Erotic Office Stories Novels & Stories

“You want to be in charge again? He didn’t answer. He just walked past me, same as before. I followed. This time it wasn’t a storage room. He led me through a staircase to a dark private office. Leather couch. Glass desk. He locked the door. “Office now?” I asked, pulse racing. “Wanted something...different.” He turned and unbuttoned his shirt slowly, watching me the whole time. I stepped out of my heels. “You've been thinking about me?” I asked. “Nope.” “Liar.” He stepped in, lifted me like I weighed nothing, set me on the desk, pulled my legs apart. “No foreplay this time?” I taunted. “I'm positive you're already wet.”

“Start here. Take your time entering me.” Ethan freed his throbbing cock, hard and leaking. He rubbed the head along her slickness, teasing her entrance before pushing in inch by inch, groaning at the tight, velvety heat enveloping him. Ophelia sighed in satisfaction. “That’s it… fill me slowly. Feel how I grip you.” He began thrusting with measured strokes, the wet sounds of their joining filling the office. Her heavy breasts pressed against the wood, swaying gently. She pushed back to meet him, murmuring encouragement. “Harder now… but don’t rush the finish. I want to feel every moment.”

He didn't know if he ever would. Over the next month, they barely left each other's bodies. Every moment felt like it might be the last, so they spent it fucking—in his apartment, in her apartment, in the lab after hours with the door locked and the risk of discovery making everything more intense. One evening, Marcus bent her over his desk in his office and took her from behind while she gripped the edge, her back arching beautifully. Her ass pressed against his hips as he drove into her, and she gasped his name with each thrust.

“Oh! Miguel! Fuck me!“ I cry out and forgetting the order he gave me, I wrap my arms around him, I gasp helplessly as the strength of his length in me burns and pleases at the same time. “Yes…” he hisses and I clench down on him tightly, “sir…sir…oh fuck…” I call to let him know that my orgasm is near and he pulls me by the neck to join our mouths in a filthy kiss. The sound in the office are pure sin and chaos, the ending of a game we've played for so long. “I'm cumming inside you and you will take everything” he pulls away to say and I nod my head and tighten my walls to take it.

I told her I had worked on some erotic stories this weekend and asked her if she wanted to read them. She sent a quick response and said, sure. So I sent them over to her and waited. She responded, "you certainly have a knack for storytelling, detailed, personalized, and hot!!" At that point, I knew she must have enjoyed the stories. I walked into her office and closed the door. No one else was scheduled to be in the office on Monday, which was a bonus for us. When I closed the door, she looked me in the eyes and said, "I'm so wet from reading your stories."

“Says the Alpha who gave his Luna oral sex in dream land.” “That would actually a very interesting story plot.” “Exactly why we should be doing more adventurous things while fucking…to spice up our lives and make good story plots.” “Hmm.” “Yeah, you mentioned one time that Everlery likes writing…she can write erotica stories with what we do and who knows? We might be the inspiration to a bestseller book.”

“Show me how badly you want this.” I braced my hands on his thighs and started bouncing, fucking myself on his thick cock. The wet sounds filled the office. Damien’s hands guided my hips and occasionally slapping my ass. “Look out the window,” he growled. “Anyone working late in the opposite building could see you bouncing on my dick like a desperate slut.” The thought made me ride him harder. He reached around and rubbed my clit in fast circles. “Damien… oh god, I’m going to cum again—”

He moved closer and, still fondling his bulge, Karen sat back in the chair, one leg thrown over the other, squeezing her thighs together to bring pressure to bear on her clitoris. There was something powerfully erotic about the glorious interior of Blackwood Towers. Generations of Burnets had fucked there — not only husbands and wives but, no doubt, a multitude of illicit lovers as well. It was as if the tumescence, liquid arousal and violent pleasure of these people from the past had impregnated the walls. She could almost see them dressed in period costume, ruffles and lace, trooped skirts and powdered wigs. Her mind slipped notches, filled with swirling coloured lights and images of forni

His tiny caged cock, locked in a pink steel chastity cage for four straight months now, leaked constantly whenever she even whispered about her plans. It was Cindy’s 29th birthday. She had rented out the entire top floor of an exclusive rooftop club in Manhattan that catered to the city’s most discreet high-end swingers and kink community. The venue had a glass-walled penthouse suite overlooking the skyline, complete with a large circular bed platform in the center, multiple couches, a fully stocked bar, and a raised stage area with spotlights.

Our bodies pressed together, breasts rubbing against each other. "My turn," I whispered against her lips, sliding off the desk to push her back onto it. A knock came on her office door making my heart drop. "Oh no", I muttered as our eyes locked for a brief moment.