Desk Top Desire

The fluorescent lights of the home office hummed, a monotonous soundtrack to Greg’s misery. Paying bills was the bane of his existence, a digital purgatory he endured with a grimace and a silent prayer for the internet to hold. I sat in the living room, deliberately creating a buffer, a silent testament to my desire to give him space, but my own restlessness simmered beneath the surface. He called out, a sharp, insistent command that cut through the digital gloom. I rose, moving swiftly to the desk, drawn by the urgency in his voice. The moment I reached him, he seized me by the waist, his grip firm and possessive. With brutal efficiency, he spun me around, pulling me close, his body a magnetic force pulling me into his orbit. He pressed my hips back, forcing me onto the desk’s cool, unforgiving surface, the leather creaking softly under my weight.

His hand, quick and deliberate, snaked up my stockings, fingers tracing the delicate seam until they found the bare skin of my thighs. There was no hesitation, no gentle exploration. Instead, he yanked my legs apart, a swift, decisive movement that left me breathless and vulnerable. The sensation was both shocking and exhilarating. My breath caught in my throat as his left hand continued its ascent, sliding higher until his fingertips brushed against the silky softness of my panties. Simultaneously, his right hand gripped my breasts, squeezing them with a brutal, insistent pressure. The pain was sharp, immediate, and utterly captivating.

It wasn’t a gradual escalation, but a rapid, unrelenting assault on my senses. The speed and ferocity of his “attack” sent shivers through me, a primal response that dissolved all thought into a single, overwhelming desire. I began to moan, a low, guttural sound of pleasure and submission, my body shaking involuntarily as the intensity mounted. I loved it fast, I loved it hard, and I couldn’t resist the intoxicating rush of his dominance.

Then, as quickly as it began, the torrent slowed. Greg shifted his movements, deliberately altering the tempo, bringing a perverse pleasure to my anticipation. He gently eased my panties to the side, running his finger along the delicate curve of my smooth, wet slit. An invitation, unspoken but unmistakable. I responded instinctively, lifting my hips towards his invading touch, a silent plea for more. He moved slowly, deliberately, his finger sliding into my pussy with a deliberate slowness that heightened the anticipation, each movement a tiny torment.

“I need your hot, wet, tight pussy, baby,” he growled, his voice thick with lust and control. “We might be broke, but I’ve got you.” The words themselves were a promise, a declaration of ownership. The primal heat of his words ignited a fire within me, feeding my growing need.

I moaned, the sound escaping involuntarily as his fingers became harder, more insistent. He was going fast, he was going hard, and yet the slow, deliberate movements between thrusts only served to amplify the pleasure. As he continued to explore, squeezing my tit with relentless force, I bit back another moan, savoring the exquisite pain. Pulling his face down, I kissed him passionately, my mouth tracing the contours of his body, devouring every inch of exposed skin. He shrugged off his t-shirt, tossing it aside with a casual disregard for propriety, revealing his hard, sculpted torso. My mouth moved to his body, licking and kissing his hard nipples, the scent of sweat and arousal filling my senses.

As he continued his assault, sliding my hands down his body, I began to rub his cock through his shorts, reveling in the texture of his skin, the heat radiating from his arousal. He was beautifully hard, full of need, a stark contrast to the bleak landscape of his financial woes. Pulling the shorts down, I grabbed his cock, my fingers caressing his smooth shaft, lost in the overwhelming sensation of his raw masculinity. We both moaned, a symphony of shared pleasure and desire, as he pushed me onto my back on the desk, gripping my hips tightly. He pulled me right to the edge, creating an image in my mind of the inevitable, the exquisite anticipation of penetration. I braced myself, my body tensing, ready to submit to his power.

He took aim, his movements slow, deliberate, imbued with a predatory grace. With a final, decisive thrust, he entered my tight pussy, the sensation both shocking and electrifying. He stretched me, filling me completely, and I cried out in delight, a primal scream of pure, unadulterated pleasure.

“That’s it, baby, scream for it,” he commanded, his voice a low rumble. “You like my big cock in you, don’t you?” The question hung in the air, a challenge, an invitation to surrender completely. “Yesss, yesss, please. Yesss, take me!” I panted and moaned, my body writhing in response to the escalating pleasure. Greg pulled out, then thrust back in with a force that took my breath from me. Over and over, he took me relentlessly, each thrust a wave of intense pleasure, pushing me to the edge of ecstasy. It was primal, it was pure, and I was lost in the bliss of his dominance.

“That’s a good wife,” he growled, the words dripping with satisfaction. “Take it all.”

Greg pounded me incredibly hard, his movements increasingly frantic, his breathing ragged. I thrash around on the desktop, a chaotic display of pleasure and pain, my muscles screaming in protest. He grunted with each thrust, his cock swelling harder and throbbed, my pussy spasming uncontrollably as I cum all over him. My orgasm sent a shockwave through my body, shaking me and convulsing me on the desktop. As he pulled out, a moan escaped his lips, a testament to the sheer intensity of our encounter. But I knew he wasn't finished yet.

My juices flowed out of me as I felt his hot cum splashing on my face, neck, and dress. The shock of his release was quickly followed by a wave of pleasure, as I began to rub it into my face, savoring the delicious sensation of his essence clinging to my skin. I moaned, begging for more, my voice raw and desperate. He thrust his still-stiff cock back into me, pushing me deeper, harder, until I could barely breathe.

“Your wish is my desire, my love,” he whispered, his voice thick with arousal. He continued to dominate, taking me relentlessly, pushing me further into the depths of pleasure. The world narrowed down to the feel of his cock against my flesh, the scent of his arousal, the sound of our shared moans. Lost in the moment, I surrendered completely, allowing myself to be consumed by the raw, untamed passion that burned between us. It was a chaotic, messy, beautiful surrender, a testament to the power of desire, and a reminder that even in the darkest of times, there is always a way to find pleasure, to find release, to find love. The fluorescent lights continued to hum, but their drone faded into the background as I lost myself in the depths of our shared ecstasy, clinging to the feeling, desperate to hold onto the remnants of the pleasure long after it had passed. The experience left me breathless, exhausted, and utterly, completely satisfied. It was a primal dance of dominance and submission, a celebration of lust and desire, and a perfect antidote to the boredom and frustration of paying bills.

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