The Christmas Party Caress

When Lena touched my wrist, I nearly dropped my whiskey.

Her husband was across the room, laughing with our boss. My wife was home with a fever. The office Christmas tree blinked red and gold, casting shadows across Lena’s face as she leaned closer.

“Nick,” she whispered. “You’ve been staring at me all night.”

“I didn’t mean to.”

“Liar.” Her fingers traced my palm, featherlight. The music shifted to something slow and heavy. “Your hands are shaking.”

I set down my glass. “What are you doing, Lena?”

“Exploring.” She slid her hand up my forearm, under my sleeve. “You have nice veins. Very... masculine.”

My cock hardened instantly. She noticed, her eyes flicking down.

“Meet me in the supply closet. Thirty seconds.”

She slipped away through the crowd. I counted to twenty, then followed.

The closet smelled like paper and toner. She pulled me in, locked the door. Her dress was dark blue, low-cut, her hair falling loose.

“Kiss me,” she said.

I did. Her mouth opened under mine, hungry and wet. My hands found her waist, pulled her against me. She moaned into my lips.

“I’ve wanted this for months,” she breathed. “Watching you at barbecues. Your hands on the grill. I imagined them on me.”

“Where?”

“Everywhere.”

I pushed her against the shelves. Her dress bunched up around her hips. I slid my hand between her thighs and found she was already soaking through her panties.

“Fuck, Lena.”

“Touch me. Please.”

I pushed the lace aside. My fingers found her slick, swollen. She gasped as I circled her clit.

“Like this?”

“Yes—god, yes—don’t stop—”

I slipped one finger inside her. She bit my shoulder to keep quiet. Her pussy clenched around me, hot and tight. I added a second finger, watching her face twist with pleasure.

“I’m going to come,” she whimpered.

“Do it.”

She came hard, her whole body trembling, her hand clamped over her mouth. I felt her pulse around my fingers, her juices running down my wrist.

“Now you,” she said, dropping to her knees.

She unzipped my pants. My cock sprang out, thick and aching. She took me in her mouth without hesitation, deep and slow, her tongue working the underside.

“Fuck, Lena—”

She pulled back, stroking me. “I want you inside me. But not here. Too cramped.”

“Where?”

“My car. Back seat. Now.”

We slipped out separately. Five minutes later I was in her back seat, her dress over her head, her legs wrapped around my waist. I guided my cock to her entrance, teasing.

“Put it in,” she begged.

I pushed inside her. She was tight and wet, her pussy gripping me like a fist.

“Oh god—oh fuck—yes—”

I fucked her slow at first, watching her tits bounce, her mouth open. Then harder. The car rocked. Her nails raked my back.

“Harder, Nick. Fucking ruin me.”

I slammed into her, deep and rough. Her moans turned into sobs of pleasure. She came again, her inner walls spasming around me.

“I’m close,” I grunted.

“Inside me. Fill me up.”

I erupted, pumping into her, my whole body shuddering. She held me tight, kissing my neck, whispering my name.

We lay there, panting, tangled in each other. The car windows were fogged. The party music was a distant thump.

“We shouldn’t have done that,” she whispered.

“Probably not.”

She laughed softly. “Worth it.”

I kissed her forehead. “Yeah. Worth it.”

We dressed in silence, fixing our hair, wiping smeared lipstick. Before she opened the door, she touched my face.

“Same time next year?”

“I’ll be counting the days.”