Gord20x

Smut and naughty captions / X: @gord20x

[gord20x]

Office Orientation: Hwasa’s Hands-On Training

Tags: rough sex, age gap, big breasts, blowjob,

The fluorescent lights of the office buzz like angry bees, casting a sterile glow over the cubicles that stretch out like a corporate labyrinth. It’s your first week at Apex Media, fresh out of university with a degree in marketing that’s already gathering dust in your mind. The job’s entry-level: data entry, client pitches, the usual grind, but it’s a foot in the door. Or so they say.

Your senior, the one assigned to train you, is Ahn Hye-jin. Everyone calls her Hwasa. She’s a legend in the department: mid-30s, sharp as a tack, with a reputation for closing deals that make the bosses pop champagne. She’s also… distracting. From day one, you’ve noticed it: her white button-up shirts, always a size too tight or a button too loose, the fabric straining against her curves. Today, it’s no different: the top two buttons undone, revealing a glimpse of black lace bra that hugs her ample chest, the kind of sight that makes you swallow hard and pretend to focus on your screen.

She’s leaning over your desk now, pointing at the spreadsheet on your monitor, her long dark hair cascading over one shoulder. The scent of her perfume, something musky and intoxicating, wafts over you as she explains pivot tables for the third time. “See? Drag this here, and bam, your data’s sorted. You’re not getting this, kid?” Her voice is low, husky, like velvet wrapped around steel. She’s older than you by a decade, but she carries it like a weapon: confident, unapologetic. Her striped shorts (office casual Fridays, apparently) ride up slightly as she shifts, but it’s that open shirt, that peek of lace, that keeps pulling your eyes south.

You nod, trying to focus. “Yeah, got it. Thanks, unnie, uh, Hwasa-sunbae.”

She smirks, straightening up but not bothering to adjust her shirt. The lace peeks out more, a deliberate tease? Or just her style? “Good. Don’t make me repeat myself again. Now, lunch break’s in 10. Grab something quick, we’ve got that client meeting at 2.”

As she walks away, hips swaying with that effortless swagger, you can’t help but stare. The office is quiet, most folks out for coffee, and the temptation hits: her desk is right across from yours, jacket draped over the chair.

You ignore the rational voice in your head screaming “professionalism” and slip out of your cubicle, heart pounding like a bass drop at a club. The break room’s just down the hall: microwave humming, coffee machine gurgling like it’s judging you. You time it perfectly: round the corner just as Hwasa’s pouring herself a mug, her back to you. That white shirt clings to her curves, the black lace bra peeking out more as she reaches for the sugar: her striped shorts (office casual Fridays, apparently) ride up slightly as she shifts, but it’s that open shirt, that peek of lace, that keeps pulling your eyes south.

You “accidentally” brush against her as you reach for a cup: your arm grazing her side, close enough to feel the heat radiating off her body. She startles slightly, coffee sloshing but not spilling, and turns with that signature arched eyebrow. Up close, she’s even more intimidating: full lips painted a deep red, eyes sharp and knowing, like she can read every dirty thought in your head.

“Whoa, easy there, rookie,” she says, her husky voice laced with amusement. “You trying to cop a feel on your first week?”

You chuckle nervously, eyes flicking down: damn it: to the open V of her shirt, the lace bra straining against her ample cleavage. “Sorry, sunbae. Just… uh, love the outfit. It’s got that boss vibe: professional but with edge.”

She smirks, setting her mug down and crossing her arms, which only pushes her chest up more, the lace edging visible like a tease. “Edge, huh? Careful, kid. Flattery might get you extra assignments.” But her tone’s playful, her gaze lingering on you a second too long.

The break room’s empty: everyone else at lunch: and the air feels thicker, her perfume wrapping around you like a trap.

You play it cool, or try to, leaning against the counter with your coffee cup in hand, forcing your eyes up to meet hers instead of lingering on that tempting lace peeking from her open shirt. “Actually, sunbae, it’s not just the outfit,” you say, voice steady but with a hint of genuine admiration. “Your work ethic is insane. Closing those deals last quarter? I heard about it in orientation. You’re like the office legend, makes me want to step up my game.”

Hwasa chuckles, low and throaty, stirring her coffee without breaking eye contact. Her dark hair shifts, framing her face, and she tilts her head slightly, that knowing smirk playing on her lips. “Flattery from the new kid? Cute. But yeah, it takes grit. You’ll get there if you listen.” She’s relaxed now, sipping her mug, the steam rising between you like a veil. Her shirt gapes a bit more as she gestures, the black lace bra hugging her curves, but you keep your cool, nodding along.

Then, opportunity strikes. As you “reach” for the creamer behind her, your elbow “accidentally” knocks your coffee cup. It tips, hot liquid splashing across her chest, soaking the white fabric instantly. She gasps, jumping back, the shirt clinging transparently to her skin, outlining every detail of that lace bra and the ample cleavage beneath. Coffee drips down, staining the buttons, and she curses softly in Korean, fanning herself. “Shit, hot! What the hell, rookie?”

You apologize profusely, grabbing napkins, “Oh god, I’m so sorry, sunbae! Let me help,” but it’s chaos: the spill’s bad, her shirt ruined, and she has to unbutton another two to dab at the mess, revealing more of that black lace, her skin flushed pink from the heat. The break room’s still empty, but she glances around, annoyed. “This is a mess. Come on, bathroom. Help me clean this up before the meeting.”

She grabs your arm, pulling you to the single-occupancy bathroom down the hall, locking the door behind you. The space is tight: mirror, sink, her pressed against the counter as she unbuttons further, the shirt falling open to expose her bra fully, black lace cups straining against her full breasts, nipples faintly visible through the sheer fabric. “Napkins aren’t cutting it,” she mutters, wetting a paper towel. “You’re lucky it wasn’t scalding.”

The bathroom’s mirror fogs slightly from the residual heat of the spill, the fluorescent bulb buzzing overhead like it’s in on the secret. Hwasa’s shirt is a disaster—wet fabric translucent, clinging to her skin and outlining every curve of that black lace bra, the intricate patterns pressing against the material like a second skin. Her full breasts strain the cups, the tops spilling over slightly, her cleavage deep and inviting as she dabs futilely with the paper towel. She’s annoyed but composed, that husky voice muttering, “This shirt’s ruined—great, just what I needed before the meeting.”

You spot the hand dryer on the wall—old-school, push-button style—and seize the moment. “Here, sunbae, let me help dry it,” you offer, voice apologetic but edged with something bolder. You step closer—too close, the small space forcing proximity—and guide her toward the dryer, your hand “accidentally” brushing the side of her chest as you position the shirt under the air stream. The contact is electric: soft, warm flesh yielding under your fingers, the lace rough against your skin, her breast shifting slightly with the touch. She inhales sharply, her body tensing, but she doesn’t pull away immediately—her dark eyes flicking to yours in the mirror, a mix of surprise and that knowing smirk.

“Watch it, rookie,” she warns, but her tone’s teasing, low and throaty, her cheeks flushing a shade deeper. The dryer roars to life, hot air blasting, but the “accident” lingers—the tension thick as your hand “slips” again while adjusting, grazing her nipple through the fabric. She bites her lip, a soft hum escaping, her striped shorts shifting as she presses her thighs together subtly.

You swallow hard, the words tumbling out before you can stop them, your voice low and husky in the tight bathroom space. “You always wear shirts like this… it’s distracting as fuck, sunbae.” Your eyes drop shamelessly to her chest, the coffee-soaked fabric clinging like a second skin, making her massive tits look even more obscene—those huge, juicy melons spilling out of that black lace bra, the cups barely containing her fat, heaving rack. Her nipples poke through the sheer material like hard little bullets, begging to be pinched. “Let me dry that bra for you… with my hands.”

Hwasa freezes for a beat, her dark eyes widening, but then she throws her head back and laughs—deep, husky, the sound vibrating through you like a bassline. It’s not mocking; it’s predatory, her full lips curving into a wicked smile as she steps closer, her curvy hips swaying, that striped shorts hugging her thick, fuckable ass. “Bold little shit, aren’t you, rookie?” she purrs, grabbing your collar and yanking you in—her mouth crashing against yours in a hot, demanding kiss. Her tongue invades like she owns you, tasting of coffee and sin, her massive tits pressing against your chest—soft, heavy pillows squishing flat, those fat jugs molding to you like they were made to be groped.

She dominates the kiss, her hands fisting your shirt, pushing you back against the sink—her older, experienced body grinding into yours, her lace-covered rack rubbing up and down your torso with every breath. “You like staring at my big, slutty tits, huh?” she whispers against your lips, breaking for air, her voice dripping with teasing authority. “Bet you’ve been jerking off thinking about these massive udders since day one—squeezing them, sucking them dry.”

You can’t take her dominance anymore—the way she’s owning the kiss, grinding her curvy body against you like you’re her toy. With a growl, you grab her hips—fingers digging into the soft, thick flesh of her ass through those striped shorts—and spin her around in one rough motion. She gasps, hands slapping against the sink for balance as you bend her over it, her full, juicy ass pressing back against your crotch like an invitation. The mirror reflects it all: her dark hair tumbling forward, her shirt hanging open, those massive, slutty tits dangling heavy and free, jiggling with the force as you grind your hard cock against her plump cheeks— the bulge rubbing between them, teasing her crack through the fabric.

“Fuck— what are you—” she starts, but it cuts off into a moan as you reach around, groping her huge tits from behind—your hands overflowing with the fat, heavy melons, squeezing them roughly like they’re yours to claim. Her nipples harden into stiff peaks under your palms, and you pinch them hard, twisting just enough to make her arch her back, pushing that thick ass harder against you. “You little shit— ah— thinking you can handle this pussy?” she hisses, but her voice cracks into a whoreish whine, her body betraying her as she grinds back, her shorts dampening against your thrusts.

The mirror shows the slutty scene: her face flushed, lips parted in needy gasps, those giant knockers bouncing in your grip like overripe fruits, veins pulsing under the skin as you maul them. You yank her shirt off fully—exposing her completely— and hike up her shorts, your cock slipping free to slap against her ass cheek, hot and veined. “Shut up and take it, sunbae,” you grunt, sliding between her thighs—rubbing against her wet, swollen pussy lips through the thin fabric— before pushing inside with one brutal thrust. She’s tight, soaking, her walls clenching like a vice as you pound her over the sink, her massive tits smashing against the cold porcelain with each slam, nipples dragging streaks.

She moans like a total whore— loud, filthy sounds echoing in the bathroom— “Fuck— harder, you cocky rookie— wreck my slutty cunt with that dick!” Her thick ass ripples with every impact, her body shaking, those fat tits flopping wildly in the mirror as she braces against it, fogging the glass with her hot breaths.

You grip Hwasa’s hips harder—fingers sinking into the soft, jiggling flesh of her thick, fuckable ass—as you pound her dripping pussy from behind, each thrust slamming deep and rough, her walls clenching around your cock like a greedy whore’s cunt. The mirror captures every filthy detail: her face twisted in slutty ecstasy, mouth open in breathless moans, dark hair matted with sweat as you yank it back hard—forcing her head up to watch herself get wrecked. “Look at yourself, sunbae,” you growl, your free hand slapping her ass cheek—watching it ripple like jelly, red handprint blooming on that plump, bouncy booty. “See what a cock-hungry MILF you are? Bending over for the new kid, your fat ass shaking like a desperate slut.”

She cries out— a whorish, broken moan— her massive tits swinging wildly below her, those huge, heavy udders slapping against each other with every brutal thrust, nipples dragging across the sink’s edge like they’re begging for abuse. “Fuck— yes— harder, you bastard!” she gasps, but you pull her hair tighter, arching her back more, making her watch as you degrade her. “Your giant knockers are flopping like cheap whore bags— look at them bounce, sunbae, those massive, saggy tits spilling everywhere. Bet you’ve used this fat rack to close deals, huh? Shaking your udders for the bosses while your thick ass grinds for promotions.”

Her pussy squeezes you tighter—wet, sloppy sounds echoing as you rail her harder, balls slapping her clit, her juices dripping down her thighs like a total cumslut. She watches in the mirror—eyes glazed, moaning like a pornstar— her body shaking, that plump ass jiggling with every impact, her huge tits heaving obscenely. “I’m— fuck— gonna cum!” she wails, and you feel it—her cunt spasming, milking you as she screams, soaking your cock in her whore juices.

You don’t stop—pounding through her orgasm, then pulling out to flip her around, shoving deep again face-to-face—but wait, no, stick to behind: you keep railing, finally exploding inside her, filling her slutty pussy with hot cum as she watches it all in the mirror, her massive tits quivering, ass clenched tight.

You pull out of Hwasa’s spasming pussy with a wet pop—cum leaking from her stretched, sloppy hole, dripping down her thighs like the filthy creampie whore she is. She’s still bent over the sink, gasping, her thick ass quivering from the aftershocks, those massive tits pressed against the mirror, smearing fog and sweat. You grab her by the hair—yanking her upright, spinning her to face you—her dark eyes glazed, lips parted in a slutty daze. “We’re not done, sunbae,” you growl, pushing her down to her knees on the cold tile floor. Her full, curvy body submits easily— that older, experienced frame folding like a cheap fucktoy— her huge, heaving udders bouncing as she drops.

“Clean your mess, you cumdump,” you order, shoving your cock—still hard, slick with her juices and your load— against her pouty lips. She hesitates for a split second, but you force the tip in, her mouth opening wide around you like the obedient office slut she is. “Suck it off— taste how I wrecked your greedy cunt, you big-titted MILF.” She moans around your shaft—vibrations sending shocks up your spine— her tongue swirling eagerly, lapping up the mix of cum and her own slick like a desperate whore. Her cheeks hollow as she bobs her head, those fat lips stretching obscenely, spit and cum dribbling down her chin onto her massive knockers, making them glisten like oiled-up pornstar tits.

“Fuck— look at you,” you degrade, thrusting shallowly into her throat, making her gag like a cheap hooker. “On your knees for the rookie, sucking my dick clean after I filled your sloppy pussy. Bet you’ve done this for promotions— slobbering on cocks with those plump lips while your giant udders bounce like udders on a cow.” She whimpers—eyes watering, mascara running—but sucks harder, her hands grabbing your thighs, nails digging in as she deepthroats you, her nose burying in your pubes. Her huge tits jiggle with every bob, nipples hard and begging, cum from earlier streaking down them like she’s marked property.

“Good girl— swallow it all, you thick-assed cumslut,” you grunt, fucking her face faster, her gags turning to wet, gurgling moans as she cleans every inch like the degraded office whore you’ve turned her into

You hold Hwasa’s head steady—fingers tangled in her sweat-damp hair—as you fuck her mouth like a cheap fleshlight, her full lips stretched wide around your cock, gagging and slurping like the desperate office whore she’s become. Her massive tits heave below, those fat, jiggling udders smeared with spit and precum, nipples hard as diamonds from the rough treatment. She’s on her knees, curvy body trembling, that thick ass sticking out as she sucks you deeper—throat convulsing around your shaft, tears streaming down her mascara-ruined face. “Mmmph— you filthy bitch,” you grunt, thrusting harder, her gags turning to wet, submissive moans. “Suck harder, sunbae— clean that dick like the cum-guzzling slut you are, with your giant knockers bouncing like a pornstar’s.”

She obeys—tongue swirling frantically, cheeks hollowed— but you feel the edge building, that tight coil in your balls ready to snap. With a growl, you yank her off— her lips popping free with a string of spit connecting to your throbbing head— and stroke yourself furiously over her upturned face. “Open wide, you big-titted MILF,” you order, and she does— mouth agape, tongue out like a eager cumdump— her dark eyes locked on yours, a mix of defiance and slutty hunger. You explode— hot, thick ropes of cum blasting across her face, painting her cheeks, lips, and chin in sticky white streaks. It drips down onto her massive tits— splattering those heavy, heaving melons, coating her nipples and pooling in her deep cleavage like she’s been marked as property.

“Fuck— look at you,” you degrade, milking the last drops onto her rack, watching it glisten on her pale skin. “Covered in my load like a cheap whore— your fat udders dripping cum, face glazed like a donut.” She gasps, licking her lips instinctively, her body shuddering as the humiliation hits, but she doesn’t wipe it off— just kneels there, tits jiggling with her breaths, cum sliding down her curves.

You pull up your pants, smirking down at her. “Now get to that meeting, sunbae. Don’t clean up— let them wonder why the office legend looks like she just got fucked stupid.” She stands shakily— shirt still open, cum-streaked tits barely covered as she buttons haphazardly— glaring but with a twisted smile. “You little prick… this isn’t over.” But she heads out, leaving you alone in the bathroom, the door clicking shut on your new, filthy secret.