The office was empty except for the low hum of the AC and the sound of my girlfriend's heels clicking across the marble floor. She had stayed late again, finishing reports for her boss, Karim. I knew the moment she texted me she was working overtime that something was going to happen. We'd talked about it in bed, her voice shaky with nerves and heat, admitting how his dark eyes lingered on her tits when she bent over his desk.
Karim was tall, broad, with a thick beard and the kind of quiet authority that made people shut up and obey. He was Muslim, prayed five times a day, but that didn't stop him from staring at my girlfriend's ass like he wanted to claim it. Tonight he did.
She told me later how it started. She was leaning over the conference table sorting papers when he stepped behind her. His hand slid up her thigh, pushing her tight skirt higher. "You've been teasing me for weeks," he growled, voice low and rough. "Now you're going to take this cock."
My girlfriend didn't stop him. She spread her legs a little, already wet. Karim yanked her panties aside and shoved two thick fingers into her pussy. She moaned loud, pushing back on his hand. He finger-fucked her hard, thumb rubbing her clit until she came quick and messy, juices running down her thighs.
Then he freed his cock. It was big, veined, dark, and already leaking. He bent her over the table, kicked her legs wider, and slammed into her in one thrust. She cried out, gripping the edge of the table as he pounded her. Every stroke was deep and brutal, his heavy balls slapping her ass. "Fuck, your pussy's tight," he grunted. "Better than I imagined."
She begged him to go harder. Karim grabbed her hips and railed her, the table shaking. He reached around, pinched her nipples through her blouse, and told her she was his slut now. My girlfriend came again, pussy clenching around his thick shaft, screaming his name.
He didn't pull out. He kept fucking her through the orgasm, sweat dripping from his chest onto her back. When he was close he pulled her hair, forced her to arch, and flooded her cunt with hot cum. Thick ropes pumped deep inside her, leaking out around his cock as he kept thrusting.
Afterward he made her clean him with her mouth. She dropped to her knees, sucked his softening dick, tasting her own pussy and his load. Karim told her to come back tomorrow night wearing no panties.
She came home to me later, skirt wrinkled, cum still dripping down her legs. She climbed into bed, spread her thighs, and showed me her swollen, used pussy. "He fucked me so good," she whispered. "Want to taste?"
I buried my face between her legs and licked every drop, listening to every filthy detail while she came on my tongue again. That was the first night. It became regular. Karim fucked my girlfriend in his office, in the stairwell, once in his car in the parking garage. She always came home wrecked and full, telling me how his big Muslim cock stretched her, how he called her his dirty little whore while he pumped load after load into her.
She stopped wearing underwear to work. Sometimes she'd text me from under his desk, mouth full, while he took calls. Other times he'd bend her over the copier and fuck her from behind, leaving handprints on her ass. She loved the risk, the power, the way he used her like a toy.
One night he invited her to his place. She spent hours there, riding him, getting fucked in every position. He took her ass for the first time, stretching her tight hole while she fingered her clit and begged for more. When she finally limped home at dawn, she was glowing, cum dried on her skin, and she made me eat her out while she described every thrust.
Karim kept using her. He fucked her before meetings, after prayers, whenever he wanted. My girlfriend became his personal office slut, and she loved every second. She still came home to me, but her pussy belonged to him. The stories she brought back were always raw and filthy, and I lived for them.
It never stopped. Every week she went to work knowing her Muslim boss would bend her over something and fuck her senseless. And every night she came back to tell me exactly how it felt.
