Chapter 1: The Friday Night Trap
Hey, it’s Cathy here, your not-so-innocent executive secretary with a penchant for trouble. It’s Friday evening, and the office is clearing out faster than a bar at last call. I’m at my desk, adjusting my too-tight skirt that barely covers my chunky bubble butt, when Marcus—oh, sweet lord, Marcus—buzzes me into his office. That man, my boss, is a goddamn beast. Six-foot-nine of pure, hulking muscle, with a face that’s seen one too many fists but still screams raw power. I can’t help but feel a tingle as I strut in, my 40 DDDs bouncing with every step, barely contained by my slutty little blouse.
“Close the door, Cathy,” Marcus growls, his voice like gravel and sin. He’s leaning back in his chair, those massive 35-inch biceps flexing as he steeples his fingers. His tiny, close-set eyes rake over me, and I swear I can feel them peeling off my clothes.
“What’s up, boss?” I purr, cocking a hip and giving him a smirk. I know I’m playing with fire, but hell, I’ve got a thing for getting burned.
“You’ve been teasing me all week with those outfits,” he says, standing up. Jesus, he’s a fucking mountain. “That skirt? It’s begging to be ripped off. And don’t think I haven’t noticed how you bend over my desk just to flash that ass.”
I laugh, sharp and biting. “Oh, Marcus, if I’m teasing, it’s ‘cause I know you can’t handle the full show. Or can you?” I step closer, my big blue eyes locking with his, daring him.
He grins, that gap between his front teeth making him look like a predator who’s just spotted dinner. “Bitch, I’ll show you handling. Everyone’s gone. It’s just us now. You ready to play, or you gonna keep running that smart mouth?”
“Try me, big guy,” I shoot back, my voice dripping with challenge. My heart’s pounding, and I can feel the heat pooling between my thighs already. I’m not some wilting flower; I’m Cathy fucking Shaner, and I take what I want.
In two strides, he’s on me, his massive hands gripping my hips, pulling me against him. I can feel his cock through his pants, hard as steel and fucking enormous—way bigger than anything I’ve ever had. My pussy clenches just thinking about it. “You’re gonna regret mouthing off,” he snarls, his breath hot on my neck as he backs me against his desk.
“Regret’s not in my vocabulary, asshole,” I snap, but my voice hitches as he yanks my skirt up, exposing my bare, dripping wet slit. No panties today—why bother when I knew this was coming? His thick fingers graze me, and I’m already panting, my pale skin flushing as I brace myself on the desk.
“Fuck, you’re soaked,” he mutters, his voice thick with lust. “You’ve been horny for this all day, haven’t you?”
“Shut up and do something about it,” I hiss, grinding against his hand. I’m sweating now, my body aching for more, for that monster cock I know he’s packing. He chuckles, dark and dirty, and I hear the sound of his zipper. My eyes widen as I glance down—holy shit, it’s as thick as a soda can and longer than my forearm. I’m in deep, and I’m loving every second of the danger.
He spins me around, bending me over the desk, my huge tits pressing into the cold wood. “Spread that ass, Cathy,” he orders, and I do, not because I’m some submissive doll, but because I want this. I want him to wreck me. I feel the tip of him against me, hot and heavy, and I’m already trembling, wet and ready for the ride of my life.
Want to know how it ends?
This is just the opening chapter. Continue the saga — or write a steamy tale starring you.