I’m home from work, buzzing. No kids, perfect night to fuck my man senseless. He’s back from his trip, jet-lagged, crashed early last night. But Marie cancels movie night—her kid’s fever. Then his text: working late. Fuck. Solo night again. Girls back in two days. I grab cold pasta, ham, that half-bottle of wine I’ve been nursing. Settle at my PC, binge series. Three episodes, glass drained. 8 PM. He’s not home. Heat builds. Reread our flirty texts—yours crude, mine teasing. Want your hands on me. Lips. Cock. Text Sarah, your coworker: “He’s working late, I’m alone.” She jokes, “Go drag him out!” Digicode? She sends it. Boom. Idea sparks. Lie to you: “Movie starting, miss you.” Let you stew. Shower time. Fantasize. Touch myself. Why not blow you quick at work? String and bra set—black lace. Robe hugs curves. Thigh-highs. Heels click. Gloss lips. Keys, purse, gone.
Parking lot. Heart pounds. Heels echo—hate ’em, love teasing you. Cross paths with some suit from next building. Close call. Door opens—thanks Sarah. Second floor. Your office door. Stupid? Nah. Knock hard. Footsteps. Door cracks. Dark hall—you squint. I stride in, lights hit. “Babe!” Shock in your voice. Lips crash yours. Tongue invades. Grip you tight. “Marie bailed. Need you bad.” Hand dives crotch. Feel you harden. “Let me take care of you. Shh.” You’re uneasy—office risk. Fuck it. Empty. Lights too bright. On knees. Belt unbuckles. Zipper. Pants, boxers down. Knees tangle. Cock semi-hard. You were thinking of me, pig. Dive in. Suck deep. You groan. Lights off. Door shut. Right there—exposed. Adrenaline surges. Tongue swirls. Balls tighten. Love your ass. Grip cheeks. Finger sack—heavy, full. Need your load. Mouth only now. Stroke shaft. Hips buck. Pull dress up. Ass out, string wedged. Thighs slick. You’re soaked. Bend, grope me. Yank string—ow, asshole. Stand, kiss. Nipples sucked. You growl, pin me wall. Cock slaps ass. Want it. But not slutty-wallbang.
The Awakening: Craving Hits Hard
“Fuck me on a desk.” “Mine?” “Meeting table.” Pants kicked. Drag me next room. Dim. Lamp glow faint. Arms pinned back, tits mashed table. Hands strain. String yanked ankles. Tongue dives pussy. Lick frenzy. “Fuck me!” Cock spears. Filled. Rough. Arms locked, helpless. Thrusts pound. Muffled moans—someone hear? You warn, close. “Cum!” Slap ass. Thumb anus. “No, not here! Home later.” Tease. “Slutty tonight.” “Yes! Pound, cum—I’ll take ass then.” Grip hips. Savage slams. “Gonna cum.” “In mouth?” Backward thrust, spin. Kneel. Stroke fast. Eyes lock. “Cum for me, love.” Eyes roll. Spurt hits tit. Hot ropes. Drain you slow. Kiss. Grab purse. “String!” Snatch it. Pants crumpled. Out. Text: “Hurry home, bed waiting ;)”
Twenty minutes total. Home. Your reply: “Right behind. Prep that ass ;)” Plug slides in. Teeth brushed. Heart races. Secret thrill pulses. We dared office filth. No one knows. My forbidden high—your cum drying on skin. Can’t wait for round two.