Sweet_Symphony

I'm sharing some reading material I enjoyed on the internet.

Verochka needs to submit a monthly report... one way or another.

It didn't sound like an invitation to his office for a casual chat about work or the more personal matters that had connected Verochka with Dmitry Vladimirovich for many months. At least, that's what Verochka thought, catching a hint of hoarseness in her boss's casually stern tone over the phone. It felt like... she pressed her lips together in embarrassment and looked down, remembering how viciously he'd dragged her by the hand into the office restroom, all the while telling her how filthily, animalistically, he wanted to fuck her. But it was the end of the workday. Everyone had gone home, and only the security guard could hear the muffled panting... and even he rarely left his post.

It was midday. No, Dmitry Vladimirovich couldn't afford to "love" her when there were so many people around, even though his office was locked from the inside. His reputation was too precious. He'd chosen too lucrative a position within the leadership. And he absolutely didn't want to let go of the bird in his hand.

Vera twirled in front of the mirror and adjusted her thick shock of ash-blond hair. She noted that her makeup had turned out exceptionally well today and finished the look with perfume, which seemed to permeate the entire workspace. She exuded the scent of orange and cinnamon.

The boss's office was on the second floor, but Vera didn't even consider trading in her four-inch heels for more practical pumps. No. For the sake of beauty, it was worth enduring a few dozen steps. Especially when he was the one destined to see this "beauty"...

- I called thirty-five minutes ago.

No answer, no greeting, just an indifferent look at the papers and a cold, even slightly irritated tone.

"Your office moved from the first floor to your home?" he continued.

"Urgent matters, Dmitry Vladimirovich," Vera replied immediately, walking unceremoniously, almost like a podium, up to his desk and sitting down in the chair opposite him without an invitation. Slowly crossing her legs, she gave her boss a challenging look, but he didn't react.

Dmitry had long since closed his eyes to Vera's impudence when she showed it in private. That was her whole personality: feisty, brazen, and devilishly beautiful. If she hadn't been so brazen, he probably would never have decided to start an office romance.

"Did your tights rip again? Or did you break a nail?" he teased playfully, knowing she could respond with a more serious retort if she chose.

"This year, I've only torn my tights twice at work. And both times, it was your fault, Dmitry Vladimirovich."

He visibly tensed; Vera thought it was the memories of those two "accidents" that were to blame, and she even wanted to remark out loud that ripping her tights wasn't necessary at all, especially since they, like any other, were easy to remove, but she stopped herself. Now was neither the time nor the place.

"Why did you invite me?" Vera asked without enthusiasm.

“Look at the date,” he pointed to the right and poked his pen at the calendar hanging on the wall, “what’s the date?”

Vera squinted; without her glasses, it was hard to tell it was April 4th. Damn! Vera immediately went quiet and began frantically searching through her thoughts, searching for the one, single, important reason why she still hadn't submitted her March report.

"The report... is on your desk..." she blurted out, which only made her more embarrassed. Oh, my God, how stupid, how stupid! Couldn't her brain come up with something better? "It was... yesterday. I put it on your desk myself."

Dmitry Vladimirovich looked up and met Vera's innocent light-blue eyes, who could only smile awkwardly and sincerely hope that the stupid, completely idiotic excuse would work.

– I haven’t seen any report since this morning.

But he still trustingly rummaged through the temporary clutter on the table, naturally to no avail. Action was necessary, urgently and... unconventionally. Verochka really didn't want a reprimand or, worse, a fine. For that, she could even forget her shame for a while.

“I’ll look under the table,” Vera announced, taking off her shoes and kneeling down.

"No, there..." he began, but broke off as soon as the girl crawled closer to him. Effortlessly pushing her hand through her closed legs, Vera sensed that he'd been wanting her for some time, which was why, the rascal, he'd barely looked her in the eye. "Vera..."

The girl bit her lip and spread his knees, moving her face to his groin, still covered by thick trousers. Vera touched the bulging fabric with her tongue and, hearing a heavy sigh, realized that all unnecessary thoughts about her mistake were beginning to leave his head.

"Vera," he repeated. "Someone will come in and..."

"Does this excite you?" she smiled, noticing her lover blush like a boy but saying nothing. He smelled of something woody; Vera, despite her love of fragrances, couldn't remember the name of the cologne or its ingredients.

"And me—very much," the girl continued in a heated whisper, stroking his penis through his trousers. "Just think, some girl might come in... Alla, for example, and see you panting sweetly with pleasure, and me under the table... or rather, my wet panties, because my skirt has treacherously ridden up... and, embarrassed, she'll run away. And at night, in complete, hopeless solitude, she'll try to sleep. Her head will be filled with thoughts of how she'd like to be in my place, and her fingers will seem to creep between her legs of their own accord..."

The boss swallowed nervously: his mistress's fiery speech had its usual effect. Gently nibbling through his trousers, Verochka intended to free him of his clothes as quickly as possible, fortunately, Dmitry, tense but preoccupied with vulgar thoughts and desires, offered no obstacle.

Frisky rustling sounds broke the silence of the office. A languid breathing joined them as Vera finally lowered her boss's trousers to begin mitigating the inevitable punishment. After running her tongue from base to tip, she paused. The clicking of heels was heard outside, followed by a knock on the door. Dmitry perked up and shifted somewhat comically. A silent question was evident in his gaze: what to do?

"Don't come in!" he shouted almost wearily and tried to jump up, but Vera wouldn't let go.

"What are you doing?!" he whispered angrily, staring at her with a searching gaze. "Right now..."

"He'll come in, that's right," she smiled cat-like and licked his cock again. A wave of shivers ran from head to toe. "And he'll see how I've earned three whole raises this year."

He fell back as if hypnotized. His face was like a tomato, and his huffing was like a kettle about to boil: either from anger, or lust, or some strange mixture of both.

"Dmitry Vladimirovich!" a female voice called from the hallway. There was a second knock on the door. "May I come in? I have the documents you asked me to prepare urgently for tomorrow's conference."

"Alla," he breathed in response, unable to tear his eyes away from the way Vera took the head into her mouth and, sucking, tried to help herself with her hands. "In... half an hour. I'm too... busy."

"Fine," she muttered discontentedly. The sound of her heels followed her from the hallway.

"Alla?" Vera pulled away from his cock and smirked, drool trickling from the corner of her mouth. "Seriously? It sounds so... dry. Is it really that far out of your mind to... grab her by the hair and fuck her in the mouth? Or, say... fuck her in the ass? Oh, she's so shy... you'd probably be the first."

"Vulgar, disgusting... bitch," he savored with sick pleasure. Twirling her ash-blond hair around his hand, Dmitry buried his nose in the girl's cock, and she obediently, with redoubled fury, began licking it, smearing the remnants of raspberry lipstick across her body. Meanwhile, Vera lowered one hand to her soaked, translucent panties.

She liked the feeling of superiority, even if it meant scrubbing her knees under her boss's desk. In any case, he'd forget about her blunder for a while, which meant he'd have time to get everything ready...

"Get out," Dmitry commanded, interrupting Vera, who was working diligently. She stared at him blankly, and he pulled her out by force. He lifted her up and sat her down on the edge of the table, crumpling up the numerous papers. She merely gasped—she didn't even have time to straighten her bright red skirt or wipe away the drool and lipstick stains.

A small wet spot on the woman's panties caught his eye, and Dmitry immediately touched it. The tights were also damp in that spot, so his fingers slid over the smooth fabric until, following long-standing tradition, he ripped the beige nylon, leaving his mistress's panties completely exposed.

Watching languidly, Vera leaned on the table with one hand and stroked herself with the other, suspecting her lover would lose control again and cum much sooner than she wanted. Exhaling loudly, Dmitry pressed his lips to hers, soft and warm, and moved his hips even closer. While he unbuttoned her thin blouse, she skillfully squirmed back and forth, simulating intercourse, trying to arouse him as much as possible, so that later…

"I want it in the ass," she whispered. "Fuck me like a cheap whore."

Moving down to her neck, he bit the thin, pale skin, causing Vera to moan briefly and immediately bite her lip. Under the pressure, the girl lay down on the table; her long, ash-blond hair brushed the floor. With one hand, she squeezed her full breast, her dark pink nipple tugged at, while with the other, she tried to reach her swollen clitoris.

Her skirt had ridden up almost to her chest, revealing a tattoo of intricate oriental designs; Dmitry had no intention of removing her panties. Pulling aside the tiny piece of fabric, he inserted his penis into her vagina, against his lover's wishes, which greatly embarrassed and even upset her a little. Grabbing her forearm, he kept her from falling, but at the same time prevented her from helping him pleasure himself.

The casual sex, boring in Vera's opinion, didn't last long; after a few strokes, Dmitry pulled out his naturally lubricated penis and brought it to her anus. Vera tensed in anticipation and suddenly thought that this was how he'd protected them both from detection: she loved to scream languidly when his cock was tearing her apart from the inside. He entered easily—her ass, stretched by months of working with Dmitry, didn't ache, but still gripped tightly, even if Vera tried...

"Deeper, I beg you..." she whispered, struggling to contain the urge to howl with overwhelming lust. He moved slowly, as if after so many times he was still afraid of hurting her with a sudden, careless thrust, causing her to practically howl, "Rougher!"

Gripping her so tightly that she couldn't move her hips, Dmitry entered her to the hilt and leaned down to squeeze her neck, the way she loved more than anything else. Vera wheezed, instinctively reaching for the hand that was choking her, yet shuddering at the mere thought of being fucked on a desk, during work hours, when someone completely unceremonious might barge into the office without knocking and... secretly hoping he'd join in, and her mouth would be occupied with something more interesting than gasping for air.

The man tried to move carefully, but it was difficult: his head was probably raging with the same welter of disgusting, vulgar thoughts, which meant he could barely control his pace. The table rocked with every thrust; soft wheezing grew into a pitiful moan. Vera felt a faint pain mixed with lust overwhelm her completely. She wanted to wrap her legs around him, but she was afraid that an awkward movement would ruin the agony of passion and pleasurable sensations.

"Don't... stop... push," she pleaded in a quiet voice, rolling her eyes. Vera was mentally close to release, the only thing missing was manual stimulation.

Grabbing the hand that was squeezing her throat, she dug her nails in and scratched. A few red marks remained on the skin. Dmitry immediately hissed and pulled his hand away. Seizing the moment, Vera sat up, reached her slender fingers to her clit, and, biting her lip, began to whine softly, rubbing the aroused flesh.

“Vera…” he whispered again, looking into her eyes full of lust.

The girl's mouth opened slightly, greedily gulping in air. Her eyes closed tightly and her face flushed, as if she were fainting. Dmitry realized—now he could. Having ejaculated inside, he watched for a few more seconds as Vera worked herself into a frenzy with her fingers, then arched like a cat in a rage, trying to catch her breath.

Having collected his thoughts, Dmitry rummaged through the desk drawers, then handed her some napkins and began to dry himself.

“And don’t you dare… reproach me for my torn tights,” Vera muttered, trying to at least tidy herself up a little.

Ah, now she'd have to come up with some excuse for the missing tights. The girls would notice. Vera was absolutely certain of that. Even more certain than she was that her boss would be very pleased with her monthly report.