Printer hums in the open-space. Coffee scent mixes with Frederica’s musky perfume. I catch Philippe’s eye across desks piled with auto parts reports. Twenty-five, fresh PhD intern, bored in this Sully-sur-Loire subcontractor hell. Frederica, my Nordic lover, fifty, blond and eager, winks at him. I, Fabienne, fifty-five, ambitious manager, crave the risk. Door to conference room clicks shut. Lock snaps. Hearts pound.
We strip fast. Frederica first, her pale skin glowing under fluorescents. Philippe next, cock twitching. Me last, legs crossed on the table under the skylight. Rosé bottle from breakroom fridge, cool on my thigh. Lecture time: pleasure spanking 101. ‘Pain turns to heat, heat to bliss,’ I say, swinging legs. He smacks my ass cheeky as I walk back. Handprint burns. ‘Tonight, you spank her. I console.’ Frederica nods, eyes hungry.
The Build-Up
Philippe takes charge. Frederica belly-down on table edge, head on my thigh. Her hand slips between my legs, thumb circling clit. He caresses her back, kisses ass. First smack echoes. Flesh jiggles. She gasps. Alternating cheeks, building rhythm. Printer drones outside, masking slaps. Her skin pinks, then reds. I massage her shoulders, jealous fire rising. He fingers her soaked pussy, thumb in, rolling clit. Smacks harder. She moans, hand deeper in me.
I cum first, thighs quake, biting lip as her thumb pinches. She sits up, we kiss. Philippe slides fingers into my ocean. Heat builds. He resumes spanking, brutal now. Frederica’s ass zebra-striped crimson. She grips his cock, jerks hard. He explodes, cum spurting. She follows, bucking, pussy clenching my thigh.
The Release
Pause for rosé. Glasses clink. ‘To our loves,’ I toast, hiding sadness. Frederica mounts him on table. Cowgirl slow, her burned ass grinding. ‘Fuck, your young cock fills me,’ she groans. He thrusts up, sucking tits. They sync, cumming together, slick sounds filling room. Mouse clicks faint from late workers.
My turn. Frederica eats me out, tongue diving pussy while Philippe kisses fierce. Jealousy fuels it. Her lips on clit, his hands on tits. I shatter, screaming into his mouth, body convulsing. Shower next in exec bathroom. Water hisses. I soap his firm ass. ‘Girl’s butt,’ Frederica teases, kissing deep. My finger probes his hole, hand strokes cock. He shoots again, hot on tiles.
Dry off, dress quick. Breakroom snacks, rosé last drops. Florence, our boss-artist, forty-five, struts in radiant from gallery. ‘Waiting for me?’ Casual chat. ‘Refaire le monde.’ She invites him Friday preview. Frederica too, post-vacay. Kisses goodbye. Back to desks, ass stinging under skirt, printouts shuffling. No one suspects. Adrenaline buzzes. Mask on. Meeting resumes. Coffee brews anew.