The door to my private office clicks shut. Locked. Printer hums in the corner, churning patient files. Mouse clicks from reception where Constantin hunches over his desk. Coffee stench mixes with my musky perfume, thick in the air. Open-space chatter fades. I eye him through the glass. My 1.3m secretary, hairy, muscled dwarf from beach romps. Thirty-five, maxillaires strong, that hidden beast between thighs.
Between two dossiers, tension spikes. Our glances lock. He smirks, knowing. I nod. He slips in, short legs quick. Door bolts. Whirr of printer masks our breaths. I lean on desk, skirt hiked. No panties. His slacks drop. Cock springs horizontal, XXL, gland plum-thick. Veins pulse. Beach memories flood: me cumming arcs, him prostate-milked.
The Building Tension
He climbs desk like a pro. Short arms pull me close. Fingers probe my slickness. ‘Wet for me, Doc?’ Dirty growl. I straddle. Sink slow. Fills me raw. Stretches walls. Clapotis wet slaps start. Desk creaks. Phone silent, but any ring kills us.
His hairy chest heaves under blouse. I ride hard, hips grinding. ‘Fuck my cunt deeper, little stud.’ He thrusts up, legs pumping. Prostate firm under my finger jab. Grows thicker. Orgasms build. Printer spits paper. Coffee cools. Adrenaline surges—caught, we’re done.
The Raw Explosion
I flip. Bend over desk. Perfect height for him standing. He rams doggy. Balls slap thighs. ‘Take this dwarf dick, slut Doc.’ Invasive, massive. Fills every inch. I bite lip, stifle moans. Eyes roll. Juices drip files. He grips wide hips, pounds relentless. Machine mode: orgasms rip me. Arc back, toes curl. He holds, no cum yet.
Clémence texts: visiting soon? Niece kiné, our shared toy. Later. Now, switch. I kneel. Rip condom—none today, risk be damned. Suck that cartoon cock. Alternate handjob. He groans low. Press his heavy balls. Finger ass. Explodes. Hot jets flood mouth. Swallow half, spit rest on tits. We laugh, breathless.
I readjust skirt. Wipe gloss. Button blouse. He zips, hops down. Desk straight. Files neat. Unlock door. Click. I grab dossier, stride to meeting. Pro smile. ‘Next patient?’ His voice calm on intercom. Coffee sip. Perfume lingers. Luxure masked. Ambitious doc reigns. Heart races. Wait for ClĂ©mence. Or next ‘dĂ©tente’.