Office Colleague's Wild Night

I'm Marlene, twenty-two, and the office only gets me three days a week. The rest of the time I stand under lights for catalog work, a part-time model with short black hair cut close to my jaw and a body that never matched the curves other girls got handed. My chest is flat. I stopped hiding it. My nipples are large, dark, and so sensitive that a cold vent in the ceiling can make them stand out through whatever thin blouse I threw on that morning. Between my legs I keep a soft bush, dark and a little wild, trimmed only at the edges when a shoot demands it and left alone the rest of the time.

Wesley works two desks over. He's twenty-four, all rolled sleeves and a mouth that won't stay professional, and he has been flirting with me for weeks. Comments about my mouth. Looks that last a second too long when I stretch. Once he leaned over my chair to point at a column on my screen and his breath hit the side of my neck, and I spent the rest of the afternoon slick and furious with myself for wanting a colleague that badly. We both knew. We just hadn't done anything about it.

On a Thursday he stopped circling. Dinner at his apartment. A movie after. His voice stayed easy and his eyes didn't, and I said yes before he finished the invitation. I could already feel how badly we both wanted this, sharp and obvious, no more pretending.

His place smelled like garlic and clean cotton. He had actually cooked, and we ate at a small table with our knees knocking together every time one of us reached for a glass of water. I wore a short black dress and nothing structured under it. Every time I leaned forward the large points of my nipples pushed at the fabric, and he looked, and I let him. The want sat between us like heat off a stove. By the time the plates were cleared my skin felt too tight for the dress, and the polite inch of couch he left me when the movie started lasted about as long as the opening credits.

The sexy film on his television didn't bother with excuses. Bodies moved. Mouths opened. A woman on screen arched and made a sound that went straight between my legs, and I stopped pretending I cared about the plot. The couch felt too high and too formal with him warm beside me and the ache already low in my belly. I slid down and sat on the floor in front of the couch, my back against the cushion, short black hair brushing his knee. It was a thin excuse to get closer. We both knew it.

"Come here," Wesley said, and his hands settled on my shoulders.

He started massaging me there, thumbs digging into the knots the week had left, palms broad and hot through the thin dress. I let my head tip forward. A sound slipped out of me that had nothing to do with sore muscles. He heard it. His hands slowed, then climbed. Up the sides of my neck. Under my jaw. Then his fingers found my earlobes and rubbed them in slow circles, a touch so light it should have been nothing and was everything. Heat poured down my spine. My large nipples cinched tight until they ached against the dress. I shifted on the floor and felt how wet I was, slick gathering in my soft bush, my small pussy clenching around nothing.

He didn't stop. Neck. Earlobes. The hinge under my ear, over and over, until I was shaking and soaked and done being patient. On the screen someone moaned. I moaned with her, lower, meaner, because this was real and I needed his cock more than I needed air.

His thumbs stroked the soft skin behind my ears and I nearly came from that alone, thighs pressed together, dress stuck to the wet crease of my pussy. I could smell myself. I didn't care. I wanted his hands lower and his cock in my mouth and I was finished asking with my body when my mouth could beg.

"Wesley." My voice didn't belong to the office. "I'm so aroused I can't sit still. I need you. Tell me yes."

"Yes," he said, rough and immediate. "Anything. I'm not stopping unless you do."

"Do it," he said, already hard under my hands. "Take it out. I want your mouth."

I turned around on my knees between his spread thighs. The movie kept playing. Neither of us looked. I ripped off his belt and his pants, yanked the leather free, popped the button, dragged the zipper down, and tore the fabric to his knees. He lifted his hips, helping, eager, his cock already thick and straining against his briefs. I shoved those down too and stared at him, flushed, heavy, the head shiny with precum. My mouth watered. My cunt pulsed. I was on my knees on his floor with his cock in my face, and I was not waiting another second.

I wrapped my hand around the base of his cock and licked the precum off the head, salty and hot, then opened my mouth and took him in. Wesley groaned like I'd punched the air out of him. I sucked him eagerly, cheeks hollowed, tongue working the underside, short black hair falling forward as I bobbed. He was thick enough that my lips stretched, and I loved the weight of him on my tongue, the way his thighs jumped when I sank deeper. I sucked him like I'd been starving for it for weeks.

"Fuck, Marlene," he rasped, fingers in my hair. "Don't stop."

I didn't. I took him until my eyes watered and pulled off with a wet pop, spit connecting my lips to his cock, then went down again, faster, sloppier. His hips jerked. I pinned them because I wasn't ready for him to finish. I wanted that cock in my cunt first.

"Fuck me," I said. "I need you inside. My pussy is soaked. Yes?"

"Yes. Get on this couch. I want in."

He yanked my dress up to my ribs. No panties. Just my soft bush, glistening, and the small tight mouth of my pussy already swollen and shiny. Then he pushed me onto my back on the couch, hooked my knees up, and sank into me in one long drive.

I screamed, because my pussy is small and he is not, and the stretch burned sweet and perfect even as I was dripping wet enough to take him. He held there, buried, both of us shaking.

"Okay?" he ground out.

"Yes. Fuck me. Don't you dare go gentle."

He didn't. Wesley fucked me wildly, hips snapping, the couch thumping the wall, his cock dragging over every sensitive inch inside my tight cunt. I clawed his back and locked my ankles behind him and met every thrust. The first orgasm hit fast and mean. I screamed through it, voice breaking, pussy gripping him in hard rhythmic pulses while he kept pounding, fucking me through the climax instead of letting me coast.

"Again," he said against my mouth. "I can feel how tight you are. Come again. Scream for me."

I did. He flipped me and suddenly I was on my hands and knees on the couch cushions with my ass up and his cock driving back into my soaked pussy from behind. Doggy-style wrecked me. Deeper. Meaner. He fucked me like he meant to ruin my voice, and I wanted every brutal stroke. His balls slapped my bush. One hand reached under and rubbed my clit while the other held my hip, and I came screaming a second time, then a third, face mashed into a cushion, saying his name like a curse. My small tight wet pussy fluttered around him, milking, dripping down my thighs onto his couch. He groaned and pulled out before he lost it, cock gleaming.

I spun on the couch and dropped to my knees again, because after he fucked me I needed him in my mouth, needed to suck him hard. His cock was slick with my pussy, shiny and twitching, not soft, just overwhelmed. I swallowed him down anyway, tasting myself, salty-sweet, and sucked with filthy determination until he was iron again, throbbing against my tongue. Wesley cursed and held my head and let me work him, hips twitching, until he was fully hard, veins standing, ready to ruin me all over again.

"Still yes?" he asked, voice shredded.

"Still yes. Every way. I want all of it."

He hauled me onto the floor, flat on my back, and spread my thighs wide. "My turn," he said, and buried his face in my cunt. Wesley ate me like he was furious about how good I tasted. His tongue pushed through my soft bush and licked a long stripe up my slit, then fastened on my clit and sucked. I yelped. My hips bucked into his mouth. He held me down and devoured me, tongue fucking into my small tight hole, nose grinding my bush, two fingers sliding in alongside his mouth and curling until I saw white. He licked me sloppy and loud, chin wet, growling into my cunt while I yanked his hair and ground my bush against his mouth. I came screaming again, thighs clamped around his head, gushing against his tongue, and he didn't stop until I was babbling and shoving at his hair.

"Sixty-nine," I gasped. "I want your cock while you eat me."

We scrambled. I swung a leg over his face and dropped my dripping cunt onto his mouth, then bent and swallowed his cock in the same motion. Sixty-nine on his living room floor, filthy and perfect. He licked up into me while I sucked him, my short hair brushing his thighs, his tongue spearing my tight pussy, my lips stretched around his shaft. I moaned around him and the vibration made him groan into my cunt. We fed on each other until my arms shook.

I climbed off his face and straddled his cock, sinking down in one wet drop, riding him hard, flat chest bouncing, large nipples tight, his hands mauling them while I ground my bush against his stomach. We fucked that way until I screamed through another orgasm, then he rolled me and pounded me missionary on the floor, then bent me over the couch arm and took me standing, every way we could twist our bodies, wild and relentless, my small tight wet pussy taking him again and again.

He pulled out at the last second. "Mouth. I'm coming."

I dropped and sealed my lips around him. Wesley exploded, hot thick pulses flooding my tongue, and I swallowed every drop of his cum, sucking him through it, not spilling a bit, throat working until he was shaking and empty.

We stayed locked together on the floor after that last intense orgasm, his cock still heavy in my mouth, my lips sucking him clean of every streak of cum and the shine of my own cunt. His fingers traced my soft bush, combing through the damp curls, sliding into the wet mess between my thighs. Both of us were breathing hard, sweat on the hardwood. I kept my mouth on his dick and sucked the salt off his skin while he twitched and swore.

"Again," he whispered, wrecked, two fingers pushing into my soaked pussy while his other hand stayed buried in my bush. "Very soon. Tonight. I'm fucking this tight hole again before you leave this floor."

My cunt clenched on his fingers. He was already thickening on my tongue again, filthy and eager, and I was nowhere near done using him.

I dragged my mouth off his cock with a wet pop and snarled.

"Shut up and feed me another load, pump that cum down my throat, then shove your filthy cock back into my dripping cunt until I scream."