It was like swimming against the tide trying to resist my desire for him. But I did it every god forsaken day. He’d walk into my office, enquire how my work load looked today and either asks me to help him out with some major project or just smile that gorgeous smile and continue onto his office next door.

I fantasised sometimes as I returned to my desk after locking my door that he knew just what he was doing to me. That one day instead of continuing on he’d lock the door himself throw me on my desk and fuck me like a wanton whore. And that fantasy drove my hand up my skirt, beneath the gusset of my panties to find my creaming cunt.
I’d rub my clit thinking of his tongue circling that little bundle of nerves, of his permanent stubbled jaw chaffing my moist labia as his tongue darted out to taste my juices as they leaked profusely around my thrusting fingers. Fingers I considered his as they found my spongy g-spot and stroked, coaxing forward my climax till I bit my lip and pinched my hard erect nipple through my blouse and gushed in my panties.
As my body relaxed, I wondered if he knew.
With a mischievous smile I slipped off my sodden panties, pulled out an A4 envelope and wrote his name on it. I didn’t try to hide my handwriting as I wrote ‘You do this to me’ on a Post-it note and slipped it inside with the panties.
Stamping the envelope confidential, I dropped it on his empty desk on my way out to lunch and wondered, ‘what will that do to you?’

8 thoughts on “Tide

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