Printer hums beyond the open space. Coffee stench mixes with my sharp perfume. Office gym locker room. Mixed stalls, flimsy fabric curtains. Post-workout shower. Towel clings to my wet curves. I step out. Spot him. Young intern, barely 20, awkward, hunting a cabin. Our eyes lock. I flash that sultry smile women own. Point to the corner stall next to mine. ‘This one’s open, handsome.’ He blushes hard. Mutters thanks. Slips inside.
I turn my back. Curtain gaps on purpose. Two inches of sin. Towel slips. Pale ass cheeks bare, inches from his peephole. Heart slams. Pussy lips swell. Leg up on bench. Oil bottle squirts. Slick from toes, calf, thigh. Bend slight. Faint bush tuft peeks between globes. His sharp inhale. I feel it. Know he’s rock-hard, trapped in briefs.
The Ambiance
Slow pivot. Face him full nude. Heavy tits sway, nipples peaked. Trimmed bush frames wet slit. His jaw drops. Cock tents painfully. I smirk. Reverse striptease. Black lace thong glides up thighs. Snap into crack, cameltoe hugs lips. Bra cups tits, adjusts nipples. Pencil skirt zips hips. Blouse buttons tease cleavage. Curtain rips full open. Wink. ‘Later, voyeur.’ Strut out. His bulge throbs obvious.
Two weeks burn by. Solo sessions to that flash. Wednesday, 2:30 PM. My terrace office, top floor, hippodrome view. No prying eyes. He buzzes in early via code. Door clicks. I’m barefoot, robe loose, sunglasses atop slicked brunette hair. Fresh tan. ‘Punctual slut,’ I tease. Arm grab, cheek kiss lingers. ‘Task: translate this report. Hour solo. Dictionary there.’ He nods, sinks into deep couch.
Terrace heat calls. Robe drops. Mirror spies him spying. Back bare. Oil legs, belly, tits glisten free. Flip prone. Red string thong vanishes in ass. Tits spill sides. Half-hour grind. Thirst hits. Mirror check: he’s tented, distracted. Best accent: ‘Water, please?’ Kitchen dash. Orangeade for me. Glass door halts me. Her body shines. Firm rack, flat abs, thong string sunk in puffy lips, brown curls escape.
The Explosion
Stoic approach. ‘Drink?’ Finger taps stool by red lace bra. ‘Embarrassed by boss’s monokini?’ Laugh. ‘Like beach. Mom’s tits?’ ‘Course.’ Set glass near bra. ‘Oil my back? Hands greasy already.’ Flacon shoves my way. Kneel straddle. Oil rivers spine. Palms knead shoulders, graze tit sides. Soft moan. Down to dimples, string edge. Hips grind subtle.
‘Legs too. UV fear.’ Spreads wide. Calves firm. Thighs quiver. Inner glide nears thong. Bush hairs tickle fingers. Bold now. Thumbs hook string. Pull aside. Pussy lips part, pink wet. Anus puckers. ‘All body, intern.’ Hands cup ass. Spread cheeks. Fingers dip slit. She gasps. ‘Fuck teasing. Bend over desk.’
Papers scatter. Skirt flips. Thong yanked. Cock springs free, veiny thick. Slam home. Pussy clenches. Desk bangs walls. Printer whirs outside. Door lock echoes. ‘Fuck your slut boss!’ Grunts raw. Hips slap. Coffee-perfume haze. Balls tighten. ‘Cum inside!’ Floods hot. Legs shake.
Wipe quick. Thong resets, lips sealed. Skirt smooth. Blouse tucked. Hair fix. ‘Report Monday. Improve.’ Cheek kiss, tongue flick. Wink. Terrace door shuts. Stride to meeting. Pro mask flawless. Inside, buzz roars. Hierarchy? My bitch now.