Head pounds. Vodka ghosts from last night’s team bash at the boss’s place. Laughter pierces from the breakroom downstairs. Printer whirs faintly. Coffee aroma mixes with my perfume. I slip into the office restroom, tank top clinging, panties hugging my firm ass. Hair tangled. Mirror reflects my hungover glow—blonde strands to shoulders, glasses perched, C-cups free under thin fabric. Nipples poke. No bra today. Legs sleek, weight at low point, thighs toned.
Door swings. Him—boss’s brother, visiting intern. Eyes lock on my ass. He freezes. ‘Uh, sorry… should knock.’ I smirk. ‘Why? Two sinks. What’s the issue?’ He stammers. ‘Thought it was empty.’ I brush hair, bending slight. ‘My ass bug you? Like bikini.’ He steps in. Brushes teeth. Stares sidelong. I feel his gaze. Armoire clicks open. He grabs Tylenol. Offers. ‘Nah, pills do shit for hangovers.’ I grin. ‘Only cure? Good hard fuck. Releases hormones, science.’ He chokes on water. I laugh. Strip tank, panties over shower door. Water hisses. ‘Out now, big boy.’ Door latches behind him.
The Building Tension
Skin tingles under spray. Thoughts race. His cock last night? No, Adeline spilled—he nailed her after drinks. My turn. Towel wraps tight, barely covers thighs. Hair drips. Open space hums—mouse clicks, phones buzz. Coffee scent lingers. His office door ajar. I push in. Lock clicks. Heart races. Adrenaline spikes. Risk of open-space ears. He lounges in boxers, hand in shorts, dick tenting. Eyes bulge. ‘Even if I know the answer… what if that fuck comment was an offer?’ He gapes. ‘You want to fuck now?’ ‘Duh. Unless I’m not hot enough.’ ‘Hell yes, but you’re boss’s friend…’ ‘Adeline didn’t mind your cock yesterday. She told all.’ His hard-on wilts in shock. ‘Decide? Or I rub one out solo.’ I drop towel. Naked. Heavy tits firm, pink-brown areolas, stiff nipples. Brazilian strip. Pale skin glows.
Straddle him. Kiss deep. His hands grip ass, thighs. Up to ribs, seize tits. Pinch nipples. I grind pussy on his soft dick. ‘Like these over Adeline’s?’ ‘Fuck yeah, bigger.’ Still limp. ‘Wake up, boy. Show me your skills.’ Facesit. Pussy inches from mouth, wet already. Tongue laps slit. Sighs escape. Circles clit. Suck. Thumb in cunt. Moans build. Distant printer spits paper. His dick stirs. I slide down. Yank boxers. Cock flops soft. ‘Eyes shut. Relax.’ Grip base. Stroke slow. Mouth engulfs. Tongue swirls glans. Hand pumps faster. He hardens. Veins bulge. Eyes peek—blonde head bobs. Gaze locks, tongue flicks. Deep throat. Saliva drips. Full mast. ‘Fuck me now.’
The Wild Explosion
Missionary. Cock slams home. Slow thrusts. Hands roam back, ass. Vary depth. He lifts legs, shoulders. Deep. Cries muffled. Desk creaks. Door rattles slight—someone passes? Thrill surges. Oreiller? No, jacket under ass. Pile drive. Gland pops out, slams in. Screams rise. Switch: side fuck. Fingers in pussy, clit rub. Doggy over desk. Hips slap. Balls smack. ‘Gonna cum.’ ‘Not yet.’ Cowgirl. Grind slow. Clit hand. Tits bounce. Pinch nipples. ‘Hold… now!’ Grab asscheeks. Spread. Pound up. Orgasms crash. Cum floods. Walls clench. Cries echo soft. Printer drones on.
Breathe heavy. Kiss quick. Towel up. ‘Good fuck. Adeline right—you deliver.’ Dress—lace thong, bra, tight striped dress. Sandals click. Grab his cock. Whisper: ‘Loved riding that dick.’ Saunter out. Lock clicks open. Back to open-space. Smiles, nods. Coffee sip. Meetings wait. Mask on. Lust hidden. Hierarchy intact.