Not My Type - Sex Stories

Not My Type

... arse and she cried out. I massaged the hand print. “Shoosh or they’ll hear us.”

“Fuckfuckfuck, don’t stop.”

“Don’t stop fucking your arse or spanking you?”

“Ngggh. Both!”

I swatted her cheeks alternately, using the opposite hand to grab and pull her onto my hardness. Another sensation joined and it took a moment to realise she was fingering her pussy in counterpoint to me ravaging her arse. It was so fucking hot and I rapidly approached the point of no return, just like I’m doing over my desk now.

Memories of our first fuck swim as I rock my hips against hers and finger her cunt. I rut into her dark space, snarling, “Take it all, you filthy whore,” and pull both my fingers and cock free. Fight the urge to cum.

She cries out and I plug her outburst with my juice-infused fingers, grab a fistful of hair with the other and haul her upright, breathing heavily in her ear. She flashes a hand to her clit and carries on where I let off but I nip her lobe.

“No. Present your arse to me.”

With a final grinding circle and a sigh, she leaves her cunt and slides dainty hands to her hips, then behind. Pulls herself apart.

My dick steels. “Good fucking girl.”

I kick the inside of each ankle to widen her stance, bringing her clit in line with the desk edge. She humps and rolls against it and groans into my fingers. Taking half a step back, I admire the slight gape of her rear, line the bulbous head with it and drive inside to the hilt.

She lets out a brief ...

... scream and I pull her hair to warn her to keep it down. Tug my cock completely free. Spit on it, wait a second and slam it back into her arse.

Each time I haul free of her ring and plunge back inside, her sensitive clit catches the desk edge. Her whimpers escalate, mouth falling open as her insides melt, moans announcing the arrival of the orgasm that rips through her like a tropical tornado. I bury my cock deep, holding tight and her winking arse triggers my climax.

Jets of hot spunk lash her insides. I groan into her ear as she milks every spurt and mewls around my fingers. We're hot and perspiring, joined as our mutual orgasms roll organically into the office space, pheromones staining the air as the waves of lust pulse and ebb.

When the spasms begin to dissipate, we gradually disengage. I unwrap her hair from my fist and slip my fingers from her mouth. Withdrawing my still hard cock from her bottom, Zoë immediately turns, sinks to her knees and gobbles the globs of spunk from its surface until it shines with saliva. What makes it hotter is the doe-eyed lusty expression up at me the entire time she's polishing my knob clean, ramming my dwindling hardness into her throat like a starved animal, until I regretfully soften.

She pops free, draws my cargo pants and underwear up as she stands and tucks me away. I buckle my belt and watch as she slithers her panties up and wiggles the skirt down over her hips. Finger combs her hair.

I smile. “You look like you've just ...