“Are you wet?”
I flushed. I was always embarrassed by the copious amount of fluid produced whenever I was aroused. “Feel.”
His hand moved up under my skirt, finding the damp crotch of my panties, but that wasn’t enough. He shoved those roughly aside, seeking my inner heat, and I thrilled at the sharp intake of his breath in my ear when he discovered just how wet I really was.
“Christ,” he murmured. “That’s a hot, wet little waterslide, isn’t it?”
“Mmm-hmm,” I agreed, working his zipper one handed–the other was twisted behind my back, secured in his fist. “Wanna go for a ride?”
He groaned when I slipped my hand into his trousers, his cock tenting his boxers. I pressed it flat up against his belly, feeling his pulse against my palm, my own just as fast.
“You’re going to get me fired,” he growled, turning me around and shoving me against the copier, lifting my skirt high. I never wore pantyhose anymore, just old-fashion stockings and garters, so he could have easy access whenever he liked.
“Ryan! No!” I protested when his finger probed my ass instead of my pussy, using all my abundant wetness to shine that puckered hole. “Don’t you dare!”
“Oh but I do.” His cock slid into my pussy and I sighed in relief, letting him twist my arms tight behind my back, tying me up like a neat little package, both of my wrists wrapped in one of his fists. I loved it when he took me like this, fast and hard. Even when I didn’t get off, it didn’t matter. I’d replay the scene in my head later and make myself come and come–maybe in my bed that night, or perhaps the bathroom if I couldn’t wait, or one time, extra daring, at my cubicle because I was waiting for a phone call and couldn’t leave my desk.
“Hungry little whore,” he groaned as I squeezed my pussy tight, the sound of him fucking me filling the little copy room. There were three copiers on this floor and this one was old and temperamental–no one liked to use it. But it was a busy office and sometimes you just had to have a copy right now. Anyone could walk in on us, and if they did…
“Ryan!” I hissed his name as I felt his finger probing my ass again, twisting, trying to loosen his hold on me, but it was no use. His cock was so good, swollen and pounding, jarring my hips into the edge of the copier. I never wanted it to end.
“What’s the matter, Missy?” His finger slipped into my asshole and I clenched, but that was no use either. I was too wet. He could do anything, have anything he wanted. “Don’t want me in here?”
“Please,” I begged, but he wasn’t hearing me. The copier didn’t give him the angle he wanted and he moved me, shoving me forward with his hips, his cock still buried in my pussy, until I was bent over the table in the corner. It was only thigh-high, stacked with a myriad of colored paper, and I found my cheek resting against an 8 1/2 x 11 ream of lemon-yellow while Ryan pressed his dripping dick against the tight ring of my asshole.
“Oh fuck.” He gasped as the head of his cock slipped in, just like that. He was so wet from fucking me there was very little resistance. I bit my lip to keep from crying out, the pain intense, a burning stretch, and I knew I wasn’t going to be able to wait until tonight for my own orgasm after this. In fact, I had a feeling this little scene was going to be at the top of my masturbation repertoire for weeks, maybe months, to come. “Oh Missy, your little asshole…so…fucking…tight!”
And with that, he was off to the races, his breath coming hot and fast. When I went to lift my head, he shoved a hand against my neck, my cheek flat against the ream of yellow, leaving a flesh-colored make-up stain, my lipstick smearing on the paper as I twisted and whimpered, painting my own sexual artwork.
“Oh god.” He let my hands go and used both of his to grab my hips and drive himself home. My arms ached from being pulled behind my back and I pressed my hands flat against the wall behind the table to keep my head from hitting it as he pounding his cock into my unwilling flesh. “I’m gonna come!”
I don’t think either of us cared at that moment if we got caught. It would be worth it. Ryan grunted and thrust and shuddered into me, his cock painfully swollen in my ass, stretched to the maximum. I felt him, every white hot spasm, the way his dick pulsed at the base, the whole of him buried into the deepest part of me. We were both breathing hard when he pulled out and started straightening himself up again. He seemed aware, now that his climax was receding, of how dangerous what we were doing really was.
“You fucking loved it.” He grabbed my hips as I started to pull my skirt back down with trembling hands, kissing me hard on the mouth, my lipstick gone. I was sure my mascara was running too. I felt tears stinging the corners of my eyes. My poor bottom was on fire.
“No,” I insisted, shaking my head and trying to twist out of his arms, but he was right and he proved it, sliding his hand up under my skirt to feel. My pussy betrayed me, juices literally running down my thighs and soaking the tops of my stockings.
“I’m staying late tonight,” he whispered, hot against my ear. “And so are you.”
I just nodded, breathless, as he fingered my pussy and I rocked in rhythm with his hand.
I was too wet to argue.