You step into his office after hours, the door clicking shut behind you. He’s already leaning against the desk, tie loosened, eyes locked on your body like he’s been waiting all day to ruin you. “Lock it,” he growls. You do. The second the bolt slides home he’s on you, hands yanking your shirt open so buttons scatter across the floor. “Been thinking about this tight cunt all fucking day.”
He spins you around and bends you over the desk. Papers crumple under your tits as he shoves your skirt up and rips your panties down to your knees. Two thick fingers push straight into your pussy without warning. You’re already soaked and he laughs low. “Knew you’d be dripping for it. Such a dirty little slut, walking around the office like you don’t want my cock splitting you open.”
He finger-fucks you hard, knuckles slapping your clit with every thrust until your thighs shake. Then he pulls them out and you hear his belt, the zip, the heavy sound of his cock slapping against your ass. He doesn’t tease. He lines up and drives in to the hilt in one brutal stroke. You cry out, the stretch burning so good it makes your eyes water. He doesn’t give you time to adjust. He just starts pounding, hips snapping, balls slapping your clit with every thrust.
“Fuck, this pussy’s gripping me like it never wants to let go,” he snarls, one hand fisting your hair, the other gripping your hip hard enough to bruise. “Take it. Take every inch like the cock-hungry whore you are.” He fucks you deep and mean, the desk scraping across the floor with each savage thrust. Your moans turn into broken sobs of pleasure. Every time he bottoms out you feel him in your guts.
He reaches around and rubs your clit in fast circles. “Come on my dick. Now.” Your orgasm slams into you so hard your legs buckle. He doesn’t stop. He keeps fucking you through it, using your spasming cunt until you’re whimpering. Only then does he pull out, spin you around, and shove you to your knees.
“Open.” You do. He feeds his cock into your mouth, still slick with your cum, and fucks your throat like he owns it. Spit runs down your chin onto your tits. He groans, hips jerking. “That’s it. Choke on it. Good girl.” When he’s close he yanks you up, bends you back over the desk, and slams back inside. This time he’s chasing his own finish. His thrusts turn short and vicious. “Gonna fill this pussy up. Gonna make you walk out of here leaking my load.”
He comes with a guttural moan, cock pulsing deep as he pumps rope after rope of hot cum into you. He stays buried, grinding slow while he catches his breath. Then he pulls out and watches his cum drip down your thighs. Two fingers scoop some up and push it back inside. “Keep that in there. I’m not done with you yet.”
He makes you stay bent over while he pours two glasses of whiskey. You sip yours with his cum still leaking out of you, thighs sticky. Ten minutes later he’s hard again. This time he sits in his chair and pulls you onto his lap, facing away. You sink down on his cock and he grips your waist, bouncing you on him like a toy. “Ride it. Show me how bad you want another load.”
You fuck yourself on him until your legs burn. He reaches around to slap your clit and pinch your nipples, growling filthy praise the whole time. When you come again he follows right after, flooding you a second time. You collapse back against his chest, both of you panting. He keeps his softening cock inside you, one hand lazily stroking your thigh.
“Tomorrow night you’re coming to my place,” he says against your ear.
“And you’re not wearing panties under that skirt. Understood?” You nod, still trembling. He kisses the side of your neck, almost gentle for a second. “Good girl. Now clean up and get out before I decide to bend you over again.”
You straighten your clothes as best you can, cum still trickling down your leg. At the door you look back. He’s watching you with that same hungry stare. “Tomorrow,” he reminds you. You nod once more and step into the hallway, already counting the hours until he uses you again.
