NSFW

Erotica

You don’t notice me watching you. Your face lit up by the light of the monitor. Windows layered over each other with spreadsheets, code boxes and god knows what else. I can read your expression like a book. The work is tedious and there’s a lot of it.

Poor baby, you work too hard.
You need a little break.

I walk up and let my fingers trail from one of your shoulders to the other. You let out a sound between a grunt and a sigh, filled with frustration.

I softly push you back in your chair, eliciting another groan and sigh, this time in response to the movement of stiff muscles.

I see a flash of a question in your eyes. It’s quickly replaced with a smile. You can read my face as well as I read yours.

I climb astride you lap, my skirt riding up my hips. Your hands slip around my waist. I press my lips against yours. Your mouth is flavored with too much coffee and too many cigarettes, yet still manages to taste so good.

Your muffled murmur has a hint of protest. I pull back and you come forward, your mouth following mine. I feel one of your hands move between my shoulder blades, pulling me back in, while the other slides under the crumpled mess of my skirt, finding my buttocks to squeeze.

My own hands undo enough buttons of your shirt to slide inside and lovingly explore your shoulders and upper chest. I can feel your erection pressing against me, starting a fire low in my belly. Suddenly there is nothing I need worse in the world than you inside me.

Too busy kissing for words, my fingers start undoing your fly. You move slightly to make it easier for me. I move both our underwear aside without problems. I guide your hard cock into my warm, wet pussy. You press your hips upwards. No matter how often you penetrate me, I still gasp.

You push up again. My muscles contract. A delicious shiver runs through my body while I push down. I don’t mind the layers of crumpled clothing between us; they just add to the grind.

Your fingertips dig into my flesh as I start moving my hips, slow and deliberate, feeling every inch of you. I feel each exhale hitting my skin as your breathing becomes heavier. Your kisses get more eager. Hungry.

The heat inside me is spreading out in waves to each limb. You’re moving along with me, but faster, urging me to catch up. I pull away from our kiss with a moan, gulping for air. I bury my face in the side of your neck, inhaling your scent. Spice and lingering soap.

You take it as the cue to thrust harder. My skin tingles. Every touch seems amplified. Every time you push up it sends shock waves through me. I can feel you throbbing.

Finally, you slow down. Your hips remaining up longer when you push. I exhale in a satisfied sigh, relaxing in your arms. Melting into you. You go equally limp. You still hold me tight as you do.

After a while, I sit back up. I can read your expression like a book. There’s a slight accusation; one that would never pass your lips. Whatever you were doing before, you’ve completely lost your train of thought. Whatever steps you still needed to perform — lost. Back to square one.

I’m sorry for distracting you.
I’m not safe for work.