Secrets

After Lunch Shenanigans

He shouted at you again at work today. Just a few minutes ago actually. You’d left for lunch at 11 after getting to work late, at 9, and gotten back to your desk at 3:15, in your usual blustery manner. Everyone had stared as the vein popped on his forehead. He wasn’t angry, no. He was a boiling volcano of lava and fury and it was all pouring out, magma and flaming rocks hurling out, aimed straight at you. Your pulse quickened as his voice got louder and the abuses got worse. What were you thinking, he asked, do you think you’d get paid after the laziness you’d shown. Do you expect other people’s hard work to put food on your table? The questions went on and on. Your coworkers, the bastards, they kept nodding along to his words, none of them would come to you aid if he raised a fist against you. They despise you. He walked up to you until he got really, really close. He was so close, you could see his molars every time he opened his mouth to sent another word of retribution your way. In your bra, your nipples hardened. You’ve had your tongue on those molars. Felt every ridge. You know his mouth, his lips… His lips were moving slowly now, you could no longer hear a word he said. Beads of sweat formed on his upper lip. “He shouldn’t stand so close,” you thought. “I’m going to lick him.” “Close your eyes girl. You can’t want a taste of what you can’t see,” your brain told you. He stopped abruptly, turned and stormed out of the office. You sat down shakily at your desk, then thought better of it, stood up and stormed out also. That was two minutes ago. In the car he tears off your thong and garters like an animal. He doesn’t have to though. He’s already inside you, thick and hard, pounding all the anger and frustration away. “Is this how you liked it? Do you like to be used at the back seat of a car with nothing under you but cold leather? Clothes torn and discarded so that I have to drop you home under the cover of darkness to maintain a sense of decency? Is that what turns you on?” Smack! A slap lands on you bare bottom, it stings. Your answer? Maybe. Maybe you just liked that you had to take off to lunch early to buy new underwear because he’d torn your last pair just that morning, taking you doggy style, in your office. So many questions though. Can’t he just concentrate on how wet you are and fuck you harder? Now you have to rub yourself to cum, because he can’t get his mind off his bloody questions and into your pussy. Concentrate man! Concentrate!