Fucking Around at Work: A Midweek Orgy for the Cock-Craving

BustyWorld

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The hum of the office computer was a dull counterpoint to the frantic rhythm of her heart, a secret rebellion in the middle of the mundane week. Her fingers, trembling with a desperate energy, traced slow, deliberate circles low on her stomach, a silent prelude to the storm she was summoning. When the door finally opened, she was a vision of surrendered composure, her body arched back in the leather chair, a silent invitation written in the curve of her spine and the parting of her lips. John’s gaze was a physical touch, hot and heavy, as he moved toward her, his own breath catching at the raw need in her eyes. Their first collision was a release of pent-up tension, a wordless, breathless dance of tangled limbs and shared, gasping sighs. His temporary absence left a void quickly filled by Brad’s arrival, his hands finding her hips as she moved with a new, desperate hunger. John’s return brought not jealousy, but a deeper, more complex joining, a synchronized rhythm that made her feel utterly claimed and beautifully lost. The air thickened with the scent of their skin and the soft, pleading sounds she could no longer contain, a symphony of pure, unthinking sensation. Every touch, every shared glance, was a thread weaving them into a single, trembling entity, chasing a precipice they could all feel approaching. The final, shattering release left them breathless and still, the quiet of the room returning to hold them in its tender, exhausted embrace.