My mobile buzzed on my desk, telling me a new message arrived.

> Guess what I wore today?

Oh shit. Another message from you. Ever since we hooked up out of nowhere after work a few weeks ago we've been at it nonstop as we discover how amazingly compatible we are in bed. And in the car. And in your kitchen. And in the unused office on the 3rd floor.

As I contemplate my incredible good fortune, the phone buzzes again in my hand. This time it's a picture: you're in the ladies room near your office, and your blouse is unbuttoned, revealing the corset you'd told me about last night on the phone. Just as you said, the black lace on top barely covers your tits, and the curvy swoop inside the conservative blouse, added to the sexy smirk on your face, makes the blood rush to my cock. Your look says, I know, right? Fucking sexy.

I am staring at you with my mouth agape when Jackson clears his throat; I'd been so taken aback I hadn't even heard him enter my office. I try not to slam the mobile down too hard when he comes around the desk to see some figures he needs from the report I was working on. The phone buzzes again; I try to push the thought of what it might say out of my mind, telling the inquisitive coworker that I have to get back to work. He shrugs and leaves, and I grab up the phone.

> No shirt on the drive to work

> Gave a couple truckers a big thrill

> SO FUCKING HORNY

Goddamn.

> Jackson was just in here. He so wants to fuck you

> Maybe I should let him. Think he's got a big cock?

> Careful, naughty thing, Get out of line and I will spank you

> You wish. TTYL, too horny, must go find Jackson

Fucking hell. What an evil tease, I think. I am still trying to think up an answer when my desk phone rings and draws me back into doing work. I'm still on the phone discussing the fate of the Chicago branch when I hear something hit the floor outside my office, followed by a familiar voice exclaim in frustration. I glance away from my computer and, fucking hell, you are there, bent over at the waist, picking up some folders you "accidentally" dropped, your luscious ass framed in my doorway like some delicious candy hovering in space, the skirt not really concealing the sexy expanse of flesh and WHAM there's my cock again. The voice on the phone is asking if I'm still there and I stammer that there's something wrong and I need to call back.

You manage to finish gathering the spilled minutia of our working days, and stand up slowly. Are you pushing your chest out a bit? I bet you are, you tease. You know exactly where my gaze is, until you turn to face me. Oh hi, you say, pretending to just realize whose office you were putting on your little show for. I was told you have the key to the supply room.

Why yes I do, as a matter of fact. Why do you ask?

Oh, I need a few things for people on my floor, you reply airily, as if we don't both know exactly what you're asking for. Could you help me get in there?

I dunno, I say, I'm kinda busy. Do you need it right right now?

Yeah, you reply, a slightly harder edge creeping into your voice, I need it.

Now.

I sigh dramatically. Okay. I guess I'll help you.

Standing up it's fairly obvious that my dick is hard, and I have to quickly adjust it to be able to walk down the hall. Your eyes sparkle with glee as you turn to go towards the supply room, and I swear your ass is swishing back and forth in exaggerated loops, determined to wring as much out of the situation as you possibly can. I am again imagining your thoughts: I know, right? Fucking sexy.

I unlock the supply room door and, seeing that no one is watching, forcefully shove you inside, and then I am on you. You kiss me back with a fierce whispered craving, your tongue in my mouth as I am hurriedly unbuttoning the blouse hiding your secret sexywear from our coworkers. Halfway down I give up and I'm roughly pulling your breasts free, my lips worrying your nipples as you gasp sharply, pulling my hair, whispering obscenities in a nonstop babble. As I try to suck as much of your left tit in my mouth as I can, your hands are a blur at my belt demanding entry. I am sucking and squeezing your breasts like they're the secret to life itself as you finally find my cock, gripping it so firmly I'm almost afraid I'm going to lose it.

In me goddamn it, you whisper, and my hands are cupping your ass, lifting you a bit against the door, my cock against your soaked panties thrusting at the fabric, when we realize simultaneously that fucking against the door will be too noisy. You shove me off of you -- we're doing this right, you can fuck me good and hard like this, can't you fucker, you're whispering as bending over you hike up your skirt and shove your panties to your ankles. I'm on you like white on rice, my hands grabbing your hips and yanking you back towards my waiting dick, which slams into your perfect cunt with ease. Your high pitched stifled whine makes me think for a moment that we're doomed to get caught, but then I don't care, as we rut at each other like mad.

That's it good and hard, you're whispering. Is that how naughty sluts like it, I say through clenched teeth. Fuck yes, harder goddamn it. You are fucking back at me fiercely as I reach forward to grasp your tits. Later tonight before making love slowly and gently I will feel terrible about the bruises I'm giving you, the fingermarks I'm imprinting on the soft flesh of your breasts. You'll demur and say they look worse than they feel, as I kiss and stroke them in apology. But for now I am just a creature of fuck and you are my lusty wench demanding I fuck you harder, harder.

Then you are stock still and your feet involuntarily point and you are grunting something about coming so fucking hard, but your cunt is squeezing my dick so well that I am lost, the orgasm hitting me like a cricket bat to the brainstem and I am shooting hot sticky cum deep in your hungry cunt until we are crumbling, unable to stand anymore, falling to the cheap carpeted floor in a sweaty mess.

It takes a few seconds for me to remember where we are and then I am scrambling to pull my pants up, and you are giggling that you are totally willing to get fired for sex that good, and my brain somersaults once again.