Want to Have Sex In The Office? Read This!

Being discovered having a office sex

Since we don't get to see each other very often, I occasionally use the chance to drop by and spend the entire 12-hour shift with him when he works nights.

We may hang out there and watch TV next to the kitchen in our office building's living area, which is set up on the third floor because it's wonderful to have some alone time. We'll have the occasional vending machine nibble while I prepare him tea. I'm desperate for time with him, so I'll take what I can get—not it's a fancy restaurant, a night at the theater, or even a drink at the neighborhood Wetherspoon's. But it is time with him.

I show up in a short skirt and low-cut top.

As I wait for him to arrive and open the door, I am bursting with excitement to meet him. We ascend to the third floor and take up our usual stance on the sofa with a cup of tea and some cookies. The offices are vacant as it is around 8 p.m. on a Friday because nobody wants to stay late on a Friday, right?

While we watch TV together, I lie on his chest and breathe in his divine aroma. God, I want to take a bath in him. I get a little turned on thinking about wanking while wearing the shirt he's wearing right now because he might leave it at my house the next time he visits. He gently rubs my ass while running his hand down my back and into my hair before playing with the hem of my skirt. I wriggle a little to avoid being too obvious about my desire to offer him more access to what's below. But when he touches me, I'm like a book open and he can almost immediately feel me flinch.

He grins down at me as I look up at him from his chest, and then he kisses me gently and sensually. I want more, so even that is a tease to me. I want his lips to devour me and mine to be in his mouth, but that's not what he's offering me at the moment. He withdraws his brief but intense kiss and resumes watching TV—or pretending to be watching—in any case. He has his arm over me and I start to move around more. I enjoy being so close to him, in his control, and exclusively his.

I feel loved, at home, safe, and stimulated.

Although I'm sure he sees me looking up at him with my huge blue eyes, he won't look me in the eyes. I move around more, trying to gain his attention, but he continues to ignore me. When I look down at his crotch, I can see he is just as excited as I am because he can't control his cock the way he can his eyes. My cunt is on fire underneath my skirt, begging for his touch and that expanding bulge in his pants. I smirk up at him as I slowly slide my hand over his thigh while reaching for that firm cock that is beginning to rip the fabric of his sharp, black work pants. He gives out a tiny moan as I grasp hold of his thick cock, sags a little bit forward on the couch, and press his cock even more firmly into my hand. I actively rub it because I want it so badly that it hurts just as much as my cunt.

We smirk at one other as he suddenly stares down at me with fire in his eyes. He clutches my wrist while I tighten my grip on his cock, calling me a naughty little bitch.

I bite my lip and smile once again in response to his question, "I didn't say you could touch it, did I?" He returns my smile. That familiar grin indicates his satisfaction with my actions, especially when doing so necessitates punishing me. That smirk signals that things are about to get very steamy.

He gives me a passionate kiss while tightly holding onto my wrist. I adore the way his firm hold on my wrist lets me know who is in command, who has power over this circumstance, and every sexual encounter we have. I adore watching him tighten his hold as I jokingly try to yank my wrist away from him every few seconds. He playfully chews on my lip as I smile into his lips.

After drawing away from our kiss and releasing his grip on my wrist, he shifted back into his seat and undid his belt, button, and fly before pushing his pants down in his seat while fidgeting.

He responds, "Come on then if you're that eager for it."

Before he needs to put any pressure on the back of my head, I begin to bend forward and smirk as he softly rests his palm on my hair. He groans loudly as I put his already extremely erect cock in my mouth.

I give it my all. I like taking long, leisurely sucks that go all the way to the tip. He reaches his palm across my back and tightly squeezes my ass as I lean over even further, fully conscious that my ass is in the air and my skirt is rising above my jeans. I groan while cocking my mouth. He gives me an slap and tells me to "come on," urging me to sit up.

He motions for me to hop on his magnificent cock, which is shimmering with my saliva under the fluorescent office lights, and adds, "Get your trousers off."

I pull my jeans down and stand up in my modest heels while grinning broadly. I flip them to the side on the floor and approach him while licking my lips and admiring his genitalia.

He motions for me to turn around, so I do. Excitedly.

Although it's not our natural stance, I enjoy a little bit of backward cowgirl. I maintain a close leg position as I descend my dripping cunt onto his muscular cock. His cock is plastered in my saliva, and my cunt is covered in my own secretions as it goes in quickly. The fullness is great, and this position hits me in all the right places, so I groan loudly as I recline on his cock. He grabs my hips and directs my movements as I rise and fall on top of him. I happily and willingly lean back into him as he urges me to stroke my clit while enjoying both his cock and my own fingers.

This is some of the best sex we've ever had, I think to myself. Wow! I enjoy the sensation of his firm hands on my hips, the fact that we are both still largely clothed, and the fact that we become so clingy to one another.

I have my eyes closed and only think about how good it feels to have him inside of me...

I don't think that's really suitable, do you?

We both shiver. Neither of us made that statement. A woman's voice may be heard behind both of us. I am immobile while I sit on his butt. I don't want to see who it is, therefore I won't glance behind us. Right now, I want the ground to engulf us both.

My sexual partner's voice can be heard.

It's not, he responds. He taps me on the hip to signal that I should stand up after I feel him check behind us. I scan the area. I don't know who she is, but she has a hard and serious expression, is well dressed, and appears to be a senior member of whatever profession she holds. I have no idea who she is, and I pray to God that she is unaware of who I am.

I gently get to my feet as I feel his still slimy, hard cock leave my cunt, which is still yearning. I approach slowly toward my jeans and try to pick them up without her noticing since I feel so filthy as it exits my body. My head is lowered and my hair is covering my face.

But she's already gone when I look up.

Did that just occur, or what?

More so than it did during our short fuck, adrenaline is now pumping through me. What the hell do we do now? Will I get fired from my job? Will he get fired? How many of the folks I work with will learn about this?

He descends to his office while I use the restroom to tidy up and put my pants back on. I feel as though I ought to be sobbing or yelling or doing something, but I'm nothing. I'm so anxious that I want to laugh out loud!

That isn't really acceptable, is it? a voice in my head repeats. Wow, what a statement! It almost makes sense. To say anything like that, you'd need a sense of humor, wouldn't you? If I had discovered someone in that circumstance, what would I say?

How long had she been standing there, my God? Did she spend some time observing us? Did she stare at what she was witnessing in a state of disbelief? Thank God we were dressed completely! On that sofa, I've been exposed before! My, how much worse things could have been!

I spend a considerable amount of time in the restroom, unsure what to do and wishing I had gone downstairs with my boyfriend because what if I leave and she is still outside? What happens if I run into her on my own?

Fortunately, I missed her and went back downstairs to see my partner. We sat there in silence wondering what would happen next. I was thinking about how foolish he was to not examine the floor and the building before we did things like that. He advised me to go, but I didn't want to because I couldn't handle being by myself at this time. I stayed, and when the person who had seen us came to the door of the building to sign out, I crouched in a corner and tried to listen in on their conversation but was unable to make out anything.

He informed me that she had consented not to report us when he returned to the room. That was a little silly, wasn't it? she said, laughing a little. It was, he acknowledged, apologized, and thanked her. He admitted to her that he was more concerned with me than with himself.

Throughout the ensuing weeks, we were able to laugh about it, but every time I was called in for a meeting with my manager, I had a sneaking suspicion that he would reveal that he had spoken to the woman.

Fortunately, nothing ever came of it, and a year later, I left. Even today, I still wouldn't be able to describe her appearance. It's as if my mind has erased her from my recollection since I couldn't tell you what her hair, eyes, skin tone, or height are. I've seen her twice since—she was working the polls in my neighborhood when I went to vote—but I still couldn't describe her appearance to you. It was only after my girlfriend informed me that I even realized it was her.

Needless to say, following that evening we restricted office to play and frequently reflect on how fortunate we are that she was willing to preserve our dirty little secret.

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