It’s a humid summer night in 2113, but my office in old Kirkwall’s transposed high-rise feels eternal. Open-space buzzes faintly. Printer hums in the corner. Coffee scent mixes with my spicy perfume. I’m Alyséa, 35, fiery redhead, ambitious exec. Dossiers pile up. Francky, my boss, glances over. Blue eyes pierce. Muscled frame under crisp shirt. We review reports. His knee brushes mine under the table. Heart races. Click of mouse. Sip coffee. Perfume thickens air.
Looks linger. ‘Good work, Alyséa,’ he murmurs. Voice low, like gravel. I shift. Skirt hikes. Thigh exposed. Tension coils. Coworkers gone. Late shift. His hand grazes my arm. Electric. ‘Conference room?’ he says. Door swings. We slip in. Click. Lock engages. Sharp. Printer echoes distantly. Coffee lingers on breath. Perfume clings to skin. He pins me against wall. Lips crash. Tongue invades. Hands roam. Blouse buttons pop. One. Two.
The Building Tension
Breasts spill. Nipples harden. His mouth latches. Sucks hard. I gasp. ‘Fuck, Francky.’ Fingers dig skirt up. Panties soaked. He growls. ‘Wet slut.’ Smell of arousal mixes coffee-perfume haze. Mouse clicks forgotten. Dossiers wait outside. Adrenaline surges. Risk of janitor. Or cameras. Thrill spikes lust. His cock strains pants. I palm it. Thick. Hard. ‘Want this?’ he taunts. I nod. Kneel. Zipper rasps.
Cock springs free. Veiny. Well-hung. Like my fantasies. Saliva pools. I lick base. Tongue swirls. Piercing tongue ball teases frenulum. He groans. Hands fist red curls. ‘Suck it, ambitious bitch.’ Mouth engulfs. Gland hits throat. Gag reflex fights. Saliva drips. Pump. Slurp. Head bobs frantic. Coffee taste fades. Perfume chokes. Door rattles? No. Imagination. Balls tighten. I hum. Vibrates shaft. He thrusts. Fucks face. Tears smear mascara.
The Explosive Release and Cool-Down
Pulls out. Strings spit. ‘Bend over.’ Table cold. Ass up. Skirt bunches waist. Panties yanked. Pussy exposed. Rougish curls damp. He slaps ass. Sting. ‘Ready?’ Fingers probe. Two plunge. Curl. G-spot hit. I buck. ‘Fuck me!’ Cockhead nudges. Slams in. Stretches. Fills. Pounds. Desk creaks. Printer whirs approval. Short thrusts. Brutal. Balls slap clit. ‘Tight cougar cunt.’ Dirty talk fuels. I push back. Grind. ‘Harder, boss!’ Climax builds. Walls clench.
He grunts. Spanks. Fingers pinch clit. I shatter. Scream muffled. Pussy spasms. Milks him. Jets hot cum. Deep. Floods. Drips thighs. Collapses. Panting. He withdraws. Slap. Wet.
Readjust. Skirt smooths. Blouse buttons. Lipstick reapplied. Mirror check. Innocent. Unlock. Click. Back to open-space. Dossiers resume. Glance shared. Smirks. Coffee cold. Perfume lingers. Meeting starts. ‘All good?’ Colleague asks. ‘Perfect,’ I say. Thighs sticky. Cum leaks. Adrenaline hums. Secret lust hidden. Pro mask on. Ambitious. Untouched.