He Made Me Keep Quiet in His Office with the Waiting Room Full

The clinic’s waiting room was full that morning. I counted at least six people: a pregnant woman flipping through a magazine without reading it, an older man with his cane laid across his knees, a mother with her sleeping child on her shoulder. All of them waiting for their turn with Damián.

I didn’t have an appointment. I never did.

The nurse was taking the blood pressure of a newly arrived patient, and the receptionist was arguing about something with a woman at the desk, both of them far too focused to notice me crossing the hallway toward the office at the back.

I went in without knocking. I had that bad habit with him, and he knew it. I don’t know whether I did it because I loved provoking him or because I simply needed to see him like that, up close, when he still smelled of expensive cologne and midmorning coffee.

He was standing beside the desk, signing a file, immaculate as always. Tight black trousers, a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and that steel watch that distracted me at the worst moments. He looked up for barely a second.

—What are you doing here? —he asked, returning to the paper—. The waiting room is full, Carla.

—I only need five minutes —I said, and closed the door behind me with my body.

The latch made a soft click. He heard it. I know he heard it because he stopped writing.

I needed him like I had rarely needed him before. Not for any particular reason. Sometimes the urge to be fucked doesn’t ask for reasons: it appears, settles between your legs in the middle of the day, and won’t go away until someone drives it out of you. And that morning I had woken up with my pussy wet, thinking about him, his cock, the way he had fucked me against the examination table the last time.

Ours had started months before, almost by accident, one of those afternoons when I stopped by to drop off some papers and stayed longer than I should have. First came glances that lasted too long. Then a double-entendre neither of us dared take back. And one day, without the phone ringing or anyone knocking, the distance between our two desks simply disappeared. I ended up on my knees in front of him, his cock in my mouth, memorizing every vein, every throb, the way his thighs tensed when I took him down my throat.

Since then, we had learned to read each other. He knew that when I came in without knocking, I wasn’t there to chat: I was there for him to fuck me. I knew that when he crossed his arms and pretended to be busy, he was actually calculating how many minutes he could steal from his schedule to fuck me on any surface in the office. That morning, from the way he clenched his jaw when he saw me, I knew the numbers were working out.

—Five minutes for what? —he challenged me, crossing his arms over his chest.

He wanted to sound firm, but I knew him too well. Deep down, he loved being interrupted this way. He liked the risk. He liked me coming in without asking permission and wrecking the orderly morning he took such care to maintain.

—For you to fuck me —I said, without lowering my voice—. Now. Here. On the desk.

I approached slowly, certain of every step. I kissed him without asking permission, with a restrained need that had been burning inside me for days. It wasn’t a gentle kiss. It was a declaration: I shoved my tongue all the way in, bit his lower lip, sucked it as if I were sucking something else. He understood the message.

He held out for a second, maybe two, making an effort to keep his composure. Then he gave in.

He gripped me hard around the waist and made me collide with the edge of the desk. His hands slipped beneath my blouse, hot and urgent, roaming over my back, rising to my bra, ripping the cups aside to pinch my nipples with the viciousness he knew drove me crazy. Mine fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, in the kind of haste that made everyone clumsy, and went straight down to his belt. I sought him out without shame: I squeezed his cock through his trousers and felt it throbbing, hard and ready.

—You’re already hard —I whispered, smiling against his mouth—. Don’t tell me you weren’t waiting for me.

—Carla… —he murmured against my neck, his voice broken—. They’re all outside. They’re going to hear us.

I lowered his zipper and slid my hand inside his boxers. His cock sprang out hot and thick against my palm. I gripped it firmly and stroked him slowly twice, three times, feeling a drop of fluid escape onto the tip. I brought my finger to my mouth and sucked it, looking him in the eyes.

—Then keep quiet —I told him in his ear—. Or cover my mouth with your cock. You choose.

And that was when he lost the last shred of his composure.

He pulled me down by the shoulders, one hand at the nape of my neck. I let myself drop to my knees on the office carpet and pulled out his cock in one motion, hard, throbbing, pointing at my face. I put it in my mouth without preamble. I sucked him whole, hungrily, letting him fill my throat until my eyes watered and my mascara ran. He grabbed my hair, made a fist around my ponytail, and began moving my head to his rhythm, fucking my mouth as if there weren’t a single person waiting on the other side of the door.

—That’s it —he growled softly, biting his lip so he wouldn’t shout—. That’s it, all the way down, slut.

I sucked his balls too, one by one, then went back up along the swollen vein on the underside to the tip, where I ran my tongue in circles, drawing a shudder from him. I knew that if I kept it up for ten more seconds, he would come in my mouth, and that morning I hadn’t come to swallow him. I had come to have him put it deep inside me.

I stood up, still holding his cock, and turned around against the desk.

—Put it in me —I ordered, hiking my skirt up to my waist—. Now.

***

He lifted me and sat me on the desk without the slightest effort, as if I weighed nothing. Papers scattered, a pen rolled onto the floor, and neither of us cared. He didn’t take off a single item of clothing more than necessary. There wasn’t time for that, and we both knew it.

He pushed my panties aside with two fingers. First he ran his index and middle fingers over the lips of my pussy, checking how soaked I was. He smiled with that filthy macho smile of a man who knew the woman in front of him could no longer resist.

—You’re dripping, Carla —he whispered, burying both fingers to the knuckles and curling them against the spot he knew by heart—. You’re going to soak the whole desk.

I arched over the papers and sank my teeth into his shoulder through his shirt. He pulled out his fingers, brought them to his mouth, and sucked them slowly. Then he gripped my hips, positioned me at the edge of the desk, and placed the tip of his cock against my entrance.

The pressure at my entrance tore a sound from me that he cut off immediately: his hand closed over my mouth, firm and unapologetic, while the other held my thigh with enough force to leave marks for days. He drove into me in a single thrust, all the way in, until I felt the base of his cock pounding against me.

It was exactly what I had come looking for.

He started fucking me with hard, controlled thrusts, unafraid that someone in the waiting room might hear us. I wrapped my legs around his waist to keep him closer, so he wouldn’t think of pulling out even an inch. Every blow of his hips against mine made a wet, obscene sound that the hand over my mouth couldn’t completely muffle.

I looked into his eyes over his hand. That was what I liked most: that he decided when I could breathe easily and when I had to swallow every moan. Me, who came in without knocking, who ruined his mornings, who provoked him in front of everyone. There, on his desk, with his cock buried up to my womb, he was the one in charge. And I loved surrendering to him.

Let him decide. Let him fuck me like this all morning if he wants. Let him leave my pussy wrecked.

Three soft taps on the door froze us both. Discreet. Impatient. The receptionist, surely.

—Doctor… the next patient is waiting for you.

—One minute —he growled, without pulling out even a millimeter, his cock buried to the root.

I felt him harden even more inside me as he spoke, as if the interruption, far from stopping him, had set him on fire. His voice came out deep, controlled, professional. No one on the other side of that door could have imagined that while he was speaking to the receptionist, he had his cock buried deep inside a woman and his fingers sunk into that same woman’s thigh.

The footsteps receded down the hallway.

As soon as silence fell, he began moving again, slowly at first, pulling almost all the way out and then pushing back in inch by inch, torturing me. I clenched my teeth to keep from moaning.

—Hurry —I whispered, biting my lip—, before she comes back.

—You came here for this —he replied, lowering his hand from my mouth to my throat, not squeezing, only reminding me who was in control—. Now you’ll endure it quietly, legs open, until I finish inside you.

***

He turned me around. He made me lean facedown over the desk, my tits crushed against the papers and my ass raised toward him. He positioned himself behind me, gripped my waist with both hands, and drove his cock into me again with one sharp thrust. I had to bite my forearm to keep from screaming.

From that angle he went deeper. Every thrust pushed me forward and made me feel his cock pounding inside me with a violence that was driving me crazy. He grabbed a lock of my hair, pulled my head back, and leaned in to speak against my ear without stopping his thrusts.

—Keep quiet —he ordered softly as he fucked me harder—. Keep quiet or I’ll fill your mouth with my hand again.

I obeyed him. I covered my own mouth with my fingers and let him fuck me. I felt his balls slap against me with every thrust, the tip scraping that exact spot he always found. He ran one hand down my back to my clitoris and began stroking it in circles, coordinating with his thrusts.

My heart pounded against my ribs and my whole body trembled. Every thrust was both a punishment and a promise. A silent madness we had to sustain between us, holding our breath, holding back our voices, holding back everything our bodies demanded we scream.

He grunted softly, almost soundlessly, his face hidden in my neck to smother the louder moans. I deliberately clenched my pussy around his cock so he would feel every inch, so it would be harder for him to hold out. I heard his breathing break when I did it, and that gave me more power than anything else.

The most maddening part wasn’t the risk of someone coming in. It was the contrast. That a yard from the door there was a room full of people reading magazines, looking at the clock, waiting for a serious, respectable doctor. And that this same doctor, on the other side of the wood, had me bent over his own desk with his cock buried to the hilt, slowly splitting me open, measuring every thrust so the desk wouldn’t hit the wall, and filling my mouth with his fingers every time a moan escaped me that was too loud.

He turned me over again in one sharp movement, onto my back on the desk. He wanted to watch my face while he kept fucking me. He leaned over, sucked one of my nipples, bit it, then moved up to my mouth and gave me a filthy, deep, tongue-filled kiss while his hips never stopped.

I bit his shoulder to keep from screaming. He pressed his hand a little more firmly over my mouth, silently telling me to hold on, not yet, he was the one who decided. And I obeyed, because in that office, during those stolen minutes, obeying was the most exciting thing in the world.

—Don’t hold yourself back —he whispered in my ear, reading my body the way he read a file—. Come for me. I’ll cover you.

And he put his hand over my mouth again just as I fell apart. I squeezed my eyes shut, arched over the desk, and let the orgasm run through me, bitten back and smothered against his palm, while he held me and kept fucking me without mercy. My pussy contracted around his cock, wave after wave, squeezing him, sucking him inward. I felt the liquid run down my thighs and over the wood of the desk.

I felt him shudder immediately afterward, losing his rhythm, approaching his own limit. I wrapped my legs around him more tightly and begged him in his ear, my voice wrecked.

—Don’t pull out —I begged—. Come inside me. I want to feel you fill me.

That was all it took. He gave three, four more thrusts, each one deeper and more uncontrolled, and came inside me with his face buried in my neck to silence what otherwise would have been an impossible-to-explain moan. I felt the hot spurts strike inside me, one, two, three, while he trembled over me and I held him with my legs so he couldn’t pull out until the very last drop.

He stayed inside me, throbbing and spent, while I stroked the nape of his neck and slowly came down. When he finally pulled out, I felt the semen seep outward, warm, over my thighs and onto the crumpled papers on the desk. I brought two fingers to it, gathered some up, and put them in my mouth while looking him in the eyes.

—Mine —I said, swallowing.

A low, exhausted moan escaped him, and he kissed me on the mouth, sharing the taste.

***

We stayed like that for a few seconds, both breathing hard, his chest rising and falling against mine, my body still arched over the disordered desk, my legs open and my pussy dripping his come. Outside, someone coughed. The clock on the wall continued its indifferent ticktock, as if absolutely nothing had just happened in that office.

—You’re a problem —he said through his teeth, still breathless, sliding his hands beneath my blouse again and squeezing my breasts with that possessive firmness that melted me.

—I know —I replied.

—A problem that won’t let me work. With my cock hard all morning, I can’t see anyone.

—And do you know what the worst part is? —I said, adjusting my soaked panties, feeling his semen still leaking out of me and dampening the fabric—. You still have patients to see… and I’m going to walk through that waiting room as if nothing happened, with your come dripping down the inside of my thigh.

He laughed softly, shaking his head as he buttoned his shirt and fixed his hair in front of the small mirror on the coat rack. He wiped his cock with a handkerchief before tucking it away, still half-hard, inside his trousers. In a couple of minutes he would be the immaculate, serious, professional doctor again. No one would notice. That was half the pleasure.

—Go —he told me, giving me a sharp slap on the ass over my skirt—. Before the receptionist sends someone to find me.

I climbed down from the desk with my legs still trembling, smoothed my skirt, and fixed my hair with my fingers. I picked up the pen from the floor and set it on the scattered, stained papers, with a smile he returned reluctantly.

—Next time I’ll knock —I lied.

—No, you won’t knock —he said, and he was right.

I opened the door and stepped into the hallway with my head held high. The nurse greeted me with a friendly smile, suspecting nothing. I crossed the entire waiting room, between the pregnant woman and the man with the cane, still feeling the phantom warmth of his hand over my mouth, his semen slowly dripping down the inside of my thigh, my pussy throbbing from being used, my body trembling inside in a way only I knew.

Behind me I heard his voice, calm and once again in command of the situation:

—Next patient, please.

I went out into the street, got into my car, and sat still for a while with my hands on the steering wheel, smiling to myself. I had the marks of his fingers on my thigh, the mark of his cock between my legs, and my breathing was still uneven. I slipped my hand beneath my skirt, touched myself, and brought my fingers to my nose: they smelled like him, like the two of us mixed together. I knew perfectly well that I would come back. I knew he would pretend to be angry again and give in again as soon as I closed the door with my body and grabbed his cock through his trousers.

Because that was what we had: a game in which he pretended to be in charge and I pretended to obey, and we both knew that the one who came in without knocking, the one who decided when it all began, the one who pulled out his cock whenever she wanted—in the end, that was me.

I started the car. I was already thinking about next time, and how, next time, I would make him come in my mouth before letting him get back to work.