Okay, so picture this: I’m at my desk, sipping crappy office coffee that smells like burnt rubber, when Jake from accounting leans over the cubicle wall. « Hey, Sarah, you hear about the poll? » His grin’s all sleazy, eyes dipping to my ass as I stand to grab files. I’m 27, tight pencil skirt hugging my … Lire la suite
It was just after six, two weeks till Christmas, and the office was a ghost town. I’d co-founded this place with Thierry nine years ago—back when we were young, ambitious, and yeah, already eyeing each other like prey. Now at 28, with the holiday lights twinkling outside the windows, I was wrapping up reports in … Lire la suite
Oh man, I finally dit fuck it to that lacy prison between my legs this morning. First time ever going to work without panties. The cool air hit my bare pussy as I walked from the car to the office, and… god, it was electric. Every step, that slight breeze teasing my lips, making them … Lire la suite
I swear, my heart was pounding when Aristide Lamprois brushed past those morning hellos, nodded at me—his secretary—with that polite smile, and slipped into his office. Door clicked shut. I lingered by my desk, smoothing my skirt, feeling that familiar heat building between my thighs. We’d been dancing around this for weeks—stolen glances, his hand … Lire la suite
His thick cock slammed into me from behind, the hotel bed creaking under us, wet slaps echoing off the walls. Sweat dripped down my back, his hands gripping my hips so tight I could feel the bruises forming already. « Fuck, Corinne, you’re so tight, » he groaned, breath hot on my neck, that musky cologne mixing … Lire la suite
Okay, girls, gather ’round the coffee machine. It’s that time of the week—pause café, no bosses around. Sarah’s smirking, Lisa’s got that glow, and me? I’m still sore from last night. We’re the single squad in this mid-sized firm, no rings, no drama, just spilling tea on our wild fucks. « Spill it, Emma, » Sarah says, … Lire la suite
Oh man, I still can’t believe what went down yesterday. I’m sitting here, heart racing just thinking about it. I’m 27, single, and my apartment’s fuse box has been acting up for weeks. Finally called this electrician service—some guy named Jake shows up, mid-30s, built like a brick wall, sweaty from the summer heat, toolbox … Lire la suite
I pull up to this cozy cabin in the woods, snow crunching under my tires. It’s my last sales call of the season—I’m a rep for these killer sex toys, the kind that make you forget your name. The guy’s name is Nick, owns a toy shop, but not kid stuff. Naughty toys. Barbe blanche, … Lire la suite
I still can’t believe how it all escalated after that stupid institutional gala. I’m Marie-Laure, 28, the director of this stuffy government office. Suited up, power heels, the works. And there he was—Pierre, the maintenance guy. Rough hands, faded work shirt clinging to his broad chest, that smirk like he knew exactly what I needed. … Lire la suite
I swear, I’ve been replaying this in my head all week. It was last Tuesday, right in the middle of my shift at the office. I’m Elodie, 27, single, and yeah, I get these wild urges sometimes. The AC unit crapped out—hot as hell in there, sweat trickling down my back under my tight blouse. … Lire la suite