Downward Dog

The office party was in full swing, a dull roar of clinking glasses and forced laughter bouncing off the glass walls of the 20th-floor penthouse. I was leaning against a pillar, nursing a scotch I didn't really want, when I saw her across the room. She was wearing a simple black dress that clung to every curve like it was painted on, and her dark hair was swept up, revealing the elegant line of her neck. Her name was Elena, and for the past three months, she’d been my yoga instructor. I’d spent every Tuesday and Thursday evening watching her bend and stretch, trying to hide the fact that I was getting hard just from the sound of her voice. She caught my eye and gave me a small, knowing smile.

“Didn’t peg you for a corporate type, Mark,” she said, appearing beside me. Her voice was a low, smoky hum that vibrated right through my chest.

“I’m not,” I said, my throat suddenly tight. “I’m just here for the free booze.”

“Liar.” She took a sip of her champagne, her eyes never leaving mine. “You’re here because you knew I’d be here.”

My heart hammered against my ribs. “Maybe. You’re a hard woman to miss.”

She leaned in, her perfume—something floral and musky—filling my senses. “The conference room down the hall is empty. And dark. I’ve been wanting to try something with you for weeks.”

She didn’t wait for an answer. She just turned and walked away, her hips swaying with a hypnotic rhythm. I followed like a dog on a leash, my cock already straining against my trousers. We slipped into the dark conference room, the door clicking shut behind us, muffling the party noise into a distant, irrelevant hum.

Elena didn’t waste a second. She pushed me back against the long mahogany table, her hands already fumbling with my belt. “I’ve watched you,” she breathed, her lips brushing my ear. “The way you hold your poses. The way you look at me. I know exactly what you want.”

She dropped to her knees, and my world narrowed to the sight of her perfect face looking up at me as she pulled my cock out. Her fingers wrapped around the base, and I hissed in a breath at the warmth of her touch.

“God, you’re big,” she murmured, a wicked glint in her eye. She didn’t wait for a reply, just leaned forward and took me into her mouth. Her lips were hot and wet, and she took me deep, her tongue swirling along the shaft. I groaned, my hands tangling in her hair as she set a punishing rhythm, bobbing her head up and down, taking me all the way to the back of her throat. The wet, gagging sounds she made were the dirtiest thing I’d ever heard. She looked up at me, eyes watering, and I knew I was close.

“Stop,” I gasped, pulling her off me. “Not yet.”

I hauled her to her feet and spun her around, bending her over the table. I hiked her dress up over her ass, revealing she was wearing nothing underneath. Her pussy was glistening, already soaked.

“You’re so fucking wet,” I whispered, my cock throbbing against her.

“That’s for you,” she panted, pushing her ass back against me. “Fuck me, Mark. Hard.”

I didn't need to be told twice. I grabbed her hips and slammed into her in one brutal, perfect thrust. She cried out, a sharp, guttural sound that was half pain, half ecstasy. She was so tight, so hot, and I could feel her walls clenching around me. I started to move, a fast, punishing rhythm that made the table groan beneath us. Her moans filled the room, a frantic chorus that drove me wild. I leaned over her, my chest against her back, and whispered in her ear.

“Is this what you wanted, Elena? To get fucked over a conference table at your boring office party?”

“Yes,” she whimpered, her voice muffled by her own arm. “Fuck, yes. Don’t stop.”

I reached around and found her clit, slick and swollen. I rubbed it in tight circles as I pounded into her, and her body began to tremble. She was close. I could feel her getting tighter, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

“Cum for me,” I growled, my fingers working furiously. “Let me feel you cum.”

That was all it took. She cried out, her whole body convulsing as her orgasm ripped through her. Her pussy clamped down on my cock like a vice, and the sensation was too much. With a guttural roar, I slammed into her one last time, burying myself to the hilt and flooding her with my cum. I stayed there, buried inside her, our bodies slick with sweat and trembling with the aftershocks.

She slowly pushed herself up, turning to face me. Her makeup was smeared, her hair a mess, and her smile was pure sin. She leaned in and kissed me, tasting of champagne and sex.

“That was a warm-up,” she said, her voice husky. “My apartment is two blocks away. I have a yoga mat with your name on it.”