Breakroom hums with the drip of the coffee machine. Sharp scent of fresh brew mixes with my floral perfume. Clicks of keyboards echo from the open space. It’s Wednesday, offices half-empty thanks to 35-hour weeks. I’m wrestling the copier. Recto-verso jam. Paper crumpled inside. Frustrated, I poke my head out. ‘Anyone know copiers?’ Michel glances up from his coffee. Young, fit, always eyeing my tits. He grins. ‘I’ll check it.’ Heart races a bit. We both know the looks we’ve shared.
He follows me in. Skirt hugs my ass tight. I feel his gaze on the panty lines. Machine beeps angrily. He flips the side panel. Crouches close. His cologne hits me. ‘Jam in T2,’ he mutters, hands deep in gears. Our thighs brush. Heat builds. I lean in, breath quick. He pulls the paper free. Stands. Eyes lock. Then, bold, he grabs my hand, presses it to his bulge. Rock hard. ‘Problem in X1.’ Fuck. My pussy twitches. I stroke him through the fabric. Slow circles. His breath hitches.
The Building Tension
‘Want you,’ he whispers. I nod, pulse pounding. He slams the panel. Error gone. ‘Thanks, Michel!’ I call out loud for the breakroom crowd. Make copies manually. Heart slamming. Quick head nod. Follow me. He trails, staring at my swaying hips. We veer to the handicap toilets. Spacious, clean, rarely used. Perfect hideout. Door clicks shut. Lock snaps. Echoes loud in the tiled space.
Arms around him. His face in my hair. Inhale deep. Tits crush against his chest. Hand on my neck, turns my face. Lips crash. Tongues battle, wet and hungry. Suck his lower lip. He gropes my ass, grinds his cock against me. Growls low. Buttons pop on my blouse. Shoulders bare. Bra fights him, then yields. Tits spill out. Nipples hard as berries. He dives in, sucks one. Tongue flicks. I fumble his belt. Zipper rasps. Cock springs free. Thick, veiny, leaking pre-cum.
The Explosive Release
Spin me around. Blouse off. Kisses down my back. Skirt pools at feet. Nuzzles my ass through cotton panties. Sniffs. Bites gently. Hands roam tits, belly, hips. I wiggle. Panties to knees. He presses cock between cheeks. Fingers my soaked slit. Short bush, dense. Dipping in, slick sounds. Clit throbs. Push me to wall. Bend forward. He tries to thrust from behind. Misses angle. Frustrating.
‘Wait,’ I gasp. Fold skirt as knee pad. Drop to all fours. He kneels. Tongue laps my pussy. Flat strokes. Tastes mild, blonde cunt style. Gland nudges lips. Slides in slow. Hot, velvety grip. He grabs hips. Pounds steady. Slaps wet. My juices drip to his balls. Splashing. Fesses jiggle, blue veins marbled. He groans. Fingers tease my asshole rim, but pulls back. I clench. Moans escape. Orgasm builds. He spasms. Fills me with hot spurts. Collapses on my back. Kisses shoulders.
‘Thanks, that was fucking amazing,’ he murmurs. I smile, flushed. ‘Our secret, okay?’ ‘Promise.’ Pull out slow. Cum trickles. Help me up. Tight hug. Quick fix clothes. Skirt damp but okay. Unlock door. Peek out. Clear. Slip back to breakroom. Sip coffee like nothing. Eyes meet across room. Spark lingers. Week passes. We keep distance. Play it cool. But the thrill? Addictive. Wonder what’s next.