The gite hallway buzzes. Colleagues chatter nearby. I duck into my room for a notebook. Door left ajar. Sliver of yellow light spills under it. Footsteps echo. Close. She slips in. Two steps. Stops inches away. Eyes lock. Hungry. Breath quickens. I grab her hips. Pull her tight. Lips crash. Tongues fight. Furious. Hands roam. Hear laughter outside. Colleague passes. Doorframe shadows dance.
She presses back. Defiant gaze over shoulder. I spin her. Face the bed. Door still open. Light flickers. Voices murmur. ‘Shhh,’ I whisper. Heart hammers. Her tight jeans hug that perfect ass. Unbuckle. Yank down. Mid-thigh trap. Legs pinned together. Pussy lips peek. Wet. Swollen. Inviting.
The Contact
No time. Belt off. Cock springs free. Hard. Throbbing. Grip her shoulder. Other hand on hip. Line up. Thrust. Deep. Her tight cunt swallows me. Hot. Slick. Grip like vice. She bites lip. No sound. Parquet creaks under my feet. Slow shift. Voices louder. Colleague jokes. Freeze. Then pump. Short. Brutal. Skin slaps muffled. Wet squelch. Her breath hisses. Pussy clenches. Milking. Light under door sways. Someone stops? No. Keep going. Faster. Balls tighten. Too soon. Pull out. Precum strings. Gasp. She smirks. Frustrated. Malicious.
Fix clothes. Jeans up. Zipper rasps. Heart pounds wild. Cheeks burn. Peek out. Hall empty. She saunters first. I follow seconds later. Rejoin group. Faces blur. Sweat cools. Eyes dart. Did they notice? Flushed skin? Rumpled hair? Laughter resumes. Work drags. One a.m. finally. Everyone scatters. Colocataire yawns past. ‘Night.’ Nods casual. No clue. Stairs creak under boots. Snow crunches outside. Drive home alone. Dark road. Pulse races still. Secret burns hot. Wife texts. Sweet. Innocent. Guilt twists. But pussy memory throbs. Can’t stop. Neighborhood sleeps. Our sin hides.