The Night I Invited My Boss Over to Finish the Report

My name is Renata, and I’ve been working as an executive assistant for almost four years. There’s something I learned early on in that office: the clothes a woman chooses in the morning aren’t innocent. That afternoon, I’d dressed knowing exactly what I was doing. A black lace set beneath my dress, thigh-high stockings held up by garters, heels that forced me to walk slowly. Red lips, my hair loose over my shoulders. I like feeling that way, watched even when nobody is looking. And that day, someone was looking.

My boss’s name is Damián. He’s a meticulous man, the kind who checks every figure twice before signing. He’s a few years older than me, with barely silvering temples and a way of looking over his glasses that made me nervous without his knowing it. We’d been working for weeks on a report that never seemed to end, and that night the office was closing before we could finish it. Staying there wasn’t an option; the guards made their rounds and shut off the lights.

I’d imagined it more times than I’d ever admit out loud. In long meetings, while he talked about budgets, I’d catch myself looking at his hands and thinking about how those thick fingers would feel opening my legs, sinking into my pussy up to the knuckle. It was a private game, a fantasy that existed only in my head during the dead hours of the workday, and that made me squeeze my thighs beneath the desk every time he came near. I never thought I’d get the chance to take it one step further. Until that afternoon.

“If you want, we can finish it at my place,” I said, gathering my things. “I live ten minutes away, and I have decent coffee.”

He thought about it longer than a cup of coffee deserved. Then he nodded, as if accepting a truce.

***

My apartment is small but tidy. I offered him a seat on the sofa, cleared off the coffee table, and opened our two laptops side by side. I served him tea instead of the coffee I’d promised; I thought it might help him relax his shoulders. We worked in silence for a while, with the sound of the keys and little else. But I watched him from the corner of my eye.

Damián’s jaw was clenched, his brow tense, his right hand closed over his thigh. It wasn’t the report. Or it wasn’t only the report. From the comments that sometimes slipped out, I knew things weren’t going well with his wife. That kind of tension doesn’t go away with numbers.

I rested my hand on his shoulder. I felt him stiffen beneath my fingers.

“You’re awfully tense,” I said, laughing at my own choice of words. “Your shoulders, I mean. Take a break.”

“Lately, not even a break relaxes me,” he replied, staring at the screen without seeing it.

I let a second pass. Then two. My heart was racing, but my voice came out calm.

“Then let’s do something else.”

He turned to look at me, confused. And before he could ask what I meant, I stood up in front of him. I slowly slipped the straps of my dress off my shoulders, letting the fabric slide down to my waist and then to the floor. I stood there in black lace and stockings, letting him look. I watched his gaze drift to my tits above the bra, to the wetness already showing through the lace between my legs.

“You don’t have to say anything,” I murmured. “Just stop thinking for a while.”

***

I saw his breathing quicken. His gaze traveled down my body and returned to my eyes, looking for confirmation I had already given him. I moved closer, straddled him on the sofa, and wrapped my arms around his neck.

“Are you sure about this, Renata?” he asked, even though his hands were already holding my hips.

“More sure than you are, apparently.”

I kissed him. At first it was a slow kiss, almost a question, until he answered with an urgency he’d been holding back for weeks. He pressed me against his body, one hand sliding up my back, the other sinking into my hair. I felt his hard cock pressing against his trousers, pushing right between my legs, and I moved slowly over it, rubbing my wet pussy against the bulge until I drew a deep moan from him that vibrated against my lips.

“Feel what you do to me,” I whispered in his ear. “I’m soaked, Damián. I’ve been wet since you served me the tea.”

“Shut up or I won’t last,” he growled, biting my neck.

I opened his shirt one button at a time. His chest was firm, the chest of a man who went to the gym to burn off whatever life left inside him. I kissed his neck, his collarbone, while he unfastened my bra with a skill that surprised me. The garment fell between us, and his hands found my tits, gently at first, then eagerly, squeezing my nipples between his fingers until a moan escaped me. He bent down and sucked one, then the other, tugging them with his teeth while I rubbed my pussy against his cock through the fabric.

“Come on,” I said, my voice trembling. “To bed.”

I led him to the bedroom. On the way, he finished taking off his shirt, and I got rid of my heels; I decided to leave the stockings and garters on, because I knew how men liked them and because I liked them too.

***

I gently pushed him down to sit on the edge of the bed and knelt between his legs. I unbuckled his belt, pulled down his trousers and boxer briefs in one tug. His cock sprang free, thick and hard, the tip already glistening with pre-cum. My mouth watered. I took it in both hands, weighing it, and ran my tongue along the shaft from the base to the head, slowly, looking him in the eyes. He let out a long sigh of pure relief, as if something stuck inside him had finally begun to loosen.

“God, Renata,” he gasped. “Look at me like that and you’ll kill me.”

I smiled with my mouth open against his cock and took it all the way in. I took my time. I licked it from his balls to the tip, spat on it, and ran my tongue beneath the head until I made him tremble. Then I put it back in my mouth, taking it deep and letting it hit the back of my throat until my eyes filled with tears. His hand settled on the back of my neck, setting a rhythm he himself could barely control, pushing my head as I sucked him hungrily, noisily, drool running down my chin to my tits.

I heard him breathing raggedly, saying my name under his breath, muttering curses he never would have said in the office. “What a mouth you have,” “That’s it, don’t stop,” “You suck me like a goddess.” Every filthy word made my pussy clench harder. With one hand I kept jerking him off while licking his balls, sucking them one by one, and with the other I slid two fingers into my cunt to contain my need.

This is one of my fantasies too, I thought, his cock striking the roof of my mouth. It has been for months.

When I felt he was too close, when his cock began throbbing against my tongue and his thighs tensed, I stopped. I pulled it from my mouth with an obscene pop and smiled up at him, my lips swollen and red.

“Not yet,” I said. “I want you to come with me.”

I stood, and he pulled me toward the bed, laid me on my back, and took his turn. He kissed my neck, moved down over my tits without hurry, stopping at each nipple to suck them until they were hard and sensitive, then gently bit the skin of my belly. When he reached between my legs and tore off my lace panties, the look he gave me when he saw my shaved pussy shining with wetness made me squeeze my thighs around his face.

“Look at you,” he murmured, blowing slowly over my clitoris before giving me the first long lick, from bottom to top, that made me arch my back off the bed.

“Yes,” I told him, grabbing his hair. “Just like that.”

He did it with a concentration I hadn’t known he possessed, the same concentration he brought to his reports, now applied to reading every tremor in my body. He sucked my clitoris with his lips, circled it with his tongue, and slid two fingers into my pussy, curling them as he searched for the spot that made me moan without shame. He pulled them out glistening with my juices, pushed them back in, and added a third until I felt open and dripping onto the sheets. Then he moved lower, ran his tongue over my ass, and that surprise tore a sharp moan from me, which he celebrated with a dark laugh against my crotch.

“You’re such a pervert,” I gasped.

“And you love it.”

He was right. When I couldn’t take it anymore, when I felt I would come all over his mouth if he continued for another second, I pulled him up toward me.

***

“I don’t have anything,” he murmured against my neck, and I understood what he meant.

“Neither do I,” I admitted. I looked into his eyes for a moment, that pause when a woman makes a decision. “It’s okay. This time I want to feel you with nothing between us. I want to feel your cock just as it is, without a condom.”

He was surprised, but he didn’t pull away. On the contrary, his cock grew even harder against my thigh. I climbed on top of him, this time without a barrier. I took his cock in my hand, rubbed it against my wet lips, running the head over my clitoris until we both moaned, and then placed it at the entrance to my pussy. I lowered myself slowly, inch by inch, feeling it open me, stretch me, fill me to the bottom. When I had taken it all inside, I stayed still for a second, panting, feeling it pulse inside me. He closed his eyes and threw his head back. One of his hands found my hip, the other my tit.

“You’re like an oven inside,” he groaned. “I’ve never felt anything like this.”

“It’s yours,” I told him, and began to move.

I rose and fell calmly, feeling his cock scrape my walls with every thrust, the head pounding inside me until I saw white. My own moans filled the room, mingling with the wet sound of my pussy swallowing him again and again. I took his hands and placed them on my tits so he would squeeze them, and he crushed them, tugged my nipples, and left red marks on me.

“Slower,” he pleaded hoarsely, “or this is going to be over before it begins.”

I listened, slowing my pace without losing depth. I began grinding my hips against his in circles, rubbing my clitoris against his pubic bone on every downward stroke. I placed my hands on his chest and felt his heart pounding, fast and out of control. We had both been carrying too much tension for too long, and now it poured out all at once in every slow, firm movement, every time I squeezed him with the walls of my pussy and he answered with a growl.

“That’s it, squeeze me like that,” he said, digging his fingers into my ass. “You’re so wet it makes a sound, hear that?”

It did. Every time I sank down onto him, the sloshing filled the room, and I bit my lip to keep from screaming.

***

At some point he took me by the waist and, without pulling out of me, turned us over on the bed until I was on my back. He settled between my legs, lifted them and braced them against his chest, folding me nearly in half, and began fucking me with a new strength. His cock drove all the way inside with every thrust, striking my cervix and drawing a broken moan from me each time. I clutched the sheets, moaning without restraint, while he set a rhythm that left me breathless.

“Look at it,” he gasped, lowering his gaze between us. “Look at how I’m putting it all the way inside you.”

I lifted myself slightly to look. His cock slid in and out of me, shining, and the sight alone made me squeeze tighter around him.

“Don’t stop,” I managed between gasps. “Break me, Damián, break me.”

He looked at me with an intensity that raised gooseflesh on my skin. He released my legs, made me turn over, and put me on all fours. He settled behind me, grabbed my hips, and drove into me again in a single thrust that tore a cry from me. He began pounding me from behind, hard and without pause, his palms striking my buttocks every time he slammed me against his cock. My face was buried in the pillow, my ass in the air, my stockings still on, and one of his hands in my hair, pulling my head back.

“Whore,” he growled in my ear without stopping his deep thrusts. “How long have you been waiting for this, huh?”

“Months,” I confessed. “I imagined you like this in every meeting, fucking me on your desk.”

He lowered his head and kissed the nape of my neck, whispering things in my ear that made me clench my pussy harder around his cock. One of his hands moved down my belly until it found my clitoris, and he began stroking it in circles at the same rhythm as his penetration. The pleasure accumulated somewhere in my belly, tightening like a string, until it snapped all at once. I screamed into the pillow, my whole body trembling beneath him, my pussy clenching in spasms around his cock, spilling over his balls.

He held out a little longer, just long enough to watch me come apart, before his own breathing became erratic. He turned me onto my back again and kept thrusting while looking into my eyes.

“I’m about to come,” he said, breathless. “Where do you want me to shoot?”

“Anywhere you want,” I replied, wrapping my legs around him. “In my mouth, on my tits, wherever you want.”

Those words finally released him. He gave three, four more thrusts, disordered and hungry, then pulled out of me just in time. He straddled me, grabbed his cock, and quickly jerked himself off, aiming at my tits. The first stream of semen landed hot on my chest, the second spattered my neck and chin, and the third spilled over my belly in a thick strand. He emptied himself over me with a deep moan that seemed to drain him of all the weight he’d brought into my home.

Without thinking, I ran two fingers over my tits, gathered some of his cum, and brought it to my mouth. The sight made the breath leave him.

“You’re going to be my downfall,” he murmured.

***

We stayed like that for a while, both of us breathless, staring at the ceiling. I brushed a lock of hair from his forehead, and he laughed softly, almost incredulously.

“It’s been a long time since I felt this… light,” he said.

“I told you. The report could wait.”

I went to the bathroom, came back with a damp towel, and cleaned him without hurrying, running it over his cock as well, which was still only half-hard. Then I lay down beside him, my head on his chest, listening as his heart slowly returned to normal.

“And now what?” he asked, staring at the ceiling.

“Now nothing,” I said. “Tomorrow we’ll finish the report. And if you ever get this tense again, you know I have tea.”

He laughed for real this time, an open laugh that seemed to take ten years off him.

“I like the way you think.”

“I know.”

He slept in my bed that night, and in the morning the man who returned to the office seemed like someone else: looser, lighter, less tied up in his own knots. Nobody noticed, of course. Only me, because I knew exactly where that new calm had come from.

From then on, whenever work piles up and I see him clench his jaw at the screen, I offer him tea. He understands. And sometimes, when there’s no time to come to my place, we find somewhere closer—a locked bathroom, his office after seven, my soaked pussy pressed against the edge of a desk. But that’s another story.