Printer whirs in the corner. Conference room door clicks locked. Coffee stench clings to the air, tangled with my vanilla perfume. Open-space glares from earlier—Sales vs. Marketing war raging. Capulet team versus those Montaigu pricks. Deadlines biting, hierarchy grinding. My pussy throbs under the desk. Ambitious bitch like me? Stress flips to slick heat. Fingers slip under skirt. Quiet moans. Window overlooks the atrium ‘garden.’ Late-night office party echoes—booze, laughs, hidden fucks.
He appears. Romeo. That Montaigu stud. Sneaks past security, vaults the partition like it’s nothing. Spots me. Eyes lock. My hand plunges deeper, toy buzzing low. Gode in one fist, fingers in cunt. He grins, drops trou. Cock springs hard. ‘Smells like wet pussy,’ he mouths. I gasp. ‘Romeo? Fuck, you’re the enemy.’ But my clit screams yes. Adrenaline spikes—get caught, fired, ruined. Thrill.
The Tension Builds
‘Take your name off, fuck me raw,’ I whisper. He climbs the sill. Muscles flex. ‘Call me cock, not Montaigu.’ Door rattles distant. Nurse—my assistant—yells. I ignore. Pull him in. Drop to knees. Mouse clicks fade. His dick throbs, veiny, thick. Lips wrap it. Slurp. Tongue swirls pre-cum. He groans. ‘Suck it, slut.’ Handjob frenzy. Balls slap chin. Coffee breath mixes sweat. ‘Marry my cock?’ he pants. I pop off. ‘Swear on your balls. No quick cummer.’ Gulp deep. Throat fucks.
Nurse bangs door. ‘Juliet! Meeting!’ I speed up. Fist pumps. He grunts. Hot ropes blast throat. Swallow every drop. Lips smack clean. He zips. ‘Dream?’ I wipe mouth. ‘Wet reality.’ She returns later. ‘He’s serious. Friar—HR guy—sets it up. Chapel room fuck.’ Assistant gropes him for info. ‘Hard cock, fresh.’ I drip. ‘Confession hour. Friar’s cell.’
The Raw Explosion
Friends banter outside. Mercutio jokes cocks, asses. ‘Romeo’s drained.’ I wait. Tension coils. Door seals again. He returns. Friar in thong sniffs panties. ‘Virtue to vice.’ Quick vows. Clothes rip. Bend over desk. Cock slams pussy. Raw. Desk rattles. Printer jams. ‘Violent fucks burn fast,’ Friar warns. I ride reverse. Tits bounce. ‘Modest thrusts last.’ Cum floods. Assistant watches, vibes my ass.
Adjust skirt. Smack lips. Perfume sprays. Unlock door. Stride to open-space. ‘Next agenda?’ Colleagues stare. Cum leaks thigh. Poker face. Hierarchy bows. Luxure hides. Adrenaline buzz. Tomorrow? More. Rivals fuck best.