For three long years, I (M27) had been completely hooked on my co worker Sam. She walked into our office for her first interview, and I was done for. Sam, tall and lean with a seductive European accent, radiated effortless charm. At 43, she was seasoned and confident, with a flair for style that made her impossible to ignore.

We clicked right away, her wit and warmth drawing me in, and after her messy breakup with her much older boyfriend, we grew even closer. She had this habit of spoiling me—home-cooked meals, thoughtful gifts, even a card thanking me for being such an amazing co worker with $100 tucked inside. I couldn’t believe it. She had me wrapped around her finger, but I wasn’t sure if the feeling was mutual. Just because she was totally out of my league.

Things took a turn when she had a fling with another coworker. It gutted me. I pulled back for a while, thinking maybe I’d misread our connection. But distance didn’t help; I wanted her even more.

Eventually, Sam left for a new job and kept nudging me to join her. She said I deserved better than the toxic work environment we were stuck in. I finally made the leap, and on my first day, I couldn’t keep my eyes off her. We’d lock eyes across the office, playing this unspoken game of tag that left me buzzing.

One day, she noticed I’d been eating nothing but sandwiches for lunch. She handed me a homemade meal with a smirk and said, “You need real food.” I thanked her later, complimenting her cooking. That’s when she asked if I wanted to come over for dinner that night—salmon and pasta, my favorite.

I didn’t hesitate. I prepped like a man on a mission: trimmed, showered, wearing the cologne she’d given me and a sweater I knew she’d love. The whole drive over, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. My cock was throbbing thinking about her.

She greeted me at the door in a tight shirt and I could tell she was wearing a push up bra. Dinner was amazing, but the tension in the air was impossible to ignore. At one point, we locked eyes, and she asked if I wanted some wine. I don’t usually drink, but I said yes. She poured one glass , she sipped her glass, then handed it to me.

“How does it taste?” she asked.

“Bitter,” I admitted.

Without missing a beat, she leaned in, kissed me deeply, and whispered, “Does that taste better?”

I nodded, speechless, as she climbed onto my lap. Her hands were everywhere, and so were mine—tracing her body, teasing her curves. She guided my hand down to her pants, and I felt her heat through the fabric.

Before I knew it, we were on the couch, clothes in a heap on the floor. She straddled me, her wetness making every movement electric. I couldn’t hold back any longer, but Sam wasn’t done with me yet. She smirked, made me beg like a “good boy,” then took me into her mouth with a passion that left me breathless. She was sucking me off like nothing I’ve ever had before, she was looking up at me with her beautiful blue eyes taking me in all my entirety, she swallowed my cum and kissed me deeply.

Afterward, as we cleaned up, I stood behind her at the sink, wrapping my arms around her waist and kissing her neck. “That was amazing,” I murmured, and she turned to kiss me softly.

“Stay the night,” she whispered, but I couldn’t. I promised her the weekend instead, and her eyes lit up as she said, “I’ve been waiting to devour you for so long. I’m glad you finally caught on.”

Now, I’m on my way to her place again, and trust me—this time, I’m not holding anything back.