Temptation in the Office
It was summer fifteen years ago,. My husband had smirked that morning, laying out my outfit—silky sheer tights that clung to my thighs, a tight black satin mini skirt that hugged my curves and barely covered my ass, and a crimson red satin blouse that shimmered, the fabric teasing my nipples into hard peaks beneath. "Wear this," he’d said his eyes dark with intent, knowing I’d be working late on a special project. Just me and my boss. He trusted me, but there was a wicked edge to his suggestion, a dare I couldn’t resist.
The day dragged, the office emptying like a ghost town until, by 6 PM, it was just the two of us—me and my boss, cocooned in his dimly lit office. The walls glowed with the soft amber of a desk lamp. He’d been flirting for months, his hazel eyes smouldering as they traced my breasts. He lounged in his leather chair, tie askew, the top buttons of his white shirt undone to reveal a tantalizing glimpse of sweat-slicked chest hair, his trousers straining against a growing bulge as he watched me adjust my blouse, the satin rustling like a whispered secret.
The project files lay abandoned, a forgotten pile under the weight of his gaze. "Goddamn, you look like a wet dream in that outfit," he said quitly, eyes devouring me. My pulse thundered, a wetness pooling between my thighs as the silence deepened. Driven by the provocative attire, the late hour, and months of simmering tension, I stepped closer, my heels clicking like a heartbeat on the polished wood floor. With a bold, trembling resolve, I sank to my knees, the black satin skirt riding up to expose the sheer tights’ delicate lace trim, framing my thighs like a lewd invitation. His breath hitched, a sharp intake as I reached for his zipper, my fingers brushing the taut fabric before sliding it down with a slow, deliberate rasp.
His cock sprang free—thick and pulsating, veins bulging under taut skin, the head a deep purple, glistening with a pearl of pre-cum. My mouth watered, a primal hunger surging as I leaned in, my tongue swirling around the swollen tip, tasting the salty tang that sent a shiver through me. I took him deep, my lips stretching wide around his girth, saliva flooding my mouth as I bobbed, the wet, sloppy sounds echoing—slurps and gags filling the air like a filthy symphony. Drool cascaded down my chin, dripping in thick strands onto the red satin blouse, staining it with dark, glistening patches that clung to my chest. I lingered on his shaft, sucking with a voracious hunger, my tongue tracing every throbbing vein, swirling around the ridge, the heat of him searing my lips as I hollowed my cheeks, drawing him deeper until he nudged the back of my throat.
His hands tangled in my hair, fingers gripping tight, guiding me with a rough urgency as his hips bucked, the chair creaking under his weight. The room spun with the scent of sweat and arousal, my knees pressing into the carpet as I worked his cock. . Minutes stretched into an eternity of wet, rhythmic sucking, my jaw aching but my core burning with every groan he let out, each sound a testament to my control. His cock pulsed violently, and I knew the edge was near. With a guttural roar, he yanked me off, his hand a blur as he pumped himself. Hot, thick cum erupted in a torrent, splattering across my face in heavy, creamy ropes. The first jet hit my cheek, warm and sticky, sliding down in a slow, glistening trail toward my jaw. The second splashed across my forehead, matting my hair into damp, cum-soaked strands that clung to my skin. A third burst landed on my lips, dripping into my mouth as I parted them, the salty flood coating my tongue, some trickling down my chin to pool on my blouse, turning the red satin into a slick, stained canvas. I tilted my head back, letting the mess paint me, the warmth a stark contrast to the cool office air, my face a glistening testament to the act. I cleaned myself up with a smile, knowing that woudln’t be the last time his cock was in my mouth from the look on his face.
I slipped through the front door, the night air still clinging to my skin, my red satin blouse damp and stained, the black mini skirt wrinkled from my knees. My make up still a little smudged my hair a mess. The house was silent, my husband waiting in the dim glow of the living room, his eyes narrowing as he took in my dishevelled state. The thrill of the office lingered, but now a new hunger sparked—telling him, confessing every filthy detail.
I dropped to my knees before him, the hardwood floor cool against my skin, the sheer tights whispering as I shifted. His breath quickened, sensing the story in my eyes. I reached for his trousers, unzipping them with trembling fingers, freeing his cock—already hard, thick, and pulsing with anticipation, the head flushed a deep red. I wrapped my lips around him, the salty taste flooding my mouth as I began to suck, slow and deliberate, my tongue swirling around the tip. "I did it," I murmured against his shaft, my voice muffled, the words vibrating through him. "I sucked his cock in his office… sloppy, wet, drool everywhere… he came all over my face."
His groan was primal, a growl that rumbled from his chest as his hands seized my hair. The confession drove him wild, his hips thrusting forward, forcing his cock deeper into my mouth. I gagged, the sudden intrusion hitting the back of my throat, my eyes watering as saliva spilled out, dripping down my chin in thick, glistening strands. The red blouse stretched tight, the stains from earlier mixing with fresh drool, the fabric clinging to my breasts as he face-fucked me with relentless rhythm. Each thrust made me choke, a wet, gurgling sound filling the room, my throat constricting around him as I struggled to breathe, tears streaking smearing my eye make up even more.
I kept talking between gasps, my voice hoarse and broken. "His cum was so hot… it dripped down my cheeks, into my mouth… I loved it." The words ignited him further, his grip tightening, his cock slamming against my tonsils. The room spun with the scent of sex—sweat, saliva, and the musky aroma of his arousal. His thrusts grew erratic, his breaths ragged, and with a guttural roar, he pulled out, his hand pumping furiously. Hot, thick cum erupted, a forceful jet splashing across my face, coating my forehead in a creamy wave that dripped into my eyes. The second burst hit my nose, sliding down in a slow, sticky trail, pooling on my lips as I parted them, the salty flood filling my mouth. A third spurt landed on my chin, cascading onto my blouse, turning the red satin into a, cum-drenched mess that clung to my skin.
I rose from my knees, my legs trembling, the hardwood floor slick with the mess of saliva and cum that had pooled beneath me. My red satin blouse clung to my skin, a sodden tapestry of stains, the black mini skirt wrinkled and hiked up slightly, revealing the lace trim of my sheer tights. My face glistened with the fresh load from my husband, mingling with the earlier marks from my boss, a sticky mask that dripped down my neck. But his eyes—dark with unrelenting hunger—told me the night wasn’t over. He was still hard, his cock twitching as he stood.
He stepped forward, his breath hot against my ear, and his hands slid down my body with a possessive urgency. His fingers grazed the satin of my skirt, then dipped beneath the hem, brushing the sheer tights before slipping inside. The fabric stretched as he pushed past, his hand diving into my panties, the damp lace yielding to his touch. My pussy was dripping wet, a molten heat that soaked through, coating his fingers as he found my swollen clit, already throbbing from the night’s excesses. The air filled with the musky scent of my arousal.
His fingers plunged inside me, two at first, thick and insistent, curling against my inner walls with a rhythm that made my knees buckle. The wet squelch of my juices echoed as he pumped, his thumb circling my clit with relentless pressure. My first orgasm hit like a tidal wave, a violent shudder ripping through me, my pussy clenching around his fingers, a gush of slick warmth flooding his hand. I gasped, my nails digging into his shoulders, the red blouse tearing slightly at the seam as my body convulsed, cum-streaked face tilting back in a silent scream.
He didn’t stop. His fingers thrust deeper, a third joining the dance, stretching me as my juices dripped down my thighs, soaking the tights. The second orgasm built fast, a tight coil in my core that snapped with a cry, my legs trembling as waves of pleasure crashed over me. My pussy pulsed, a hot, wet torrent spilling onto his hand, the satin skirt riding up further as my hips bucked against him. The room spun.
His fingers curled with expert precision, slick with my arousal, plunging in and out as my clit pulsed under his thumb. The third orgasm tore through me with a ferocity that left me breathless, a deep, shuddering climax that had me grinding against his hand, my pussy gushing in rhythmic spasms. My vision blurred, tears mixing with the cum on my face, the sheer tights now a soaked as my juices pooled. I collapsed against him, panting, my body a trembling wreck, the black skirt and red blouse a testament to the night’s debauchery.
