Overtime

There are times when my body rebels against me and gives me away. Today was one of those days.

It hadn’t even hit midday and we were both slammed to the gills with work, a foul mood hanging in the air like a cloud in the office we shared. He sighed and twisted his hair as he looked at his computer screen, his usual antics while under pressure. I sat taut, eyes ahead, too many tasks at hand. There was no friendly banter between the two of us today; it was all business, or so I thought.

A department meeting was called at 3pm, and by that time, I was frazzled. Unable to eat lunch and my caffeine buzz expiring, I had let the grump set in. I sat in the meeting, words flying by my head as my burned brain tried to net each concept. No such luck. I was entirely spent, and judging by the tone of my boss, so was he. His charming exterior had long gone; he was to the point, terse with his instructions to each one of us. I kept my head low and nodded. After the meeting and when we were alone in our office, he addressed me directly. I noticed immediately that his voice had softened somewhat.

“I’m sorry if I’ve been out of sorts today. I had a fight with the wife last night, and all of this extra work we have isn’t helping. You’ve been a great help these last few days, and your work is outstanding, as always.”

“Thank you,” I answered, and quickly resumed with my work. I could feel him staring at me as I hurried through the paperwork bundled in my hands, and when I finally looked up, our eyes met. He smiled, more to himself than to me, turned and tended to his own work.

The next time I looked at the clock it was past 6pm, and we were the only ones left in the office. He finally looked up from his monitor.

“You should go, it’s past 6pm.” He looked ready to go home himself.

“But I have all of this work to still do,” I exclaimed, pointing to the various piles of paperwork on my desk. My glass of wine could wait, I thought to myself.

He stood up, walked past my desk, and locked the door to our office. The moment the lock clicked shut a chill immediately ran up my spine, adrenalin shooting through my belly. The hair on the back of my neck stood up as he walked behind me and gently placed each of his hands on my shoulders.

“You should go, Adrienne.” His voice was just above a whisper. It took me a few seconds to muster up the courage for a response, the scent of his cologne lingering in my nostrils, my senses already in overdrive. His hands were massaging each shoulder, and I could feel the tension immediately leaving my body under his touch.

“But I want to stay.” My voice was husky and already dripping with desire. His lightest touch had flipped the switch in me, my cunt aching with the attention he was giving. I swiveled around in my chair until I was staring at his pant fly, his erection poking through the thin material, his pre-cum already staining his trousers. I unfastened his belt, my eyes gleaming, the leather snaking through each loop to freedom. My hands found the zipper, and with the ease of a pro, I freed his bulging cock and took him straight into my waiting mouth. He moaned instantly and grabbed fistfuls of my hair as he rocked back and forth, back and forth, his hard smooth cock filling me. He continued to fuck my mouth, his gasps punctuating the air along with his thrusts. There was a moment when I was jolted with reality; I was about to fuck my boss. The notion sent a ripple of pleasure throughout my entirety as he continued to pump in between my wet lips, his head thrown back in bliss, his moans bouncing around our office. I stopped him suddenly as reality returned for a second bout, but only this time, I felt the threads of guilt and hesitation.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” I heard myself say. He had a wife and kids, after all.

“The fuck we shouldn’t!” He exclaimed, and with a sweeping move, cleared the top of his mahogany desk, papers flying everywhere. He lifted me out of my chair, his hands grabbing me roughly, directing me to the desk. He then bent me over the surface of the desk, my hands in front of me, his legs in between mine, prying them apart. I was pinned by his body behind me, his erection pressing into my arse. He reached up my skirt and found my damp thong, wrenching it away from my cunt and down my legs swiftly. His hands traveled the length of my thighs as he then lifted my skirt, exposing my bare rump, grunting in approval. Suddenly, his hand came crashing down on my right arse cheek, a squeal immediately escaping me, the force of the blow pushing my forward against the desk. The second blow was much harder as his rhythm continued to grow with each stroke. By the sixth smack I was begging him to stop, his hand heavy on my skin, my nails digging into the desk, my eyes teary. He grabbed me by the arm and lifted me up so we were face to face.

“You like it rough, I can tell. Your cunt was glistening with arousal,” he stated, his eyes dark and glossy, never leaving my face. He was right, and the smile playing on my lips gave him what he was looking for. He pulled me towards him and kissed me on the mouth, his tongue meeting mine, both of his hands on my face, then my neck, then to the collar of my blouse. He pulled away from me a second time, paused, and in one swift motion, ripped my blouse in two, the pearl buttons flying through the air, some bouncing across the desk. I gasped loudly, shock plastered on my face. He threw his head back, and for the first time today, laughed loudly. He kissed me again, his hands peeling my bra away from each breast, his fingers finding my nipples. He pinched at them lightly as his tongue flickered against mine, my knees almost buckling. I wanted him to fuck me hard. No, I needed it.

“Fuck me now, please, just fuck me now!” I pleaded, my nipples exposed, my cunt quivering. I wanted him inside me. I wanted his thick cock to fill me to the brim until his heavy balls rested hotly against my flesh.

Without hesitation, he grabbed me by the waist and bent me over the desk once again, my bullet-hard nipples pressed against the cool wood, my bare arse propped up in the air invitingly, his handprints still blooming on my right cheek. In one fluid stroke he entered all of me, parting me with his searing flesh. We moaned in unison as he started to fuck me in earnest, his thick cock immediately sodden with my arousal, embedded within me. I propped myself up on two hands as he reached around to cup each breast. I instantly pushed back against him, pushing him further into me.

“God, you are glorious.” His hands ran through my hair and settled on my neck as we continued to fuck, his grip tightening with every movement. My panting only fueled him on, his length driving into me, my orgasm threatening to break through my taut body. With one hand remaining on my neck, his other reached below to my pussy, his fingers feathering my clitoris. An experienced lover, he strummed my body like an instrument, my climax inching closer and closer to the surface with every stroke.

“Oh God, I’m going to come!” I had lost all self-control.

“And I’m going to come deep, deep inside you, whore!” He held my chin up, kissing me on my neck, biting me on my shoulders as we continued to fuck furiously. I grabbed on to the edge of the desk so I could offer all of myself to him, my cunt wide open, filled, his balls slapping against my skin, his fingers still stroking my clitoris. It was then that the waves of pleasure washed over me, my cries and whimpering sending him over the edge. I felt him twitch, felt him pulse, and then felt him spurt his hot seed deeply inside me as we climaxed together. My cunt clenched down around him, milking him as he continued to shudder within me, our bodies slowly coming to a halt. After a few moments he withdrew from me, promptly zipping up his pants. I turned to face him and found him smiling.

“I don’t really know where that came from,” he stated, looking coy. I laughed.

“I do, and now I know what to expect the next time you’re overworked,” I cooed. “And luckily enough, I have some clothes in my car to remedy this,” I said, as I pointed to my torn blouse. We both laughed as he grabbed my hand, drawing me closer to him.

“Oh, I’m not nearly done with you yet. Fancy some overtime?” His cheeky wink and boyish grin sealed the deal.

9 Responses to “Overtime”

  1. Mmmmm, very nice. Makes those long hours almost desireable, doesn’t it? :-)

    XO

  2. Great recount of this special time. I love the detail you express in the feelings, “my bullet-hard nipples pressed against the cool wood,” the way you want him inside you, very well done. Just discovering your blog and it looks like I have a lot to catch up on!

    • Robert, welcome. Thanks for your comment. I do love the details, for I think that’s essentially the flesh of the situation. Enjoy your time perusing through the archives, and as always, feel free to comment!

  3. Awesome story wish it was me in there

  4. I followed your link from Lit. I liked both of your stories and pics #1 & #4 are my favorites. I will be back. Thank you.

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