Kinky Sex - Explore Your Kinky Desires

A quick and fulfilling encounter with a pregnant MILF at work. A story full of desire and lust from teasing to kinks.

Managers' Debriefing

Salma and I didn't touch again after our trip to Bern, except for a final embrace as she was departing cocktails.  I would have missed having her as a coworker even if we hadn't had our one-night tryst. It was going to be hard to replace the energy she provided to the squad.

We all got used to it as the weeks passed.  Due to the unexpectedly hectic first quarter of the new year, there was no other option.  I was so busy, in fact, that I frequently looked at my calendar on Monday mornings to see that I had a ton of meetings scheduled for the week.  Any "real work" was moved to the weekends or evenings because of all the accompanying hanging around and chatting. 

I was happy to notice a gap on my calendar for the upcoming Thursday one Monday.  Just as I was going to block the time, a meeting request with the title "Managers' Debriefing" appeared.  No other information was given. Emma , a coworker, was the sender.

Although I didn't know Emma well, I was aware of who she was.  Despite being at the same managerial level in the company, we hardly ever spoke to one another.  She specialized in pharmaceutical clients because she had a PhD in biochemistry.  I did encounter her a few times a year when we met with other managers to talk about employee performance reports, and she always struck me as fair, perceptive, and a fierce supporter of her staff.

She exuded the nerdy girl who was always the class leader in terms of appearance. She wore thick-rimmed glasses and her hair was shoulder length and a little unkempt.  It was challenging to get a sense of her body because of her always modest attire, which tended toward the practical side of professional.  But that was made even more difficult by the fact that she appeared to be pregnant all the time. Emma had just revealed that she was expecting her fourth kid just before she sent out the meeting request. 

I’d met her husband, Stan, at a work party many years prior.  He seemed very down-to-earth despite his accent (and signet ring!) marking him out as posh.  I since learned that his younger brother was a Conservative MP, although just a back-bencher at that time.   Apparently, Stan had read PPE at Cardiff and, to his credit, decided to put his skills to work for an international NGO.  His position required him to travel to some of the world’s poorest and most dangerous places on a frequent basis.

I suspected that Emma must have a significant amount of help at home.  Rumour had it that they resided in Stan's family’s country estate, which I guessed had room for a nanny or two.

It seemed Emma didn’t have to work but chose to.  Her career drive was evident from the fact that she rarely took more than a few months of maternity leave.  While she may not have been present for her children, Emma showed a deeply maternal concern for the consultants on her team, particularly the younger women.  Although Salma had reported to me, I was aware that she and Emma spoke often.

The morning Emma and I were due to meet, I was booked solid on client calls.  The last one overran so as the reminder pinged on my phone, I scrambled to look up which meeting room she’d booked.  The invitation didn’t list one, but that wasn’t uncommon.  The firm was definitely running short of meeting rooms.  As a consequence, smaller groups, and usually one-on-one chats, would often take place in the common areas.

Feeling a bit on the back foot, I looked up to find Emma standing at the corner of my desk wearing a simple white blouse and pale blue trousers. An expensive-looking cashmere cardigan hung from her shoulders to her knees, providing warmth and a cover for her expanding figure. A notebook branded with the firm’s logo was under one arm. 

“Ready, Tom?” she asked.

“Sure.  I was just looking to see what room you’d booked,” I replied.

“There wasn’t anything suitable on the system, but I know a good spot. Follow me.”

With that, I grabbed my pen and notebook and let Emma lead the way.

There were a couple of chairs open near the coffee machines, but Emma pushed on and led me to the far corner of our building.  She paused in front of the “Quiet Room” and extracted a key from her trouser pocket.  Wordlessly glancing over her shoulders, she unlocked the door and left it open for me to follow her inside.

The Quiet Room was a space reserved for any employee who might be feeling unwell and who needed a calm, dark space to recover.  It was a small, windowless, rectangular room with a medical type table/bed covered in the paper roll we’re all familiar with from doctor visits - not the most comfortable apparatus, but sufficient for a lie-down when feeling poorly. A mirror above the bed, a squat upholstered chair and a small table on which sat a box of tissues, completed the sparse décor.

One member of my team suffered from migraines and would use the room from time to time.  Pregnant women were encouraged to take advantage of it as part of the firm’s initiative to appear more accommodating to female employees.  It was not surprising then that Emma was able to access the key.  The question was, why had she brought me here?

Emma closed the door. When I heard the lock turn and saw the lights dim, I gave her a puzzled look.

“Tom, I wanted to let you know that Salma told me what happened between you two in Bern.”

Fuck!

“Emma , listen… I… it was…”

“No need to worry, Tom.  Since no rumours have surfaced, I've worked out that you and I are about the only two people in this firm who can keep a secret.”

I didn’t know how to respond, so said nothing as my heart rate returned to normal after my initial scare.

“I need your help, and I need you to be discreet.”

“OK.  What can I do for you?”

“Well, this didn’t happen with my first two kids, but in my third pregnancy, I got very, VERY horny, particularly in the second trimester.  I’m afraid it’s happening again.  Stan has been in Brazil for the last month, and there is no knowing when he’ll be back again.  I’ve got a big report to finish by Monday, and I just can’t concentrate.”

I liked where this was going.  It had been a while since I’d had any action, and, as a man, I was no stranger to being driven to distraction by sexual thoughts.

“I’m assuming you want me to lend a helping hand. Are we going to…” I let my question trail off but looked at Emma with my eyebrows raised expectantly.

“I don’t know.  Let’s just see what happens,” she replied, as she removed her cardigan, folding it neatly and placing it on the chair.

Emma's movements were unhurried and deliberate. She knew she had a captive audience, but I guessed she wanted to demonstrate her sense of control over the tempo of the proceedings. My initial feeling of awkwardness was dissolving and being replaced by the thick sense of anticipation in the room. 

“Here, stand behind me,” she said, as she turned to face the bed and slowly began to unbutton her blouse. She then pulled my arms across her chest and guided my hands into the cups of her bra where I could feel her nipples hardening.  I worked the little nubs between my extended index and ring fingers giving them a gentle squeeze. 

As I did, Emma let out a sigh of deep satisfaction, as if she were drinking a cool glass of water after a long, parching journey.  I could see from the mirror that she’d closed her eyes as she leaned back into me.  We stood there for some moments, both enjoying the physical contact, our heartbeats echoing between us. 

I’ve always found pregnant women sexy.  The swelling of the breasts and increased meatiness of the pussy emphasize all that makes women attractive in the first place.  Emma's full, pregnant breasts sat firmly, sexily in my hands.

“You know, when I was younger, I could cum from nipple-play alone, but I need a little more stimulation these days,” she explained as she undid the button on her trousers.  From our embrace, I could feel the movements as her left hand slid below the slight curve of her belly. Her fingers delved into her knickers, and she began stimulating herself. 

Standing in the darkened room with my arms wrapped around Emma, I became acutely aware of her breathing.  Her breaths became shorter and sharper as her arousal increased - then stopped altogether. After about thirty seconds I began to get worried.  After a few seconds more, Emma let out a massive gasp and began to quiver in my arms.  Her peak surpassed, she melted backwards into me.

We stood like that for several minutes as she regained her composure.  She then surprised me by sliding her left hand between us and tracing the outline of my cock through my trousers.

“Looks like you are enjoying yourself,” she observed.

“Yes, but not as much you are.  That’s fine, though. That’s why we’re here, isn’t it?”

“It is, but one small orgasm isn’t quite going to carry me over,” she said. Then, giving my cock a tap, she continued, “Take it out.”

As I undid my belt and unzipped my khakis, I watched Emma pull her trousers down to her ankles, revealing a sensible pair of pink cotton knickers. After sliding those down as well, she reached for my cock and positioned it between her thighs.

We again stood wordlessly appreciating each other’s presence as I savored the sensation of having my cock between her wet pussy lips and her lovely round, pale bottom pressed into me.  Almost imperceptibly at first, she began rocking her hips forward and back.  On her forward strokes I could feel the ridge of my cockhead catch on her clit as she engulfed the length of my rod.

As she continued her movements, I slid my hands up under her blouse and unclasped her bra.  Reaching around to again find her swollen breasts, I began tweaking her nipples in earnest.  Emma's hip motions became more frantic, and she commanded me to pull her hair.

Releasing her right breast, I combed my fingers through her mane and gently pulled her head backwards and to the right.  Although I hadn’t been asked to, I used the opportunity to kiss the nape of her exposed neck.  That seemed to send her into overdrive.

The next thing I knew, Emma pushed me backwards releasing my cock from her thigh gap.  She kicked off her shoes and freed her ankles from her trousers. She then bent one leg and threw her knee up onto the bed; the other leg remained on the ground.  Her pussy was completely exposed.

Looking back over her shoulder, Emma said, “Let me lead – take it SLOWLY,” with an air of authority in her voice.

With her arms rigid at her sides, she motioned me forward with her hands. I stepped nearer, my stiff cock bouncing slightly as I went.  I knew to hesitate just at the point where my dick made contact with Emma's cunt. The tip of my swollen cock luxuriated in the heat radiating from her core.

Emma's hands found mine.  As our fingers interlocked, she motioned me forward, indicating I should enter her.  Millimeter by millimeter I progressed, watching her lips expand to accept the broadening girth of my head then contract as her meaty curtains closed around my shaft.

It would be a lie to say that she was anywhere near as tight at Salma – understandably giving birth to three kids had taken its toll.  However, what Emma lacked in firmness, she made up for in technique.

She tightened her grip on my hands and pushed back slightly which I took to mean I should remain still. She then began to gyrate her hips on my cock. What a feeling! Her ass made motions I didn’t think possible, as it became clear that she was less fucking me than massaging the inside of her pussy with my cock.  I could feel my head strafing along the spongy mass of each wall and returning time and again to her most sensitive spots.  Up, down, sideways and back, I watched her hips guide her to the points of greatest pleasure, drawing a sexy figure-eight in rhythm before me. 

The heat and wetness increased with the pace of her gyrations until her pleasure pattern collapsed to a simple, hungry forward and back humping motion.  That’s when I knew it was time to contribute to the friction between us.  As she scooped her pelvis forward, I pulled back only to slam forward into her on its return.  For several minutes the sound of the slapping of our flesh reverberated around, filling the room. 

Emma came before I did.  A grunt of delight was followed by a gush of hot liquid emanating from her swollen cunt and splashing on the floor.  Her pelvic thrusts continued just long enough to get me to the edge.  She pulled forward releasing my cock in time for me to shoot my load onto her gaping labia.  As I stepped back, I watched creamy white globs of my spunk drip from her pussy lips, joining her ejaculate on the tiled floor.

Without raising her head, Emma told me in her typical business-like manner, “Go ahead.  I’ll clean up.”

Taking a few tissues from the box, I wiped my cock and balls the best I could, dressed and went back to my desk.

I laughed at the double entendre Emma used for the meeting description and spent a large portion of the remainder of the afternoon in a blissful, post-coital haze, remembering the feel of her luscious breasts in my hands and the beautiful movements of her hips. I just wanted to know if it would ever happen again.  Before long, the response was given.

I received an update on the progress of our meeting through a ping on my computer.  I smiled widely when I read the words "Weekly Recurring."