Printer hums outside the open space. Coffee scent clings to the air, mixing with my floral perfume. I’m Justine, 24, blonde hair to shoulders, green eyes, pale skin freckled in summer. 5’8″, 130 lbs, 95C natural tits, perky pink nipples. Filing reports. Stress knots my shoulders. But ambition burns hotter. I crave the forbidden here, where hierarchy twists into pure lust.
Glances across desks. Mark, my boss, mid-30s, fit, dark hair. He stares at my blouse straining over my round breasts. I shift, crossing legs. My tight skirt hugs my round ass—reserved for Gisèle usually, but guys tempt too. Heart quickens. Emails ping. Mouse clicks echo. He stands, nods toward conference room. ‘Justine, quick review.’ Voice low. I grab files. Follow. Door swings shut. Lock clicks. Sharp. Final.
The Building Tension
Tension crackles. Air thick. His eyes devour me. ‘You’ve been teasing all week.’ Breath hot on my neck. I smirk. ‘Prove it.’ Hands grip my waist. Pulls me close. Coffee breath, his cologne. Lips crash. Tongue invades. Rough. Hungry. Fingers unbutton blouse. Bra pushed up. My tits spill out, white, firm. He groans. ‘Fuck, these are perfect.’ Sucks a nipple hard. Bite. I gasp. Printer drones faintly. Someone laughs outside. Adrenaline surges. Pussy wets instantly.
Skirt hikes up. Thong yanked aside. His fingers probe. ‘Soaked already, slut.’ Crude. Turns me on. I claw his shirt. Belt unbuckles. Zipper rasps. Cock springs free. Thick. Veined. Eight inches. Pre-cum beads. I stroke. He growls. Bends me over conference table. Papers scatter. Ass up. He spits on my slit. Rubs head. Then slams in. One thrust. Fills me deep. ‘Oh fuck!’ I bite lip. Blood taste. Pounds hard. Desk creaks. Skin slaps skin. Wet squelches. His balls smack my clit. Fast. Brutal. No mercy.
The Explosive Release and Cool Mask
‘Take it, secretary whore.’ Dirty talk fuels me. I push back. Grind. Tits bounce on wood. Nipples scrape. Pleasure builds. His hand fists my hair. Pulls. Arch deeper. Fingers find my clit. Rubs circles. I whimper. ‘Quiet. Or get caught.’ Thrill explodes. Orgasm hits. Walls clench his cock. Milk him. He grunts. Thrusts erratic. ‘Gonna cum.’ Pulls out. Spins me. Aims at tits. Hot ropes splatter. Thick. White. Drips down cleavage.
Panting. Sweat beads. He zips up. I straighten. Wipe cum with tissue. Stuff in pocket. Bra down. Buttons fast. Skirt smooth. Hair fluffs. Lipstick check—smudged, quick fix. Unlock door. Click soft. Step out. Open space buzzes. Printer spits pages. Coffee pot gurgles. Mark follows seconds later. ‘Good review,’ he says casual. I nod. Professional smile. ‘Files updated.’ Sit at desk. Legs tremble under. Pussy throbs. Cum leaks into thong. Next meeting starts. I type notes. Act normal. Inside? Electric. Hierarchy’s my aphrodisiac. Can’t wait for more.