Breakroom door clicks locked. Printer hums in the corner. Coffee aroma mixes with my perfume, sweat already beading. Open-space buzzes outside—mouse clicks, phones ringing. I bend over the crate, filling it with fresh cherries from my garden. Postérieur out, cotton dress tight. No bra. Tits heavy, swinging. I’m Mylène, ex-secretary turned part-time admin. Ambitious again, climbing back after kids. Love the risk. Pro face, hidden slut.
He appears. My neighbor. Teacher husband of Solène, our fierce director. Casual Friday, towel around waist post-shower. Smokes on break. Eyes lock earlier across dossiers. Tension simmered all morning. His gaze on my curves. Opposite of skinny Solène. I don’t turn. ‘Fresh cherries. Picked this morning. Ate half.’ Voice husky. He steps close. Hard cock presses my ass. Hands grab my heavy tits. Kneads hard. I freeze. No push away. Nipples harden.
The Tension Builds
Door secure. No one interrupts. He rolls my dress up. Waist rag now. Panties yanked to ankles. Slams in. My bushy cunt swallows him. Wide from two births, but inside? Velvet suction. Grips hips. Pounds frantic. Table shakes. I brace glass door. Moans escape. ‘Fuck me… Take me…’ Clit throbs. Ass cheeks slap. Printer whirs louder, covers grunts. Coffee scent turns musky with pussy juice.
He fills me. Hot jets. Cum drips thighs. Breath ragged. Wet fart slips out. We laugh. Tension breaks. But I crave more. Turn. Devour his mouth. Fuse bodies. Table—our lunch spot. Suck tits, neck, ears. Tongue her rosebud. Fingers probe ass. Lube from creampie. He hardens. I suck cock. Deep, greedy. Rigid again.
Feet on shoulders. Thumb clit. Pinch nipple. Ass resists. Then pops. Eyes wide. ‘Oh fuck…’ Tight ring milks him. Grows inside. Vicious circle. No pain, just shock. ‘Rrrrooohh…’ Deep growls. Hips buck. She pinches free tit. I ride waves. Pulls out. ‘Doggy. Now.’ Floor cold. Tiles echo slaps. Violent anal. Fingers my clit, balls slap pussy. Scream orgasms. He unloads deep. Gut full. Collapse.
The Explosive Release
Five minutes flat. Dress buttons shaky. Two hold. Tits soften, bruised. Chignon wild. Cum trails legs. Panties dam flow. Slip on flats. Cherries to crate. ‘Fresh for the team. Delicious.’ Pop two in his mouth. Kiss cheek. ‘Shh. Just cherries. Stop jerking in showers.’ Wink. Strut out. Door clicks open.
Evening team drinks. Solène chats recipes over fence—haie now water cooler. Marc arrives, whisky. I’m cool. He pale. ‘Caught a chill.’ Solène bosses. No hints. Nights pass normal. Mondays? My free slot. No kids home. His too. Door locks. Silence. Pure fuck. No words. Five years. Bestial release.
Three years back, pregnant again. Little Guillaume. Joy for all. Solène shrugs. ‘No time for kids.’ Mondays now? Drop him at theirs. ‘Errands.’ Actually, breakroom bliss. He watches him. I love this kid. Adrenaline pure. Career climbs. Lust hidden. Perfect lie.