Tipsy Reunion
The moment I spotted Rachel across the crowded conference room, my cock twitched like it remembered her better than my brain did. She was leaning against the bar in that tight black dress that hugged her ass just right, the same one she wore the night we ended things two years ago. The office holiday party was in full swing, Christmas lights twinkling over the open bar, and the air already smelled like spilled whiskey and too much perfume. I grabbed a fresh bourbon and headed straight for her before I could talk myself out of it.
“Rachel. Still drinking gin and tonics like they owe you money?” I said, sliding up beside her.
She turned, those green eyes flashing with surprise, then something hotter. A slow smile curved her lips. “Jake. Didn’t think you’d show. You hate these things.”
“Changed my mind when I heard you’d be here.” I clinked my glass against hers. The bourbon burned going down, loosening the knot in my chest. “You look fucking incredible.”
She laughed, low and throaty, the sound going straight to my dick. “Flattery and alcohol. Dangerous combo for us.” Her fingers brushed mine as she took another sip, and that simple touch sent electricity racing up my arm. We’d broken up because work got complicated—same company, different departments—but the chemistry never died. It just simmered.
Two drinks later we were in the dimly lit copy room at the end of the hall, door locked, her back against the humming machine. The party noise was a distant thump. Rachel’s hands were already tugging at my belt, her breath hot against my neck.
“Fuck, I missed this,” she whispered, voice husky from the gin. “Missed how hard you get for me.”
My fingers yanked the hem of her dress up, finding her soaked panties. I rubbed her clit through the lace, feeling her tremble. “You’re dripping already. That pussy still greedy for me?”
“Yes… God, yes.” She moaned as I pushed two fingers inside her tight heat, curling them just how she liked. Her head fell back, tits straining against the dress. I sucked one hard nipple through the fabric while I finger-fucked her faster, her juices coating my hand.
Rachel dropped to her knees, the carpet rough under her. She freed my throbbing cock, eyes wide with lust. “Still so big.” Her tongue swirled around the head, tasting the pre-cum leaking out, then she took me deep, throat relaxing like she’d never forgotten. The wet sounds of her sucking filled the small room—gluck, gluck—while she stroked my balls.
I gripped her hair, guiding her faster. “That’s it, baby. Suck that cock like you mean it.” She hummed around me, the vibration making my knees weak. After a minute I pulled her up, spun her around, and bent her over the copier. Her ass looked perfect in the low light, round and firm.
I shoved her panties aside and thrust into her soaked pussy in one hard stroke. “Fuck, you’re tight,” I groaned. She cried out, pushing back against me, her walls clenching.
“Harder, Jake. Fuck me like you used to.” I gripped her hips and pounded her, the slap of skin echoing. Each thrust made her tits bounce, her moans growing louder. I reached around and rubbed her swollen clit, feeling her shake.
She came first, pussy spasming around my dick, a gush of wetness running down her thighs. “Oh shit, I’m cumming—don’t stop!” Her voice cracked.
I wasn’t done. I pulled out, turned her to face me, and lifted one of her legs. Sliding back in, I fucked her deep and slow now, staring into her eyes while the alcohol made everything feel hotter, fuzzier. Her nails dug into my shoulders.
“Fill me up,” she begged, breath mingling with mine. “I want your cum inside me.”
I slammed in faster, chasing it. The copier rattled beneath us. When I exploded, I buried myself to the hilt, pumping rope after rope of hot cum deep into her pulsing pussy. She came again right after, milking every drop.
We stayed locked together, panting, sweat slick on our skin. She kissed me softly, tasting like gin and sin.
“Merry fucking Christmas,” she whispered with a wicked grin.
I chuckled, still buried inside her. “Next round’s on me. Literally.”
We straightened our clothes, shared one last messy kiss, and slipped back into the party like nothing happened. But the flush on her cheeks and the wet spot I knew was forming in her panties told a different story. The night was young, the bar was open, and we weren’t finished catching up.