Stranded in the Cold: My Raw Office Hookup with Yoann

Wind biting my skin, that damn white floral dress too thin for this chill. Standing by the roadside, arms crossed tight, phone dead silent—no ride from my covoiturage flake. Then his car slows. Window down. ‘Need a lift?’ Yoann from downstairs. Knew him from glances in meetings—cute, young, bit shy. I hop in. ‘City.’ Simple.

Silence thick at first. My cleavage on display, his eyes glued to the road. Heart races a tad—adrenalin kicking. We chat jobs. I’m Christine, director’s attaché. Forty-something, single, separated. No kids, no bullshit. He blushes. ‘No girlfriend tonight?’ I tease. Tension builds. His awkwardness? Hot. Drop me home, bise through the window—his gaze dips to my V-neck. Bandant, I think.

The Approach

Next day, heels clicking, pink floral dress hugging curves. Pop into his office. ‘Ride tonight?’ Boom, he’s hard already—can’t stand. Coffee machine, hip sway. Printer jams pull us together. Workshop empty. I lean over, ass out. He presses in. Breath hot on my neck. No words. His hands on my thighs, face buried. Tongue dives—pussy first, then rimming my ass. Finger in. I grind back, silent moans. Printer hums—someone coming. ‘Your girlfriend?’ I whisper. ‘Not official.’ We bolt.

Car park, deserted. I hike my dress, finger my wet slit watching him drive. Pull over. His cock out—thick, throbbing. Suck him deep, slurping loud. Balls tugged, saliva dripping. He grabs my hair, face-fucks. Explodes down my throat. I snowball it back—salty, thick. He grimaces, swallows. ‘My turn.’ Straddle his face, tits freed. He laps greedy—clit sucked, tongue-fucked deep. I grind, cum hard, soaking him.

Home drop: ‘No wank tonight.’ Wink. Frustrated him? Delicious.

The Explosion

Morning drive. New poppy dress, necklace dangling between tits. He tries kiss—dulce de leche surprise. I spit, laugh. ‘Better than yours.’ Banter flows. Texts tease. Printer ploy: massive file jams it. I fume in repro room. He locks door. Kisses rough. Hands everywhere. ‘Ready to swallow anything?’ Fingers on clit. Pants down, lifts me—panties pocketed. Tip at my entrance. Slow drop—’Ooooh!’ Impaled full. Wall slam, bouncing. Tits out, necklace swinging. Nipple sucked. Ass gripped, thumb near hole. Legs on shoulders—deep, max stretch. I stifle screams, cum biting hand. He fills condom once, keeps pounding. Thumb on clit—second orgasm rips me. He unloads again, legs buckling.

Printer spits pages. Fix dress, calm breaths. Hug lingers—shoulder rub. ‘Ride tomorrow?’ ‘Girlfriend back, but…’ Tease. Coffee. Back to poker face.

Evening drop: colleagues chat. Ice broken, but I’m ghost tomorrow. Affair peaks, fades. He bangs his girl wild now—my gift. Adrenalin high: screens to skin, click to cum. No strings, pure rush. Stranger again.