The open-space hums. Printer whirs endlessly. Mouse clicks punctuate the air. Coffee aroma clashes with my sharp perfume. I glance at Tom across the desks. His eyes lock on mine. Hungry. We both know lunch break’s ticking. Stress from morning reports builds. Hierarchy’s bullshit fades. Only the itch between my legs matters.
I pack my files slow. Stand up casual. ‘Heading to the restroom,’ I mutter to no one. Colleagues nod, oblivious. Elevator dings. I slip into the isolated corner. Disabled toilet. Spacious. No one’s ever here. Perfect hideout. Door swings shut. Lock clicks sharp. Heart races. Adrenaline surges. I hike my skirt. Easy-access clothes today. No bra. Panties slide down.
The Mounting Tension
Twenty minutes pass. Footsteps outside. Door handle rattles. It’s him. Lock turns again. Tom slips in. Tall, hard already. ‘Missed this pussy,’ he growls. No time for chit-chat. I yank his belt. Zipper rasps. His cock springs free. Thick, veiny. Dripping pre-cum. I lean back on the sink. Legs spread wide. ‘Fuck me quick,’ I hiss.
He grabs my hips. Thrusts in raw. No condom. My soaked cunt swallows him whole. Sloppy wet sounds echo. Printer noise from hall covers us? Barely. I bite my lip. His balls slap my ass. Fast, brutal pumps. Desk stress melts into pure lust. ‘Your tight hole’s mine,’ he grunts. I claw his back. Tension explodes. My juices drip down thighs. Coffee scent mixes with our musk.
He pounds harder. I grind back. No foreplay bullshit. Just evacuation. Pure release. But today… off. His rhythm falters. Grunts deeper. Then—barely. Two weak spurts. Tiny gushes inside me. Not his usual flood. I feel it. Warm trickle. Not enough. My orgasm slips away. ‘What the fuck?’ I whisper. He pulls out fast. Cock softens. Wipes on my thigh.
The Raw Explosion and Cool Mask
No time. I grab tissues. Stuff two between pussy and panties. His cum—scarce—seeps slow. Not messy. Suspicious as hell. Did he jerk off to porn this morning? Cheated? Heart sinks amid afterglow. He zips up. Kisses rough. ‘See you in the meeting.’ Door clicks open. He’s gone.
I straighten skirt. Fix hair in mirror. Perfume sprays quick—covers sex stink. Flush toilet for show. Door unlocks. Back to open-space. Colleagues yawn post-lunch. Stomachs full. We’re sharp now. Energized. Printer still whirs. I slide into meeting room. Files out. ‘Ready,’ I say cool. Tom nods across table. Poker face.
But inside? Storm brews. Tonight, his place. Check browser history. No porn traces. Sheets? Trash? That selfish prick wasted his load elsewhere. Deprived my greedy cunt. Next time, I’ll make him fill me proper. Or confront. Risk bigger thrills. Hierarchy be damned. This office? My playground. Door locked, cock unlocked. Adrenaline forever.