He pushed into her on the meeting table.
The last meeting ran over.
$name1 was still in the glass room when everyone else filed out. Slides on the screen. $name1’s colleague — different floor, same building — lingered to “talk through the numbers.” He shut the door. He didn’t lock it. $name1 looked at him over her glasses, then reached back and pulled the blind down on the corridor side.
$name1 sat on the table.
$name1 hiked the work dress up her thick thighs and opened her knees. He stepped between them, dropped his trousers, and $name1 took him in her mouth first, sitting on the edge of the conference table, sucking him wet and messy over the printed agenda. $name1 gagged, spit on the laminate, glasses slipping, then $name1 lay back across the chairs and pulled him down.
He pushed into $name1 on the meeting table.
$name1’s head tipped toward the speakerphone. He fucked $name1 in deep missionary, the table creaking, $name1’s heels hanging off the edge, her heavy tits loose in the dress where the top buttons had already given up. $name1 came with a hand over her own mouth and the other on his back. He didn’t slow down. He hooked $name1’s legs around him and drove into her until the wet sound of it was louder than the air con. $name1 came again, shaking, dripping onto someone’s leftover papers.
He finished inside $name1 with a grunt, pulsing, filling her on the conference table under the company logo.
He pulled out.
$name1 stayed on her back across the table with her dress around her waist, thighs still open, his cum already running out of $name1 onto the wood and the printed pack. $name1’s glasses were steamed. The blind was still down. The corridor outside had footsteps.
$name1 didn’t close her legs. $name1 lay there in it while the screensaver came on.
