Office Quickie

Ass

I fucking hate you.

The world around us never guessed what passion flowed between us; the flush in my face imperceptible when you stood behind me and softly growled, “I want you…” Colleagues and coworkers bustled about us, oblivious, as your hand crept up my thigh, under my skirt, cupping my ass, gently brushing against the swollen lips of my pussy. You let me hear your sharp intake of breath; you whispered, “Looks like you want me, too.”

I wouldn’t admit it to you. The truth is, I hate you. I hated you then, and I hate you now. But I would have given anything, I would still give anything, to hear you tell me you wanted me, to feel the burn of your deliberate touch…

I took one tiny step to the side, and turned so that your furtive hand fell from its path. I looked up at you and smiled the most devious smile I could manage. In a conversational tone, I asked brightly, “I’m going on a coffee run pretty soon. Want to come along?”

Your eyes flashed, you mimicked my tone and tried to keep the smile from your güvenilir bahis face. “Sure, sounds good. Just let me know when you’re ready.”

I fucking hate you. I hate you when you ignore me, and I hate you when you want me. I hate the cold blue flame in your eyes, and the softness of your poisoned lips, I hate the way your cock gouged out my soul and ripped it apart. I must be an emotional masochist, because I’d do anything just to be pinned down again, spread out and split open and skewered under you.

Discreet was the look from beneath my lashes, as I made my way to the door. You followed with a subtle glance behind you; no one noticed, no one cared. We crossed the parking lot as casually as we could, as casually as the fire in our blood would allow — you stayed a few paces behind me, so I put a little sway in my hips just to torture you a little more. I was near to trembling as we closed the distance on the building next door, that long-vacant space I’d wanted to break into just to see what was inside. And behind güvenilir bahis siteleri that building, we disappeared, with a quick glimpse behind to be sure we wouldn’t be seen.

You shoved me against that wall with an ignorant force, we grabbed each other’s faces in an all-consuming kiss, devouring, explosive, I clung to your shoulders as you lifted me, pinned me against the wall and wrapped my legs around your waist. I couldn’t keep my hips from bucking; I pulled the kiss in deeper, deeper!, and the tinkling buckle of your belt was somehow the loudest sound in the world, until the rip of your zipper drowned it out. My skirt already pushed out of your way, you held me still against that wall and drove two fingers into me; I cried out against your lips.

You broke the kiss — “I fucking hate you,” you whispered, breathless, panting, stroking my swollen clit with those moistened fingers.

“Fuck me,” I snarled, because I could never tell you just how much I hate you.

Every nerve ending in my inflamed pussy iddaa siteleri stirred as your cock thrust inside me, balls-deep, and you kept me pinned against that wall, my thighs at your sides, clawing your shoulders, your thrusts growing deeper, harder, “harder!” I growled, faster, your lips clung to mine, tongue filling my mouth as quick and deep as your cock filling my aching pussy, my hips following the thrusts of yours, your cock beginning to swell, my cunt quivering around you, and was it at the same time that we both whispered, “oh, fuck…”?

Our eyes locked, you nodded, give it to me, you drove even harder into me and I burst, pussy clamping down around you, and I bit your shoulder to muffle my screams, which was useless because you flooded cum into me a splitsecond later with those deepthroated groans of yours.

We caught our breath, we disengaged, you set me on my feet. I straightened my skirt and my hair, checked for raccoon eyes.

You were watching me. I hate it when you watch me, and that note of softness, of fondness maybe, creeps into your face. “What?” I asked you.

Long pause. Then your face went blank, you looked away. Pulled a cigarette from your shirt pocket. “I just hate you,” you replied, and you sauntered back to the office.

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