A young woman seeks a job in a large office where nudity among women is the norm and public sex is a stress-reliever.

The months passed like a blur. It was a rush of learning and growing in the job, finding new connections in the business beyond the walls of the office or even the building. I continued to dedicate myself to the job performance but that really was all I knew. And, I continued to be flexible and willing to experiment when it came to sex in the office.

My first and second month evaluations turned out to be breezes. Sara sat me down in a conference room on the 5th floor and we talked. The time I spent early or late to make sure my tasks and assignments were always on schedule no matter how much distraction and time was created by the sexual elements of the job was noted. That, of course, complicated schedules as I became a favorite, especially among those with an interest or curiosity about anal or double penetration or tormenting me with various vaginal and anal vibrators. It was thought to be an aberration, though.

The third month evaluation was the one that rocked me … in a positive way, thankfully. Sara and I met in the conference room, again. Sara was wearing her thigh-high stockings and heels, both black. I, of course, was completely naked, not even jewelry. We were meeting the day before my three month anniversary. I asked why and she said the probationary period would end with a meeting above Sara, usually with Ms. Benson, our Director.

“I don’t know what more I can say, Abby,” Sara eventually exclaimed. “A new employee in the group just shouldn’t preform at this level. I normally find at least several items to discuss on performance of the job, interoffice relations, phone etiquette, team work … any number of things. I’ve scoured the schedules and talked with people inside and outside the office you’ve worked with and I’m at a loss. I can’t find a single concern expressed or indicated by anyone and I can generally tell when people are covering for someone. That said, then, I want to caution you not to get a big head.” She paused, seemed to consider her next words, then looked at me deadly serious. “Abby, I’ve paid attention. I know there are days when you are requested for some form of sex that has totaled to three or four hours in a single day. I also know, we have trackers on the ID cards that tell us when the card comes and goes through those door, that those days you work late and come in early, presumably to stay on schedule. I’ve also noticed that you’ve assisted others with work when they haven’t had the same excuse.”

“Teamwork, ma’am.”

“Teamwork … yes. And, I … we … appreciate that attitude, Abby. But … I don’t want that effort from you to be a cause of burning you out. You’re going to do good things here, I’m certain of it, but not if you get burned out and want to leave.” She gazed at me intently. This was a point she wanted me to take to heart so I nodded my understanding. “I understand it can be hard when you have a personality like yours that wants to help others and share but sometimes that isn’t helping the other person if they aren’t pulling their weight.” She was right. It wasn’t easy. Eagerly providing assistance to others was always something that came naturally to me. “You are a very popular young woman, Abby. Your body is all sex and your face is all youthful sweetness. A devastating combination for the rest of us. The fact that you are as willing to pleasure a woman or man with the same enthusiasm adds to your popularity and demand. Which reminds me … as you know, I also survey the office on the sexual relationships. It is not a surprise when someone out there finds a person they aren’t as interested in being with or they just are not in the mood at times. To be crude, a woman might sometimes be so passive as to seem like a cum-dump, a hole to fuck. Sometimes, the mood just isn’t there.” She smiled and I understood. “I have not found a single person making that comment about you. Your enthusiasm and energy is constant. Abby, you just make everyone feel like being them is important. I should have known, I should have seen it coming. That gangbang on your first day should have warned me. But, you’ve handled the time problem at your expense.”

I leaned forward and caught her eyes drop as my breasts pressed into the edge of the table. “Ma’am, thank you, but I just love my job. The people in the office are great. And, I really can’t believe it myself, but my appetite for sex and experimentation hasn’t found a boundary.”

The next day I was called into Ms. Benson’s office. She was dressed in what I considered her uniform. If mine was currently nothing, hers seemed to be heels, stockings of some kind, and a shelf or open bra. After her review of the evaluation Sara had prepared, she fexplained that the evaluation would be kicked up to Mr. Peterson. Normally, the third month evaluation would stop at her but an evaluation that finds no fault would be questioned. Before we ended, I asked her something off topic.

“Ma’am, why aren’t managers given the freedom to wear something extra?” She looked at me puzzled. “Well, they are managers over a number of people, yet they wear just as little as the rest of us. For you, ma’am, wearing some form of exposing bra separates you from the rest and I don’t mean to minimize your position but there are so few women in management roles here. It seems the managers would benefit from the distinction, too.”

A couple hours later, I was called into Mr. Peterson’s office. Mary looked at me concerned but I shrugged and marched to his office to find Ms. Benson sitting there, too. I took the other visitor’s chair. Even after three months this situation still hit me. Sitting naked before a clothed man with his authority. It was instantly arousing. We talked for a few minutes with him asking similar questions and making similar comments I had received from both Sara and Ms. Benson. Then, it seemed he gave up on the pretense.

“Who are we kidding? None of us are surprised by this evaluation, Abby. It may only be three months but we all feel like we know this kind of performance is who you are.” He looked at Ms. Benson, then at me. “You understand, though, the expectation that puts on you? We don’t expect this to be a one-time deal. This is what we’ll be expecting from you.”

I nodded. “It is what I expect from myself, sir.” He nodded and smiled. He threw his signature at the bottom and slid it over to Ms. Benson.

Then, it was still. It was quiet but there was an expectancy in the room that wasn’t spoken. I stood and broke the silence. “Sir … ma’am … I feel like I’ve learned so much in a short time. I never expected to find such a fulfilling and challenging job AND such a stimulating working environment. I really want to thank you both for the privilege of working here.”

My Vice President looked at my Director and smiled. “She does have a way about her, doesn’t she? Suppose there’s a way she can properly thank us?”

The smile that form on Ms. Benson’s mouth was lusty. Mr. Peterson cleared off a portion of his desk as Ms. Benson stood and sat on the edge of the desk and scooted further onto the desk as Mr. Peterson rose to come around the desk. There was no question in my mind how they were intending me to show my expressed thanks. Mr. Peterson open his drawer and pulled out the tube of lubrication he now kept at the ready for me.

I met his eyes as he came around. The smile I gave him was honest and personal. I sank to my knees and began undoing his belt and slacks. As soon as I exposed his cock, I engulfed it with my mouth. I pulled off it and licked down the side. As did, I found Ms. Benson propped on her elbow watching with a lusty look as one hand fondled her own breast exposed by the shelf bra and the other stroking her pussy. I returned my full attention to Mr. Peterson’s cock, kissing and licking up the other side until my lips again were on his cock head. I took it back into my mouth as my hands stroked the remaining exposed cock and his balls. I sucked and licked, then pushed my mouth down further over his cock. I had all of it in my mouth to my throat, then into my throat. That’s another little thing I’ve learned and perfected in the last months.

He was hard. Very hard. I looked up at him along his body and he handed me the lubrication with a knowing smile. It was part of our thing. The only times he fucked me as anal and it was at least once a week. I sucked him hard, checked his expression, but continued sucking until he presented me with the lubrication. I squeezed some lube onto the head of his cock and stroked it liberally down and up the shaft. Then, I squeezed some onto the first two fingers of my hand and bent over the desk to lubricate my asshole. This time when I bent over, my mouth and tongue went to Ms. Benson’s pussy using only my mouth as I spread the lube over my asshole, then inside it. Then, I shifted that hand to her pussy as I rested myself on my elbows, my fingers spreading her pussy for my tongue to probe inside her. At the same time, his cock pressed at my asshole. My sphincter slowly opened, stretching until it passed inside. I moaned into the pussy as it penetrated. Anal was far easier now but there was still always that initial penetration to get past. He pulled back and pressed in several times before he was deep in me, out flesh making contact with each powerful thrust. He fucked me in the ass like the others might fucked my pussy with strong, powerful thrusts, pulling his cock back almost out before thrusting back in.

Meanwhile, Ms. Benson was holding my head to her pussy. It was more contact than really pulling my mouth into her. This too had become a regular event for us and I found I looked forward with increasing anxiousness until I got the call from her to her office. This was always one-sided. Not because it was what she was but the type of sex. She was definitely hetero but enjoyed the orgasms I gave her. She apologized once that she didn’t return the favor but I assured her I understood and my day would not be without orgasms.

I had three fingers inside her and was adding a fourth. This was new for us. I glanced up while keeping my mouth on her clit as the fourth finger slid into her. Her mouth was open wide in an ‘O’ and her breathing was ragged. I secretly wondered if I might get my whole hand inside her and wondered if I should talk to her about it or surprise her. The fourth finger was the step but trying would be another time.

At the same time I was adding four fingers into her, he was leaning over me, resting on my back as one hand captured a wildly swinging breast and the other stroked my empty pussy and engorged clit. I felt the tremors begin in my body with the combined stimulation of anal, pussy/clit, and nipples. I felt him pulse inside my tight sleeve and I felt her squeeze her thighs around my head, a sure sign of her arousal and impending orgasm. I took her clit between my teeth, one hand reaching up to located and pinch a nipple, and curled my fingers to located her g-spot. The g-spot and clit are connected so nipping down on one and stroking the other was what she needed. Fresh cum flowed onto my fingers and tongue as I exploded and the spasms of my anal orgasm sent him into climax. It was about as perfect as we could have hoped.d

She lay splayed on the desk, her hands caressing her breast as he maneuvered us back to a chair. Typical, he usually like to recover while still inside my clasping asshole.

It was several minutes before we recovered sufficiently. When we did, she sat up on the edge of his desk, her legs still parted, and a satisfied smile across her face. She sighed, “Well, Stan, I’d say she managed the thank you very well.” He fondled and lifted my breasts and agreed.

When I finally lifted myself off Mr. Peterson, his cock had shrunk and slipped out of my ass, Ms. Benson had relayed my suggestion about Manager dress to him and he had promised to take the idea to the other VP’s prior to consideration by Mr. Cornell. As I as leaving, Ms. Benson called after me to ask that I stop at her office before leaving for the day.

Later, “Ma’am? You wanted to see me?”

“Abby, yes. Following up on your three month evaluation, I had Sara pull together some your data.” My expression must have shown concern. “Sorry, dear. You’re not in trouble. Sit down and talk me through something.” She went on to describe her concern that matched Sara’s regarding what happens to my time. “How much overtime do you work?”

“I … ah … I …”

“Don’t bullshit me, Abby. I see you here some nights when I leave and I see you already here when I arrive. You work overtime. But your time sheets don’t record any overtime.”

“I just making sure my projects stay on schedule, ma’am.”

“Your projects on schedule … hmmmm … let’s see … yeah, here … it looks to me like all your projects are logged off early or as scheduled. How much overtime?” I hesitated, “Okay, Sara noted a concern … not about you directly but affect you. Tell me, Abby … just looking at today and excluding Stan and me, how many times were you requested to fuck, suck, or eat pussy?”

“Just today, ma’am?” She nodded. “Okay … let’s see …” I held up my right hand and ticked off the fingers. She interrupted me.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to have to use your other hand.”

I thought through the day, then giggled, “No, ma’am. Two fucks, two sucks, and a pussy.”

She looked at me intently. Sara did question this, too. She didn’t ask about details, though. “So, would you say that’s normal or unusual?”

“I say … today is kind of normal.”

“Five times is ‘kind of normal’?”

“Five? No, ma’am. Today … all of today is kind of normal.”

“But you said … ohhhh … today isn’t five, today is seven.” I shrugged and nodded. “So, people are using up way more than the assumed two hours and you’re working overrtime to make up for it. I see. Is that fair, Abby?”

“Fair, ma’am? It wouldn’t be fair if I didn’t. You pay me to get my projects completed. If I didn’t, it wouldn’t be fair to the company.”

She sagged back in her chair and gazed up at the little holes in the suspended ceiling. Maybe she was counting to a hundred. My mom did that sometimes when she had the same look on her face.

“Abby, you have a simple way of looking at the world, don’t you?” I shrugged. I didn’t think my perspective was particularly simple as much that others seemed to make it too complicated. “Do you understand what the concern is that Sara and I have?”

I sighed, “Yes. You have a concern that I am working overtime in order to keep my commitments because other people are taking up my time. And, you think it’s not fair that I spend this extra time at work and not get paid for it.” She smiled. I wasn’t so difficult after all. “Look … ma’am … here’s my take on it and it is up to you and Sara. This is a highly unique office situation … and experiment in office management and shared effort and bonding that could still fall apart very quickly if the work didn’t get done.” I held up my hand to stop her from interrupting. She smiled. I was on a roll. “If I started claiming all this overtime, somehow it’s going to leak out. You can say all you want about pay being confidential but we know better. Someone in payroll will have drinks with someone on the third floor and they will know someone somewhere else and it will end up here somewhere. Then, what does that make me? Someone milking the system? Someone not able to keep up and getting rewarded for it?” I gazed at her. “If someone is spending too much time fucking, you guys can crack down on them. If not … Ma’am, I like my job. I like what I am doing. I find the work interesting and challenging. I want the company to succeed and grow. I want to be part of the reason it does. If I put in more time quietly, why should anyone care?”

“But … what about …”

“The sex … I like the sex. I’m not roaming the office for more fucks. I’m not. I know women can request sex as much as the guys can. I would be way over my time if I did. That I am still way over my time isn’t my fault. But I like the sex. Honestly, I am surprised how much I do enjoy it still … REALLY enjoy it. Are women complaining they aren’t getting fucked or asked for blowjobs?” She just smiled. “I thought not. The truth is most women don’t mind not being fucked every day. So, if I like my job and like doing it and I like the sex, where’s the harm in my spending my time the way I want?”

“Alright … alright … damn … I wish I could clone you.”

The next day, Sara came bouncing over to my desk. She was wearing her heel, thigh highs, AND a shelf bra. She came up behind me and hugged me. “Pam wouldn’t say why the change was made but I just know it was you.” I tried playing dumb but I didn’t know if I pulled it off. Of course, I was feeling pretty good, too. My first day wearing clothes …. well, heels and stockings, anyway.


A couple months later and I was settled into not being the ‘new gal’ and a fully contributing member of the team.

It was a late night. Not that I had any idea how late. I was too curious about what I was working on. I remembered finding a stale pastry and apple in the break room that I call dinner. Then, I nearly jumped out of my chair.

“Why are you here alone?”

“Jeez …” I tuned in my chair, then stood up quickly. “Oh, sir, you startled me.” It was Mr. Cornell, the CEO. “I … I, ah … I can’t really answer that, sir.”

He looked at me puzzled, then, “Okay.” His face turned into a smile. “Then, let me rephrase, why are you here so late?”

“Oh … sorry, sir … yes … I was intending to spend just a little time because I thought I could finish up this assignment but I found something that didn’t look right and I started digging and … is it really that late already, sir?”

He dropped his suit jacket and briefcase on Mary’s chair and turned back to me. His eyes traveled down my body and back up. He stuck out his hand, “Curiously, I don’t think we’ve been introduced. Joe Cornell.”

I shyly smiled. “Yes, sir. I know who you are. I’m Abby Thomas.”

“Ahhhh … yes, of course. I should have guess. I’ve heard a lot about you, young lady.”

“Ummm … good things I hope, sir.” He laughed.

Then he loosened his tie and turned to my desk. “Tell me about this ‘something didn’t look right’ thing you were working on. What project are you working on?”

“Sir?” He wanted project details about my issue?

“Young lady, I started this company with a total team no bigger than a quarter of this office. I might be stuck in that big office now but I still remember the thrill of pursuing an analysis.”

I blushed. I sat in my chair and turned the monitor so he could see it better over my shoulder and spread out paperwork as I started. “Well, sir, this is the Mountain West project. Sara assigned me to assist Steve Patula who developed the project with input from Sales, Marketing, and Operations. He broke off this part, the internal guts of the proposal, to me to be melded in with his work.” I broke down the information I was given, what I developed and expanded on myself and why I felt something was off. I explained that to appease myself, I went over to Steve’s desk (I walked him over to it) and spread out the more indepth paperwork he had in his file. He asked surprisingly good questions, but it was his company, as I led him back along the trail of information.

“Wait a minute. Go back to Operations … there … that’s not right. They can’t do that. That rate of production isn’t possible in that area.”

I smile and looked at him, “Exactly, sir. That’s why it looked off to me. This was being based on a false rate of production. I checked a previous project I worked on to verify my premise. It’s not exactly the same production but it’s the same plant and tooling. These numbers are somehow off.”

“You’re not going to be able to finish tonight, are you Abby?”

“No, sir. That was where I was when you surprised me. We need Operations to review that information.”

He nodded and we walked back to my desk. He picked up his jacket and case. “Why are you here so late, sir?”

“Late flight. Thought I’d stop here on the way home. My wife is already asleep, I’m sure. I could download some thoughts while I was still cranked up from the day.” He turned with a nice smile. “Thank you, Abby. That brought back satisfying memories of working late to work out problems. I’d forgotten how much I enjoyed that.”

I watched his eyes travel over my messy desk. “You must have done a really good job of solving problems back then, sir. You’ve got a company now that is widely respected and I very much enjoy working for.”

He seemed to tear his eyes from the past. “Do you drink, dear?” I smiled and he led me through the desks to his dark corner office.

His office was huge. On one side was a huge desk with comfortable visitor chairs in front, a large chair behind and credenza behind that. On the other side was a couch, coffee table and two comfortable chairs. He offered me the couch as he place his case and jacket on his desk and went to one of the doors in the credenza, took out two glasses and held up a bottle of Gentleman Jack bourbon. I nodded.

He handed me one of the glasses and settled himself into one of the chairs across from me. We sipped at the same time. Definitely a better bourbon than I afford myself, I thought. Then, I flushed. And, it wasn’t the whiskey. For the past five months I have spent my days naked or essentially so among a group of people, all the men being dressed. Sitting across from him, legs crossed, an arm crossed over my body under my breasts, I am feeling exposed as if it were the first time. Was it the man or merely a new man? It was then that I realized he was studying me. Before, explaining the problem, his questions, and our back and forth, it had been comfortable. Now … there was something different, something intense, something … what? … something about him?

“Should I apologize, Abby?” His question pulled me back to the moment but I was confused by the question. “That after five months this is how we meet. Late at night by chance?” I shrugged and offered that he was a busy man. “Not that busy. Truth is … all of this,” he waved out beyond his office, “… all this is a bit of a quandary for me. It’s my idea, one I enjoy. But, I am aware of my position, the effect being with me could have on others. The power of employment or not for one. A long time ago I made the decision to not participate in the activities of the office below a certain level.”

He was silent and seeming to be waiting for something. I venture ahead with my thought. “Sir, I don’t think you are wrong. It would be imposing for someone like me to be called to your office for …,” I blushed without finishing. “The idea about all this remains that we maintain control and freedom with what happens and some could feel the loss of that to you or others of senior management.” I judged his reaction, then continued, “I do think, however, that you could be more socially available without the … the ahhhh … you know … the sex.”

He smiled. He stood, took my glass and refilled them. “Abby, I’ve heard things about you … good things, I assure you.” I blushed, again. “I’ve heard you are very specific and literal. I’ve seen that tonight. I’ve heard you are very analytical and precise. I’ve seen that tonight, too. I’ve also heard in delightful ways that you can also be very direct. That is what I would like right now.” He took a large gulp of the amber liquid as if he was seeking some liquid courage. “I don’t think I am a very good manager, Abby. In fact, I am sure I am not. I am great at working a company, organizing it, improving it, putting the right resources where they are needed. The people aspects …” he shrugged, “not so much. I have found great people to help me with that but … you are right. Of course you are. So, how should I do that?”

For the next hour, we talked. Maybe part of my talking was the bourbon. But he was easy for me to talk to. He was real. He had opened himself to me and I doubted that had happened often before. People with insecurities don’t reveal them easily. Something happened during the night that the youngest office member and the CEO of the entire corporation connected.

“You make it sound so simple.”

I shook my head. “No, its not. Personalities are so different.”

We paused. Nothing was said for minutes. Then, “You said I was right about not approaching …” He was glancing at my breasts. I knew what he was seeing because I could feel what was happening. My nipples were hard, my heart beat had increased, and I was subtly (I hoped) squeezing my thighs together. He started to speak but I stopped him by standing, bending over to put my glass on the coffee table, purposely, I think, to cause my breasts to sag and swing before him.

“I would very much like to, sir.” I stepped around the small table and pushed it to give myself more room. I knelt before him, reached for his belt, and looked up at him. “Very much, sir.” He nodded kind of numbly.

I unfastened his belt, then his slacks and zipper, pulled them down his hips far enough to reach into his underwear for his cock. Oh my God. It was a thought, thankfully it didn’t come out verbally. I held it in my hand and glanced up at him. He was watching me, perhaps a little concern showing. Was this also a reason for his not being more aggressive with women he didn’t know? Who didn’t know him? His cock was large. Even soft my hand only covered half of it. When I experienced Brad on that first day, I thought he was big. At eight inches, he was big in my experience, then. But this … this cock was almost that big and it wasn’t hard. Does that mean it will be 10 or 11 inches? I realized I was just staring at it and I could get that answer easy enough with a little effort.

As I held it in my left hand, I could feel it begin to stir at my touch. I held it up and licked the base and up to the head. I licked down one side and back up the other, coating the surface with saliva. I licked up and down several times before taking the head between my lips, swirling my tongue around it and sucking it. As I did, I looked up into his face. His mouth was slightly open and I saw more than heard the gasps and intake of breath.

I stroked his cock as I sucked the head, twirling my tongue around it, and pumping my mouth over it for a few inches. Soon I was pressing my mouth further and further down over it curious how much I might be able to take. I pulled my mouth off his cock and gasped joyously, stroking the saliva from my mouth down over the hardening shaft. I looked up at him with wonder in my eyes. I didn’t say anything but I was sure my face said plenty. With his cock hard, I gazed at it, then held my forearm up to it and gasped. It was just an inch shy of that. I would later measure and find my forearm was 11 inches.

I went back to sucking his cock and stroking it with wild intention. Then, I stopped. I looked up at him and sucked up my courage. “Sir … may I fuck you?”

“Are you sure?” I nodded.

He started to rise but I put my hand on his chest and kept him in the chair. Instead, I knelt on the chair with my knees along his legs. He slouched a bit in the chair and I wiggled closer to him until my knees were past his hips. I reached for his hard cock, raised my hips high enough to be over his upraised shaft, then settled down until I felt his cock pressing against my pussy. I moved his cock slightly until it settled in my hole and I sucked in a breath as I lowered over the head. I gasped as it stretched my opening and entered. I stayed where I was for a moment, savoring the delicious feeling of my pussy being stretched and filled, even if just a few inches of it. I rose an inches and pressed back down several inches, then up an inch and down much more until my ass smacked on his thigh. I was moaning at the feeling of my cervix being bumped on the down stroke, then gasp as I slowly pulled up and up so only the head was inside, then plunge back down, jamming his cock against my cervix, again. The feeling was amazing, like nothing I had experienced in anything before or since coming to work here. Of all the fuckings, day after day, nothing had been like this. Even Brad’s large cock hadn’t done this to me. Anal. Anal had the sense of stretching, of penetration, of amazing fullness. This, though … my God.

My eyes were closed in euphoric wonder of the experience but opened at the sharp, piercing feeling of my nipples being pinched and pulled. Sound … words … cries … moans … groans … they all tumbled from my mouth as I bounced on his cock, my breasts flopping when not being abused my his hands and fingers. I came and came. I cried out loudly. I fell forward against him but continued bouncing on his cock as I one orgasmic wave after another washed over me.

Gasping and panting, his cock so deep inside me, I spoke into his ear, “You didn’t cum, sir. What’s your favorite? What can I do?”

I sat back to look into his eyes and his cock moved a couple inches and my pussy spasmed in reaction around it. I’d give him anything at this moment.

He said, “I was almost there when I got distracted by the magnificence of your orgasm. It was beautiful to see, my dear.” He shifted forward. “Stay with me.”

He shifted to the edge of the chair, leaned forward and eased himself to a standing position. I was impressed. I hung onto him with arms and legs and I gasped as he walked the short distance to his desk, each step sending a jolt into me as his cock hit inside. He eased me down onto the desktop, pulled my ass to the edge, and I lay back. When I hit the desktop with my back, my breasts shook and he smiled.

“I love your big breasts. I’m something of a breast man.” I heard that, I thought to myself. He grabbed my ankles and lifted them up to place them on his shoulders. “Now I can move properly. This time I do the fucking.” I smiled up at him. Oh, God, yes, fuck me with that wonderful cock.

He pressed the last few inches that remained outside me, then slowly, inch by inch pulled back almost all the way out. Then he slammed back into me. I cried out. Whatever the difference was, it felt like his cock drove all the air out of my body and escaped in that cry. Again, he did it. Slowly, agonizingly, he pulled back and plowed back in. Each time after the pulling back was a little less slow but each time into me was equally hard and deep. One of my hands found its way to a breast which I began mauling. The other was wrapped in my hair, half pulling and half combing through. I was raising my hips to his thrusts. I was gasping and panting as another orgasm crested within me from the assault.

I heard him grunt and his body shudder. I felt his cock inside me swell even more and pulse and I became aware of his eminent climax. He was pumping fiercely while grunting and groaning but his were lost in a mix of our sounds filling the office. I him thrust forcefully and deep into me and hold us tight. I felt his cock jerk and spew, his cum filling whatever voids impossibly existing with that cock buried in me. And, his climax, his spasms, his spurt after spurt of cum sent me over the edge for my second orgasm. My mouthed gapped but there was no breathing. My body quaked and shivered and my pussy spasmed around the cock and washed it with my warm juices.

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