Elena strode back into the office like she'd never left, tanned and sharper than ever after six months abroad. Alex caught her eye over the copier and grinned. 'Back to torment the spreadsheets?' he quipped. She laughed, that low, throaty sound that always got him. 'Only if you buy the first round. I'm jet-lagged and horny for trouble.'
Three bars later they stumbled into her apartment, shoes kicked off, bottles clinking. Drunk on whiskey and nostalgia, they collapsed on her couch. 'Remember Marcus?' Elena said, eyes gleaming. 'His idea of foreplay was a PowerPoint on positions. I came once out of pity.' Alex snorted. 'Sarah was worse—treated my cock like a joystick in a broken arcade game. All flash, no finish.'
They swapped stories, voices dropping. 'I'm seeing someone now,' she admitted, 'but it's open. Non-exclusive. Yours?' Alex nodded. 'Same. Keeps things... flexible.' Their gazes locked, the air thickening. 'Flexible enough for this?' Elena leaned in first, lips crashing with fierce intent. Clothes flew—his shirt, her dress—until she stood in nothing but see-through white panties, the fabric clinging wet and translucent.
Alex peeled them down last, revealing her neat black bush. 'God, you're dripping already,' he muttered. Elena pushed him back, strong hands guiding. 'Less talk, more action. Suck my pussy while I give you the blowjob you deserve.' She straddled his face, grinding as he licked her slick folds, her moans sharp and commanding. His cock hardened instantly; she took it deep, tongue swirling until he was panting.
Sweating and horny, they flipped—her ass up as he thrust into her tight pussy, hard and relentless. 'Fuck me deeper,' she ordered, riding him with unyielding rhythm. He came first, cum spilling hot across her bush; she followed, clenching and dripping around him. They fucked for what felt like hours, bodies tangled, until dawn crept in. A final kiss sealed it: 'This never happens again,' she whispered. 'But damn, I'm glad it did.'
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