Emma After Hours

Emma, I later discover, has a small blue tattoo in the small of her back, a simply-inscribed Chinese character of some description. It moves up and down rhythmically in front of me, in time with the desperate pumping of her slim, rounded hips. She stands behind my desk, bent slightly forwards and supporting herself with her hands, which lay splayed flat across my blotter. Her dimpled buttocks are noticeably paler than the golden skin of her back and arms; she has sunbathed topless, I surmise, but never nude. They shake and wobble with the general movement of her body and their paleness and the sheen of sweat they have acquired in the past few minutes mean that they practically glow in the bright office lights.

From my position above and behind her I can clearly see into the darker-skinned cleft of Emma's neat little backside. I can see the puckered brown-pink flesh around her tightly closed arsehole, slickly glistening with Emma's own perspiration and my saliva from where I was eagerly licking it a short while ago. I hope to bury my cock there before tonight is done. For now, it is sliding in and out of the engorged curtains of her cunt, which is the same seared-steak colour as her anus, slippery and wet. It sucks and smacks its lips like a slobbering mouth devouring my swollen-veined member.

She is not as tight inside as I would have expected of a girl her age. It only bolsters the impression I got from her response to my opening gambits as we were locking up the premises together. It would not be gallant to call sweet, smiling young Emma a dirty, cock-hungry little slut, but it would, I fear, be accurate.

I pulled down her jeans and ate her out, bent over the front counter, swiftly moving on to my hungry anal probings, then brought her in here out of sight, made her kneel on the cheap carpet and fucked her wide, cheeky mouth until I almost spent my load down her throat. After a brief interlude to recover my composure, we fell to our current endeavour. We are both stark naked in the middle of the office, secure behind the locked door and blind-covered windows. We may still be here in the morning, depending on how long I hold up and how eager she is to please her perverted, cunt-obsessed boss; very eager, from the sound of her and the fast, seemingly tireless, gyrations of her body.

Yes, very eager. With every thrust that goes into her, she makes a strangled, choking little sound, half a sob and half a gasp of shock, perhaps pain. She wants me to think my cock is hurting her, perhaps; my meagre cock in her voluminous, well-used hole. I think not! Still, the sound arouses me to still greater effort, picking up the pace. Her arse slaps against my pudgy thighs with every movement, sending pleasing shudders and vibrations through her soft young flesh. The moist heat of her insides is almost burning me as I thrust and ram at her in a kind of daze, panting as I try to maintain my speed, grunting breathlessly with every stroke. I sound like a pig, even to myself.

Emma's quivering sweat-coated bum is my world right now; the only thing I can see as I concentrate on keeping up the rhythm without having my dick explode. It feels as if it might at any second. The tension is unbearable, the way it feels when you desperately need to pee. I clutch her buttocks in my hot, damp hands and keep thrusting, my back and calves aching horribly. My thumbs are in the beautiful dimples of her arse-cheeks, one resting over a faint oval birthmark the same pinkish beige colour as the large, slightly irregular nipples I saw when she was stripping off before.

"Oh Christ! Fucking Christ!" That's me, blaspheming in a teeth-clenched yelp as I feel my cock start to pump, gushing hot sticky spunk, filling her up. Emma moans dully and then gasps as if I have just poured ice water down her spine. As if the force of my mighty jism-fountain is a shock to her. It is nice of her to play along, I suppose. Once again, I regret not getting condoms when I was out at lunchtime. Emma says she is on the pill, but what really worries me is what the filthy little slut might have picked up from all those horny student rugby players she talks about. From the slackness of her cunt, I could believe that she services the entire squad after every home game.

"Oh God..." I pant weakly, leaning forward until my face touches the hot freckled skin of her back, breathing in her humid, slightly perfumed smell. "Oh...God..." I sink to my knees, almost in prayer, softening penis slipping out of her easily, my face sliding down her until it rests upon her arse. I kiss her birthmark, fighting for air, convinced I'm about to have a heart attack. There are worse ways to go. My now-limp cock dribbles the last of its sticky torrent onto the carpet between my legs.

I eat her cunt again, licking dribbles of spunk from her wet labia, then concentrating on the winking pink tip of her clit, working quickly but diligently until I feel her spasm, grinding her posterior against my face as her whole body shakes and she lets out a muffled squeal of delight that sounds, happily, far more genuine than her earlier efforts. Then she goes slack again, and so do I. For the next little while, she lies across the desk cooing contentedly as I sniff her beautiful arsehole and gradually catch my breath.

So much for burying my cock there later; I am thoroughly exhausted, good only for falling into bed. So much for fucking and sucking until the dawn shines through the gaps in the blinds. Still; mustn't grumble.

We make meaningless small talk as we hurry on our clothes and then I drive her home, politely turning down her suggestion that I should come in. If I did, it would only be to sleep after the marathon she put me through back at the office.

She stands at the gate nonetheless and watches me drive away. I cannot see her face; I wonder whether she is smiling fondly after me, or scornfully.