Touching Myself Tuesdays is a semi-regular article describing inappropriate work fantasies.
You know you filled my head with ideas about us working together, don’t you? Maybe I can write a job description just perfect for him, I mused. We’d sit at opposite ends of the floor, and we would ignore each other. But you would text me. Help me find blue folders? Code for supply-closet groping. Eager, eager fingers wrapped in my hair. Pulling my mouth to yours. Snaking my hand into your jeans, till I can feel the wet spot. Your moan when my nails grate over your underwear. Then I’m on my knees. Before you can speak it’s happening. And your half hard cock is already triggering my gag reflex, because I have all of you between my lips. You’re leaning your head against the metal shelves, trying to be quiet. Knowing you can’t resist. That you will let me do *anything* to you. I swirl the head of your cock with my tongue, now that it’s free of your foreskin. And I look at it. Wet with precum and saliva.
Have a good afternoon, I whisper as I slip out, leaving you behind. Knuckles white. Trembling.
Oh. My fucking god. You would so pay for that. Maybe not that day. Maybe not that week. Maybe you wait and wait for a coded blue folder text. Until you begin to worry. Until you begin to wish I’d ask for folders. Because you won’t ask first. Nope. Maybe it’s something about it being in the office, where you’re in charge, but you can’t admit you want it.
Instead it builds up. I see you every morning and sometimes I even hug you, but that’s worse. Those brief moments of my body pressed to yours. Sending of sparks under your skin. You begin to think of places we could be alone, but there are none except for that store room. You begin to hate the glass elevators for robbing you of a few moments I could kiss you.
It gets so even looking at a blue folder makes your cunt ache. You catch yourself stroking your cunt at your desk late one night when you’re alone. Circling your clit through the fabric of your slacks.
Then it finally happens. You’ve out waited me. I send you a text. Blue folders.
We’re on each other as soon as the door closes. Kissing hard, my thigh between your legs. You groan and grind against me. I have your blouse up and even while you’re telling me no I’ve scooped your tits out and into my mouth. Your cunt is flooded and I’m skipping my hand in your panties, kissing you with my tongue in your mouth. Your hand blindly gropes for my cock. It’s hard. Very hard. I let you undo my belt. Frantically open my jeans while I’m stroking your clit. But the moment your fingers wrap around that slick, hard cock I pull you away.
Ohhh ffffffuck, you moan. You think I’m going to tease you like you did to me. But instead I turn you around and grab your hair… I push you over a stack of copy paper boxes. You’re frozen. You can’t do this… it’s so risky… but you can’t stop. I yank your pants down. Then peel your panties. You’re trembling as I keep you pinned.
A stack of blue folders slaps your ass. Hard.
You bite down in the yell, expecting more punishment for making me want you so bad. But it doesn’t come. Instead I force your legs open as far as I can and reach under you to part your soaking wet pussy and slide over your cunt lips and your clit. You grip the boxes under you with your fists and whimper a single sound before vowing to stay silent. I take it as a challenge. I stroke your cunt hard and fast. Held down I can treat your cunt whatever way I want. Sometimes I build you so close to coming your whole body trembles in anticipation…
And I stop. Go back to leisurely circling your cunt. You finally moan in need.Oh fuck yes, I growl, I wanted you to want it badly. As much as I do. That’s when I guide my hard cock into your cunt from behind. You go up on your toes as I push past your opening and just
I rock there a moment and when you push back against me it’s my permission to pound your cunt. Make it mine. One hand on your hip, one wound in your hair pulling you back hard into my cock. I’m driving against your G spot. Too sensitive! Too much to take! And that’s before I circle your clit with my fingers again. And when you come, open mouthed and back arched, I drive into you extra hard. Flicking my fingers on your swollen nub. And finally you’re gasping, spent and limp. And only then do I pull out of you and circle round the boxes you’re bent over. Your eyes look up to mine. You know what I want. You want it too.
I feed my cock between your lips. Right there, pants still down. I moan fuck, yes, as you work my cock with your lips and fingers. It only takes moments. I’ve been waiting, ready to come. And all that pent up jizz floods your mouth as it’s my turn to stifle a scream.
Swallow it all, I manage to tell you. So you do. So much come but it goes down your throat.
We hurriedly arrange our clothes again. Not believing our luck. You give me shy smiles and we giggle. But before you can go I pull you close. Hold you tight and whisper,
I love you
You get back to your desk later and feel warm and floating and know you’ve got a secret no one else has. You wonder if you’ll ever dare to do that again.
But a couple weeks later I know where you are in your cycle. You get another text:
Help me find a red folder.
(portions reprinted with the permission of the lovely Shannon Ivy :-*)