i turn up at your workplace, no flowers or chocolates, just a grin on my face. i want to know if you have a stationery cupboard. you giggle and blush, but you lead me there anyway.
inside, i push you roughly against the steel shelving and the foolscap foldering and drop to my knees. i lift your skirt and pull down your already dripping panties and start to kiss your waiting pussy. my tongue laps at you hungrily and your lust grows inside you and your hands grip tighter at the shaky steel scaffolding of our metal and cardboard love nest. paper clips begin to rattle in their boxes, soft, shiny leaf holders quiver in their coloured cases. staples shudder and hole punchers grind as your orgasm rises and your knees tremble in time with the thrusting of your pussy, and the rattling of the loose, grey shelving, as you fuck my face, folder holders and post its fall and flutter around your face mirroring the vivid tingling of your orgasm as you grit your teeth and savour the rushes of your pussy as your whole soul is washed with wave after wave of hot, bursting shudders. you bite your lip hard to stop yourself calling my name, so hard that you leave the only tell-tale sign of our liason, a tiny drop of love red blood on my shaven head.
your workmate doesn’t notice it when he knocks on the door and all he sees when he comes in is me, on all fours, helping you find your contact lens.
i ask you if i can get a stamp for my parking permit. with a giggle and a wink, you tell me, “not a fucking chance.”