Amy Grabs The File

You stand frozen in front of your locker, heart hammering against your ribs. The sticky warmth of your own cum fills your underwear, soaking the fabric and clinging to your skin in a humiliating, cooling mess. Your cock is still half-hard, twitching occasionally as the damp material shifts with every breath.

And then there’s Amy.

Amy Santiago is standing right there, arms crossed under her breasts, one eyebrow arched in that sharp, suspicious way that always sends a jolt through you. Her eyes narrow as they drop to the case file you’re clutching desperately over your crotch.

“Peralta,” she says, voice low and commanding. “What the hell are you doing?”

Before you can come up with any excuse, she reaches out and yanks the file away.

The moment it’s gone, her gaze locks onto your lap. The dark, wet stain on the front of your khakis is impossible to miss - the fabric clings obscenely to the thick outline of your cock, still visibly twitching.

Amy’s lips part in surprise. For once, she’s speechless.

“Jake…” she breathes, her voice dropping an octave. A flush creeps up her neck. “Did you just come in your pants?”

Your face burns. You let out a weak, nervous chuckle. “In my defense… it was a really vivid daydream. You walked by my desk in that tight pencil skirt and I just… yeah. I couldn’t help it.”

She doesn’t laugh. Instead, her eyes darken with clear heat. She glances quickly over her shoulder to make sure the locker room area is empty, then steps forward, backing you up until your shoulders hit the cold metal lockers with a soft clang.

“You got hard at your desk thinking about me?” she whispers, pressing one palm flat against your chest. “And you came like a horny teenager right there in the bullpen?”

You swallow hard. “Maybe.”

Amy bites her lower lip, clearly torn between her sensible side and the growing hunger in her eyes. The sensible side loses.

Her hand slides down and cups you boldly through your ruined pants. You hiss sharply as her fingers squeeze your sticky, sensitive cock. The slick mess makes every stroke feel filthy and perfect as she explores the wet length of you, feeling you rapidly harden again in her grip.

“God, you’re still hard,” she murmurs, almost impressed. “That’s annoyingly hot.”

You barely manage to breathe before she kisses you - hard and hungry. Her tongue slides into your mouth as her hand keeps stroking your cum-slick cock through your pants. You groan into the kiss, hips jerking forward into her touch.

When she finally pulls back, you’re both breathing heavily.

“Get in the shower block,” she orders, already unbuckling your belt with quick, determined fingers. “Now.”

You let her push you backward through the door. The second it clicks shut behind you, Amy shoves you against the wall and slips her hand straight into your soaked underwear. Her fingers wrap around your slippery, throbbing cock, stroking you with wet, obscene sounds.

“Tell me everything,” she whispers hotly against your ear, giving you a firm squeeze that makes your knees weak. “Every dirty detail of what you were fantasizing about when you came in your pants for me. Don’t leave anything out… Peralta.”

You groan, already leaking into her hand again.

“Yes, my Captain.”