After-Hours Taste

Rain hammered the tall windows of the downtown high-rise, turning the empty office into a dim, private world. The air smelled of polished wood and the faint sweat from our earlier workout. I could feel the heat rolling off Marcus’s body as he stood too close, his tight black compression shirt clinging to every ridge of muscle.

“You’re tense tonight, Lena,” he said, voice low and rough like gravel under tires. His dark eyes locked on mine, that cocky trainer smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. “All that hip mobility work… but I think you need something deeper.”

My pulse jumped. I was his client, thirty-two, divorced, and tired of pretending the way he touched me during sessions was purely professional. Tonight the building was deserted, lights off except for the emergency strips glowing along the hallway.

“Yeah?” I whispered, stepping into his space until my breasts brushed his chest. “Then show me, Marcus. Don’t hold back.”

He didn’t. His big hands slid down my waist, yanking the yoga pants and thong down my thighs in one smooth tug. Cool air kissed my bare ass as he spun me around and bent me over the wide oak desk. Papers scattered. My nipples tightened against the cool wood through my thin sports bra.

“Fuck, look at that juicy ass,” he growled, dropping to his knees behind me. Strong fingers spread my cheeks wide, exposing everything. I shivered at the vulnerability, at how wet my pussy already was just from his stare.

His hot breath ghosted over my skin first. Then his tongue—wet, firm, and shameless—dragged slowly from my dripping slit all the way up to my tight little anus. The first long, deliberate lick made my knees buckle.

“Oh god… Marcus,” I moaned, gripping the edge of the desk. He answered by circling my rim with the flat of his tongue, slow and tender, savoring me like I was his favorite recovery meal. The wet sounds filled the quiet office—obscene, filthy, perfect.

“You like that?” he murmured against my ass, voice vibrating through me. “Want your trainer to eat this tight hole properly?”

“Yes… don’t stop,” I begged, pushing back against his face. He chuckled darkly and dove deeper, stiffening his tongue to spear inside my ass while two thick fingers slid into my soaked pussy. The dual sensation sent sparks up my spine. Heat bloomed everywhere—my skin flushing, thighs trembling, clit throbbing untouched.

He worked me unhurriedly, tongue fucking my anus in lazy thrusts, twisting, licking the sensitive ring until it softened and fluttered around him. Juices ran down my inner thighs. Every shiver, every tiny gasp he drew from me seemed to spur him on. The rain kept drumming, masking my growing cries.

“Turn over,” he ordered after long minutes of delicious torment. I obeyed on shaky legs, sitting on the desk and lifting my knees high. Marcus stood, shedding his shirt to reveal that sculpted torso I’d fantasized about for months. His cock strained against his shorts, a thick bulge that made my mouth water, but he ignored it.

Instead he pushed my legs wider, buried his face between my cheeks again, and resumed rimming me with even more hunger. This angle let me watch—his strong jaw working, eyes half-lidded with lust as he licked and sucked my asshole like he could never get enough. His fingers curled inside my pussy, stroking that sweet spot until my belly tightened.

“Marcus… I’m so close,” I panted, fingers tangling in his short hair. He hummed approval, the vibration shooting straight to my core. Then he focused—tongue flicking rapidly over my pulsing rim while his thumb found my swollen clit.

I came hard, back arching, a sharp cry echoing off the glass walls. My asshole clenched rhythmically around the tip of his tongue, pussy gushing over his hand. Waves of heat and shivers rolled through every inch of skin.

He rose, breathing ragged, lips shiny with me. Without a word he freed his heavy cock—thick, veined, already leaking—and rubbed the fat head along my dripping folds. In one smooth thrust he buried himself balls-deep in my pussy, groaning at the tight heat.

“Shit, you feel incredible,” he whispered, hips rolling slow and deep. We moved together, tender at first, skin sliding on sweat-slick skin. I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him closer so every stroke ground against my still-sensitive clit. The desk creaked beneath us.

He kissed my neck, sucked a mark just below my ear, all while his cock stretched me perfectly. Our pace stayed unhurried, savoring every shiver, every shared breath, the wet slap of bodies growing louder. I came again, softer this time, milking him until he finally let go—groaning my name as he spilled hot cum deep inside me.

Afterward we stayed locked together, his weight comforting on top of me. We slid to the carpet, tangled and sticky, listening to the rain and each other’s slowing breaths. His fingers traced lazy circles on my hip. Neither of us spoke for a long time. Just the sound of rain, heartbeats, and the quiet satisfaction of finally giving in.