Printer hummed distantly. Open-space air thick with coffee stench mixed my floral perfume. Files towered on my desk. Sweat trickled down my back. Legs ached like after a hike. Holiday for most, but Chantal here, 42, grinding reports. Ambitious Colette across the room. Younger, tanned, dark eyes lingering too long. Hierarchy buzz. Her stares ignited my core. Stress twisted into heat.
Needed relief. Slipped into conference room. Door clicked shut, not locked. Perfect hideout. Blinds half-drawn, parking lot view. Unpacked sandwich, gulped half water bottle. Blouse clung like second skin. Bra sawed ribs. Peeled blouse off, draped over chair back to dry. Quick scan—no one. Bra unhooked, tossed aside. Jeans vise on ass, seam grinding pussy. Yanked down with soaked panties. Wet fabric slapped floor.
Tension Builds in the Open Space
Spread blouse on table. Stretched naked. Sun warmed tits, pink nipples hardening. Fingers of feet fanned. Bliss. Drowsed in quiet. Distant mouse clicks. Bladder screamed. Morning coffee revenge. Squatted corner, panties ankles, thighs wide. Hot piss gushed, relief flooding. Eyes closed in ecstasy.
Rustle. Cough. “Hello!” Colette grinned, eyes on my spread pussy, golden stream arcing. Heart slammed. “Sorry to surprise you. Mind if I join?” Shorts dropped—no panties—bush black and wet. Squatted facing me, fingers spread lips, piss jetting strong. Smiled wicked. “Colette. You?”
Laughter burst. “Chantal.” Nervous giggles shook me, piss splashing panties. Stood, shook legs free. She eyed wet crotch. “Gotta ditch that soggy thong, Chantal.” Her shorts pooled piss. “Equal now, Colette.” She rose, shook drips from pussy. Fingers teased blouse buttons. “Almost equal.” Top off, firm tits thrust, dark nipples erect. Naked perfection.
Explosion on the Conference Table
I stood, hands shielding heavy breasts. Silly— she’d seen all. Dropped hands, wet prints on skin. Held arm for balance, wrung panties. Droplets flew. “You look charming, Colette.” Eyes pleaded approval. She advanced, took hands, arms spread. Examined curves, soft belly, thick hips. “Desirable, Chantal. Tutoyer?” Heat flushed me. Pulled close. Lips met. Tongues danced. Breasts mashed. Thighs tangled. Pussies kissed through air.
Her skin hot, sweaty, musky. Hands gripped ass cheeks, kneaded like dough. Mine clawed back. Kiss deepened. Pushed her to table. “Refresh our wet cunts? Tongue only.” She laughed, eyes wicked. “Resign ourselves.” Knelt first. Spread my thighs. Tongue lapped piss remnants, dove into folds. Sucked clit. Fingers plunged. Moans echoed, muffled by locked door? No lock—risk surged adrenaline. Distant printer whirred cover.
Table shook. Her turn. Laid her back, bush to mouth. Licked salty sweetness. Fingers fucked deep. She bucked, tits bouncing. “Fuck my pussy, Chantal!” Scissored legs, clits grinding slick. Coffee-perfume haze thickened. Humped frantic. Orgasms ripped—mine first, gushing her thigh. Hers squirted, wetting blouse.
Panting. Quick wipe with napkins. Dressed hasty. Blouse damp, bra crooked. Skirt smoothed. Unlocked door clicked. Back to open-space. Smiles exchanged over monitors. Meeting next. Acted normal. Legs quivered under desk. Secret thrill burned. Hierarchy? Now ours.