Conference room door clicks shut. Locked. Printer hums outside, relentless. My heart pounds like the photocopier jamming. He’s here, my boss, that elegant charm from the team retreat. Six years older, petite frame under his suit calls to my buried lust. Flowery skirt hugs my satin legs, blouse hints at small tits. His eyes lit up day one, instant animal pull.
Open space buzzes. Colleagues click mice, sip coffee. Its bitter scent mixes with my perfume, heady fog. We swap files, fingers brush. Tension coils between dossiers. His voice cuts through chatter, high and commanding. I feel it low, wet ache. Dogs? No, his coffee mug instead. We talk shop on the ‘trail’ of spreadsheets. End of day, he grabs me. Lips crash. Tongue dives deep, greedy. Saliva swaps, bodies grind. His hands cage my face, press my ass to his hips. Frustration builds—meeting calls. We schedule ‘mushroom hunt’: late review session.
The Building Tension
Next ‘day,’ forest vibe hits the break room paths. Green pantsuit clings, gold top molds tits. Picnic? Energy drinks in my bag. Hour in, pause by fake plants. I spread towel on table, strip jacket. Chat turns personal: married, seeking spark. Silence, then printer jolt scares me into him. Lips meet soft, tongues dance wild. Hands roam. Nipple hardens under fabric. His jogger tents—average cock, rock hard. I grip it, smile wicked. He snaps my snaps, fingers find my soaked slit. Dew coats him.
He peels pants, I lift ass eager. Naked in office wilds—bushes? Partitions hide us. ‘Your turn,’ I purr. He strips. My tits proud, one scarred nipple begs. Pussy burns. I swirl tongue on his shaft, suck dome pink. Teeth graze crown, tongue probes foreskin. He flips me, face to my flower. Tongue teases clit, no docking yet. I buck, beg. We fuck primal—missionary grind to peak. Cum crashes shared, bodies quake. Tastes mingle in kiss, my tangy cunt, his sweet prostate drip.
Day three, cure hall? Copy room kisses stolen. Toilets echo teen lust. Afternoon hike: storage room. I vow peak bliss, wake scarred tit. Tease skin, butterfly touches. Pinch nipples erect. Belly undulates, thighs part. Fingers delve slick lips, hunt G-spot. Nail scrapes, moans erupt. Anus beckons, slow thrust. Cock follows, anal tight divine. Short pumps build, I rub clit. Climax floods, his jet fills me. Collapse fused.
The Raw Explosion
Last day, parking glance fuels fire. Car? No, his office couch. Skirt hikes silky legs—stockings, garter tease. Coffee brews, chat lingers. Thighs spread, his hand tests. Bedroom? Conference again. Strip reveals garter, tiny bra. Tits harden instant. Suck scarred peak, moans fill room. Explore ass crack, drop panties. Triangle pubes, slit gleams. Finger pulls stringy cum. Clit peeks. I yank hair to feast. Pussy quivers, cat cries.
His cock half-hard, I nurse to steel. Suck slow, balls fondle. Back to cunt, I cum hoarse. Legs pinned, vag stretches perfect. Pubes grind, belly pulses. Slow to edge, flip doggy. Ass flower tempts—no yet. More orgasms rack me. Final mount, fill deep. ‘You burn me,’ I gasp. Lap mixed juices. Legs lock, final frenzy. He pulls, I lap fountain. Ass spreads, tongue rims. Fireworks cum.
Tears? Bliss. ‘Love you,’ lie slips. Blowjob gift: prostate probe, mouth milks load. Swallow nectar, eyes roll. Door unlocks. Adjust skirt, blouse. Lipstick fresh. Back to open space, heels click. Printer whirs. Coffee lingers with cum scent. Meeting starts. Cool pro mask on. Adrenaline hums—next risk calls.