Sometimes I’m just horny. I can think of nothing all day but sex. Everything about sex. I find my mind wandering whilst I type at work. I can see my colleagues getting fucked. Imagining their sex faces. Picture bending them over three desk and pulling their hair back. Ripping open their blouses and sucking their tits. Pushing them up against the photo copier as I unbuttoned their flies. Spreadeagling them over this week’s reports. Fucking them against the overhead screen…
I can still taste the last girl I licked out, sweet and thick on my tastebuds, smell her gentle musky pussy scent from orgasm before, feel the way her cum dribbled down my chin as i sucked on her swollen clit, hear the way she groaned and shouted pulling my hair begginger for more. See the look of shock and exhilaration as she squirted for thr fiest time, over my face and through the sheets, the sound of my fingers pounding her g spot and the wet happy pussy ring…
I can feel my last fuck every time I sit down, delicately. The way his cock pounded my g spot as cum ran down his shaft and balls, the aching of my muscles as I was left tied with my ankles and wrists to the headboard, I can hear my screams and the creaking, breaking springs. I can taste his cum in my throat, feel it ache from him fucking my face unrelentingly, my eyes watering and that tight chested feeling as his hands and cock choked me tighter. I can feel his fingers in my arse, the butt plug stretching me as he grinned at my degradation… the overwhelming heat as I was cumming, my tits bouncing, my nipples aching from being sucked.
I can feel it all. Sat here at my desk. With one hand on my mouse pad, talking to you through my headset. Knicker less and waiting. As you talk statistics and sales. As I stare at my screen and the reflection of the blondes chest in the monitor. As my hand touches my wet pussy through my tights. Glances my already swollen clit. Begs me to play with her. Aches for a thrashing. As I end the call and walk to the bathroom. Staying hi to my colleagues downstairs, wishing I was going down on her as I shut the cubicle. Slowly hitching up my skirt, bending myself over, one knee on the rim. My fingers stroking my rim. Sliding round my arse to my clit. Fucking her. Hard. Unrelentingly, flicking her side to side as my piercing nestles against my nails. Gasping in as I hold my breath to cum. My legs shaking. Hearing girls talk shopping and useless boyfriends outside. Leaning my head on the wall as I lower my tights, two fingers inside me, two on my clit. My ankles shaving stood on my heels. My face hard against the cold tiles. Fucking myself harder and harder. Curling my fingers up to my spot until I start to squirt. Mouth open. Unable to breath for screaming. Pussy juice spraying the floor, the toilet seat. Running down my legs and soaking my tights. My shirt stuck to my chest.
Regaining control and walking back. Fluffing my hairhair in the mirror, smearing my lipstick with my fingertip… To call you back about those figures you were querying, as cum soaks into my skirt, my nipples standard hard and throbbing and the guy across the office notices I’m not wearing a bra, with a smile.