Somehow, I could sense an intense, different vibe in the air despite our ‘distance’, in terms of our colleague-friends relationship. For the past few months that we have worked together, we had a generally-easy time together. I didn’t know why would my heart be racing so wildly while seated ordinarily next to her, as if something was about to happen. Although I could ‘blame’ it on the seclusion of our location, or my over-imaginative mind, it didn’t help that she was stealing shady glances at me.
Out of the blue, she leaned over to my side and caught my anxious hand, holding it in a supposedly-reassuring way. Not long after that awkward skin-on-skin contact, she cosied up to me and placed her head onto my shoulder, and artlessly slipped her arm under mine.
Up till then, we had not exchanged a single word yet, and I learnt that none was really needed once she put a hand over my groin. Keeping myself as composed as I could, I was in fact trying to slow the hyper-ventilation brought upon by her sudden, unexpected advances. I was about to lose my mind when she tucked that same hand under my untucked shirt, unclasped my belt, jeans-button, and wriggled into my tights.
Given how ‘dire’ and ‘fast’ we were moving, I was somewhat relieved when she did nothing else in there except to hold my throbbing, erecting weiner in a loose grip. In return to her assertive ‘moves’, I sat my arm into her chest, and made sure my hand was in the area of her groin. Without any signs of resistance, it was my turn to ruffle her ‘feathers’ and made my trip into her panties as unobtrusive as possible, until my hand was warmly-cupped over her pussy.
As far as workplace-relationships matter, it was obvious that we would never be the same after this, or perhaps, ‘this’ was already ticking in our systems long before we got this close. In any case, we ‘officially’ broke our walls the moment our hands began moving, in our short, eager strokes, or deep, immersive jerks. Like a firecracker, our mental barriers were systematically ripped apart as our breaths hastened, until I was as hard as she was wet.
At that point, and place, there was little (more) we could do but she, apparently, had other ideas. In a nonchalant manner, she got up, hiked her skirt above her bum, and opened my legs to stand between them. I did my only job, that was to pry that fly hole wide, and held my cock upright for her.
In an instant, she had sat over my dick and was wearing my arms as a belt, while we took our time to do a casual scan of our surroundings for any peeping toms. Once clear, she engaged in a very-restrained tempo, sliding her ass so ever gently and patiently to maneuver my cock inside her.
For the few, brief occasions I could freely thrust my hips at her pussy, we wholeheartedly indulged in as much as our precarious state allowed us to. As for most of our public tryst, she did most of the work and managed to come twice with some aid from her fingers.
Once we had enough of our risky endeavour, we returned to our original place and she resumed her handjob, under the cover of her pullover that hid what skin her suggestive bratop tried to show off. About five minutes in, I voiced my immenient orgasm and let her evacuated her cardigan, though I didn’t foresee her brazen decision to replace her hand with her mouth.
Faced with the warmest and wetter adversary, I caved within the next few seconds and spritzed my entire load in the most violently-soulful, thoroughly-cleansing fasion. In the blink of an eye, I was drained and void of any pressure, though I suspected the presence of a negative-pressure in my loin.
Without much mess to clean, we got dressed and remained in that bench for some time, before she accepted my offer to send her home. In the taxi, our hands were all over each other again and we united once again at a stairwell, letting our darkest desires take their turns to inflict unspeakable agony, in the glorious spite we have accumulated, but held back from each other.
From shoving, slapping, pinching, to choking, scratching, biting, we even exchanged spits and punches during the course of our rough public sex. After we had gotten our fair share of insanely-intense orgasms, we were just panting and sniggering, in smiles at the deplorable things we had just experienced.
At the end of the night, we found ourselves texting incessantly, trading photos of our bruises that only surfaced much later. It was then we agreed, that we should avoid ‘visible’ areas the next time, so we wouldn’t invite any unwanted attention.
Point is, ‘the next time’.