Boss’s office. Door clicks shut. Locked. Printer hums outside, relentless. Coffee scent mixes with my perfume—musky, teasing. I face Ludwig, our CEO. Tall, stern like my late husband Karl, killed in that corporate hit meant for him. Twins almost. Grief lingers, seven months now. But my body’s screaming. Randolph helps, fucks me good, but misses Karl’s fire. Ludwig’s been distant, guilty. Time to shake the tree.
Eyes lock. Open space buzz fades. Mouse clicks echo from desks beyond. I lean in. ‘You and Lugdiwina—your exec wife—need fixing.’ He stiffens. ‘Speak.’ Deeper voice, monocord. I push. ‘No curse on your dick, Ludwig. Just your head.’ His brow twitches. I glimpse the bulge growing. Like Karl’s. Heart races. Adrenaline spikes—caught? No, door’s locked.
The Tension Builds
Printer whirs louder. Coffee steam rises from his mug. I smirk. ‘Look at that imperial hard-on.’ Point straight at it. He stammers. ‘Wilhelmine…’ Hand darts out. Grips the tent. Hard. Hot. ‘Fuck, it’s throbbing.’ He freezes. I drop to knees. Marble floor bites. Zipper rasps. Cock springs free. Thick, veined, twin to Karl’s. Saliva pools. ‘Proving no hex here.’
Mouth engulfs him. Slurp. Wet, deep. Tongue swirls head. He gasps. Hands fist my hair. ‘What… fuck…’ Hums vibrate shaft. I suck harder. Gagging rhythm. Balls slap chin. Printer drones on. Door handle rattles—someone? Heart pounds. Thrill surges. His hips buck. ‘Shit, Wilhelmine… deeper.’ Dirty talk flows. ‘Taste like Karl. Gonna milk you dry.’
The Raw Explosion
Coffee bitterness lingers on breath. Perfume clings—vanilla lust. Clicks outside: emails firing. I bob faster. Hand strokes base. Twist. Suck. Pop off, lick stem. Nuzzle balls. Silky. He groans low. ‘Goddamn… never like this.’ Back in. Throat fucks. Gurgles. Saliva drips. Tension coils. His thighs quake.
‘Cum, Ludwig. Flood my mouth.’ Command whispers. He snarls. ‘Fuck yes.’ Explosion hits. Thick ropes. Salty, musky—like Karl. Gulps down. Endless pulses. Swallows every drop. No mess. He slumps in chair. Panting. I rise. Wipe lips. Adjust skirt. Blouse smooth. Perfume stronger now, mixed with cum hint.
Door unlocks. Click. Straighten hair. ‘Now fuck Lugdiwina right. Make heirs.’ He nods, dazed. ‘Deal.’ Out I go. Open space greets. Smiles, nods. ‘Great meeting?’ ‘Productive.’ Printer spits paper. Coffee brews fresh. Mask on. Ambitious exec. Lust hidden. Pulse still races. Next thrill? Soon.