Sex in the office

They didn’t pick the conference room for space or comfort. They just closed the door and made the long board table their problem to solve. Adriana hitched her ass onto the polished edge and spread her legs until her heels caught on the armrest of a rolling chair. Dorothy stepped between those thighs, slid two fingers up through slick heat, and watched them vanish inside Adriana with a wet pull that echoed off the blank white walls. Clothes stayed mostly on—one bra was pushed up, one shirt was rucked open at the throat. Every pump of Dorothy’s wrist shook the metal table and rattled the half-full water pitcher. Adriana’s breath came shorter each time she rocked down, her own hand buried under Dorothy’s skirt, fingers buried knuckle-deep and twisting on the pull. When they kissed, they barely broke stride, the sound of their mouths wet and greedy against the low hum of the vents. Neither woman slowed until Adriana’s cunt clamped tight and Dorothy moaned into her neck, coming on Adriana’s knuckles while the office chairs stood empty around them.