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
I swear, workdays drag on forever, but today? Today was different. I’m sitting at my desk, fingers flying over the keyboard, when François leans over from his cubicle next door. He’s got that smirk, you know? The one that says he’s up to no good. « Hey, need a break? » he whispers, his breath hot against … Lire la suite
Oh man, I still can’t believe what happened at work today. I’m Sophie, 27, and yeah, I’m that girl who loves pushing boundaries, feeling every raw thrill. Picture this: late afternoon, office half-empty, I’m grabbing extra supplies from the storage room in the back. Door clicks shut behind me. Locked. No key inside. Panic hits, … Lire la suite
I was on my knees in the kitchen, the leaky faucet still dripping like a tease behind us, but who cared? This plumber guy’s rough hands gripped my hips, pulling me back onto his thick cock with every thrust. God, it was so fucking real, still fresh in my mind. I’m Olga, 27, and yeah, … Lire la suite
I still can’t believe I did it. Me, Lea, 27, desperate for this marketing job at this sleek downtown agency. The interview was at 4 PM, and I showed up in my tight black pencil skirt, sheer blouse hugging my C-cups just right, heels clicking on the marble floor. Heart pounding, palms sweaty. The receptionist … Lire la suite
Okay, so… picture this. It’s Friday at the office, everyone’s dragging ass after a long week. I’m at my desk, sipping crappy coffee that smells like burnt rubber, when I glance over at Jake. You know the type—plain as hell. Khakis that hang a bit loose, messy brown hair, those wire-rim glasses. Nothing flashy. But … Lire la suite
Okay, so picture this: it’s late Friday night, I’m alone in my tiny apartment, the kind with fairy lights strung up and that faint lavender candle smell lingering from earlier. I’m 27, scrolling Tinder absentmindedly, bored out of my mind after a shit week at the office. Then this guy, Alex—tall, scruffy beard from his … Lire la suite
I can’t believe I’m telling you this, but… fuck, it was insane. Last night, everything changed with my husband Mark, me, and his son Jake from his first marriage. Jake’s 22, I’m 28—we got married two years ago, and he’s always been around, staring a bit too long at my tits when I bend over … Lire la suite
I swear, my heart’s still pounding just thinking about it. Last night, I met this guy at this dimly lit bar downtown—you know, the kind with sticky floors and that faint smell of spilled whiskey hanging in the air. He was tall, rough around the edges, with stubble that scratched just right and eyes that … Lire la suite