Printer hums in the corner. Coffee stench mixes with my vanilla perfume. Open-space buzzes. It’s my birthday. Colleagues chatter about cake in the breakroom. I slip into the archives room with Julien. He’s the hot IT guy. Always staring at my tits during stand-ups.
Door clicks shut. I twist the lock. Heart pounds. ‘Happy birthday, Manon,’ he whispers, eyes hungry. We pretend to grab files. Two thick dossiers on the desk. Our hands brush. Electricity sparks. I lean over, ass out in my pencil skirt. He presses behind me. Breath hot on my neck.
The Mounting Tension
Clic-clic of his mouse as he fakes checking inventory. My nipples harden under silk blouse. Glance at the door. Any second, someone could knock. Adrenaline floods my pussy. ‘Julien, we shouldn’t,’ I murmur. But I grind back against his crotch. His cock stiffens instantly.
He grabs my hips. Fingers dig in. Coffee breath on my ear. ‘You’ve been teasing me all week.’ Skirt hikes up. Thong exposed. His hand slides between thighs. Wet already. I stifle a moan. Printer spits paper. Covers the rustle as he yanks thong aside.
Eyes lock in the dim light. Tension snaps. No more games. He spins me. Desk edge bites my ass. Blouse rips open. Buttons ping. Bra shoved down. Tits bounce free. He sucks a nipple hard. Teeth graze. I claw his shirt. ‘Fuck me now,’ I hiss.
The Raw Explosion
Zipper rasps. Cock springs out. Thick, veined. Pre-cum glistens. No condom. Don’t care. Legs spread wide. He thrusts in raw. Pussy stretches. Gasp echoes. Desk shakes. Files scatter. Imprint whirs louder. He pounds relentlessly. Slap-slap of skin.
‘Quiet, slut,’ he growls. Hand over mouth. I bite his palm. Juices drip down thighs. Coffee scent turns musky with sex. Deeper. Harder. Balls smack clit. Orgasm builds fast. Cruel thrill—we’re late for the meeting. Door rattles faintly outside. Panic spikes pleasure.
He grunts. Fills me. Hot spurts deep. I clench, milking every drop. Waves crash. Legs quiver. Cum leaks out as he pulls free. Quick wipe with tissue. Skirt down. Blouse buttoned crooked. Lipstick smeared. Mirror check—no hickeys visible.
He zips up. Smirks. ‘Best birthday gift.’ Unlock door. Casual stroll out. Back to open-space. Colleagues none the wiser. Cake slices passed. I smile sweetly. ‘Thanks for the well-wishes.’ Sit in meeting. Cum squelches in panties. Thighs sticky. Face professional. Inside, buzzing. Hierarchy’s intact. My secret lust burns brighter. Next festivity? Who’s next.