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Behind you, your favorite pain-in-the-ass colleague is standing by the printer, waiting for her copies.

Annoyed and wishing that the shared office printer wasn’t located in your corner, you pull your cellphone out and type under the desk. “She’s literally been here for like ten minutes!”

“It’s okay! Relax. Just let me know when she’s gone,” I reply.

You roll your eyes, turn around, and look at your co-worker who is finally collecting her printouts. You give her a fake smile and turn away. *Dumb bitch,* you think to yourself as she walks past your desk to the other side of the wall.

“She’s done. You can come over.” Your nails click against your phone screen. *About time.*

“Be there in a minute,” I reply.

You place your phone down, check your shirt, and straighten up in preparation for my arrival. You wore my favorite pink top today, and you want to make sure that it sits just right on your chest.

From beyond the wall, clicking and typing can be heard. Some people are on phone calls; others are probably pretending to work. Not that it’s any of your company. What matters to you is that all of those sounds combine to form auditory cover.

Feeling restless, you check the time on your computer screen, wondering when I am gonna come around the corner. You at all times get this feeling when you know I’m stopping by. And no matter how hard you try, there is not much you can do about it.

Your jitters heighten as familiar footsteps reverberate against the walls. Loud steps that take their time. You know who those belong to, and it makes your legs tap with nervous excitement. I stride around the corner and bring myself to your desk. “How are you?” I grin.

“Good! How are you?”

“Great, thanks for asking.” I start to unzip my pants. “Hey, so, can I have you pull up a report?” I ask while undoing my pant button. “I need you to make some sense of something for me.” My pants drop to the floor.

“Of course!” You turn to your computer, type your password, and double-click the first spreadsheet that you can discover. But your hand is pulled away from your mouse and guided to my boxer briefs. Your fingers cup my crotch, feeling my cock protrude through the cloth.

“See, that right there. What’s that?” I ask, pointing to a blank cell on the screen. As I ask the question, my erection grows in your hand.

“I’m not sure.” You turn from the computer, look up at me, and bite your lip while your fingers play with my cock. “Do you want me to find out for you?” You tug at the lining of my underwear.

“Yes, that would be *great*.”

You pull the waistband from my stomach and lift it over my erect penis. You guide my underwear down so that it snaps to my thighs. Then, your attention turns to my cock, which is pointing directly at you. “How about I take a look at that for you then?” you say. And with your eyes locked on mine, you wrap your lips around my shaft.

A gentle moan escapes me as your head bobs in and out. But I pull myself together enough to form a reply. “Mmph. That’s perfect.”

You pull your head back, ejecting my cock from your lips. Your fingers wrap around my shaft. And you start stroking, trying to procure a reaction from my concentrated face. “Let’s take a look then,” you say, without making a move to do anything of the sort.

I reach for your shoulder and dig my nails into your skin. You can see that my mind is preoccupied, so you fill the conversational void. “Is now good for you? Or do you want to take a look at this another time?”

“Ahhh.” I gulp, bringing a temporary stop to the groan. “N-no. Now’s—ahhh—good.”

“Perfect!” Your stroking tempo increases as you closely watch my face. “I just want to make sure that works for you.”

“Fuckkk. It does,” I say in a hushed voice. My focus is clearly slipping.

With your free hand, you shake your mouse to prevent your computer from falling asleep. “So, what is it that you wanted to look at?” you ask. “Was there some sort of inconsistency?”

Pleasant groans fall to your ears as I try to point at the screen. “See, this j-just isn’t—uhhh—uhhh—a-adding uuuh-p.”

Your stroking accelerates, focusing on the edge of my cock. Watching me struggle like this is a unique position to be in, and you’re keen to milk it for all it’s worth. “I’m sorry. What was that?” you ask. “I didn’t quite get that.”

But my hand takes hold of your chest, tightening around one of your boobs. “Mmmph,” you whimper as I clench through your top.

You counter by spitting on my shaft and churning your hands together, which causes my grip on your chest to strengthen. My eyes roll back and my thighs shake. Your hands spiral up and down my rock hard dick. My jaw hangs wide open. I hold onto your chest like a clawed beast. My eyes shut and my face strains. “Fuckkk. Fuckkk. I’m gonna cummm.”

Immediately upon hearing the words, you wrap your lips around my dick. My hand releases your chest and I sink both of my claws into your shoulders. Up and down, you bob your head, following behind with one of your hands. “Just like that! Just like that! Uhhh. Uhhh. Fuckkk.” I groan as my tip erupts in your mouth. Juices shoot to the back of your throat. The salty taste of my cum covers your tongue. You bring your lips to the end of my cock and stroke, draining all the juice from my cock. “Fuckkk.” I shake against your thighs. And my grip releases, now running down your arms.

Feeling confident that you’ve claimed the last bit of my cum, you look up and open your mouth. “Oh my god,” I groan as you swallow. One of my hands cups the side of your face. I lean down. Your neck bends back. You look into my eyes. And suddenly, our lips are tied together. Red pulsations fill the darkness. Saliva and remnants of my cum spread between us, some of which drips to our clothes. Weakened moans travel from my mouth to yours, then back again, until at some point it is remembered that we are still in the office.

I smile down at you with a look of joy that one would not typically see in the workplace. I pull up my underwear and retrieve my pants from the floor. *No belt,* you think as I pop my pant-button in place; for some reason, you discover the wondered humorous.

Remembering that we had some kind of conversation going, you ask, “Did that clear things up for you?”

“You know.” I laugh. “That actually did. Thank you *so much* for explaining that.” I chuckle before giving you a parting kiss.

NSFW: yes

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