Every day at noon was torture. The musical reminder set my c**k off at lightning speed, even with my mind engrossed in whatever task held my attention.
All thoughts were focused on what it would feel like slamming my hips against hers with no barrier, her tiny frame bouncing on my c**k, squeezing around me. Imagining the high pitch of her moans, the heaviness of her eyelids as I made her come. The sweet milking of my c**k until every drop of c*m was inside her.
“If I cared about you, I might ask if you were okay.”
I blinked and focused on the woman in front of me. When did she walk in, and how long had she been there?
“Why wouldn’t I be?” I asked, noticing how low my voice was.
She shrugged. “Judging by your white knuckles, something is bothering you.”
The something is the f*****g ha
