Boss’s office. Campus dead during spring break. Printer hums low. Door clicks locked. Coffee stench mixes with my sharp perfume. Marc knocks. Fresh from BC trip. Eyes hungry. I smile, nervous buzz hits me too.
He sits across desk. Two fat dossiers between us. We flip pages. Pretend work. But glances linger. Open-space empty beyond glass walls. Risk spikes adrenaline. My skirt hikes up. His jeans tent. ‘Missed you,’ he mutters. I light a king-size cig. Pass it. Beer from mini-fridge for him. Wine for me.
The Build-Up
Talk turns raw. ‘Why me?’ he asks. I lean in. ‘Your openness. That plug you took. Swallowed your own cum. Young stud, but curious soul. Be my protege. I’ll mold you for women.’ Heart races. Printer spits paper. Mouse clicks echo. His pre-cum soaks briefs—I smell it. Phone rings. Short call. Ignore. ‘Surprise later.’ Grab his hand. Lead to conference room.
Door shuts. Click. Undress me slow. Hands glide hips, up sides, tease tits. Zipper down. Naked. Hot, dripping. Fingers in my cunt. Taste my juice. He sucks clean. Shower? No time—wipe with wipes from drawer. Enema bulb ready. ‘Clean for me.’ He squeezes into my ass. Then his. Fresh.
Push him on table. Spread legs. Dive in. Tongue laps pussy. Nose on clit. Half-hour feast. I grind. Fingers circle ass. Orgasm builds. Cries echo. Thighs clamp. Cum hard. Soak his face.
His turn. Gloves on. Lube. Suck cock. Finger prostate. One, two, three. Vibe buzzes. He groans. Desk shakes. Mouse cords rattle. Cum floods mouth. Swallow proud.
The Explosion
Quick dinner breakroom. Naked. Grill steaks. Chat kinks. Back to spa—hot corner tub. Cigar wet in my slit. Light up. Pass. Door buzzes. Cynthia enters. Tall, curvy colleague-esthetician. Strips. Joins tub. ‘Shave him,’ I say.
Conference table now massage spot. Legs spread. Razor glides pubes. Smooth. Lucie’s hands oil chest. Tension peaks. Cynthia mounts. Wet cunt swallows cock. I strap-on her ass. DP pound. Slaps echo. Switch. Anal on me both. Piss play—golden shower mid-suck. Cynthia straps him. I ride face.
Orgasms crash. Cum shared three-way kiss. Tub again. Relax.
The Mask: Wipe sweat. Adjust blouse, skirt. He zips jeans. Hair combed. Coffee fresh. ‘Back to dossiers tomorrow.’ Door unlocks. Click. Smile pro. He leaves. Heart pounds. Printer hums on. No one knows. Adrenaline lingers. Niece next? Fuck, the thrill.