Dust clings to the air in this half-built house. Future bathroom, just a dark, dusty closet now. We’re ahead on schedule. My boss—my old professor, thirty years older—lingers nearby. Heart pounds. Months of tension built up. That crazy urge hits. I slip inside, peel off my clothes. Skin prickles in the chill. Door creaks open. His eyes widen. No words. He explodes into me.
Lifted off the ground. Pinned between his hard chest and rough concrete wall. Scrapes my back raw. His mouth devours mine—expert but too wild for gentle. No time for sweet talk. Jeans shoved down just enough. His cock thrusts in deep, powerful hips slamming. I gasp, hoquet between pain and bliss. Legs wrap his waist. He grunts low, silent mostly. Room echoes my moans. Dark. Door shut tight. Balls slap my ass. Wet heat builds fast. Forbidden rush—boss, teacher, older man owning me here. Body shakes. I cum hard, clenching around him. He follows, flooding me hot.
The Awakening
He zips up quick, yanks on his yellow hardhat. Sweats, hides shaky hands. I dress fast, back throbbing, pussy pulsing. Loved it despite the brutality. His deep voice breaks silence. ‘Sorry… you know…’ Door flies open—worker with PVC pipes. No time for eyes. We bolt.
Drive back silent. Autumn sun fades. Bumps jolt me, sore and sticky. He mumbles, ‘Wanted it too.’ Divorce wrecked him. Lonely. Rage poured out in those twenty minutes. Regrets the roughness, the age gap. I smile faint. ‘Saw you wanted it.’ Silence turns comfy, shared animal secret.
Office normal. Coworkers barely glance. He’s boss again. I settle in my desk, mind spins: Pandora’s box opened. Fucking the boss. Regrets? Future awkward? Knock. He enters—still handsome, broad shoulders, gray hair, vibrating bass voice. Eyes lock respectful. ‘Should’ve courted you first. Dinner tonight? Drink?’ Yes, instant.
The Act and The Secret
Cozy restaurant. Wine spins my head. He charms, legs stretch under table, wrapping mine protective. I grab his hand secret. ‘Guilty?’ ‘Nah, but not proud. Felt like teens.’ Laughs. Blushes. Compliments flood: my beauty, hot mouth, soft body glimpsed quick. Cheesy, sincere. I flush, crave his lips gentle now.
Days blur. His gazes caress. Coffee mornings. Lunch invites. Outfit praises. Restrained, masterful. Desire simmers controlled. I melt inside, Héloïse-style fire. 6 PM, night falls. Shutting down. Door opens—he’s there, towering. Breath hitches. His scent hits hard. Hands grip waist. Lips scorch neck, wet, almost fuck-hot. Chin, then mouth. Devours slow. Tongues dance. Legs jelly—he holds me up. Pushes against door. I drown in him.
Home blur. He follows in. Discovers me proper. Attentive arms guide. Words growl raw in my ear—’fuck, so tight,’ ‘gonna make you mine slow.’ Barytone commands. Carries me. Fills me deep, rhythmic. Eyes locked. Climax builds tender, powerful. Waves crash. He’s home in me again. Secret thrill lingers—our dirty, age-crossed bond. Thrill of the unspeakable. No regrets. Just hunger for more.