Coworkers' Overnight Shift Strap-On Temptation

The fluorescent lights hummed overhead like a swarm of insects as Maya and Lila moved through the empty tenth-floor offices. It was just past midnight, and the downtown building felt like a tomb. Everyone else had gone home hours ago, leaving the two of them to finish the quarterly inventory nobody else wanted. Maya, twenty-eight, broad-shouldered and butch in her faded black button-down and work pants, rolled her sleeves higher as she counted servers in the IT closet. Lila, twenty-four, softer and femme in a tight pencil skirt and cream blouse that showed the lace edge of her bra, scribbled numbers on a clipboard and tried not to stare at the way Maya’s forearms flexed.

They had been circling each other for weeks—sharp comments in meetings, lingering looks in the break room. Tonight the tension finally snapped.

Maya closed the last cabinet and leaned against the doorframe, watching Lila bend over a low shelf. “You know,” she said, voice low and rough, “I keep a thick strap-on in my gym bag. Eight inches, realistic, veins and everything. I use it on women who need to be properly fucked. Not that polite little finger-banging shit. I mean ruined.”

Lila’s pen froze. Heat flooded her face. She pressed her thighs together so hard the muscles trembled, feeling her pussy clench at the casual filth. She’d never been with a woman. She’d barely admitted the fantasy to herself. But the way Maya said it—so sure, so filthy—made her clit throb against the seam of her panties.

“You’re blushing,” Maya observed, smirking. “Cute. You imagining it, Lila? Me bending you over that big conference table, hiking up that tight little skirt, and feeding every inch into your cunt while you bite your own arm to keep from screaming?”

Lila’s breath hitched. She set the clipboard down with shaking hands. The air between them felt electric, dangerous. Hours stretched ahead of them with no one to interrupt. No excuses left.

“I… I’ve never been with a woman,” Lila whispered, eyes dropping to the obvious bulge now straining against the front of Maya’s dark pants. Maya had clearly slipped the toy on earlier, letting it sit heavy and obscene while they worked. The sight made Lila’s mouth water.

Maya stepped closer, voice dropping to a growl. “Then show me you want it. Say the words, baby.”

Lila’s knees hit the break-room floor before she even realized she was moving. “Show me.”

Maya unzipped slowly, pulling out the thick, veined silicone cock. It looked obscene in the harsh fluorescent light—fat head, heavy balls, every realistic detail. She gripped the base and tapped it against Lila’s parted lips.

“Open.”

Lila did. The first thrust pushed past her lips and stretched her jaw wide. Maya didn’t go easy. She held Lila’s head in both hands and fucked her mouth in long, deliberate strokes, pushing until the fat head bumped the back of Lila’s throat. Spit spilled down her chin in shiny strings, dripping onto her blouse and the lace of her bra. The wet, obscene sounds echoed in the empty break room—gluck, gluck, gluck—while Maya groaned above her.

“Fuck, look at you. Such a pretty little cocksucker already. That’s it, take it deeper. Good girl.”

Lila moaned around the thick shaft, eyes watering, mascara starting to run. Her pussy was soaked; she could feel her juices sliding down her inner thighs. She’d never been this turned on in her life.

Maya finally pulled out, strings of saliva connecting Lila’s swollen lips to the glistening cock. She hauled Lila up by the hair, spun her around, and shoved her forward over the copy machine. The cold metal pressed against Lila’s tits as Maya yanked her skirt up to her waist and ripped her soaked panties to the side.

“Been dripping for this all night, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” Lila gasped.

Maya lined up the fat head and drove in with one brutal thrust. Lila cried out, fingers scrabbling against the copier as eight thick inches split her open. The stretch burned so good she saw stars. Maya didn’t give her time to adjust. She pulled back and slammed in again, hips snapping hard, the heavy silicone balls slapping against Lila’s clit with every punishing stroke.

“Take it. Take every fucking inch like the curious little slut you are.”

The copier rattled beneath them. Lila’s moans turned into sharp, broken cries. Maya reached around and rubbed tight circles over her swollen clit, never slowing the deep, relentless pounding. The wet slap of skin and silicone filled the room, obscene and loud.

After a few minutes Maya pulled out, spun Lila around again, and lifted her onto the break-room table. She shoved Lila’s legs wide, pinning her knees to her chest, and drove back inside in one smooth thrust. This angle let her grind deep, the fat head battering Lila’s g-spot on every stroke.

“Look at me while I fuck you,” Maya ordered.

Lila’s eyes locked on hers, wide and glassy with lust. Maya’s hips worked faster, harder, sweat darkening the front of her shirt. She kept one hand on Lila’s throat—not squeezing, just holding—and the other brutal on her clit.

“Come on my cock, Lila. Squirt for me like a good little office whore.”

The orgasm hit Lila like a freight train. Her back arched, mouth open in a silent scream that finally tore free as “Maya—fuck—Maya!” Her pussy clamped down hard, then pulsed wildly. Clear fluid gushed out around the thick shaft, spraying across the linoleum in messy arcs. She kept squirting with every brutal thrust, thighs shaking, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes.

Maya fucked her through it, growling low in her throat, until Lila was a sobbing, twitching wreck on the table.

Only then did Maya pull out. She unbuckled the harness with quick, efficient movements and let the dripping strap-on clatter to the floor. Climbing onto the table, she straddled Lila’s flushed face.

“My turn. Eat my cunt.”

Lila dove in like she was starving. Maya’s pussy was soaked, lips puffy and dark, clit hard and begging. Lila licked broad stripes through her folds, then sucked the swollen clit between her lips. Maya ground down hard, riding her face with single-minded need, smearing her juices across Lila’s cheeks and chin. The butch woman’s growls grew louder, rougher, until she finally came with a guttural snarl, thighs clamping around Lila’s head as she shuddered and flooded the younger woman’s mouth.

For a long minute the only sounds were their ragged breathing and the distant hum of the air conditioning.

Maya climbed off, legs shaky. They looked at each other. The break room was a disaster—puddles of squirt on the floor, spit and pussy juice streaking the copy machine, the thick strap-on lying abandoned like evidence. Wordlessly they started cleaning. Paper towels, disinfectant wipes from the supply closet. Maya wiped down the table while Lila mopped the floor on her hands and knees, skirt still bunched around her waist, thighs glistening.

When the worst of the mess was gone, Maya caught Lila’s wrist and pulled her close. The kiss was surprisingly slow, almost tender. Their tongues slid together lazily, tasting each other—pussy and spit and the faint metallic edge of adrenaline. Lila’s hands settled on Maya’s hips; Maya cupped the back of Lila’s neck like she was something precious.

They pulled apart. Maya rested her forehead against Lila’s.

“Next overnight shift,” she murmured, voice hoarse, “we’re doing this again. Filthier.”

Lila nodded, but the nod felt heavy. Her legs were still trembling. Her pussy ached in the best and worst way, already starting to throb with an aftershock of need and something sharper underneath it. The fluorescent lights suddenly felt too bright, the silence of the empty building too loud. She looked at the woman who had just ruined her in the most exquisite way and felt a cold thread of doubt coil in her stomach.

What the hell had she just done?

Maya must have seen it flicker across her face because her smirk softened into something unreadable. She brushed a strand of hair behind Lila’s ear, almost gentle.

But neither of them spoke again as they finished straightening the room. The strap-on went back into the gym bag. The inventory sheets were gathered. When they finally walked to the elevator together, the space between their bodies felt miles wide.

Lila stared at her own reflection in the stainless steel doors—swollen lips, smudged mascara, the faint red marks of fingers on her throat—and wondered how she was supposed to look her coworkers in the eye on Monday.

Worse, she wondered how she was supposed to wait two weeks until the next overnight shift without crawling out of her own skin.

The elevator dinged. The doors opened onto the dark lobby. Maya held them open with one arm and looked back at her, waiting.

Lila stepped forward, heels clicking on tile, heart hammering with equal parts want and regret.

She still wasn’t sure which one was louder.