Coworkers' After-Hours Office Orgy

The marketing firm on the twenty-third floor was dead quiet, the city lights glittering beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows. Deadline had been a bloodbath, but the campaign was finally out the door. Only three people remained: Derek, Lena, and Marcus.

Derek sprawled in a swivel chair with his tie loose, the cocky 28-year-old account manager nursing the last of his energy drink. Lena leaned against her desk in a tight black pencil skirt that hugged her round ass and a white blouse stretched across full tits, the top three buttons already sacrificed to the long day. Marcus, the 32-year-old senior copywriter, stood by the window with his arms crossed, sleeves rolled up over thick forearms, watching both of them with that quiet, heavy stare he usually kept locked behind professionalism.

A bottle of expensive whiskey appeared like magic—Derek’s victory gift. Plastic cups from the break room were pressed into service. The first round went down fast. The second slower. By the third, the air had changed.

Lena’s cheeks were flushed. She kicked off her heels and hopped up to sit on the edge of her own desk, legs crossed, the hem of her skirt riding high enough to show the lacy tops of her thigh-high stockings.

“I’ve been thinking about this for months,” she said, voice low and a little hoarse from the whiskey. “Both of you. Right here. Fucking me on this desk until I can’t walk.”

Derek’s cup stopped halfway to his mouth. His cock thickened visibly against the front of his charcoal slacks. Marcus’s jaw flexed once, the only sign he’d heard her.

“No more pretending then,” Marcus said, voice rough. He set his cup down and crossed the space between them in three strides. “Take your blouse off, Lena.”