That ArmyDude is a bit of a wild one.
When most of the building’s occupants had gone for the day, I locked the door to the open plan section of my office. He waited in the darkened spare office to the side.
The lock on the second door clicked behind me and its only key was in my hand. Same place, same time, and no one on this planet was going to interrupt us.
I flew when he pushed me backwards towards the wall — instinct curved my upper spine so my head didn’t hit the rendered concrete. First kiss, oh wow, he has cushiony lips, too; this must be what it’s like kissing me. There’s something indescribably hot about a man who likes to kiss.
My god, how long has it been since I kissed a smoker? First live-in boyfriend? Years, decades? Be quiet brain, focus on the olfactory assault later.
Fingers clamped his buttocks and pulled him closer – any gap between us was too far. He sucked my tongue. Clothes billowed like kites.
I think I got the angry red mark above my eyebrow when he bent me over the two-drawer filing cabinet. The whiteboard ledge came towards me too quickly to stop in time.
He licked me through my underwear and peeled the sheer material aside to insert fingers. My palms are sore from gripping the filing cabinet’s sharp corners. My forehead aches because it might have made contact with the wall once or twice when his tongue pressed my clitoris and anus.
I turned, told him to kiss me and share my taste. We had different sensory experiences: he could taste only me, and I only him. Cigarette smoke must be the only substance more powerful than my pussy juice.
I slid downwards and locked my mouth on his cock. Wanked him, licked his balls, gripped the magnificent slabs of thigh supporting his shaking legs. A large hand pushed the back of my head further down his shaft. I was surrounded by a force field of adrenalin and nothing could hurt me. Thwuck, thwuck sounds as he made me mouth-fuck him. I remembered not to leave obviously human marks like fingernail tracks down his back, but his hamstrings will bear blue-black smudges.
Thank goodness I didn’t remove the condoms from my purse after the last postponement. My back is a roadmap of red criss-crosses from being fucked across the floor on the industrial-grade carpet. His knees will be rouged discs from fucking me across the floor. Nice tattoos on his chest and biceps; I wanted to bite them.
I can’t explain the tender area on my sternum or matching sore spot to the side of my navel. Haven’t a clue about the three small bruises on an inner thigh.
He crouched on all fours and asked me to tongue his backside. Oh god, no exaggeration when he said he liked all manner of anal pleasures. He wanted fingers. Saliva everywhere as makeshift lubricant; one finger, two, asking for three. Now my knees are carpet-burn red.
Kinky bastard backed into me for more. My other hand found his illegally hard cock. Wish I had a third here and he or she could be sucking him off at the same time. I masturbated and fingered him until his legs gave way. Needs some skin left on his knees. He can go home like that because he has Army games this weekend and abrasions are easily explained.
I scalded my hands grasping the hot water tap for an anchor when he bent me over the ensuite basin and drove into me again.
Four fingers possessed by demons replaced his cock — I’ll either split in half or come. The sound of masturbating behind me prompted every cell to explode, almost to the point of black-out. Thanks, body, if I had known that fucking in every different way over a basin and having my vagina shredded would get me off, I’d have done this years ago.
Sweat from above dripped on my back. He looked pale and needed to sit. Hard to support someone 30 kilos heavier when my post-orgasmic, bloodless legs were about to fall off. I helped him hobble to an office chair to rest until his breathing slowed.
I think I broke him.