The open-space buzzes. Printer whirs in the corner, spitting out reports. Mouse clicks echo like Morse code. Coffee aroma mixes with my perfume, thick and heady. I catch his eyes again. That tall newbie, 25, dark hair, tanned skin. We’ve chatted online before this job. Flirty messages, tit pics he begged for. Now he’s my colleague. Dossiers pile up between us. Stolen glances over screens. My tight blouse strains over my 100D tits. He stares. I know he wants them. Heart races. Hierarchy be damned. I crave the risk.
Afternoon meeting drags. Boss drones on. But we’re alone after hours, ‘finishing reports.’ Door clicks shut. Lock snaps. Printer hums faintly outside. Coffee lingers on our breaths. My skirt hikes up as I sit on the conference table edge. He stands close. Too close. Silence tense. His hand brushes my thigh. No words. Pulse pounds. I freeze, eyes on the projector screen. Blank now. His fingers slide higher. Under fabric. Skin hot. No panties today. Risky choice.
The Tension Builds
He finds my wetness. Slips in. One finger, then two. Pumps slow at first. Desk creaks under me. My breath hitches. Coffee scent clings, mixed with my arousal. Mouse clicks from open-space filter through. Someone’s still out there. Adrenaline surges. I grip the table. He speeds up. Thumb on my clit. Juices slick his hand. I bite my lip. Don’t moan. His cock tents his pants. Obvious. I want it. But not yet. Thrill of almost-caught.
His free hand grabs mine. Guides it to his zipper. I hesitate. Tremble. Pull it down. Free his thick cock. Hot, veiny. Pre-cum beads. Wrap my fingers around. Stroke. Slow. His breath ragged. ‘Fuck, yes,’ he whispers. Door locked, but footsteps outside. Printer whirs louder. I pump faster. Match his fingering rhythm. His digits curl inside me. Hit that spot. Legs shake. Coffee mug rattles nearby.
The Explosive Release
He groans low. Tense. I feel him throb. ‘Gonna cum,’ he mutters. Dirty. Raw. I squeeze. Stroke harder. His fingers plunge deep. I clench around them. Almost there myself. But he erupts first. Hot spurts on my hand. On the table. Messy ropes. Smell musky, mixes with perfume. He pulls out. I keep stroking. Milk every drop. His knees buckle. Eyes wild.
Quick clean-up. Tissues from drawer. Wipe his cum off my skin. Off the wood. Heart hammers. Adjust skirt. Button blouse. Tits still heaving. He zips up. Smirks. No shame. I smooth hair. Perfume stronger now, masking sex stink. Unlock door. Step out. Open-space normal. Clicks, printer. Coworkers oblivious. ‘Great progress,’ I say casually. Head to next meeting. Thighs slick. Pussy throbbing. Mask on. Professional smile. But inside? Pure fire. Want more. Soon.