She rushes into the cubicle in the bustling office restroom, her heart hammering with a potent mix of excitement and guilt. She knows it's reckless, indulgent even, but the craving is too strong to ignore. The memory of her lover's touch, the way he makes her body convulse with pleasure, overwhelms her senses.
Slamming the door shut, she yanks her leggings down, the fabric catching on her heels. Impatience wins: she leaves them tangled around her ankles. Her pink underwear clings to her skin, soaked through with undeniable arousal.
She presses a finger against the slick fabric, the friction sparking electric shivers that race up her spine. Back and forth, she strokes, increasing pressure with each pass, feeling her climax building rapidly. The damp patch spreads, her body betraying her desperate need. Every nerve ending blazes with sensation. Her free hand snakes under her blouse, pinching a taut nipple through her delicate lacy bra. She gasps at the dual stimulation, her hips instinctively rocking, seeking more intense contact.
Sliding a second finger over her underwear, she shuts her eyes and conjures him, his rough hands gripping her hips, his piercing gaze locking onto hers, his thick shaft pulsing with need. She remembers their last encounter vividly: the way he devoured her, his tongue and lips working her into a trembling, incoherent mess. But it's the thought of him pleasuring himself that truly consumes her now. She imagines him standing before her, his strong hand wrapped tightly around his cock, stroking it with deliberate precision. His muscles tense as he works himself harder, veins bulging along his shaft, his breathing ragged and uneven. She envisions his face contorted with pleasure; his jaw clenched as he fights to hold back the inevitable.
In her mind's eye, she's kneeling before him, watching every movement of his hand as it glides over his length. Her mouth waters at the sight of him, thick, swollen, glistening with precum that beads at the tip and drips down his shaft. She aches to taste him, to feel that slick heat on her tongue.
She imagines teasing him mercilessly, whispering filthy promises of what she'll do when he finally ejaculates.
"I want you to cover me," she murmurs in her fantasy, her voice dripping with need. "I want to feel you dripping down my skin."
The thought of his release consumes her entirely. She pictures him groaning deep in his throat as he loses control, hot ropes of cum spraying from his cock in thick streams. She imagines it hitting her on her breasts, her stomach, even her face, marking her as his, dripping. The idea of being coated in his seed sends a fresh wave of arousal coursing through her body.
Her hips buck involuntarily as she fingers herself harder, chasing the climax that this mental image ignites. She can almost hear the guttural sounds he’d make as he finishes, the growl of satisfaction mixed with the sharp hiss of pleasure, and it pushes her closer to the edge.
That mental picture detonates her orgasm. She rubs furiously, panting and moaning as waves of ecstasy crash over her. Her entire frame quakes with intensity, forcing her to bite her lip hard to muffle her cries of bliss.
Her panties are drenched now, sticking to her swollen folds as she convulses and squirts uncontrollably, warm streams trickling down her trembling thighs. She collapses against the cold cubicle wall, chest heaving as aftershocks ripple through her core.
But once isn't enough. She craves more, needs to feel stuffed, to relive that exquisite stretch of his cock inside her. Shoving the saturated fabric aside, she plunges two fingers deep into her aching cunt. The sensation is satisfying, but it’s not enough. It will never be enough. She needs him.
Closing her eyes, she lets her imagination take over. Suddenly, it’s not her fingers inside her anymore; it’s him. She pictures him pinning her against the cubicle wall, his strong hands gripping her thighs as he lifts her up effortlessly. She feels the phantom weight of his body pressing against hers, his heat searing into her skin.
In her mind, his cock is thick and unrelenting, stretching her open as he thrusts into her with raw, primal need. She imagines the way he’d fill her completely, the delicious ache of his girth as he drives deeper with every stroke. Her fingers mimic his movements, curling and plunging as she loses herself in the fantasy.
She envisions his face hovering inches from hers, his breath hot on her lips as he growls filthy promises into her ear. "You’re mine," he’d snarl, his voice rough and commanding. "I’m going to fuck you until you can’t stand." The thought makes her moan aloud, the sound echoing in the small cubicle.
Her free hand moves to her clit, rubbing tight circles as she imagines him pounding into her harder and faster. She pictures the way his muscles would flex with every thrust, his body glistening with sweat as he claims her over and over again. The obscene slap of their bodies colliding fills her mind, drowning out everything else.
She can almost feel his hands on her hips, holding her steady as he drives into her with relentless force. His cock hits that perfect spot inside her with every stroke, sending shockwaves of pleasure radiating through her body. Her fingers curl instinctively to mimic the sensation, and she gasps at how close she is.
In her fantasy, he’s watching her fall apart beneath him, a wicked grin tugging at his lips as he pushes her closer and closer to the edge. "Come for me," he commands in that deep, gravelly voice that sends shivers down her spine. "Let me feel you squeeze me."
The imagined words are all it takes to send her spiralling into another orgasm. Her pussy clenches greedily around her plunging fingers as waves of ecstasy crash over her. She cries out this time, unable to stifle the sound as she rides out the overwhelming pleasure.
Her juices gush out in hot streams, coating her hand and thighs as she shudders uncontrollably. At that moment, it feels so real, his cock buried deep inside her, his name on her lips as she comes undone for him.
Her legs quiver beneath her as she struggles to catch her breath, the scent of her arousal heavy in the air. She knows she should clean up and return to work, but for now, she savours the afterglow, her body humming with satisfaction, her mind still lingering in the vivid fantasy of him.
She leans back against the cold cubicle wall, letting its chill seep into her overheated skin. Her chest rises and falls in uneven breaths, her pulse still pounding in her ears. The slickness between her thighs is a tangible reminder of how completely she let herself go, and she can’t help but smile at the indulgence of it all.
For a moment, she closed her eyes again, replaying the images that had consumed her: the way his hands would grip her hips, the raw hunger in his gaze, the relentless thrusts that claimed every inch of her. Even now, she can almost feel him inside her. The thought sends a faint shiver through her spent body.
She glances down at herself: her panties pushed aside, her thighs glistening with evidence of her release. She knows she should feel guilty, ashamed even, but instead, she feels exhilarated. Something is intoxicating about surrendering so fully to desire, about letting herself be consumed by need in a place where she shouldn’t.
As the sounds of distant footsteps and muted voices filter through the restroom door, reality begins to creep back in. She knows she can’t stay here much longer. The world outside is waiting, the emails piling up on her desk, the colleagues who might wonder where she’s gone. But for now, she allows herself just one more moment.
She straightens slowly, wincing slightly as her trembling legs protest. With shaky hands, she adjusts her panties and pulls up her leggings, feeling the damp fabric cling uncomfortably to her skin. She’ll have to clean up properly later; right now, there’s no time.
Before leaving the cubicle, she catches a glimpse of herself in the small mirror above the sink. Her cheeks are flushed, her lips slightly swollen from biting down to stifle moans. Her hair is mussed from leaning against the wall. She looks wild and undone, and it sends a thrill through her chest.
She splashes cold water on her face and smooths down her blouse before stepping out into the hallway. The cool air hits her like a jolt of reality, but deep inside, she still feels that lingering hum, the spark he ignites in her even when he’s not there.
As she walks back to her desk, a secret smile plays on her lips. No one around her knows what just happened, what she just allowed herself to feel, but that only makes it sweeter. Her body is still warm with satisfaction, and as she settles back into work mode, one thought lingers in her mind: tonight, when she sees him again, she’ll make sure he knows exactly what he does to her.
