virginity of her boss's ass.
Emily went on, pumping her skilled fingers in and out of Sylvie’s helpless hole. Until she grew frustrated with the pace —or perhaps the girl was simply impatient to taste what she'd stirred to life. She could smell the musky aroma of Sylvie’s arousal…
It was agonizing for Emily to restrain herself, confronted with the tangible proof of Sylvie’s body's betrayal, even as herr mind remained blissfully unaware. So she withdrawing abruptly, lefting Sylvie gaping and empty, a foreign ache pulsing in her core.
Emily found herself confronted with a predicament: Sylvie’s body screamed for attention, practically begged for her touch, yet she was unconscious and Emily didn't want to wake her up. It was taken immense restraint for her not to simply dive in face first...
Until Emily couldn’t take it more: she needed to enjoy the fruits of her work. So she put her mouth on Sylvie, between her legs. She licked and sucked at her sweet leaking pussy while she slept, unable to consent or refuse.
Emily’s fingers digged into the tender flesh of Sylvie's rear while she fucked her pussy with her tongue. She didn’t care if her boss reached her orgasm or not: Emily just needed her fill of her boss’s juices.
Once she'd reduced Sylvie’s lower regions to a messy, needy state with her oral attentions, Emily set her sights higher... or rather, lower…Sylvie was already a shaking, dripping mes and the girl had the audacity to flip her onto her stomach.
With her ass presented again so obscenely, bare and vulnerable, Emily wasted no time in topping her. She lay down on top of her boss —making sure to rest her arms and thighs on the mattress and not on Sylvie’s body so as not to wake her up with the pressure— and began grinding herself against her.
The heat of Emily’s naked body pressed against Sylvie’s, skin on sinful skin. Emily used her boss's body to masturbate, until she came all over Sylvie's ass —it took very little effort, she was absolutely horny after the anal and oral explorations she had subjected her boss to.
She thought then that she had barely played with Sylvie’s tits... But at that moment Sylvie began to stir and Emily —having overcome the ecstasy of her orgasm— became frightened. She jumped up, gathered her clothes and quietly left the room. But not before taking a good look of the used and abused body of her boss, lying naked and in heat.
Back in the safety of her suite, Emily climbed into bed naked. There she continued to masturbate wildly as she reminisced in disbelief about what she had just done. It seemed unreal to her, completely absurd. She had never done anything like that, she had never even fantasized about kissing a woman! And now... she had completely forgotten all her suitors.
Now Emily only desired Sylvie. She was sure she could give her what she needed. It was clear that the older woman wasn’t satisfied with her lovers —Antoine, Erik, Laurent, Giancarlo—, if she needed so many it was because none of them satisfied her. Emily would know how to give her what her lustful body deserved.
Of course as the adrenaline subsided and consciousness began to return, the girl felt guilty about what she had done. But Sylvie hadn't even known about it, there would be no trauma. And no doubt her body had enjoyed it; Emily was sure she had made her enjoy it like a bitch. Sylvie had treated her badly at work (especially when she first arrived), had tried to get her to resign by making fun of her, and had made her feel terrible. It was only fair that her boss should make it up to her, Emily told herself.
She wondered if the next day Sylvie’s round ass would be gaping… If she would notice her ass cheeks sticky from Emily's cum… If she would wonder why she had sweated so much… If she would feel deeply horny and her pussy still wet... Emily wished she could wake up next to her and check it by sticking three fingers deep inside her. But it wasn't possible, at least for the moment.
Emily smiled as she remembered that they had several days left to work in Rome together, with their interconnecting rooms... And she planned to make the most of them.
To be continued?