Office Quickie: Seducing Michel in the Photocopier Room

That Wednesday, mid-morning buzz in the empty office. Photocopier jammed again. Recto-verso bullshit. I curse under my breath, yank paper. Nothing. Voices from the break room. Coffee machine hums. I poke my head out. ‘Anyone know copiers? Jammed bad.’ Michel turns, that cute 29-year-old with hungry eyes. He’s been eyeing my tits for weeks. Those obus pushing my blouse. I know he wants it. Married, yeah, but hubby’s jealous ass ain’t here. Libido raging since breakfast. Dreamt of rough cock all night. No time for games.

He jumps up. ‘I’ll check it.’ Follows me in. His cologne hits—musky, cheap, turns me on. Jupe tight on my ass, I sway extra. He flips the side panel. Crouches close. Heat radiates. Our eyes lock. Tension crackles. Phone vibrates in my pocket—ignored. Kneeling, thighs brush. I smell his arousal. Sweat, pre-cum whiff. He fiddles, pulls jammed sheet. ‘Got it. But another issue…’ Grabs my hand, presses to his bulge. Rock hard. X1 problem, he grins.

The Approach

Heart pounds. No words needed. I stroke through denim. Slow, firm. His breath hitches. ‘Fuck, Patricia,’ he whispers. I smirk. ‘Want you now.’ No bullshit chat. Straight to it. He stands, machine fixed. I print quick, ass out for him. Nod to the hall. Disabled toilets—spacious, clean, empty. Perfect. Stride ahead, hips rolling. Door shuts. Lock clicks. No turning back.

His arms crush me. Face in my blond curls—shampoo and lust scent. Tits mash his chest. Hand on neck, pull his mouth. Tongues battle, sloppy wet. Suck lips, bite. Hands knead my ass, grind cock hard. Urgent. Devour neck, throat. Buttons pop—blouse open. Bra fights, snaps free. Nipples stiff, raspberry hard. He dives in, sucks greedy. I fumble belt, zipper, boxers. Cock springs—thick, veiny, leaking.

The Explosion

Spin me around. Blouse off. Kiss down spine. Skirt pools. Sniff panties—musky wet. Bite cheeks through cotton. Hands roam tits, belly. I shimmy panties to knees. He grinds shaft between cheeks. Fingers plunge pussy—dripping, dense short pubes. Clit throbs. Sloppy squelch. Bend me to wall. Doggy tease. Angle wrong, slips. Laugh. ‘Wait.’ Jupe as knee pad. Four paws, ass high. Tongue laps slit—flat, eager. Tastes bland, blonde pussy. Gland nudges. Slow push. Stretches full. Hot, slick.

Grips hips. Pounds. Balls slap wet. Splashes everywhere—I’m soaked. Fesses jiggle, blue veins pulse. Dirty talk: ‘Fuck my married cunt, Michel. Harder.’ He groans, ‘So loose, wet slut.’ No condom, raw risk thrills. Finger anus tease? Nah, save it. Phone buzzes outside—ignored. Moans echo. Pussy clamps. He spasms, floods deep. Collapse on back. Kisses shoulders. ‘Thanks, Patricia. Epic.’

Giggles awkward. ‘Our secret.’ Wipe quick. Dress. No mess on skirt, luck. Hug last. Unlock. Slip out separate. Back to desks. Strangers again. Eyes avoid. Week later, distance holds. Wolf out, now tame. Next click? Who knows.