Photocopier Room Revenge: My First Forbidden Fuck with Romeo

Friday morning. 10:35. The photocopier room smelled like hot ink and stale coffee. My heart hammered as I smoothed my tiny skirt, the one that barely covered my ass. I’d dressed for war—revenge on Romeo, that bastard who ditched me for Juliette. This was my first move, my first real strike back. Legs shaky, pussy already tingling with forbidden thrill. What if someone walked in? What if he said no? But his eyes at the Chinese place last night… they betrayed him. No turning back now.

I pushed the door open. There he was, cursing at the machine, punching buttons like a frustrated kid. ‘Salut, Romeo!’ My voice came out husky, smoother than I felt. He turned, eyes widening at my outfit—short skirt, tight top hugging my tits. I sauntered close, kissed his cheek, lingering. His cologne hit me, stirring old memories of his cock buried deep. ‘You look… different,’ he stammered. I spun, ass swaying, skirt riding up. ‘Like it?’ Silence. His gaze devoured me. Boom-boom. My pulse thundered in my ears.

The Tense Approach

He mumbled about the copier. I leaned in, tits brushing his arm. ‘Need help?’ Bent over to plug it in—no panties, skirt hiked, ass cheeks peeking. I wiggled, hunting the ‘hole,’ feeling his stare burn my skin. Heat flooded my core. Wet already. He was breathing hard. I straightened, locked eyes—defiant, hungry. Arms around his neck. Body pressed tight. His hardness poked my thigh. ‘Anything else I can do for you?’ Lips inches apart. He froze, fighting it. ‘Flora… stop.’ But his hands twitched.

Our breaths mingled. Mine ragged, nervous sweat prickling. This was it—the edge. First time crossing this line at work, first revenge fuck pulsing with risk. His loyalty to her? Crumbling. I whispered, ‘Something I’d like…’ Kissed him hard. Tongues crashed. He groaned, hands finally grabbing. ‘Here?’ ‘Yes. Now.’ Door wasn’t locked. Footsteps could echo any second. That danger? It made my clit throb.

His hand slid to my crotch—fuck, I was soaked. ‘Your cock says yes,’ I purred, stroking him through pants. Steel under fabric. He kicked the door shut, yanked my blouse open—buttons flying. Tits bounced free. Skirt ripped down. Naked from waist up, exposed, nipples hard as bullets. First raw contact—his mouth latched on, sucking fierce. I gasped, fingers in his hair. Pulled his zipper. Cock sprang out, thick, veined, that perfect one I’d craved. Wrapped my hand—hot, pulsing. Jerked slow. His hips bucked.

Explosive Surrender and Aftermath

Pushed him against the machine. Dropped to knees—heart exploding. First time tasting him here, in this dingy room. Lips stretched around head, salty pre-cum. Sucked deep, gagging a bit—maladroit, saliva dripping. Exciting sloppiness. He moaned, ‘Fuck, Flora…’ Hands fisting my hair. Thrusting now. My pussy clenched empty, aching. Stood, shoved him down on the floor—cold tiles biting skin. Straddled. Guided him in. Inch by inch—stretch, burn, fill. Virgin-tight nerves firing wild. Rode hard, tits slapping, machine humming beside us.

Climax built fast—too fast. His fingers dug my hips, pounding up. ‘Come for me,’ he growled. Waves crashed. I screamed, walls milking him. He exploded inside—hot spurts. Collapsed together, sweaty, panting. Innocence gone—not girl stuff, but the naive trust. I’d crossed over. Revenge tasted like cum and sweat.

After, pulling clothes on—trembling fingers. Door rattled—someone outside? Panic spike. We froze, giggling nervously. He kissed me soft. ‘This was…’ Wrong. Perfect. Walking out, legs jelly, his seed trickling down thigh. No regrets. Just power. Juliette? She’d never know… yet. But me? Forever changed. That first revenge thrust opened doors—dark, thrilling ones.