The Secretary’s Weekly Routine
Working as the lead administrative assistant for the hydraulic engineering department is more than just a career; it is a meticulously choreographed dance of desire. I support four brilliant engineers, each with their own distinct personality and a specific day of the week dedicated to my pleasure and theirs. In my mind, I don’t just see them as colleagues; I see them as the rhythm of my working life.
Mondays belong to Francisco. Our morning commutes are filled with light chatter about our weekends, but the ride home is where the real tension breaks. He always pulls over behind an abandoned gas station, the seclusion providing the perfect sanctuary. There, in the dim light of the car, I slide down to give him the oral attention he craves while he uses a sleek silicone toy from the glovebox to bring me to a shaking, breathless peak.
Tuesdays are for Álvaro. He picks me up early, and we share the domesticity of dropping his children off at school. He is a man of few words during the commute home, but his silence is a mask for his hunger. Once we are behind closed doors, the dynamic shifts. I take control, using weighted beads to tease and stimulate him, listening to his quiet composure dissolve into guttural moans of surrender.
Wednesdays are reserved for Pedro. He often grumbles during the morning drive because I keep him at arm’s length, denying him even a kiss. The anticipation builds until we make a detour to his house. He worships my body with a relentless hunger, his tongue working tirelessly between my thighs until I am arching off the sheets. The encounter usually ends with him spending himself across my breasts in a frantic, messy release that always makes me late for dinner.
Thursdays are the most adventurous with Lucas. We spend our mornings singing along to the radio and sharing breakfast at the town square. However, the workday ends at a discreet local hotel. Lucas enjoys the art of restraint; he ties my wrists with silk scarves and claims me from behind, the sharp sting of a slap on my backside punctuating the rhythm of his deep, driving thrusts.
By Friday, I commute on my own. I leave the office early, eager to meet my boyfriend who picks me up for our weekend together. He often complains about our conflicting schedules during the week, completely unaware that my professional life is an erotic odyssey. I simply smile and tell him that the office has a wonderful atmosphere.