(all characters are over 18)
Getting into your office wouldn’t be so hard: a question of picking the right pocket, an outward display of confidence and good timing is all it would take. I’m sure with some subtle inquisition I could gradually glean which is your desk. Ensuring you’d be wearing a skirt on the day in question, which would be critical to the surprise and my intentions, might be a little trickier without giving the game away. It could be resolved by giving you a standing order to wear only skirts on a Tuesday or maybe I’d make plans with you for after work and instruct you in what I want you to wear. Risky, the latter, because you might decide to change between work and play to be ever so slightly sluttier than you’d ever be in a professional setting, just to please me. A standing order it would have to be, with at least the fringe benefit of knowing that if I find you’re not obeying, I will have the pleasure of punishing you for it.
I’d get in before anyone else, locate your desk and place myself under it, concealed by the darkness and your chair that I’d pull close to the desk. It would be useful if you arrived before everyone else, so maybe I’d make those plans to see you later in the day anyway, the better to ensure you start your day earlier. I don’t want you to scream when you first feel my fingers brush your calf, so when you arrive I’d text you simply ordering you not to react to anything strange that might happen in the next 30 seconds.
You’d jump a little when my hand wrapped itself around your calf and started to slide up to your thigh, but at least my presence would remain concealed. You’d try not to react too much when you realise what’s going on and you’re thankful that you’re in early before anyone else. You’d be drawn between being enormously turned on and wondering how the fuck you get both yourself and myself out of this situation. I’d whisper to you to relax, that everything’s taken care of, and my fingers would reach the underside of your thigh before rolling over it and continuing the path towards your increasingly wet cunt.
My hands would push your thighs wider apart, drawing you closer to the desk. You’d feel my breath on your thighs as my face comes closer to your skin. I can smell the sweet scent of your arousal and it would be extremely challenging for me not to tear your panties off just so that I can force my face against your perfect pussy, delighting in its soft feel and the intimacy of being pressed against the centre of your femininity. My lips start on your thighs, tracing a path forwards, light touches to drive the anticipation further, make you forget your surroundings. Of course that’s impossible and you’d be checking quickly around yourself to make sure no-one’s approaching; one of your hands would be under the desk, unsure whether to push my head away or pull it closer to your throbbing cunt. A little flick of my tongue across your thighs would settle the matter and the pressure from your hand would be forward rather than back.
It would be too cumbersome to enjoy your pussy as I want to with your panties drawn to the side, so you’d feel my face draw back, to be replaced by my hands crawling up the outside your thighs, their destination obvious. The thought of me removing your panties and leaving you bare and exposed under your skirt all day would be both terrifying and more arousing than you thought possible; so arousing that you’re afraid that without those panties it would be a giveaway to anyone in the office how turned on you are all day. You would want to object, but it would be too late; they’d be torn off with a skill to which you’re accustomed and all you’d be able to do is offer some quick help by drawing your legs together to ease their passing and then lift each foot in turn to ensure their complete removal.
I’d push your thighs back apart, finding your resistance much reduced. In the dim light under the desk, I would still make out the perfection of your cunt: the beautiful labia always slightly open in personal invitation, your clit peeking out from under the hood expecting my attention, the light glistening of your cum in your vulva waiting to coat my tongue, my fingers, my cock. There would be no need to tease you further and time would be short. My face would be against your cunt quickly, my tongue darting out to reacquaint itself with each intimate fold, sliding along your pussy lips, dipping inside you to taste your wetness, before continuing down further to tease your asshole briefly. It’s your clit that will make you cum though and my tongue would quickly find it’s way back up your cunt and flick against your hard nub.
You would still be looking around, but would care less and less about the consequences and more that I deliver on my implicit promise of making you cum hard. My tongue would be circling around your clit, increasing in frequency as I drive you to cum. I would know it won’t take long, but want to increase the intensity of your explosion, so slide a finger deep inside your wet hole, circling it around in time with my tongue around your clit. A second finger, the middle,, would join the first, but only briefly and to lubricate it so that I can force it into your tight asshole. Instead of circling them around I would now start fucking both of my fingers into your holes in unison, your asshole yielding as easily as your cunthole; my tongue would now be lapping at your increasingly hard clit, meshing against it harder and harder as my fingers thrust deeper inside you. You would check around quickly to make sure there’s nobody close, register it’s ok and then give yourself to your orgasm, an explosion letting go from deep inside, seemingly centred around your clit, your asshole and your womb. It doesn’t just happen once, but twice and then a third time, waves of euphoric intensity crashing across you, and you’d be sure that my face must be covered with your cum.
Eventually I’d sense that you couldn’t take any more and my tongue would slow down, my fingers slowly withdrawing from their reluctant sheaths. You’d look around, thankful that there’s still no-one close, although you’d see people down the hallway whom you know will be arriving close to your desk shortly. After the pleasure, the panic almost immediately sets in and you wonder what the fuck I have planned to get both of us out of this predicament. You’ll think to yourself, there’s no way I can stay there all day. Even though nobody would have arrived, you’d try and move yourself closer to the desk, somehow hoping to conceal me better. You’d hear me laugh a little and think that sometimes I can be a real dick.
A few seconds later there’d be a light Ikiss on your cunt, the kiss I usually give it goodbye; almost immediately the piercing siren of the fire alarm would interrupt the hum of the office air conditioning. There would be that initial five or ten seconds when everyone looks around to see if it’s a test, before realising it isn’t and lackadaisically traipsing outside the building to the fire point. Well played, you’d think as you stand up to join them, smoothing your skirt down in one fluid motion as you do so.
The alarm would only keep you outside for 10 minutes. When you return to your desk there would be a post-it next to your PC written in my hand and instructing you to open your desk draw. You’d scrunch up the note quickly and throw it in the trash; checking to make sure nobody’s close, you’d slide the draw open to find your panties waiting there for you, the pearlescent sheen of my cum clearly visible on the crotch. Again, checking nobody’s looking, you’d transfer them quickly to your purse before heading over to put them back on in the ladies room as you’d know I’d expect, wondering as you go how the fuck I arranged all of that.