In the hushed stillness of the office, after the cleaning staff had left and before the early birds of the morning shift arrived, a woman named Samantha Berkley found herself alone in the dimly lit room. She was the head of accounting, a woman in her late thirties, with a voluptuous figure that had always drawn attention. Her most distinctive feature, however, were her ample breasts, two globes of flesh that seemed to defy gravity and tempted the imagination.
That evening, she had stayed late to finish a report, her glasses perched precariously on the edge of her nose as she poured over the numbers. She was so engrossed in her work that she didn’t notice the sun had set and the office was now bathed in the soft glow of the moon. The silence was broken only by the gentle hum of the air conditioning and the occasional rustle of papers as she turned the pages.
As she worked, she absentmindedly ran her fingers through her thick, curly hair, pushing it back from her face. She had let it grow out, and now it cascaded down her back in a wild mane, framing her face and drawing attention to her full, pouty lips. She was dressed in a conservative blouse and skirt, but the fabric clung to her curves, hinting at the body that lay beneath.
Samantha was a woman who had always been in control, both in and out of the bedroom. She was confident, assertive, and didn’t shy away from expressing her desires. But that night, as she sat alone in the office, she couldn’t shake the feeling of vulnerability that washed over her. She felt exposed, as if the moonlight was peeling away the layers of her clothing, leaving her bare and exposed.
She stood up, stretching her arms above her head, her breasts straining against the fabric of her blouse. She let out a soft sigh, her breath catching in her throat as she felt a sudden surge of desire. She had always been a woman who appreciated the art of seduction, the thrill of the chase, and the satisfaction of conquest. And that night, she decided to indulge in a little self-love.
She began by unbuttoning her blouse, revealing the lacy bra that lay beneath. She ran her fingers over the soft fabric, feeling the weight of her breasts in her hands. She closed her eyes, imagining the touch of a lover, the gentle caress of a hand, the flick of a tongue. She shivered, a soft moan escaping her lips as she pinched her nipples, feeling them harden beneath her fingers.
She moved to her desk, leaning against it as she slipped off her skirt, revealing the matching lace panties that lay beneath. She ran her fingers over the fabric, feeling the dampness that had gathered between her legs. She was wet, her body ready for the pleasure that was to come.
She sat down in her chair, spreading her legs wide as she began to touch herself. She traced her fingers over her outer lips, feeling the soft, downy hair that covered her mound. She had always kept it neatly trimmed, a small patch of curls that drew attention to the treasure that lay beneath. She slipped her fingers inside, feeling the warmth and wetness that greeted her. She was ready, her body begging for the release that was to come.
She closed her eyes, imagining the touch of a lover, the gentle caress of a hand, the flick of a tongue. She moved her fingers in slow, deliberate circles, her body responding to the rhythm of her touch. She moaned, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps as she felt the familiar tension build within her.
She moved faster, her fingers working in time with her heartbeat. She was close, her body trembling with the effort of holding back. She moaned louder, her voice echoing through the empty office. And then, with a cry, she came, her body shuddering with the force of her orgasm.
She sat there for a moment, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps as she rode out the waves of pleasure that coursed through her. She opened her eyes, smiling to herself as she reveled in the satisfaction of her self-love. She was a woman who knew what she wanted, and wasn’t afraid to take it.
She stood up, gathering her clothes and dressing slowly, savoring the feeling of her own touch on her skin. She looked at herself in the mirror, her eyes shining with a newfound confidence. She was a woman who had indulged in her desires, and had come out the other side stronger for it.
As she left the office, the first rays of sunlight beginning to break through the darkness, she knew that she would never forget that night. It was a reminder that she was a woman of power, of desire, and of self-love. And she would carry that with her, always.
The end.
