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Not my finest hour.
My phone buzzed, reminding me of the department meeting I’d blown off in favour of more… enjoyable pursuits. That wasn’t a possibility now. I sighed. I’d already been seen in the hallway. Not showing up now would be asking for a voluntary work-intensive role to be added to my schedule.
I logged on but left my camera turned off. I didn’t need there to be video evidence of my lack of fucks right then. My mind was so consumed with what was going on that I’d be useless in the meeting anyway.
Sagging into my chair, I leaned back, steepling my fingers, and tried to ignore the memories of what had gone down in my office only a couple of short weeks earlier.
Maybe being in the meeting would be good for me. Maybe I could get my mind off the cluster fuck I’d dived headfirst into.
But I couldn’t concentrate. I was only half listening at best, scrolling through photos on my phone. My smile was wistful. Flynn had taken it up to the hot tub and had been snapping photos—hard, irrefutable evidence that I was sleeping with not one but two students. Stupid, but I’d been so high on happy hormones that I just didn’t care. I’d been so far gone that for every one that Flynn took of Zali and me or Flynn and me, there were two of Zali and Flynn together, courtesy of me.
It was the one of Flynn and Zali together that I got stuck on. Flynn was standing on the seat, the long lines of his naked body on display. He was bent over, lifting Zali and kissing her. Her back was arched, her arms wrapped around his neck, the whole top half of her rising out of the water. Those gorgeous breasts of hers were front and centre. After taking the photo, I’d dropped my phone, wrapped Zali’s legs around my waist, and kissed every part of her I could reach. It hadn’t been sexual, more playful than anything, but that snippet of intimacy was burned into my brain.
I replayed every moment of that afternoon over and over. From the conversation to the kissing, all the way to Flynn sinking inside me, and then Zali welcoming me into her body with Flynn alongside. Zali underneath me, then on me. Flynn pressing into me. The taste of her. Heated breath against sweat-soaked skin. The slide of bodies moving together, the smell of sex in the air. The moans and whimpers, groans and whispered curses, praise and shouts of ecstasy all forming the soundtrack to our afternoon of orgasms. It was a turn-on beyond anything I’d ever imagined. I’d never thought it possible to click on so many levels with two people. But click we had, and we’d come even harder.
I flicked my gaze to the table—the same one I’d been studiously ignoring since getting off in my office to memories of that day more times than I could count. I pictured Zali, splayed out and wanting on it, her hands gripping the edge as I lifted her leg and opened her up for my cock. Flynn sitting on the chair next to us, his pierced perfection held in his tight fist as he stroked.
No matter how much I shouldn’t want her—want them—I did.
My cock throbbed. I was like a fucking flagpole. My balls were tight, my body priming to fuck—
“Tristan, you there?” the disembodied voice of my head of department asked, snapping me out of my wicked thoughts.
Shit. I scrambled to turn on the mic, wracking my brain for the topic of conversation. I’d zoned out that badly, I wasn’t even sure where we were up to in the agenda.
“Yes, sorry. I’m having sound trouble. I’m only hearing every second word, but I think I’ve fixed it. Loose connection on my speaker.”
“Call IT support when we’re done,” he chastised. “Are you following the discussion around assessment?”
“I was trying to, but it was difficult,” I admitted. That was the truest statement—the only statement—I’d made during the meeting.
Professor Redden repeated the gist of what had been said, and I added my two cents, realizing that they were asking me for my expert opinion on student-led assessment design.
I tried to focus, but my cock was getting crushed in the confines of my pants. I squeezed it, trying to calm the fucker down, but the attention just made the need worse. I bit back a groan, unzipping my pants in a futile attempt to relieve the pressure. The blessed relief only lasted for a moment because as soon as my dick wasn’t bound up, the throb started in earnest. I slipped my hand inside my underwear and grasped my balls, easing them away from my body.
How long would this torturous meeting last? I needed an orgasm. I needed to come.
But after an hour of mindless chatter, we were only one third of the way through the agenda.
Fuck, at this rate I’d be lucky to stay conscious for another hour with the lack of blood in my brain.
With my eyes fixed on that table and memories assaulting me, I shoved my pants and underwear down to my knees, giving myself access to every part of myself that I wanted to play with. I wrapped my hand around my cock and squeezed, drawing my fist down my shaft and back up. Pre-cum pooled at the slit, and I brushed my thumb over my sensitive head, sending licks of arousal straight to my balls. Using pre-cum as lubricant for my next stroke, I bit back a moan and set a steady pace.
My mind blanked out as I relived those moments of plunging inside our woman. The tight clasp of her pussy, the combination of her juices and Flynn’s cum coating me as I fucked her. The grip of her arse as I sank into its depths, the drag on my cock before I let loose and coated her in my spunk, using it as lube until I’d softened enough that I needed to add a finger to keep fucking her.
I saw stars, a rushing sensation travelling through me as I worked my dick. Long slow strokes, teasing twists of my fist, and flicks of my thumb against my engorged balls had me steadily climbing to a precipice I couldn’t wait to jump off.
The phantom sensation of Flynn’s cock in my arse, of that thick shaft stretching me tight and those piercings rubbing me in all the right places, drove me higher. My cinnamon roll had admitted to being an anal virgin, but it hadn’t mattered. Get the man naked, and he transformed into this assertive take-no-prisoners man that I melted into a puddle of goo for, spreading my legs like a cheap hooker and letting him have his way with me.
I needed that same stretch now. The same burn.
I didn’t have any toys in my office care of my no-fucking-on-the-desk rule, but I did have lube. Sliding my desk drawer open, I fished around until I found it and slicked both hands up.
My whimper was loud in the quiet of the office save for the talking in the meeting. Wiggling my pants further down my legs, I spread wide, slouching down and coating my hole with slick. Pressing a fingertip in, I teased my sensitive rim of muscle, not giving in just yet to the desire to fill myself to bursting point.
I gripped my dick again and hissed as the easy glide intensified the ecstasy curling low in my belly. I squeezed my eyes closed and pressed two fingers inside my hole, pushing as deep as I could. Concentrating on the stretch and burn, the press against my P-spot and the glide of my fist up and down my rock-solid length, I didn’t bother censoring my noises.
A groan, long and low, left my mouth as I shuddered. I was so close to the edge, so close to nirvana.
