Printer hums in the lab open-space. Mouse clicks echo. Coffee aroma mixes with my perfume, teasing the air. I’m Nadia, ambitious researcher, no bra under my new floral dress. Short, V-neck, backless. Husband Alain’s betrayal burns—fucking that 25-year-old intern for her job. Videos, pics, her sucking him off. ‘I’m not a bomb in bed,’ he texted her. Fuck that. Revenge simmers.
Dossiers pile up. Romuald’s stand in the lobby catches my eye—mattress vendor for employee lounge upgrades. NoĂ«l next door, African trinkets, big smile, white teeth gleaming. I stop. ‘Beautiful dress for a queen like you.’ Flattery hits. I buy the dress I’m wearing—no fitting room, just his wink. NoĂ«l insists on a bracelet. Ankle-left, two colors. ‘Magic. Means you’re available.’ I laugh, but Google later: hotwife signal. Open for play.
Tension in the Open Space
Back at desk, Romuald approaches. ‘Test our new mattress? In my van, parking lot.’ Eyes lock. Heat rises. His gaze dips to my cleavage as I lean over files. Door to conference room clicks shut nearby—someone’s fucking around too. Adrenaline spikes. Hierarchy crumbles. I nod. ‘Lead the way.’ Heart pounds. Risk of getting caught? Pure thrill.
Parking lot. Van door slides open. Step up. Mattresses stacked, dim light filters through tinted windows. Door shuts. Click. Locked. Romuald presses against me. Lips crash. Tongue invades. Hands untie my dress belt. Fabric pools at feet. I’m in thong only. He strips fast—shirt off, shorts down. Cock springs, hard rod. Condom on. Pushes me onto mattress pile. Rips thong aside. Gland nudges my wet slit. One thrust—balls deep. ‘Fuck, you’re soaked.’ I gasp, legs wrap him. He pounds. Desk stress explodes into pussy-pounding bliss. Slaps echo soft in foam walls. I moan, ‘Harder, fuck me like my husband can’t.’
He grunts, hips slamming. Sweat mixes with coffee scent clinging to skin. I cum first—waves crash, walls clench his shaft. He roars, ‘I’m cumming!’ Fills the rubber. Pulls out. Pants. ‘NoĂ«l can watch the stand. Want more?’
Explosive Release in the Van
NoĂ«l climbs in. Phone out. ‘Film it. Proof for my bastard husband.’ Romuald grins. I suck him hard again—salty, reviving. NoĂ«l’s bulge strains. I yank shorts. Massive black cock flops out, thick, veiny. Clean tests swapped earlier. I mouth it—lips stretch, tongue swirls. ‘Suck that big dick,’ Romuald growls, fingering my ass. NoĂ«l films close—’See her swallow, Alain.’ Dirty talk fuels. I deepthroat, gag, drool.
On all fours. Romuald behind, lubes my virgin ass. ‘For revenge.’ Pushes in—burn, then bliss. NoĂ«l in front, throat-fucks. Double stuffed. Cocks ram. ‘Take it, slut.’ I scream into foam, orgasms rip. Cum floods mouth, ass. They switch, pound pussy raw. No caps now—bare, hot seed spills.
Spent. Collant mess drips. Wipe quick. Dress on. Hair fixed. Bracelet gleams. ‘Tomorrow? Better video.’ Nod. Slide out. Parking lot empty. Back to open-space. Printer still hums. Chair creaks. Reopen dossier. Glance at meeting room door—unlocked now. Alain texts: ‘Where were you?’ Smile. ‘Testing upgrades.’ Mask on. Professional Nadia returns. Lust hidden. But pussy throbs, ready for more.