The conference room door clicks shut. Locked. Printer hums faintly down the hall. Coffee stench mixes with my perfume—sweet, musky vanilla. It’s late July, office BBQ wrapped up outside. My sister, his wife, yawned, kissed him goodbye, drove home tired. Rosé buzz lingers. We’re alone. Me, 27, ambitious desk drone craving risk. Him, married, always eyeing my curves. Open-space glances all evening—dossiers stacked, my light dress teasing transparency in sun rays.
I perch on the table edge. Legs cross, uncross. He sips leftover wine, eyes on my thighs. Chat turns dirty. Jokes salacious. I spill: boyfriend’s old, routine kills, sex sucks. I cam online, flash pussy to strangers, finger myself wild. Crave real hands breaking the screen. Heart pounds. His face glows red in dim light. Erection tents his slacks.
The Build-Up: Tension Ignites
I joke? No. He blurts: ‘Do it here. I’ll help.’ Laughs nervous. Silence stretches. I stare, spread legs slow. Dress hikes up. Black thong clings wet. His jaw drops. Heart thuds loud.
‘Joking,’ he stammers.
‘Not laughing now.’ Hand slides between thighs. Finger dips under fabric, into slick lips. Wet schlick echoes.
‘Jerk for me.’ He fumbles zipper. Cock springs out—thick, veiny monster. I gasp. ‘Fuck, what a dick.’ Vulgar feels good. Pumps slow.
‘Like my cunt? Closer?’
‘Tits too?’
‘Duh.’ Dress peels off. Bra snaps free. Heavy, firm globes bounce. Dark areolas, nipples stiff peaks. Pussy squelches louder, soaked.
The Explosion: Raw Release Unleashed
‘Naked. Now.’ No neighbors. Chairs face off. We strip bare. Mutual strokes. Eyes lock hungry. Mouse clicks forgotten outside. Perfume thickens with arousal musk.
‘Touch my pussy.’ He lunges, trembling. Fingers graze hot folds. Slides in easy. Head lolls back. Breath hitches sharp. I spread wider, heels on armrests. Cunt gapes. Clit throbs.
He dives. Lips seal on mine. Tongue laps clit hard. Legs quake open. I offer ass—pink, tight. Tongue circles rim. I howl low, new fire. Fingers plunge pussy, tongue anus. Printer whirs distant. Risk spikes thrill.
Enough. I drop, grab cock. Swallow deep. Gulp to base. Suck vacuum tight. He groans, legs buckle. Nearly blows. Pushes back.
‘Cum for me first,’ he pants. ‘No fucking—sister’s husband, remember?’
Logic? Fucked. Pleasure rules. He swells. I lock lips. Spurts flood throat. Gulp every drop. Salty, thick.
He collapses chair. I rise, dress quick. Adjust thong over dripping slit. Kiss cheek soft. ‘Thanks, stud. Epic. Text for more lonely shifts.’ Saunter out, hips sway. Door clicks open. Back to open-space glow like nothing. Mask on: pro smile, next meeting prep. Adrenaline hums. Secret sealed. SMS ping soon: ‘Afternoon alone?’ Office taboo fuels me.