Sunday, February 2, 2014

Off-Hour Office Sex: A Valentines' Short Story - Part Two

A Valentines' Day 
Short Story – 
Part Two
Read Part One Here

She didn’t want to be here and her boss certainly wanted her gone.

“Kat?” she heard a familiar voice say in the shadowed emptiness of her office. “Are you still here?”

Peter? Her head popped up. “I’m here.” She stood to look over her cubicle’s partition. She saw him, looking like a miracle, buttoned-up and bespeckled, lost in the darkened maze of cubicles as he made his way to her, the smell of Mexican food wafting deliciously with him. Her very own alter ego-ed superhero. “What are you doing here?”

“I got worried.” He adjusted his glasses, juggling his keys and the bag of takeout. “It was getting late and you weren’t home yet and you weren’t answering your phone.”

She dug into her purse and found her phone. Dead. That’s right; she’d meant to charge it last night, but was too tired to search for her charger. She shook her head and dropped the useless device back into her bag. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s after 10:00 now.” He frowned. “Let’s go home.” He lifted the heavenly scented take-out bag in his hand. “You can eat in the car. I’ll draw a bath when we get home, give you a massage, and we can head to bed.”

God, that was tempting. She closed her eyes and let her mind wallow—for just a moment—in what it would be like to do just that. “I can’t,” she said, the words like sand—sharp, gritty glass—that tore at her as she spoke. “I need to finish this before I can go.”

He sighed, shoving his hand into his cargo pants pocket, his keys and whatnot clinking. “Well, how long will that take?”

She shrugged. “Hopefully, only another hour or so.” But it could be all night.

“Kat,” he said, his frown deepening, “it’s late. Whatever you’re working on will still be here tomorrow and you’ll be able to tackle it better after some sleep.” He reached out his hand. “Come home.”

She shut her eyes. She wanted to go with him. So badly she wanted to cry with it. But she wouldn’t cry. She was better than that. She wouldn’t let this—wouldn’t let her boss—get to her like that. “I can’t, Peter,” she repeated, “I appreciate you coming here and bringing me dinner—thank you, really—but I can’t leave.” She grabbed the food from him, hoping that would at least make him feel like he was helping. “I’ll see you at home later.”

He stared at her, his hazel eyes narrowing as he studied her curiously from behind his lenses. “Why are you doing this?” He crossed his arms over his broad chest and leaned to rest his hip against a nearby desk.

“What do you mean?” She put the bag down on her own desk even as her food-and-sleep-deprived body began to shake.

“You hate your job,” he said pointedly.

“I don’t hate my job.”

“You hate your boss,” he continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “Yet you’re working late every night, killing yourself for a job you’d leave in a minute, if you thought you could.”

Kat pursed her lips. She wanted to argue with him, but what could she say? “Well, what am I supposed to do?” She sunk back into her office chair. “Stan is just looking for a reason—any reason—to fire me.” She grabbed fistfuls of her hair and pulled it back into a harsh ponytail, the tense tug comforting her a bit, before she let it tumble back down to shield her face.

“Why?” he asked with a shake of his head. He grabbed her cubemate’s chair, so he could sit next to her.

Her shoulders slumped and she held her head in her hands and sighed. “I think he found my author’s page on your site,” she said sadly.

She heard Peter inhale sharply. “How?”

She shook her head. She didn’t know. Through a friend. Through his wife or his teenage son. Maybe through his own online porn perusal. “Does it matter?”

“What did he say when he told you?” Peter asked, his wince audible through his voice.

She shook her head. “He hasn’t.” Not overtly. Not yet.

Peter paused. “Then how do you know?”

She scoffed and peeked up at him ruefully. “There’s a very specific look a man gives you when he’s seen you naked,” she drawled, recalling the photos—fun, sexy, and, yes, semi-nude pictures—she’d had taken and posted. With pride.

Until Stan’s gaze had tainted them. Had made the playful pictures seem dirty and shameful as he eyed her from head to toe with disgusted censure. Even fully dressed in her prim, proper office clothes, she felt stripped bare by his gaze.

She’d loved her photos. Loved taking them. Loved posting them. Loved the enthusiastic response to the teasing shots. She hated that she couldn’t look at them now without feeling that disapproving look on Stan’s pinched face. “I don’t think he liked them very much,” she mused miserably.

“Or enjoyed them more than he would have liked,” Peter pointed out as he sat back, his arms crossed over his buttoned-down chest. 

Kat’s lip curled. “At any rate,” she said sardonically, “I’m stuck here until I finish all this.” Her hand gestured to the insurmountable paperwork piled on her desk. “Or his little crusade is done.” She shot him a dark look. “Which do you think will come first?”

“Or you quit,” he said. Even as she shook her head, he grabbed the edges of her chair and pulled her close. “You could just leave.”

“And do what?” She couldn’t leave this job. If Stan wanted to fire her because of her online page, what were the chances that someone would be willing to hire her despite it? If he found out, others would too. And while she wasn’t ashamed of it—wouldn’t let that tight-assed fuddy-duddy suck the joy out of it—she couldn’t exactly hide it. She’d put herself—her body, her thoughts, her words—out there online. For better or worse.

And, sure, while she loved writing and maintaining her page, it wasn’t as if it paid her well. With just one book out, her sales, even if they were higher than she’d thought they would be, weren’t exactly a livable wage. She sighed. “I need this job.” She shook her head. For better or worse, indeed.

“Why?” Peter asked. “I’m doing well, Kat. Barred Securities is growing and thriving. I make enough to take care of both of us, if we cut out some of our luxuries,” he amended with a dismissive shrug. He shook his head and pressed on, “You could quit this job—that you hate anyway—and write. Full-time. Really give it a go, if it’s what you want.”

Kat shook her head. She couldn’t do that. “I won’t be dependent on anyone,” she said, squaring her jaw. Not financially or otherwise. “Not even you.” She might be his wife—she might be his submissive—but she would not be some kind of burden on him or leave herself so vulnerable. 

She didn’t make as much as him—wasn’t even close to being in the same income bracket. But, heaven forbid, she ever lost him—ever found herself alone again—she would survive. If she quit, learned to live off what Peter could provide, could she say the same?

She shook her head. “I’m not quitting,” she said, the words sounding petulant even to her own ears. She didn’t care. She hated that she felt so powerless. So weak. So at the mercy of everyone all around her. She was tired of feeling like Stan’s bookkeeping bitch. Even feeling like Peter’s little woman that always needed to be taken care of and coddled was grating at the moment. She was just so tired of having everyone else control what she did and felt and thought. Her entire life was reactionary, responding to the demands and desires of everyone around her.

Except her book. And her page. Those were hers. And, damnit, she’d worked hard for them. She’s finally done something for herself—that didn’t belong to anyone but her—and she’d be damned if she’d let her boss think he could punish her for it. 

She might be a submissive—a bottom—but she decided who topped her and who didn’t.

And she chose Peter.

“Well,” he sighed as he leaned forward to grab the bag of food off her desk, “you can at least take a break.” He shook his head and held it out to her again. “C’mon, Kat, you’ve got to eat.”

She looked up at him, her dark eyes meeting his hazel ones, seeing his concern turn curious as he stared into her eyes. “Kat?” he questioned when her lips curled defiantly.

She shook her head and pushed herself up out of her chair. Taking the bag from him, she set it aside again. “I don’t want food.” She came to stand between his legs, nudging his knees apart to make room for her. Her voice was low, teasing, even as her body swayed with sensual sass.

Peter’s lip twitched, recognition flaring hot in his eyes. “What do you want then?” He leaned back even as his hips arched up a bit, not so subtly leading her gaze downward to the bulge rising beneath his pants.

What did she want? She bit her lip. Him. That much she knew. She always wanted him. Couldn’t imagine not wanting him. 

She looked around, still worrying her lip. The question, at the moment, was how did she want him?

“We could do it on your boss’s desk,” he suggested.

She snorted. That was so cliché. Besides—no matter how dirty Stan thought her pictures were—she knew he was the dirty one. His desk was always littered and stained with years’ worth of delivered lunches and the endless coffees she’d fetched over the years. Used tissues and napkins were always mixed in with his paperwork. His desk was a mess and the thought of being naked on it was enough to put her off sex. “Uh,” she said as her nose wrinkled, “no, that’s okay.”

The conference table on the other hand…

She smiled and took Peter by the hand, leading him from her cubicle into the conference room. Yeah, she thought, as she stepped in the large room. It was a commanding room, where all the important announcements and meetings happened. From the time she’d been hired, this had been the room where every important professional moment happened and, if she were honest, it’d always intimidated her a little.

It was perfect.

“Kat?” Peter asked again, a confused laugh touching his voice as she sat him down at the head of the conference table. The seat of power. The one always reserved for the president of the company. “What are you up to?”

She pushed him back into the chair, loving the slash of color flushing his pale cheeks as arousal sharpened his hazel eyes. It was strange to be taller than Peter, to be above him. It wasn’t that Peter was a particularly tall man. It was just that Kat was particularly short. Not even five foot, she rarely got to look down at anyone.

She smiled.

She liked it.


Peter sat back in the chair, staring up at his wife grinning down at him. God, she was beautiful. Smiling her knowing, little grin, she swiveled her hips and danced about him, taunting and teasing him with strokes of her hands on his shoulders and brushes of her ass over his lap.

He moved to reach for her, wanting to pull her fully onto his lap, to feel those grinding hips hard on his. But she just pulled away and tsked at him, shaking a scolding finger at him. “Katherina?” he asked warningly, more than ready to get this show going.

“Patience, Peter,” she responded coyly as she pushed on the table to jump onto its surface. But her pencil skirt was too tight, making the movement awkwardly impossible. He chuckled low as he watched her grin turn sheepish as she reached behind her to unzip the constricting cloth. 

But he stopped laughing as she slipped the skirt past her knees, stepping out of it to stand in just a long shirt that hung half-way down her thighs, knee-high sheer stockings, and matching lace garters. He held his breath as she slid smoothly onto the table, placing one foot on either side of his chair.

He swallowed hard as her feet framing his hips planted in the chair’s cushion to pull him closer, revealing the shadowy place between her thighs as her knees bent high. “Uh, Katherina,” he pointed out, “you’re not wearing panties.”

“No,” she said as her feet moved up to wrap around the sides of the chair, pulling him closer and offering him a fantastic view of her full, pink pussy, “I’m not.” She reached for the buttons of her shirt. “I’m not wearing a bra either.”

“Naughty girl,” he tsked as she popped the first button, revealing the smooth span of her throat and breastbone. 

“Yeah,” she laughed as his gaze roamed her body, “it sounds dumb but, when Stan’s being particularly prickish, it’s a fun bit of rebellion being a little risqué at work.” She shrugged. “It shouldn’t make me feel better, but it does.”

“Mmm,” Peter murmured approvingly. “Not dumb at all.” He liked her rebelliously risqué. “Wait,” he said, his eyes widening as she reached for the button between her breasts. “Wait.” He fished into his back pocket for his phone. He held it up, aiming its camera at her.

Kat squealed as she pulled her stockinged knees closed and tight to her chest. “Peter!” she cried. “You can’t take pictures. Not here.”

He grinned as he let his phone’s camera focus on her, staring at her cringing body through the lens. “Why not?”

“This is my workplace!” she said shrilly as she clasped the collar of her shirt shut. “I can’t have half-naked pictures of me in my workplace.”

“Well, I was kinda hoping for fully naked ones anyway,” he said with a casual shrug.


“C’mon, Kat,” he urged. “What’s the big deal? It’s not like anyone else is going to see them.” These were just for him. For them. Peter felt something in his chest unclench at that thought. The idea that no one else would ever see this part of Katherina. That this moment belonged just to them. He zoomed in close on her face and snapped a photo before turning the phone so she could look at the screen.

Could see the tilted, wide depths of her exotic eyes. Could see the way her full lips moued as if for a kiss. Could see the excited flush of her cheeks. Could see the beautiful lines of her body. 

Could see herself the way he saw her. Beautiful. Sexy. Perfect. He wanted to capture this moment. To keep it forever in photos. “C’mon, Katherina,” he said, his voice low and inviting. “Do it for me.” For the both of them. “Think of it as really sticking it to Stan.”

She bit her lip as she stared at his phone, her face set in uncertain lines even as her body relaxed and her hands loosened their grip on her shirt. That’s it, Kat. There was the defiant girl he knew.

He smiled and leaned back as she unbuttoned her shirt, letting its halves frame her delicate form. He aimed his camera on her again. “That’s it,” he said as he took her picture. Just in those stockings and garters, she was gorgeous, the hottest sight he could imagine. Her small breasts were firm and round. Her dark nipples were hard. The slight nip of her waist before her hips flared delicately. Mmmm, yeah. “Get up on the table,” he told her. “On your knees.”

He watched as she bent her knees beneath her, the submissive in her instinctively spreading her knees—opening herself to him—laying her hands palms up on her knees. His dick hardened at the contradictory image of her so submissive in front of him even as she towered over him, looking down at him with such hunger in her eyes.

She was slipping into subspace. He could see it in her dazed expression and the way her breath quickened. He swallowed hard as he stood up so they were eye-to-eye.

Or eye to lens, as it was.

“Turn around,” he told her as he walked about her, looking for just the right angle. “I want to see that ass.” 

He watched as she bent over onto her hands and knees. He bit back a groan as her sleek, little body crawled and squirmed around so he could look at her round, upturned behind. 


He zoomed in his camera, taking picture after picture of her, before he put the phone onto the table with shaking hands that longed to touch. 

“God, Katherina,” he said as he reached out to trace the line of her garters, feeling the soft skin of her thighs, “you are so amazing.” His hands slid up her leg to coast over her lush, shapely ass. He let his fingers trail along the edge of the garter’s belt, dipping along and over the generous curve. “I love this ass,” he told her. “The look of it. The feel of it. The things I could do to it.”

“What could you do?” she asked, her tone both curious and just a little daring.

His mind swam with the possibilities. He smiled and cupped the full flesh. “What do you want me to do to it?” he asked, holding sensual potential in his hands.

He watched her turn to look at him, licking her lips as her words as she struggled with the words. “Uh,” she breathed, licking her lips again, “I, uh.”

“Tell me, Katherina,” he said, wanting to hear her say it. He loved, more than anything, to hear her tell him exactly what she wanted, what turned her on. How he could turn her on. “Tell me.”

“Spank me,” she said as a rosy blush flushed her dark skin. “I,” she swallowed hard and said a little louder, “I want you to spank me.”

He chuckled as he rubbed her butt, patting it sweetly. “You want to be spanked?” he asked as he grabbed her hips and pulled her down so her feet touched the carpet even as her stomach and breasts pressed onto the table’s shined surface. “You want me to smack this pretty, little ass?” he asked, caressing and massaging her behind. “You want to feel my handprints—hot and stinging—all over your skin?”

“Yes,” she hissed as he pinched her flesh. “Please.”

Well, she did say please. So Peter pulled back his hand and struck her left flank, loving how her body bounced and a small squeak escaped her mouth. 

“Again,” she begged.

Again and again. 

Eagerly, he hit her right flank, then her left. He kept striking her in a rapid, steady rhythm he knew she loved, watching her body writhe, her hips seeking and shying away from his touch. Responding to him with electric heat as both their needs met and matched with each stinging strike.

His own breath was ragged and his heart was pounding. He stopped and stepped closer to her, cupping her ass in his hands, feeling her sensitive heat against his tingling hands. Kat and he had been playing these games for years now. Had used a treasure chest of toys. But there was something about the basic act of spanking—of flesh meeting flesh—that Peter loved. That could just never be replaced. There was just something so intimate about it, the ultimate shared action.

He could feel her warmth, could feel her shake with desire, against the raw nerves in his hands. He leaned down and kissed the base of her spine, just above the rise of her ass. “God, Katherina,” he growled as he took a nip at the ripe flesh, “you drive me crazy.” His hand slipped down between her legs to stroke her sex. “You’re so hot,” he purred, “and wet.” His fingers dipped between her folds, coating his fingers in her thick, fragrant arousal. “I love how wet you get for me.” He slid his fingers inside her, slowly filling her as she moaned low and sweet. He laid adoring kisses all along the top of her ass, from one cheek across the other. “I want you to come for me,” he told her as he used his whole body to press her further against the table, grinding his hard erection against her hip. “You want to come for me, don’t you, Katherina?” 

“Yes, Peter,” she begged, her voice a breathy, reedy sound. 

“Good,” he said as he pulled his fingers from her cunt even as she whimpered at the loss of his touch. He kissed her back again before straightening. Don’t worry, Kat, he thought. He wasn’t done with her yet. Not even close.

He slid his foot between hers and gently kicked her feet further apart even as his hands parted the soft globes of her ass. He stared at her tight opening and bit back a groan. Just imagining the tight grip of her ass on his cock made his body stiffen with want. “I just want to slide into that pretty ass,” he told her, his voice strained as he tucked one slick finger at her anus, letting it slip inside her knuckle by knuckle, “teasingly fill you up with my dick so slowly you’ll be begging me to pound into you. Ride your ass until you come, hard and pulsing, on my cock.” 

With agonizing slowness, he began to push and pull his finger within her with short, easy strokes. “You want that, don’t you, Kat?” he asked. “You want my dick here,” he said, shoving his finger hilt-deep into her, watching her body take him easily. “Or my tongue,” he said as he pulled out of her only to add another finger, twisting both inside her as she gasped and bucked against his hands. He gripped her hip and rubbed, urging her to relax. “Wouldn’t you like that?” he asked.

He felt her ass clench on his fingers before he felt her relax again. Good girl. He gave her behind another caress, making her whimper and push onto his hand. Good girl. “Tell me you want that,” he said as his fingers fucked her, the steady rhythm mimicking the same one he’d used to spank her. “Give me the words.”

“I want your cock inside me,” she said, her voice shaky and thin, as her back arched and her hips thrust. “ I want to feel you deep inside me. Fucking me hard.”

“What else do you want?” he asked, loving the sound of her voice as she gasped, struggling to speak as pleasure shook her control.

“I want to feel you, hot and heavy, over me,” she said as her breath hitched and her ass clasped his fingers again. Hard. She was close to coming, he could tell. “I want to feel you sweat and strain as you feel my body hold and hug your hard shaft.”

“What else?” he asked as he gripped her harder, his fingers working her further and faster, pushing her closer to her edge.

“I want you to come inside of me, Peter,” she said in a hot hiss, the words a molten tug on his gut, practically a stroke on his cock. 

He shut his eyes as a shudder of pleasure hit him. It didn’t matter how long he knew her, how far they went, how much they did together, he would just never get used to hearing her sweet, innocent voice say the filthiest fantasies to him. Goddamn it, Kat.

Peter pulled his fingers from her ass as he struggled for control.


Kat squirmed as his fingers slid out of her, stroking her sensitive skin even as he left her feeling empty. She’d been so close to coming. Just a few more strokes of his fingers. A slap to her ass. A touch to her clit. Anything. Hovering over the point of no return, she’d have come from the slightest push, but instead she felt wild and craving. “Peter,” she pled as she wriggled her ass at him.

“You’ve got quite a way with words, don’t you, Katherina?” he said, his own voice rough and on edge. “What am I going to do with you?”

She shook her head. She didn’t know. But she wished, whatever he was going to do, he’d do it soon. “Please, Peter,” she said, still swiveling her hips restlessly, “I need you.”

“I don’t have lube, Kat,” he said miserably.

Sure, she thought ruefully. It wasn’t as if he knew he’d have her ass-up and begging for his cock when he’d set out to bring her dinner. She huffed, the aching emptiness inside her unbearable. She bit her lip, trying to hold back the desire to say she didn’t care.

Because, as much as she wanted him, she knew her own limits. Anal without lube; she shuddered at the thought. She might want him, more than anything, but she didn’t want that.

She stiffened as she heard him reach for his belt, the unbuckling metal loud in her head. “Uh,” she said on a hard swallow, “Peter?”

She heard him pull the long length of leather free from its loops. Felt his hand press her shoulders down onto the table again. “Shhh, Katherina,” he told her. “Just relax for me.”

Kat’s eyes widened as her body stiffened against the now cold surface against her warmed skin. She didn’t know about this. “Peter?” she asked, unsure.

“Relax,” he repeated as he rubbed her lower back. “I know just what you need.”

She shut her eyes as his hands left her, feeling suddenly alone and a little afraid. Breathing out hard, she forced her body to relax. She had to relax. It would be better, easier, that way, she knew.

“Ready, Katherina?” he asked.

She took one more fortifying breath before nodding. As ready as she would ever get. She shut her eyes and let herself slip further into headspace.

Kat cried out as she felt the leather’s lash on her ass, the sting both surprising and a relief across her already sensitive flesh. The hot mark felt electric on her skin as it spread though her body, sending adrenaline and endorphins racing through her. God! That was good.

“More, Katherina?” he asked as he smacked the belt against his thigh.

“Yes,” she said, pushing her ass out eagerly. God, yes, this was what she needed. Distantly, she wondered how it was Peter always seemed to know. Was always able to read her so well.

But then all thought was wiped away as he struck her again and again with his belt. On her ass. Her thighs. Her hips. From side to side. Over and over, she got lost in his beat. Let the chemicals raging inside take her. Let the heat and rush of it drive her. She bit her lip as her toes curled and her knees began to shake. She was almost there, she could feel her climax speed closer.

“C’mon, Kat,” he said as he aimed the belt for her sweet spot, just beneath the curve of her ass. “Come.”

Her back arched as she cried out, her tense arms pushing her up and back as she blinked blindly, wildly. Her orgasm rocked her, shaking her stiff body, before leaving her limp as she sunk back onto the table weakly.

“Good girl,” she heard Peter murmur as she felt his hand rub gentle circles over her back and shoulders. “Good girl.”

She smiled as she settled her boneless weight onto the hard, cold surface. She tried to move, tried to squirm this way and that. But with the table’s hard edge digging into her stomach and the stiff surface squashing her cheek, she just couldn’t get comfortable. And she was just too drained—from all the fitful nights and the stressful days as much as the mind-numbing orgasm—to find the energy to push off the cool tabletop holding her up. She just couldn’t move from this spot, no matter how much she wanted to.

She heard Peter chuckle a bit before she felt his hands at her waist. “C’mere, Kat.” He lifted her, shaky-kneed and tired, onto his lap. Gratefully, she curled and snuggled against him, taking comfort from him as she wrapped her limbs around him.

Oh, Peter. “I love you,” she whispered against his neck.

“I love you too,” he told her, wrapping his arms around her. He took a deep breath and nodded as if coming to some kind of decision. “And, whatever you want—whatever you need—that’s what I want for you.”

Whatever she wanted.

If she only knew what that was.

She bit her lip and snuggled closer, feeling his hard-on beneath her. She fought a yawn and looked up at him. “What about you?” she asked, pointedly pressing her sensually sore ass against him. “What about what you want?” Pulling her arm free, she reached for his pants. 

He stopped her by closing his hands over hers. “You’re tired, Kat,” he told her.

“I can still—”

“No,” he told her, giving her a quick kiss to halt her words. “Don’t finish that sentence; I’m trying to be good here and you’re just a little too good at tempting me.” 

She tried to speak again, but was cut off with another kiss. “You’re tired,” he repeated as he kissed and nibbled at her neck. “And I want—what I really want—is to take you home. I want to tuck you into our bed and hold you all night.” He stroked her face before cupping her cheek so she looked into his hazel eyes. Giving her an imploring look, he added, “And, as much fun as this was, I want you to promise me: no more late nights.” He tilted his head acknowledgingly. “I know that this job is important to you and, if you want to stay, I’m behind you. One-hundred percent.” His lips tightened as he fought not to frown. “But you’re important to me and,” he said sadly, the loneliness in his hazel eyes breaking her heart, “I miss you.”

Kat sighed and kissed him. “Let’s go home,” she said as she stood up, pulling him up with her. The smile on his face making her chest swell. She turned around to grab his phone off the desk. She tossed it in the air before pocketing it, feeling better than she had in days.

Taking his hand in hers, Kat led Peter back to her cubicle to grab her things and the food that, even cold, sounded delicious at the moment. As she shut down her computer, she glared at the massive pile of pointless paperwork her spiteful, prudish prick of a boss had left her.

With a snort, she pushed away from her desk and grabbed her purse. Maybe she’d call in sick tomorrow. Spend a lazy morning with Peter before looking at their finances, her savings, and the local job listings. Just to see. Just to figure out if what she wanted—financial independence and self-reliance—and what she really needed—Peter and a sense of sanity in her life—could exist together. Because she shouldn’t have to choose between the two. 

Especially not for someone like Stan.

She turned to her husband and smiled. “Just let me lock up, then we can head home.”

He wrapped his arm around her shoulder as she curled hers around his waist. It amazed her how whole that simple act made her feel. She giggled as he squeezed her tight against his side as they walked out of the dark, empty, cold office. “Sounds good. Let’s go home.”


Please check out what happens next with Kat & Peter in my story in The New Smut Project's anthology!
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  1. Love it love it love it! Peter sounds perfect and Stan's a shithead!!

    1. Thank you so much; so glad you enjoyed it! Peter has a special place in my heart--he's my very first leading top! And, yes, Stan is a bit of a jerk. This story is very loosely based on an awkward moment in my own life; you can read about it here, if you're curious.