Dripping

Joe and I were alone in his office again, another late night stretching deep into the quiet hours.

He was deep into another sketching session, pages flying from his pencil. The images looked so alive they wanted to leap off the paper; dynamic poses, dramatic lighting, raw emotion captured in every line. I was so wrapped up scanning them into the digital files for Zoe that I didn’t even notice him standing in front of my desk until his shadow fell over me.

I looked up.

He cupped my chin in his strong hand, thumb brushing my cheek with surprising tenderness. My eyes flicked to the windows; the office floor was dark, empty, everyone long gone home.

“Look at me,” he said firmly.

I did. My thighs pressed together instinctively, trying to contain the warm flush blooming between them.

“How wet are you right now?” he asked, voice low and commanding.

My voice caught in my throat. “I… I…” I could only stammer.

The truth was embarrassing. I’d been wet all morning, and the ache had only grown worse as the day progressed; watching him work, the way his shirt stretched across his shoulders, the quiet confidence in his voice.

“Well?” a voice just outside his door asked, smooth and teasing.

I turned my gaze. Emily stood there, wearing a long trench coat that clung to her slender frame. The way the fabric draped over her curves made it obvious she was wearing nothing underneath. Her long black hair cascaded over one shoulder, and her eyes sparkled with mischief. It wasn't the first time she'd shown up in his office after hours, she's once confessed.

I’d seen Emily’s naked body plenty of times during our shopping sprees; trying on clothes in shared dressing rooms. She was tiny, barely 5’5”, with flawless tanned skin, a petite but beautifully proportioned frame, small perky breasts bigger than mine, and a slender waist that flared into soft hips. She looked glorious even now, nipples visibly peaked against the thin coat.

She joined Joe at his side, his hand still cupping my chin, tilting it upward so I had to look at him. Emily shrugged, and the trench coat fell to the floor in a whisper of fabric. She stood there completely naked; skin glowing, tight nipples hard, her shaved pussy was already glistening with need.

Her hand suddenly pushed between my legs, pressing firmly against my soaked panties.

“Oh, she’s fucking soaking, baby,” Emily said teasingly, voice dripping with lust. Her other hand went to Joe’s groin, gripping his thick cock over his pants, “You wet for this, Irie? Is your pretty little pussy tingling to feel his fat cock stretch you open again?”

I gasped as Emily’s fingers slipped under my panties, sliding between my slick folds. "Oooohhh....” Words failed me completely. My nipples pressed hard against my blouse, aching. Suddenly, two of her fingers pushed inside me; smooth, confident, curling against that spot that made my toes curl and my back arch.

I moaned, eyes fluttering closed as her fingers continued to stroke along my inner walls, pumping slowly, deliberately.

When my eyes opened again, they were both naked... and so was I. Emily’s hand was wrapped around Joe’s cock; stiff, thick; stroking him with long, sensual pulls like an offering of pure destruction. The office had vanished, replaced by the familiar intimacy of Joe’s old apartment bedroom. His bed beckoned, sheets inviting.

“Is that what you want, Irie?” Emily purred darkly, lips brushing my ear. “To feel him inside you again… fucking you deep while I hold you in place, rubbing your swollen clit, telling you how fucking hot it looks when he slams into your tight cunt over and over until you’re a babbling, dripping mess?”

She leaned in closer, her breath hot against my skin.

“Cause all you have to do… is ask.”

My alarm clock buzzed me awake before I could answer.

The sheets were clinging to my body. I was drenched everywhere. The cold shower last night had done nothing.

And I doubted the one I needed right now would help either.