Conference room door clicks shut. Locked. Printer hums next door, steady drone. Mouse clicks echo from open space. Coffee stench mixes with my sharp perfume. Tension coils. Philippe’s late again. Project deadline tomorrow. Dossiers stack high on the table. He’s my best work buddy, always chasing skirts. Slept out, probably balls-deep in some intern.
His sister Annick works here too. Eighteen, intern filing papers. Cleft lip twists her mouth. Nose bulges malformed, almost inhuman. Guys steer clear. Poor thing watches girls get laid while she’s invisible. Family broke, no surgery fix. I like her fragility. Reserved, skin-thin sensitive. Sympathy, yeah. But never fantasized. Too scared of whispers. ‘Why her? Freak pity fuck?’
The Building Tension
Manager lady trusts me. ‘Stay, Pascaline. He’s coming. Raid fridge if hungry.’ I pace. Fuck waiting alone. Snoop itch hits. Quiet steps. Peek Philippe’s desk first. Posters of popstars, messy triumph. Skip parents’ office vibe. Annick’s cubicle next. Kid stuff: plush toys, dumb posters.
Chair holds panties. Worn. Yellow crust crotch. Heart races. Snatch it. Nose in. Deep inhale. Musky. Pussy tang, not piss. Wet slut scent. Fuck. Virgin freak’s horny. Instant throb between legs.
Mind spins. Girls her age spill secrets in diaries. Mine’s hidden too, full of cock dreams. Where’s hers? Pat dusty puppet in corner. Back stiff. Unzip. Bingo. Notebook slides out.
Page flip. Boring start: parents fight, friend drama. Noise outside. Footsteps. Printer whirs louder. Shit. Stuff panty and book in bag. Dash to conference room. Door clicks locked again.
Philippe bursts in minutes later. ‘Sorry, babe. Rough night.’ Eyes bloodshot, pussy-whipped grin. We fake work fifteen minutes. Dossiers shuffle. Then he bails for call. ‘Meeting soon.’ Door shuts. Alone.
The Explosive Release and Perfect Cover
Bag unzips. Panty out. Sniff hard. Cunt smell floods. Diary flips late pages. Shock hits. ‘Delivery guy’s eyes on my tits. Obsessed old fucker. Stinks, but sees me as woman. Ready to give virginity. NEED to be FUCKED. Or suicide. Desperate. No one wants this ugly cunt.’
Olivier dodged my thigh touch. Pity makes me sick. Crave cock devouring my twisted face.
Pussy floods. Skirt hikes. Desk edge digs ass. Fingers rip panties aside. Wet slit gushes. Two digits plunge. Hard pumps. Sloppy squelch. Imagine her: malformed mug moaning, begging ram. Printer buzzes frantic. Colleague laughs outside. Door rattle? No. Adrenaline spikes. Thumb grinds clit. Coffee-perfume haze thickens. Read aloud whisper: ‘BAISE ME!’
Hips buck. Desk creaks. Fingers curl deep. Gush sprays. Orgasm rips. Legs quake. Ugly Annick’s lust owns me. Cum drips. Gasps echo.
Wipe quick. Tissues from drawer. Skirt smooth. Blouse tuck. Perfume spritz kills pussy whiff. Mirror check: pro face, no flush. Unlock click. Stride open space. Smile at stares. ‘Philippe’s slacking.’ Meeting next. Cool as ice. Secret burns hot inside.