Printer hums in the open-space. Mouse clicks punctuate the air. Coffee aroma blends with her perfume, thick and teasing. My phone vibrates on the desk. Midday Wednesday. It’s them—the couple from last week’s park tease. Quick texts, flirty pics exchanged. This one’s killer. Her back to the camera, short skirt hiked in our office park view. Long legs sheathed in black nylons. Lace garters high on thighs. Ass cheeks bare under a tiny thong. ‘Join us?’
Heart pounds. I glance across desks. Husband smirks. She winks, legs crossed, nylons gleaming. ‘Coming!’ I text back. Files forgotten. I stand, smooth my pencil skirt. Heels click toward the conference room. They slip in first. I follow. Door clicks locked. Air thickens. Smells of fresh brew linger.
The Building Tension
She stands between us. Bodies close. Her nylon-clad thighs brush mine, then his pants. Eyes lock. Smiles turn wicked. ‘This closeness… so fucking hot, boys—no, wait, girl.’ Her hand palms my mound through skirt. His grabs her ass. Tension snaps electric.
H2 not here, fluid.
Her hand hikes my skirt. Fingers trace my thighs. I moan soft. Up to garters. Skin fever-hot. Thong soaked. My middle finger dives into slick lips. She gasps. Pulls it out, glistening. Shoves it in my mouth. I suck my own taste—salty, musky. Her tongue joins, swirling.
Skirt drops. Blouse unbuttons. Purple lace bra matches thong. She strips me next. Thong peels off wet. They eye my long legs. He grabs black nylons from drawer. ‘Wear these. Like mine.’ I slide them on. Silky grip high on thighs. ‘Hot as fuck,’ she purrs.
The Explosive Release and Cool-Down
Bent over conference table. Ass offered. Nylons stretch taut. Their hands roam. Palms on nylon. Fingers in crack. Pre-cum—no, my pussy drools. Drip hits floor. He scoops it. ‘Lick.’ Fingers in mouth. I suck greedy. She drops bra. Tits out, nipples hard.
She kneels. Fingers my clit. Tongue laps. I buck. He strokes cock, rubs on my nylon thighs. ‘Cum for us, slut.’ Desk creaks. I shatter. Squirt arcs on her tits. She smears it. Guides my face down. ‘Clean your mess.’ Tongue laps my juices off her skin. Salty-sweet.
He groans. Cock in her mouth. She sucks deep. Fingers plunge my hole. She cums hard, thighs quake. His load floods her throat. Gulps it down. Clock ticks. Late for meeting.
Pull nylons off hasty. Thong back—still damp. Skirt zips. Blouse buttons. Hair smoothed. Wipe table quick. Perfume spritz masks sex scent. Door unlocks. Click. Back to open-space. Smiles exchanged. Sit at desk. Phone buzzes. ‘Epic. Call?’ ‘Yes.’
They ring. ‘You okay? That sub side… hot.’ ‘Loved it. More?’ ‘HIV tests first. Bare tongues next.’ Agreed. Hang up. Printer whirs on. Mouse clicks resume. Coffee cools. I dive into emails. Mask perfect. No one knows my thighs still tingle.