Friendly help

We had a very attractive woman named Ksyusha in our office. Slim, not very tall, a head shorter than me. Her breasts were small but perfectly round and perky, just staring right at you, and Ksyusha loved to accentuate them with all sorts of tight-fitting blouses. She never wore any push-up bras, knowing her breasts were perfect and would get attention anyway. Her ass was no less amazing in shape, hugged by a skirt that was far too short for the office, and long legs completed the picture.

And so, on the eve of the New Year, our whole office gathered for a corporate party at a restaurant. I must say, we didn't have many girls, all somewhat attractive,

but beauty is in the eye of the beholder, as they say. That evening, Ksyusha outshone everyone... A long, tight-fitting red dress, with a strap only on her left shoulder, and a slit from the hip to the floor on the left side. It matched her bright red hair, loose and below her shoulders, perfectly. Her bare shoulder clearly hinted at the absence of a bra, which was confirmed upon closer inspection by the perky nipples visible through the dress fabric. I was lucky to sit at the table next to her, and my attentions were generously rewarded with frankly intimate dances on the dance floor.

I must say I wasn't counting on anything more than those dances. Although Ksyusha was a fiery and uninhibited girl, she was married. She loved to flirt, loved to tease men, but she remained faithful to her husband. At least, if anyone from the male half of the office had managed to seduce her, all the other guys would definitely know about it; the conversations in the smoking room can get even more intense than that. Of course, our office was young, and this was only the first New Year's corporate party for the whole team, but I didn't have any special hopes.

Between dances and champagne, we often ran outside to smoke, and we didn't always manage to put on our outerwear, so we sometimes got very cold. But who cared that evening? After that much champagne, we were ready to dive into the snow naked, nothing mattered. And naturally, the next day it played a cruel joke on us. Ksyusha and I ended up in the hospital with a temperature of nearly 104°F. In the same hospital, in the same department, in neighboring rooms. What a fate... For the first few days, we hardly communicated; we weren't up for it, our condition was terrible, and we didn't want anything. Only occasionally we texted about nothing important: which arm they put the IV in, what color the pills were, etc.

Since we were very weakened by the illness at first, we moved very little, only leaving our rooms for the corridor and the toilet. As our strength returned, so did the desire to finally take a shower. We found out it was a shared one with 3 stalls, located in another wing at the end of the corridor, and scheduled by time between departments, but no one ever followed that schedule and everyone went when it was convenient for them. Luckily, there weren't many people, and often you could be lucky enough to shower alone. But how it was divided between men and women was unclear. Ksyusha and I agreed to go on a reconnaissance mission together, to guard the entrance from the opposite sex while one of us was splashing around. When we got there, we were very surprised by the lack of a lock on the door, but we were saved by the fact that the shower stalls themselves were separated from the corridor by a changing room.

I sent Ksyusha first to enjoy the streams of warm water, tactfully turning to a corner while she undressed, and I stayed in the changing room studying the wall and floor tiles, as well as her panties, clearly "accidentally" left on the bench on top of her pile of clothes. Then my eyes caught a mop standing in the corner. The door to the changing room opened inward, and on the left wall was a coat rack with hooks for clothes. I put this whole picture together in my head, took the mop, and started fitting it between the door and the hooks of the coat rack. Finally, finding the right hook at the right distance, I wedged the mop with its working end above the door handle and its handle into the hook I needed. That's it, the door was securely locked from the inside. I hurried, shouting over the noise of the water, to let Ksyusha know that next time she could shower alone without fear.

Suddenly, the sound of the water abruptly stopped. And after a five-second pause, I heard a hesitant question, judging by the insufficient volume for a conversation from the next room:

— And who will scrub my back then?

To put it mildly, I was a bit shocked by such a question and at first was even at a loss for what to say, while Ksyusha added:

— I'm so used to it, and it's been a week without a shower and without my husband. You won't be offended if I ask you as a friend, will you?

— Of course not! — I blurted out, quickly took off my T-shirt, and, inspired, flew into the shower. Ksyusha was standing in the farthest stall, facing the wall, one hand covering her breasts, and holding a washcloth in the other. The sight took my breath away. Drops of water fell on her beautiful shoulders, ran down her shapely back, skirting her perfect waist and hips. My gaze froze on her perfectly shaped ass, and my already tense cock, from such a sight, began to bulge out my pants quite indecently. Ksyusha glanced at me over her shoulder and laughed:

— Aren't you afraid of getting your pants wet? Or are you just that shy around me?

— No, it's so as not to embarrass you, the reaction to your appearance is noticeable to the naked eye — I joked in response.

— Haven't you figured out yet that it's hard to embarrass me with anything? If you're so worried about your reaction, I can not look at it — Ksyusha smiled. And really, could such nonsense come to mind, after our conversations... I quickly dashed to the changing room and took off my pants and underwear. Returning to her, I took the washcloth from her hand and began carefully soaping her back, holding her shoulder with my other hand. She crossed her arms over her chest, lowering her head, but from her cheeks, I could tell she was smiling.

— Especially since I like that reaction, it means I can still excite someone — she said quietly, so I could barely make it out over the noise of the water.

— What are you talking about, Ksyush? You have a perfect body, the whole office drools over you, they only talk about you in the smoking room, — meanwhile, my hand was already approaching her ass. I urgently needed to decide what to do: continue moving down as if nothing was wrong, or stop and end

this dangerous game. But I hadn't been thinking with my head for a long time...

— Really? — she asked, looking into my eyes over her shoulder. Seeing her gaze, I understood that a fierce struggle between lust and loyalty to her husband was going on in her head. We looked at each other for only a few seconds, but they seemed like an eternity to me. In her gaze, I saw both a plea, and reproach, and a question, and hope all at once, as if she was searching for an answer in my eyes.

— Really. — I replied. I moved my hand from her shoulder to her waist, and the washcloth slid lower. At the same time, I moved slightly closer to her, so that the head of my cock touched her ass. Ksyusha closed her eyes with a smile and lowered her hands from her chest, placing one on mine, which was holding her waist. With her other hand, she took my hand with the washcloth and moved it from her ass to her stomach, thus pulling me to her and pressing her back against me. My cock nestled between her lovely buns, I soaped her front, moving my hand from her waist to her breast. Oh, that lovely breast! How I dreamed of taking that magnificent mound in my hand. Ksyusha threw her head back, placing it on my shoulder, and hugged my neck with her arms.

Now all barriers had definitely collapsed. Now I was exploring her body again without embarrassment, but this time all the sensations were completely new. We were getting high on each other just like on the dance floor, only now knowing how it would end and wanting it. I didn't notice how the washcloth fell from my hand, and how my hand ended up between her legs. I came to my senses only when she slightly turned her head and we merged in a passionate kiss. I gently massaged her clit, sometimes going lower and dipping a finger into her; she slightly spread her legs to give me access. She reflexively moved her pelvis following my hand, and I reflexively repeated her movements. Finally, she lowered a hand behind her back, grabbed my cock, and began moving it between her buns and lowering it down, caressing her pussy with it. I removed my hand from her crotch, placed it on her waist, and slightly arched Ksyusha's back, while I slightly spread my legs to lower myself. The clever girl understood everything without words and guided my cock head to the entrance of her cave herself. I teased her a little more, and hearing a dissatisfied "Mmm...", I carefully entered.

It was something incredible. Ksyusha let out a moan, I almost moaned myself from happiness, she was very hot inside, but what really amazed me was how tight and toned she was even there. We froze; I could feel how this minx was playing with her muscles, squeezing my cock in a vise. I began to move slowly, stroking her breasts, stomach with my hands. My hands gradually moved from her waist to her back, and finally, I took her by the hips, increasing the pace. Ksyusha leaned her hands against the wall and could no longer hold back her moans, louder and louder, falling into the abyss of pleasure. She didn't last long; after a few minutes, she began to shudder, her legs stopped holding her. I accelerated to the limit, thinking only about not finishing before her. And finally, Ksyusha, our fiery beauty and clever girl, our flirt and firecracker, coveted by all the men who knew her, howled on my cock like a she-wolf. Her legs gave way, but I managed to grab her body and press her to me. She fell out of reality, her body convulsing in spasms; for her, nothing else in the world existed except the orgasm that washed over her.

We caressed each other under the shower for a long time, hugged, soaped each other in all places several times, dried off, and dressed. When we finally unlocked the door and went out into the corridor, a queue of old ladies had already gathered, meeting us with angry and reproachful looks. But it didn't bother us; we were high on each other, and we walked holding hands, understanding that we would be lying here for a long time yet, and this was only the beginning.