Musy Curls:

Rebecca

The soft glow of dawn filtered through the curtains, and I was half-lost in sleep when a gentle sensation nudged me awake. It was Ben, his lips brushing hesitantly between my thighs, his tongue moving in cautious strokes over my pussy.

It felt nice enough--warm, soft, a quiet pleasure that stirred me. I hummed faintly, letting him know I was awake, my fingers resting on the sheets. He was trying to please me, even if his heart wasn't fully in it, his licks a bit too tentative, missing the rhythm I craved. I wanted more--something deeper, bolder--but I let him continue, appreciating his effort. I feel he doesn't like how my scent lingers in my bush. I stopped shaving a few months ago to try it out. I loved my full bush--wild, natural, a dark tangle that felt like *me*. Naked in the mirror, it framed my body in a way that made me feel raw and beautiful, like I owned every inch of myself. Ben, though, wasn't a fan; I could sense it in the way he navigated it carefully, like he was trying not to linger too long in the thick curls.

Then my eyes flicked to the clock: 7:42 a.m. My heart stopped. My first day at work started at 8:30, and the office was twenty minutes away. *No, no, no.* I bolted upright, the sheets falling away. "Ben, I'm late," I muttered, already scrambling out of bed. He mumbled something, but I was halfway to the dresser, my mind a blur. The first days were everything--new colleagues, new vibes--and I wanted to walk in sharp, not a mess.

No time for a shower; I can't be late on the first day. A quick glance in the mirror showed my hair wild, cheeks flushed--workable. A brush and a high bun would keep it sleek despite the humidity. Lingerie first, because even in chaos, I needed to feel like *me*. I grabbed my favorite push-up bra, black with lace trim, to give my B-cups the boost I always wished they had naturally. I'd never loved my chest--too small, I sometimes thought--but this bra made me feel sexier, like I could command a room. I slipped on a matching black G-string, the kind that sparked a little thrill. My ass was my pride--round, firm, a curve that always turned heads--and the G-string framed it perfectly, showing it off just right. I twisted to check the mirror, a quick smile flashing. God, I wished Ben was an ass man, someone who'd go wild for it, but he had his own way of loving me. And that's enough for now. Maybe. My college boyfriend was such an ass guy. But this ass hasn't been fucked since him. Wasted opportunities.

Clothes had to fit the heat and my mood--professional but flirty, like me. I picked a sleeveless ivory blouse, sheer enough to hint at my bra's lace, with a soft V-neck that teased without overdoing it. The fabric was light, almost silky, and if I got turned on today--maybe a glance from a cute coworker--my nipples might just show through the bra and blouse, a secret that made me feel alive. A fitted black pencil skirt, just above the knee, hugged my hips and ass, polished yet bold. My nude heels, low for the heat, added a subtle swagger.

I thought about the office--new faces, new energy. I wasn't shy about a little charm to warm people up--a bright smile, a playful quip to make them feel at ease. I loved learning what made people tick, and if a flirty vibe helped, I'd lean into it. Today was about owning my space, being sexy while proving I was sharp.

The clock read 7:58. My pulse raced. I slung my bag over my shoulder, tossing in my phone, keys, and lipstick. "Wish me luck," I called to Ben, who was half-awake, watching my frenzy with a lazy grin. I rushed out the door, the summer heat hitting me like a wall. As I locked the apartment and hurried to my car, worry crept back--*God, what if I smell like sex?* The realization hit hard, and I cringed, suddenly hyper-aware of the possible musky scent clinging to me from our morning intimacy. My bush might hold onto it, earthy and unmistakable; without a wash, I had nothing to mask it. I rummaged for my perfume, then froze--*damn it*, I'd left it in my other bag. My stomach twisted, but there was no time to panic. I'd just have to hope it wasn't noticeable and push through. Climbing into the driver's seat, I had no time to second-guess. I'd walk in with confidence, I was ready.

Tom

The office slogged through its Monday routine--phones buzzing, keyboards tapping, the same burnt coffee stench souring the air. I slumped against the conference room door, already checked out, my tie loose like my give-a-damn. HR had stuck me with training some new hire, Rebecca, and I was dreading every second of it. Babysitting a rookie through logins and org charts was about as thrilling as watching paint dry. *Just grind it out, Tom,* I thought, scratching at my collar, the Texas summer heat mocking the AC, making my button-up cling uncomfortably. I checked my watch--9:00 a.m.--and groaned inwardly. This was going to crawl.

Then she walked in, and my boredom exploded into something else entirely. Rebecca. The name hadn't prepared me for her. She was a fucking spark, a jolt that had me standing straighter, my pulse hammering. Her sleeveless ivory blouse shimmered, sheer and daring, the V-neck plunging just enough to show the swell of her boobs, that made my mouth dry. That black pencil skirt hugged her hips, but--God--her ass. Round, firm, a perfect curve that moved with every step like it was built to ruin me. Her nude heels gave her walk a sway that hit like a punch, and I gripped my folder, my throat tight. No panty line--nothing, just smooth fabric over that ass--and my mind spun, wondering what she was wearing underneath. A thong? Something lacy? She was trouble, and I was already burning, the dull morning erased by a need I hadn't seen coming.

"Tom, I take it?" she said, her voice low, a flirty purr that curled around me, her smile wicked as she offered her hand. "I'm Rebecca. Ready to... get my hands dirty."

I froze, her words dripping with innuendo, and took her hand, her skin warm, her grip lingering a second too long. "Yeah, Tom," I said, clearing my throat, my voice rougher than I meant. "Welcome. I'll be showing you the ropes." Her laugh was soft, teasing, her eyes glinting like she knew exactly how she was twisting me up. She brushed past me, her arm grazing my chest, a casual touch that sent heat racing through me, her ass swaying in that skirt as she headed into the conference room. I followed, my eyes locked on her, already imagining peeling that skirt off, wondering if her panties matched the bra I wanted to ruin--fuck, I wanted to cum in that bra, see it soaked against her skin.

"Let's dive in," she said, tossing a playful glance over her shoulder, her fingers trailing the table's edge as she sat, the motion pulling her blouse tight. I sat across from her, and--Jesus--her boobs were right there, the V-neck giving me a view that made my cock twitch. The fabric hugged her boobs. I could see the outline of her bra, lifting her boobs, and I pictured sliding my cum over that bra, staining the lace. "Hope you're a patient teacher," she added, her voice a tease, leaning forward so her blouse gaped slightly, her bra's edge peeking out. Black!. It was black. "I might need... extra attention."

I swallowed hard, her words hitting like sparks, that casual lean making my head spin. "I'll manage," I said, forcing a grin, my hands sweaty as I opened my laptop. "We'll cover the basics--systems, schedules, nothing too rough." But my eyes kept slipping, catching her boobs, her ass when she shifted, the skirt so smooth I was obsessed with her panties--or lack of them. A G-string, maybe? Something tiny, lacy, matching that bra? The thought of her bare under there, no line to betray it, was driving me crazy.

I pointed at the screen, trying to focus. "This is the main database. You'll use it for orders, tracking, all that jazz." My voice was steady, barely, but her scent hit me then--musky, raw, like skin after sex, not a trace of perfume. My nose, too damn sharp, caught it clear as day, and my mind reeled. It was her, primal, a secret from this morning that didn't belong in this sterile room. I pictured her bare, that musky heat stronger, my face buried in her ass, inhaling her, tasting her where it was deepest. My fingers twitched, gripping the table to stay grounded, her smell wrapping around me like a trap.

"Got it," she said, nodding, her pen tapping, but her arm brushed mine as she reached for a notepad, another casual touch that felt like fire. "Looks like a lot to... handle," she added, her lips curving, the innuendo unmistakable. "You'll keep me on track, right?"

"Uh, yeah," I said, my throat tight, her touch lingering in my nerves. "I'll... keep you straight." Her laugh came again, flirty, and I scrambled to fill the silence. "Oh, and the printer down the hall? It's a diva. Jams, unless you sweet-talk it. I told it last week it's got no game compared to my grandma's old typewriter."

She burst out laughing, a bright, sexy sound that twisted my gut, her boobs jiggling slightly, that bra holding them like a fucking gift. "Oh, I'll charm it silly," she teased, leaning closer, her voice dropping. "But I bet you're better at handling... tricky equipment." Her fingers grazed my wrist, light but deliberate, and I nearly choked, my cock straining, her musky scent stronger now, pulling me deeper.

"You'll fit right in," I said, my grin shaky, my eyes flicking to her boobs, her ass, that skirt with no panty line. "Just... don't break anything." Or me, I thought, my mind screaming: *That ass, that scent--I'm losing it.* "Lucky I've got you to guide me," she shot back, her smile wicked, her pen twirling like she was toying with me. "I'll try not to... wear you out too much."

I chuckled, but it came out rough, my hands clenching. "I can keep up," I said, meeting her eyes, the air thick with tension. All i could think of was whether she was wearing panties--matching, lacy, or nothing?. I'd been bored senseless minutes ago, dreading this training, but Rebecca was a storm, and I was caught, wanting to cum in that bra, taste her ass, find out what was under that skirt, and I wasn't sure I'd survive the day.

Rebecca

The warehouse was a sweatbox, the Texas summer heat choking the air as Tom guided me through crates and clanking machinery. I'd banked on air-conditioned offices for my first day, not this humid gauntlet, and my nerves were sparking like live wires. We had spent most of the day in the AC, but now it was almost the end of the day, and the warehouse tour was the last part of the initiation. The whole day was nothing like I expected. Tom--holy hell, he was a curveball. Tall, with rich brown skin and an athletic build that made his button-up look like it was begging to rip, he moved with a quiet swagger that hit me right in the gut. His dark eyes caught mine as he droned about inventory, and my pulse stuttered, a low heat flaring where it had no business being. He was hot, and it was fucking with my head.

The heat glued my sheer ivory blouse to my skin, and I felt bold. My black pencil skirt molded to my ass, my best asset, framed by the G-string that made me feel like a damn queen. Sweat rolled down my spine, and I cursed my rushed morning--no perfume to cover the musky, raw scent from Ben's wake-up licking, trapped by my untrimmed bush, wild and fierce. I loved it, but here, unwashed, it was screaming, like my body was broadcasting this morning's secrets. *What if Tom smells it?* My cheeks burned, but his presence--those eyes, that frame--was stirring something reckless, something I wanted to lean into.

"This is where we track shipments," Tom said, nodding at a terminal, his arm brushing mine, the touch sending a jolt through me. His voice was low, steady, but his eyes lingered--on my hips, my ass--and I caught it, my heart kicking up. He was staring, and fuck, I loved it, my nerves flipping to a slutty thrill. I stepped closer, pretending to squint at the screen, my shoulder grazing his, my blouse pulling tight across my boobs. I glanced down--shit, my nipples were rock-hard, poking through, faint but clear through the fabric. I could've hidden them, but I didn't. I wanted him to see, to know I was feeling this, my body screaming under his gaze.

"Big system to... get a grip on," I said, my voice dripping with innuendo, flashing a wicked smirk. "You gonna ease me into it, Tom?"

His grin was slow, eyes sparking. "Oh, I'll take it slow... if that's what you want," he teased, his tone rough, like he was playing my game. I laughed, tossing my hair, my fingers brushing his wrist as I snagged his pen, a deliberate touch that lit my skin up. His gaze dropped to my blouse, locking on my nipples, and I arched my back a little, showing more, loving how his jaw twitched. My musky scent was thick now, sweat and sex mixing in the heat, and I saw his nose flare--fuck, he was smelling me, that raw, unfiltered me, and it sent a rush to my pussy, already wet. I wanted him to crave it, to drown in it.

"These scanners look... tricky," I said, my arms sliding against his, lingering like I meant it. "Gotta handle 'em just right."

"I'm great at handling," I purred, turning to the scanner, popping my hip to flaunt my ass, knowing his eyes were glued. "Think I could... make it quick or drag it out slow.". His glance hit my ass, fast but hungry, and I knew--he was obsessed, and I was high on it, my ass my weapon, outshining Ben's half-hearted looks. My ass was Tom's weakness, and I wanted to play it up, make him ache.

"Don't tempt fate," he said, voice low, a grin masking something hotter. "Might get more than you bargained for."

"Oh, I can take plenty," I shot back, as I slid past to the next terminal, my nipples still hard, shouting through my blouse. I loved that he saw them, loved how my musky scent was everywhere, no perfume to tame it. "This heat's wild," I said, fanning my blouse, letting it lift to tease my bra's edge. "Hope you don't mind me... getting all slick and messy."

"Messy's my kind of vibe," he said, eyes flicking to my bra, my nipples, then back to my face, heat rolling off him. "You're keeping up just fine."

"Bet I could run circles around you," I teased. That musky smell hit harder, and his nose twitched again, pulling me deeper into this dance. He was hooked, and I was thriving, my body begging for his eyes, his hands, his everything.

It was too much, my scent, my nipples giving me away. I needed a breather. "Hey, gotta hit the restroom quick," I said, flashing a flirty grin. "Don't start any fun without me."

He smirked, pointing down a hall. "Hurry back, or I'll get... impatient."

"Oh, you'll wait for me," I teased, my hips swinging as I walked off, feeling his gaze burn into my ass, my heart pounding, my pussy soaked from this game.

I faced the mirror, blouse clinging, my nipples screaming through the fabric, and I didn't mind one bit. Tom had seen them, wanted them, and it made me bold, slutty, alive. I leaned against the sink, breath ragged, my body on fire. I wanted to touch myself. Jerking off here, on my first day, was so wrong, so slutty, but that's what I wanted--to be Tom's slut, to give him my raw, reckless self. I got into one of the stalls, and my hand dove under my skirt, tugging my G-string aside, my untrimmed bush dripping, that musky scent choking the air, pure me. I pictured Tom, his brown skin gleaming, his hands grabbing my ass--the ass he couldn't quit staring at. My finger grazed my pussy, slick and hot, sliding one in slow, my moan soft as I felt the heat. I pictured him spreading my ass, his tongue on my asshole, worshipping what Ben ignored. I circled my asshole with my left index finger, teasing the tight ring, then pushed in, shallow but sharp, my knees buckling. "Tom, fuck," I whispered, imagining his cock there, claiming my ass, his obsession making me his.

My pussy needed more. I slid a second finger in, curling them, hitting that spot that made me gasp, my thumb brushing my clit, slow then fast. I pictured TomIm lifting my skirt, eyes on my ass, fucking my pussy while his fingers teased my asshole. A third finger stretched my pussy, the fullness intense, my hips rocking as I fucked myself, but my ass play--another push into my asshole, deeper now--was hotter, dirtier, because Tom would love it, crave it like Ben never did.

I came hard, my pussy clamping around three fingers, a raw cry bouncing off the walls. My body shook. Fuck I was cumming. I was moaning loud. I moaned 'Fuckk Tom'. grool--thick, slick arousal--coating my fingers, dripping from my pussy. I pulled them out, glistening, and wiped the sticky mess onto my untrimmed bush, smearing it into the curls, locking that musky scent in tight. I wanted it there, wanted my pussy hair to hold this secret, to carry it back to Tom.. My nipples were still hard, blazing through my blouse, and I loved it, loved that Tom would see, would know I was this alive for him. My ass, red-hot in my mind from his imagined touch, felt powerful, ready to tease him more.

I smoothed my skirt and blouse, my cheeks red in the mirror, that musky scent thicker, my bush now a sticky trap for it. I'd gotten off at work, dreaming of Tom's hands, his tongue, his cock on my ass, my pussy soaked and marked. Guilt flickered, but it fed the fire, like I'd unleashed something feral. I took a deep breath. This is the most alive I have felt in years. Stepping back into the warehouse, I was ready for Tom, my skin humming, my scent a dare, my ass swaying, knowing he'd be watching, wanting, losing it just like me.

The warehouse was a steamy haze, the Texas heat pressing against me as I stepped out of the restroom, my body still humming from the orgasm I'd stolen minutes ago.

Tom lounged against a crate stack, his tall, brown, athletic frame relaxed but tense, his button-up hugging muscle that made my mouth water. His dark eyes snapped to me, trailing over my hips, my ass, then my blouse, and the hunger in them sent a jolt through me, my pussy wet and sensitive from my own touch. I wanted him to see me, smell me, lose control. "Miss me?" I teased, sauntering close, my voice flirty, the musky scent hitting me hard. *Fuck, he's gotta smell it.* My pulse raced--his nose would catch it, I was sure, and I wanted him to.

Tom

Rebecca was a fucking wildfire, burning through my control. Her blouse, damp and sheer, showed her bra, her nipples hard and taunting, and that skirt--Jesus, it hugged her ass, that perfect, round ass I couldn't stop picturing under my hands. Her scent hit me like a punch--musky, sweaty, raw, like her pussy was still on her fingers from that restroom. I knew what she'd done, and she wasn't hiding it, her eyes daring me to react. My cock was already hard, my mind stuck on tasting her, her musk, right at the source. The warehouse heat was nothing compared to her.

"Miss me?" she teased, stepping close,, that musky scent flooding me, fresh and potent. "Hard not to," I said, my voice rough, eyes glued to her bra, her nipples, her ass swaying like a lure. "You ready to... pick up where we left off?" I meant more than work, and her smirk said she knew it.

She grabbed the clipboard, her arm grazing mine, her fingers sliding against my hand, and that scent--her arousal, unwashed--choked me. "This heat's got me dripping," she said, her blouse lifting, showing her bra, her nipples killing me. "You cool with a girl getting... sweaty and raw?" My nose flared, her musk--sweat, pussy, everything--my new obsession, and I wanted to bury myself in it, lick it off her ass, her skin, all of her.

"Sweaty's my fucking favorite," I said, stepping closer, my thigh brushing hers, my voice low. "Yours smells... too good to ignore." Her eyes sparked, her lips parting, and I knew she felt it--I was drowning in her scent, her body, and I wasn't fighting it anymore.

She was unraveling me, every move a fucking tease, her blouse showing her bra, her nipples hard and begging for my mouth. That musky scent--sweat, pussy, her--was relentless, stronger now, like she'd marked herself in that restroom and brought it back to torture me. "Careful, Tom," she teased, her fingers brushing my arm, that scent hitting me like a drug, musky and raw. "You keep sniffing like that, I might think you're... craving something." I was beyond craving, my cock throbbing, my mind on her ass, wanting to taste her sweat, her musk, every inch of her.