The office hums. Printer whirs in the corner. Coffee scent mixes with my perfume, thick and teasing. Open-space glances linger. Jean-Marie’s eyes on me, flirty smiles during tea breaks. We lock the breakroom door sometimes, but he never pushes further. Married, bus rides home—no time for real fun. My husband’s away three months. I ache for cock between my thighs.
Back from maternity leave, I’m the hot new thing in maintenance. Guys stare, girls jealous. Tonight, late shift. Everyone gone except Charles on duty and Pierre grabbing food. I stretch in the storage room for that damn machine on the high shelf. Tippy-toes. Pull rides up, exposing hips, bare belly. Door creaks. Charles steps in.
The Tension Builds
“Need a hand, Armelle?” His voice low.
“Yes, Charles. Can’t reach.”
He grabs my waist, lifts me easy. Strong hands. I snag the machine. He lowers me slow, presses me against him. No protest. His fingers brush my tits as he lets go. I smile. “Thanks. Tomorrow, more stuff to grab. Your services again.”
I sway out, heart pounding. Printer clicks distant. Coffee lingers.
Next night. Pierre’s out eating. Charles alone. I call him to storage. Loose skirt, no panties, no bra under pull. Premeditated. Shelf higher. I climb edge, skirt flips. He grips my ass to steady. Fingers probe. Feels my bare pussy.
“Down please. More comfy on floor.”
Feet hit ground. His mouth crashes mine. Tongue deep. My hands yank his zipper. Stroke his hard cock. He lifts my pull, thumbs nipples. Pull to chin. We grope wild. I drop his pants. He hikes my skirt, sits me on desk. Fingers part my wet lips, rub clit. I jerk him steady.
He fishes condom from pocket. Planned? I roll it on, lean back, spread wide. “Quick, fuck me before Pierre’s back.”
Thrusts in hard. I gasp. Pubes grind my soaked bush. Steady pump. I moan soft. He bites nipples. Tension coils. I cum hard, long groan. He pounds. Second orgasm hits. He unloads deep.
Pulls out. “Oh!” I gasp. Pierre at door, watching bulge in pants.
Charles kisses me. “Come on, Pierre. Let’s fuck her together.”
I strip naked. Consent clear. Pierre gropes tits, pussy. “Locking workshop. No interruptions.” Door clicks shut. Locked.
Alone, Charles fingers me. “Jean-Marie?”
The Explosive Release
“He’d never lift me here. No balls. Husband gone. Need dick now.”
Pierre back, shirtless. We maul me. Hands everywhere. Fingers pinch, knead. I whimper nonsense. Jerk both cocks.
“Suck us,” Charles says.
Kneel. Alternate mouths. Slurp, gag. Saliva drips. Charles pulls back—he came once. I devour Pierre. Lick balls, deep throat. He groans. “Take it, slut! Mouth full of cum!” Explodes hot.
I rise. Charles spreads paper on workbench. They devour me. Tongues lick pussy, asshole. Suck tits. Fingers everywhere. I cum again, juices flood.
Charles sits. “Ride me facing. Sandwich time.”
Straddle. Sink on cock. Wet, easy. Lean forward. Ass up. “Never anal,” I whisper.
“You’re ready,” Pierre says. Pushes in. Sharp cry. Feel him through walls, pressing Charles.
“Move, Armelle. Two cocks stuffing you.”
Rocking waves. Sweat slicks skin. Tits rub chest. “Cumming! Fucking amazing!” Mine hits. Charles fills condom.
He stays hard. Pierre pistons ass. I moan endless. He roars, “Take my load!” Pulls out, shows cum-filled rubber.
I dismount slow. Sit, dazed. Tears flow. “What am I? Not a whore… but came so hard. Loved it.”
“Beautiful, Armelle. Own your pleasure,” Charles says.
Dress quick. Perfume masks sex smell. Coffee lingers. Back to desk. Mouse clicks resume. Act normal. But we whisper: next time.