Holt

Back in the bullpen, your phone vibrates.

Amy: Holt’s office. Now. His desk drawer - the one he keeps locked. I know where the spare key is.

Your pulse spikes. Captain Raymond Holt. The most composed, terrifyingly disciplined man in the precinct. The idea of defiling his personal space feels nuclear.

You slip into Holt’s office two minutes apart - Amy first, then you. She locks the door behind you the moment you’re both inside.

“He’s in a meeting with the Commissioner for the next forty minutes,” she whispers, already breathing fast. “We have time.”

Amy drops to her knees in front of Holt’s immaculate desk, reaches under the right side, and pulls out a small hidden key. She unlocks the top drawer with practiced ease.

Inside is Holt’s perfectly organized world: premium fountain pens, expensive stationery, a bottle of his favorite Japanese whiskey, and a small black notebook.

Amy’s eyes light up with filthy inspiration.

She hikes her skirt up, sits on the edge of Holt’s desk, and spreads her legs. Her pussy is glistening, swollen, and dripping from hours of edging and excitement.

“Hold his favorite pen,” she orders, handing you the sleek black Montblanc.

You watch in aroused disbelief as Amy starts furiously rubbing her clit right there on Holt’s desk. Within seconds she’s soaking two fingers and smearing her juices all over the pen you’re holding - coating the grip section thoroughly.

Then she looks up at you with dark eyes.

“Your turn. Cum on it.”

You don’t hesitate. You pull your cock out and stroke yourself rapidly while Amy watches, legs spread, fingers buried in her pussy. The sheer taboo of jerking off onto Captain Holt’s personal fountain pen while Amy fingers herself on his desk pushes you to the edge embarrassingly fast.

You aim carefully and unload - thick ropes of cum splatter across the pen, coating the barrel and nib. Some even lands on his leather notebook and the rim of his whiskey bottle.

Amy moans softly at the sight. She takes the cum-covered pen from you, carefully places it back in the drawer exactly as it was, and locks it again.

But she’s not done.

She picks up the bottle of Holt’s expensive whiskey, unscrews the cap, and spits directly into it. Then she dips three fingers into her dripping cunt, scoops out a generous amount of her cream, and stirs it into the whiskey before screwing the cap back on and wiping the bottle clean.

“He’s going to drink my pussy juice and your cum later,” she whispers, almost trembling with lust. “While giving one of his serious briefings.”

You pull her off the desk, spin her around, and bend her over it. You shove your cock into her soaked pussy in one hard thrust and start fucking her right there on Holt’s pristine workspace.

“God, you’re such a nasty fucking slut,” you groan, pounding into her. “We’re corrupting the entire precinct.”

Amy pushes back against you, moaning. “I want Boyle to taste your cum again tomorrow. I want Rosa to drink me. I want Terry to unknowingly swallow your load. And I want Holt to taste both of us every time he takes a sip.”

You fuck her harder, the desk creaking under you. Amy cums first, biting her own arm to stay quiet as her pussy spasms around you. You follow right after, pumping another load deep inside her.

When you pull out, Amy quickly reaches back, scoops some of your cum from her leaking pussy, and wipes it across the inside of Holt’s desk drawer handle.

“So he touches it every time he opens the drawer,” she says with a wicked smile.

You both quickly straighten up, fix your clothes, and slip out of the office separately, hearts racing and bodies buzzing.

Back at your desks, Amy texts you again:

Amy: Next round is Gina’s yoga mat. I want you to cum all over it so she smears it across her body during her 4 PM stretch. Then we’re doing the break room coffee pot.

This game is rapidly turning into something completely deranged and you’re both addicted.