The Massage That Got Out of Hand in the Office

The deadline for the report was seven-thirty in the morning and we were still locked in her office on the 25th floor of the Torre Diagonal. Outside, Barcelona was a field of lights going out one by one, but inside that glass room time had stopped over a pile of balance sheets and folders. I was drafting the independent expert’s opinion on the company purchase; she kept passing me the figures for the last three fiscal years, one by one, with that taut patience of someone who knows there’s no room for error.

We’d been at it since nine in the morning, stopping only every three hours for a coffee nobody enjoyed anymore. Selene was head of financial analysis, and the kind of woman you never quite manage to look at properly because looking at her properly is dangerous. Brunette, green-eyed, with a way of moving that took up more space than her body measured. I’d seen her once backlit, with her blouse barely turning sheer, and the curves were exactly where they ought to be. She wasn’t spectacular in the magazine sense; she was better than that, she was real. Big breasts, firm, the kind that show under fabric when she breathes in. Round ass, tight inside her suit trousers, so well set on her that I’d spent weeks fighting on my own not to stare at it when she bent down to grab a dossier.

—Fuck, I’ve spent the whole week buried in this company —she said, dropping her pen on the table—. Sitting, reading reports, reviewing accounts. My back’s in a knot and my shoulders feel like stone.

I did it without thinking. I stood up, moved behind her chair, and gave her shoulders a few firm kneads with both hands, like someone loosening a rusted mechanism. The moment I touched her I knew I’d crossed the line, and I froze for a second.

—Sorry, Selene —I pulled my hands away—. I did it without realizing.

—Mmmm… No, don’t overthink it —her voice came out lower, lazier—. It doesn’t bother me. On the contrary. It feels amazing. Keep going.

I hesitated. This is not a good idea, I thought, and put my hands back on her shoulders.

—Aren’t you married? —I blurted, while I dug my thumbs into the base of her neck.

—Yes —she answered without opening her eyes—. But things aren’t going well. For a long time now, being married hasn’t mattered much to me.

There was nothing to say to that, so I kept going. I went from kneading to a proper massage, working the tight muscles of her trapezius, moving up to the nape of her neck, down to her shoulder blades. She let out a long, undone sound.

—Yesss. The forty-minute break to disconnect has officially started —she murmured—. Well, when I say forty, I mean fifty, right?

We both laughed, and that laugh broke something. Selene relaxed so much that she let herself fall back, resting against my chest. Suddenly there was no room left for me to massage her shoulders; I had her hands within reach, her breathing rising and falling under my fingers. Without planning it, without fully deciding, my hands slid forward and settled over her breasts. I waited for the rejection, the startle, the “what are you doing.” It never came. What came were her hands, which settled over mine and showed me, slowly, the rhythm she wanted. I squeezed her tits over her blouse, feeling her nipples go hard at the first touch, two points pressing into my palm through the fine fabric of her bra.

—Lock the door —she said, and there was no joke left in her voice—. There’s a bolt, it locks from the inside. You want this, and I’m in the mood.

***

I crossed the room and slid the bolt. The click sounded absurdly loud in that empty-office silence. When I turned back, Selene had already moved. She was sitting on the windowsill, barefoot, with two buttons of her blouse open and her back outlined against all of Barcelona at her feet. She beckoned to me with her index finger, curling it slowly. Come here.

Behind her was a view anyone would pay to have. The city lights, the dark line of the sea in the distance, planes descending far, far away. And yet the only thing I could look at was her sitting there, waiting for me, as if she were the end of a thought I’d spent months not daring to finish.

I went to her without really knowing where to begin. Relax, I told myself. Let instinct do the work. I pressed against her and what came naturally, the most natural thing in the world, was kissing her while I stroked the side of her thighs. First one short kiss, almost a test. Then another. We both had the sensation of exploring each other, checking how far the other would let us go.

Then we fit together and the kiss deepened, with open mouths and tongues searching without hurry. I could feel her leaning more into me with every second, and I leaned against her. She hooked her legs around my hips and I held her with my arms, squeezing her, feeling her breasts flatten against my chest. I was starting to get aroused and there was no way to hide it anymore. My cock had gone hard inside my trousers and rubbed against the inside of her thigh every time I pressed against her. I held her tighter and pushed my hips toward hers, searching for her mound with mine through our clothes. She jerked when she felt the bulge, pulled back a finger’s width, smiled, and pressed herself even harder against me.

—My husband hasn’t touched me like this in two years —she said against my ear, her voice breaking—. You make me feel desired. You have no idea what that does to me.

I finished unbuttoning her blouse, button by button, and she yanked my zipper down impatiently. I opened her bra from behind too with one clumsy hand, and her tits spilled out in a rush, bigger than I’d imagined, with dark, stiff nipples. I lowered my face and sucked one into my mouth, pulling with my lips, circling it with my tongue, barely biting the tip, and she dug her fingers into my neck and arched her back to offer me the other one. I licked them in turn, slowly, listening to her breathing turn ragged every time I scraped a nipple with my teeth.

We kissed again, now with nips at the lip, with tongues surrendering, with that urgency you hold back on purpose so it lasts longer. I slid one hand down to her belly and, over her trousers, pressed my palm against her mound. She slipped hers inside my boxers and took me directly. She closed her fingers around my cock and moved it slowly, measuring me.

—You’re really hard —she murmured, smiling faintly—. And thick. We’ll have to see it. And try it.

I unfastened her trousers and pulled the zipper down just enough to slip my hand in. I found the hair, the warm curve, and lower down the wetness giving her away. She was ready, or almost. I ran my middle finger between the lips of her pussy, up and down, and pulled it out dripping. I showed it to her between us, brought it to her mouth, and she sucked my finger with her eyes closed, tasting herself.

—I liked that —she panted when I sank my fingers back in, now two, inside her—. That got me horny. Keep putting them in like that.

I held her against the glass with my body while I pulled her trousers down, steady and firm, and she lifted her hips a little to help me. The trousers and her underwear fell to the office floor, beside her forgotten shoes. She ended up completely naked, sitting on the windowsill, legs apart and her wet pussy shining under the dim light of the office. I looked at that spot between her thighs, almost completely shaved save for a thin strip, the swollen lips, the clit already peeking out. My mouth flooded with saliva. I knelt.

—You’re going to eat me there? —she asked, and there was disbelief in her voice, as if it had been a long time since anyone had bothered—. Really?

I didn’t answer with words. I lifted one leg and rested it on my shoulder, held her by the hip, and first I blew gently over her mound, just to see her shiver. I kissed her there, slowly, and then gave myself to her with my mouth without any hurry. I ran my tongue all the way from bottom to top, flat and broad, gathering all her slickness, and she let out a long moan that reverberated in the glass. I parted her lips with two fingers and searched for her clit with the tip of my tongue, circling it, sucking it between my lips, tugging carefully. Then I moved down to the entrance of her cunt and pushed my tongue in as deep as I could, fucking her like that for a while while I held her belly to keep her still.

—Mmmm… You’re not bad at this at all —she said, her voice rising—. Yesss, right there. Suck me like that. Don’t stop, don’t stop…

I went back to her clit and slid two fingers in at the same time, searching inside for that rough spot, and I felt her belly start to tremble. She grabbed my hair with one hand, held my head, set the rhythm for a few minutes, and then, when she couldn’t stay still any longer, she tugged upward for me to stand. She wanted me in front of her. Or rather, she wanted something else first.

She climbed down from the windowsill, pushed at my chest until I stepped back, and finished lowering my trousers and underwear in one yank. My cock sprang out hard and swollen, the head already shining from being held in so long. She knelt now, saying nothing, looked up from below with those green eyes fixed on mine, and took me all the way into her mouth in a single thrust. I felt the warm back of her throat brush my glans and had to brace myself against the glass so I wouldn’t lose my balance.

—Fuck, Selene —I let slip.

She sucked me slowly at first, pulling me almost all the way out and taking me back in, lips tight around me and tongue working me underneath. Then she picked up the pace, gripping me at the base with her hand and jerking me against her mouth, faster and faster, drawing out saliva, letting it drip over my balls, sucking on them too one by one with tenderness. I looked at her down there, kneeling in her own office with my cock in her mouth, her tits hanging free, her mane disheveled, and I almost came just like that. I tugged her hair to pull her off before it was too late.

—Stop —I told her—. I’m going to come. And not yet.

She laughed, running her tongue over her lips, and let herself be lifted. I picked her up in my arms, set her back on the windowsill with a shove, opened her legs wide and positioned myself between them.

We stayed like that, face to face, looking at each other from a handspan away, both of us breathing hard. She lowered her hand, took hold of me, guided me. She rubbed the tip against herself, slowly, lining me up, sliding me up and down between the wet lips of her pussy, soaking me with her juices, and then she shoved me into the entrance herself. I pushed and entered little by little, gaining a bit of ground with each thrust, giving her time to get used to the width. Selene closed her eyes and threw her head back against the glass. A short moan slipped out of her when I reached the hilt.

—Ah… you’re thick, fuck —she panted—. Slowly. Like that, slowly… and then not so slowly.

I did as she said. I started to pump in and out with slow thrusts, coming out almost completely and driving myself back in to the hilt, feeling her pussy clench around my cock every time I buried it. The rhythm climbed on its own, the way everything rises when two bodies stop thinking. I grabbed her tits with both hands and squeezed them, pinching her nipples while I drove her harder and harder against the glass. She dug her heels into my ass to take my cock even deeper.

—Like that… Fuck me like that —she whispered in my ear—. Harder. More. Don’t hold back, I’m so fucking wet.

Her breasts trembled with every jolt, the window vibrated faintly behind us, and every now and then we opened our eyes at the same time and held each other’s gaze, as if confirming that this was really happening, that neither of us was imagining it in the middle of some boring meeting. I pulled out for a moment, made her climb down from the windowsill, turned her around and bent her over the meeting table, cheek pressed against the folders of the report and ass raised, offered up. I spread her buttocks with both hands and drove my cock into her again from behind in a single thrust.

—Aaah, like that —she cried softly, biting the folder to keep from making noise—. Break my pussy like that.

I fucked her standing up, gripping her by the hips, watching that pert ass shake every time I slammed against my pelvis. The wet sound of her cunt sloshing, the slap of my balls against her thighs, her muffled moans against the paper of the opinion we’d been drafting half an hour earlier. I wet one finger in my mouth, ran it over her asshole, and she shuddered all over when I slid it in slowly to the first knuckle while I kept fucking her pussy.

—Don’t stop —she told me, digging her nails into my arm over my shoulder—. Don’t even think about stopping now. I’m going to come.

I didn’t stop. I slapped her ass hard, grabbed her hair, pulled back and drove short, repeated thrusts into her, hammering her core. I felt her tense all over, hold her breath, squeeze my cock in a fist of pussy, and then let it go in a long, muffled tremor, her legs failing her, moaning against the table words that were no longer words. That squeeze was what dragged me under. I pulled out in time, turned her again, she dropped to her knees on the carpeted floor and opened her mouth, looking up at me from below. I finished over her with two jerks, and a jet landed on her tongue, another on her lips, another on her chest, between her tits. She gathered my load with two fingers and licked it slowly, looking at me, never taking her eyes off mine.

***

After that we stayed like that for a while, pressed together, catching our breath, not letting go. She was smiling with her eyes still closed, still kneeling, the skin of her chest shining. I took her hand and helped her stand. I wiped the cum from her neck with the pad of my thumb and she bit it, laughing.

—The break was forty minutes —I said at last.

—Fifty —she corrected me, laughing softly—. I warned you.

We picked up our clothes from the floor, dressed without hurry, and sat back down in our places, facing the pile of balance sheets that was still waiting. The deadline hadn’t changed: seven-thirty was still getting closer. But something in that room was no longer the same, and we both knew it. On the cover of the opinion, hidden beneath the second balance sheet, remained the wet mark of her cheek and of my cum.

—Where were we? —she said, opening another folder, biting her lip to keep from smiling.

—The result of the second fiscal year —I answered.

And we kept working until dawn, as if nothing had happened, while Barcelona began lighting up again on the other side of the glass.