Eyes dart across the open-space. Antoine, my boss. Passionate about his empire of reports and deadlines. Like a gardener with his plots. Every afternoon, he tends his desk. Fingers rake stray papers. Weeds, he calls them. Pulls them ruthlessly. But there’s always that thing. At his feet. No. In his crotch. Small bulge. Barely twenty centimeters of fabric tent. Pale outline against dark slacks. Intruder in his perfect setup.
He shifts. Adjusts. Uproots it with a tug. Into the trash bin of composure. Next day. Same hour. Same spot. Reappears. Defiant. I watch from my cubicle. Ambitious me. Tailored blouse. Pencil skirt hugging hips. Professional mask. Inside, slut awakens. Adrenaline surges. Risk of exposure. Hierarchy crumbling.
The Mounting Tension
Julien, the young intern, hovers. Asks endless questions. Antoine answers patient. Rigorous. Wednesdays, I help. Clear his desk. Haul waste to shredder. Colleagues envy his pristine workspace. Beg tips. One day, he stares down. At the bulge. Probes with eyes. ‘What the hell is this?’ I sidle close. ‘Parasite?’ He yanks fabric. Dismisses it.
Tomorrow. Back again. He examines. Short stem of cock pressing. No growth. Naked insistence. Third day. He leaves it. Observes. It stalls. Inches from soil. I clear papers around. Keep it visible. He rips it free. Rage flickers. Futile. Mornings bring rebirth. He scours manuals. Googles anomalies. Nothing matches. It eats him. Worry lines deepen.
I sympathize. Secret thrill. His wife texts mock emojis. He ignores. Circles it with folders. Discreet barrier. Months drag. Evenings, he checks. Ensures harmony. I spy. Heart races. Printer whirs distant. Mouse clicks staccato. Coffee aroma wafts. Mingles with my perfume. Jasmine spike. Seductive veil.
Two dossiers burn urgent. Deadlines loom. Glances sharpen. Charged air. Open-space hums oblivious. ‘Conference room. Now,’ he growls. Door swings. Clicks shut. Lock snaps. Sealed.
The Raw Release
Tension snaps. I shove him back. Desk edge bites his ass. Files scatter. ‘That fucking peduncle,’ I hiss. ‘Your hell stem. I’ve watched it taunt you.’ Fingers claw zipper. Yank down. There. Small. Pale-veined shaft. Stubborn. Unyielding. Kneel. Lips part. Swallow whole. Hot. Salty. He groans. Hands fist my hair. ‘Shit… ambitious bitch. Knew you saw.’
It stirs. Grows. Thickens. Fills throat. I gag. Suck harder. Slurps echo. Printer drones outside. Door rattles faint – someone? Adrenaline spikes. Pussy floods. Skirt hikes. No panties. Bend over table. Ass out. ‘Fuck me. Now. Your parasite cock.’ He grabs hips. Slams in. Raw. No rubber. Stretches. Burns. Thrusts brutal. Desk creaks. Coffee mug topples. Spill steams.
‘ slut secretary,’ he grunts. ‘Tight office cunt. Been waiting.’ Skin slaps. Wet. Fast. Intense. Fingers dig bruises. Nipples grind wood. I buck back. ‘Deeper. Uproot my professionalism.’ Balls smack clit. Tension coils. Clicks outside. Voices murmur. Risk electric. He swells. ‘Gonna flood you.’ I shatter. Clench. Scream muffled in arm. He erupts. Hot jets. Fills deep.
Pull out. Drip. I straighten. Wipe thighs discreet. Skirt smooths. Blouse buttons. Hair pins reset. Perfume spritz. Mask on. Unlock. Door swings. Back to team. Smile crisp. ‘Where were we?’ Antoine adjusts tie. Sits. Professional. Peduncle sated. For now. Garden shifts. Something blooms.