Business trip to another city

I flew to St. Petersburg for a three-day logistics conference—the usual routine for a mid-level manager: presentations, coffee breaks, and the constant exchange of business cards. The hotel was decent, right in the center, overlooking the Neva. On the very first evening after the official part, I went down to the hotel bar—my feet were buzzing from my heels, just wanting to relax with a martini. He was already sitting behind the counter—Dmitry, one of our key clients. We'd been corresponding for months about work, but had only seen each other in person a couple of times at group meetings. Tall, confident, about forty-five, with an expensive suit and a wedding ring he wore all the time, even here. Next to him was a young woman, about twenty-five, in a formal but form-fitting dress. Alina, his assistant. I'd only known her by email: always crisp letters, perfect spreadsheets. In person, she was even more beautiful—long legs, a neat bust, shoulder-length blond hair, and those eyes that immediately said, "I'm not just here for coffee." We greeted each other like old acquaintances. Dmitry smiled broadly, ordered me a martini, and invited me to join him. The conversation began with the conference—boring figures, deliveries, customs issues. But after the second glass, things took a different turn. Alina laughed louder, her hand accidentally brushing my knee under the bar a couple of times. Dmitry looked at us both with a kind of hungry interest, though he tried to maintain a businesslike tone. "Lena, let's not hang around here," he said suddenly, when the third glass was almost empty. "Alina and I have a suite on the top floor. The bar there is more upscale, and we can calmly… continue discussing the project. Without prying ears." Alina nodded as if they had rehearsed this a hundred times and added with a sly smile: — I brought a laptop, but honestly, we won’t need it today. I felt my insides tense with anticipation. Refusing would have been foolish. We went up in the elevator—cramped, hot, their bodies pressed against me from both sides. The room turned out to be luxurious: a huge living room, panoramic windows overlooking the city at night, soft lighting, and a huge bed in the bedroom, visible through the open door. Dmitry poured everyone a glass of wine—an expensive red that went straight to our heads. We sat down on the wide sofa. The conversation quickly turned vulgar. Alina was telling me how she and Dmitry sometimes "relaxed the tension" after tough negotiations, and he looked at me and said he'd long wanted to see me outside the office. I felt his gaze slide down my blouse, where my nipples had long been erect. Half an hour later, Alina stood up, came over to me, and kissed me. Softly, but insistently—her tongue immediately found mine, and her hands slid down my hips. Dmitry watched, breathing heavily. I responded, running my fingers through her hair. He couldn't resist—he moved closer, unbuttoned my blouse, and began kissing my neck, then my chest. Alina moved lower, pulling my skirt and panties down in one motion. Her tongue was simply magical—she licked me so skillfully that within a couple of minutes I was moaning and arching. Dmitry watched her lick me, and his face changed. First, excitement, then a hint of jealousy. He stood up abruptly, pulled out his now hard cock, and thrust it into my mouth. I sucked greedily while Alina continued to work her tongue below. Then they switched places: he entered me from behind, deep and hard, and she sat on my face. I licked her wet, smooth pussy, feeling Dmitry pounding me harder and harder. "Damn, how you fuck her..." Alina whispered, looking at Dima. "But I want her together..." Dmitry froze for a second. I saw that unexpected jealousy flash in his eyes—he clearly hadn't expected Alina to take the initiative so quickly. But excitement won out. They lifted me up and carried me to the bed. Alina lay on her back, and I sat on top of her, face to face—our pussies rubbing against each other. Dmitry stood behind me, lubricated his fingers, and began to prepare my ass. I was already on edge—I spread my cheeks myself. He entered my ass slowly and deeply. Alina was kissing me and rubbing her clit against mine. When he started moving, I felt them both filling me—his thick cock in my ass, and her fingers and clit in front. Then Alina took a small strap-on out of her purse (it turns out they were getting ready), put it on, and while Dmitry continued pounding my ass, she entered my pussy. The double penetration was perfect—I screamed with pleasure, unable to contain myself. They moved in the same rhythm, as if they'd done it a thousand times. I came first—powerfully, with spasms all over my body, covering everything with my precum. Dmitry growled, his jealousy still raging—he fucked me as if he wanted to prove I was his. Alina moaned beneath me, biting my nipples. Then they flipped me over. Now I was lying on my back, Alina sat on my face, and Dmitry entered my pussy. Alina leaned forward and began licking my clit while he fucked me. After a couple of minutes, he moved back to my ass, and Alina continued working her tongue and fingers from the front. The second time, I came even harder—a hoarse scream, my legs shaking. Dmitry couldn't resist—he abruptly pulled out and came all over my stomach and chest in long, hot streams of sperm. Alina immediately licked up everything that had landed on my skin and kissed me, sharing the taste. The three of us lay there for a long time—sweaty, satisfied, our arms and legs intertwined. Dmitry was silent, but his hand gripped my waist tightly—the jealousy hadn't gone away, but now there was something arousing about it. The night was just beginning. We started it all over again twice more before morning—with wine, new positions, and the same insane intensity. The next day at the conference, I was barely able to stand, but I smiled at everyone who asked how the evening went. And Dmitry and Alina messaged me twice more in private: "When's next time?" The business trip was a 100% success.