Boss Secretary Sex Story: Late Night Appraisal

The cabin door clicked shut behind him at nine, and the sound landed heavier than it should have, like a full stop on the whole noisy day. Every boss secretary sex story starts with a door, but this one started with Naina Malhotra already looking up from her laptop, her reading glasses sliding low on her nose, her mouth curving into a smile that had nothing to do with work.

"Lock nahi kiya tumne, Aditya?" she asked, her voice soft enough that he had to step closer to catch it. "Good boy. I was hoping you wouldn't."

Aditya Nair's throat went dry. "Sit," she said, nodding at the leather chair. Then she changed her mind, stood, and walked around the desk, her heels clicking on the marble like a countdown. "No, wait. Not there. Couch."

"Appraisal review," Naina said, perching on the edge of the low couch by the glass wall and crossing her legs slowly, deliberately, so the slit of her pencil skirt opened another inch. "Do you know why I kept you back tonight, Aditya?"

"Because my appraisal is tomorrow?" he said, because that was the safe answer, the professional answer, the answer a sane secretary gives his thirty-eight-year-old VP.

She picked up a single sheet of cream letterhead. The promotion letter. His name printed in her firm's heavy serif font. And in the signature line at the bottom, a blank white space where her pen had not yet touched. "Tomorrow's letter," she said, holding it up between two fingers like a playing card. "Unsigned."

"Oh, you met the targets," she said, and set the letter on the desk in front of his empty chair, far from where they were sitting. "Aditya, tumhare jaise secretary milte nahi hain. But tonight I wanted to see something else. Kuch aur dekhna tha mujhe."

She uncrossed her legs, leaned forward, and her blouse shifted with the movement, showing him the shadowed valley between her boobs for one deliberate second. Her eyes never left his face. She saw exactly where his eyes went, and her smile deepened, satisfied, like a hunter hearing a twig snap.

"Sit down," she whispered, and the whisper had iron in it. She sat beside him, her thigh pressing hot and bare against his trousers through the slit of her skirt. "Nine years I ran this floor, Aditya. Nine years of boardrooms and deadlines. Tonight I am done being anyone's chair."

She pulled the pin from her hair. The tight bun unravelled in one dark cascade over her shoulders. No longer the crisp VP. A woman, thirty-eight, divorced two years, eyes glittering with something she had held back all day.

"Wahan se shuru karo," she said, tilting her head, exposing the long line of her throat. "Yahin se. No ma'am tonight. Tonight I am Naina. And you are the man I have been watching for four years, wondering if you are as good at everything else as you are at your job."

"You wear this tie like a leash," she murmured, loosening the knot with slow fingers and tossing the silk onto the floor. She unbuttoned his collar, one button, then another, her nails grazing his throat. "Rokna hai to abhi rok lo. After this, no stopping. Tell me."

He didn't speak. He leaned in and kissed her, hard, hungry, four years of buried want finally breaking the surface, and she moaned into his mouth, her hands fisting in his hair, her tongue meeting his with a ferocity that told him everything about how long she had waited.

The kiss turned wild fast. Her lipstick smeared. His shirt came half undone under her impatient fingers. She pushed him back against the couch cushions and swung one leg over his lap, straddling him, her skirt riding high, grinding down onto the hard ridge of his lund through her thin panties and his trousers with a slow deliberate roll of her hips.

His hands found her waist, then slid up, finding the clasp of her blouse, and she arched into his touch, guiding his fingers. The blouse fell open, and beneath it a deep maroon bra, lace, straining over her full boobs. "Touch them," she ordered, breathless. "No one asks anymore. No one touches. Chhoo mujhe, Aditya."

He cupped her boobs through the lace, then pushed the cups down, freeing them, and her nipples were already hard, dark and tight. He took one into his mouth, sucking hard, and she cried out, her head tipping back, her fingers digging into his scalp. "Haan, aise hi. Aur zor se."

"Stand up," she said suddenly, pushing off his lap. He obeyed, dazed, his lund tenting his trousers. She looked at it and licked her lips, slow. "Desk," she said, pointing. "Bend over it. I want to see what my secretary has been hiding under those perfect trousers."

He walked to her desk on unsteady legs, past the unsigned promotion letter, and bent forward over the polished wood, his palms flat on either side of his own appraisal file. Behind him he heard her heels click closer, then her hands on his belt, unbuckling, unzipping, and his trousers dropped to his ankles.

Her hand wrapped around his lund through his briefs, squeezing, feeling the full hard length of him, and he groaned. She pulled his briefs down in one smooth motion, baring him, her palm closing around his bare lund, stroking once, slow, from base to tip. "Say it," she whispered. "What do you want, Aditya?"

"Tumhe," he gasped. "I want you. Chodna hai tumhe, Naina. Right here."

He turned his head, caught her wrist, and pulled her around the desk until she was facing him, her back against the wood. "Office hours are over," he said, and kissed her savagely, his hands already at her skirt's zip. "And you started this."

The pencil skirt dropped. She stepped out of it, standing in the maroon bra, matching panties now dark with a spreading wet patch, and her heels. "Dekho," she said, and hooked her thumbs into her panties and slid them down her legs, slow, turning slightly so he saw everything. Her chut glistened, swollen, wet, shining under the cabin lights.

He dropped to his knees in front of her, right there on the marble floor of her cabin, pushed her thighs apart, and buried his face in her chut. She cried out, her back arching off the desk, her fingers twisting in his hair, holding him there.

His tongue found her clit and circled it, firm and steady, and she was moaning his name over and over, her hips bucking against his mouth. "Haan, wahin," she panted. "Don't stop, don't you dare stop, Aditya, please, I am so close, main... main aa rahi hoon..."

He slid two fingers deep into her chut while his tongue worked her clit, curling them, finding the spot that made her scream, and she came hard, her whole body convulsing, her thighs clamping around his head, her juices spilling over his fingers and chin.

Then she pulled him up by his hair, kissed him fiercely, tasting herself on his mouth, and pushed him toward the couch. "Ab meri baari," she whispered, her eyes dark and wicked. "Sit. Let me show you what a VP does on her knees."

He sank onto the couch, naked from the waist down, his shirt hanging open, his lund standing rigid. Naina knelt between his knees and wrapped her hand around his lund, stroking slowly, watching his face. "Itna bada," she murmured. "Tumne chhupaya kaise itne saal?" Then she took the tip into her mouth, swirling her tongue around it, teasing.

She sank down, taking him deep, her throat working. Her pace built, her hand stroking what her mouth couldn't reach, her other hand cupping his balls.

"Bas," he gasped. "Naina, bas, I will come... I want to be inside you." She released him and stood, swaying. "To phir aao," she said, and lay back on the couch, spreading her legs wide. "Chodo mujhe, Aditya."

He moved over her, his lund in his hand, guiding the tip to her entrance, and paused, looking into her eyes. "Sure?" he whispered, one last check, because whatever happened after this, the office would never be the same. "Kab se sure hoon," she whispered back. "Andar aao."

He pushed in, slow, and they both moaned, her chut stretching around his thick lund, hot and tight and impossibly wet, gripping him like it had waited four years for exactly this. He sank deeper until he was buried to the hilt. "Oh god," she breathed, her nails raking down his back. "Itna bhara hua... just stay... ek second..."

He stayed, buried deep, kissing her throat, her jaw, her mouth, letting her chut pulse and flutter around him. Then she nodded, her legs wrapping around his waist, her heels digging into his back, and he began to move.

The chudai started slow and deep, each stroke deliberate, his lund dragging along her inner walls, hitting the spot that made her gasp every time. Her moans grew louder, her hips rising to meet him, her boobs bouncing with each thrust, and he bent to suck one nipple while he fucked her, never breaking rhythm.

"Aur tez," she demanded, her voice cracking. "Harder, Aditya. Mujhe dard chahiye thoda. Make me feel it tomorrow." He obeyed, driving into her harder, the couch creaking under them, the glass wall rattling faintly with each thrust, her cries echoing raw and unashamed in the empty office.

She came again, suddenly, her chut clenching around him in waves, her scream muffled against his shoulder as she bit down, and the pulsing of her climax nearly dragged him over with her. He gritted his teeth, pulled out, flipped her onto her stomach, and pushed back in from behind in one smooth motion.

"Haan!" she cried, her face pressed into the couch cushions, her hips raised high. "Aise hi... god, yes, deeper..." From behind he could go deeper, and he did, his thrusts fast and relentless, his balls slapping against her wet chut with each stroke.

"Naina," he groaned, his rhythm faltering. "Main aa raha hoon... I can't hold..." "Andar," she gasped. "Mere andar. Fill me up, Aditya. I want to feel you spill inside me."

He drove in one last time, buried to the root, and came, his lund pulsing deep inside her chut, wave after wave, his whole body shaking, her name tearing from his throat. She clenched around him, milking him, drawing out every last drop, and they collapsed together onto the couch, tangled, sweating, panting.

For a long while neither of them spoke. The BKC lights blinked through the glass. A phone buzzed somewhere in the outer office, ignored. Her fingers traced lazy patterns on his chest, and his arm tightened around her shoulders, and the unsigned letter sat forgotten on the desk across the room.

Finally she stirred, kissed his jaw, and stood, gloriously naked, gloriously unhurried, and walked to the desk. She picked up the promotion letter, picked up her pen, and signed her name across the blank line in one fluid stroke. Then she turned, holding it up, a slow triumphant smile on her face.

"Congratulations, Mr. Nair," she said, her voice carrying just a hint of the VP again, and just a hint of the woman from the couch. "Promotion approved. Effective immediately."

She walked back to the couch, dropped the signed letter on his lap, and straddled him again, her wet chut pressing against his thigh, already stirring him back to life. "Review complete," she whispered, biting his earlobe. "But the probation period for your other duties starts tomorrow. Same time. Meri cabin. Late mat aana."

"Yes, ma'am," he said, and pulled her down into a kiss that tasted of promises, and the letter slid off his lap onto the floor, signed, sealed, and utterly beside the point.