Thursday morning, parking garage. Alarm buzzes after wet dreams. I grab my fave white lingerie set. Pale pink embroidery. Balconette bra pushes up my perky tits. Sheer boxer-string panties tease my bush—love those pubes peeking out for voyeurs. Nude stockings, tight black skirt hugging my firm ass, white blouse with deep cleavage. Heels, perfume, coat open. Ready to crank it up.
Spot Sébastien pulling in. He waits by my car. I step out, skirt flaring—flash of lace tops and cleavage. Drop keys on purpose. He bends, steals a peek. Elevator packed, his body presses close. Fantasize his hand sliding up my thigh, over silk, to my wet slit.
The Awakening
Office. Hang coat, feel his eyes. Coffee offer. Perch on desk for filing, legs crossing, uncrossing. Know he sees up my skirt—tested at home. Pussy dampens. Imagine gripping his hard cock. He leaves for meetings. I bolt to bathroom, hike skirt, fingers in panties. Rub clit, finger fuck, picturing his swollen pink dick grinding me. Cum hard, gasping.
Evening. 6:30pm, alone waiting. Freshen up. Return—light off. Hand grabbed in dark. Sébastien in my chair, relaxing. He stands behind, breathing heavy, leaning close. Glance back: bulge straining pants. My legs flashed all day. He strokes through fabric, unzips. I peek via dark screen reflection. Cock out, stroking while dictating. Musky scent hits me.
Pulsing need wins. Spin around. ‘Oh!’ He freezes. Pants and boxers down. Grab his shaft, guide to my mouth. Tongue laps precum, cleans every ridge without full peel. Kneel him in my chair. Head between thighs, panties soaked. Swallow whole, tongue swirling, lips sucking, teeth grazing. Kiss down veiny shaft to balls—lick, suck tender skin, inhale his musk. Back up, deep throat bobs. He throbs, jets cum—powerful spurts. Gulp it, lick clean. Straighten, pee, back to work like nothing.
Friday. Doubts? Nah, loved it. 6:15pm call: fetch warehouse list. Back empty. Sit, reach phone—hands on legs. Shoes off. Lips kiss nylon feet. Lean back, abandon. Unknown tongue worships arches, toes. Hands climb calves, knees, tease back down. Shiver as fingers hit bare thigh above stockings. Breath hot under skirt. Teeth tug stockings down, lips trail.
The Act
Juice floods panties. Noses my bush scent. Lips pinch fabric, brush lips. Fingers massage pubes through lace. Pulls string aside. Fingers probe slick folds, explore hills and valleys in my gushing pussy. Moans escape. Tongue dives—circles clit, laps nectar, savors every tangy drop.
Hold back… then explode. Shuddering orgasm rips through.
Phone rings. Guard: client waits. No panties, rush out. Mr. Xeller with… SĂ©bastien. ‘You okay?’ Face cold. ‘How long here?’ ‘When guard called.’ Floor drops. Who under desk?
Back: panties gone, mystery fled. SĂ©bastien: ‘Traffic. Drink?’ Spill story over drinks. He grins: ‘Wish I’d thought first.’ Laughs. Fuck who it was—bliss.
Now nightly: excuses to grope, fuck. Work and sex blend perfect. Mystery man? Vanished. Shame.