Getting Railed by a Coworker

Preston and I had worked together for almost three years. He looked like a movie star with his suits that fit perfectly, the shades he wore every day, and the sandy brown beard that managed not to hide his chiseled face. Tall and lean, his body cut perfectly, he commanded the room as soon as he walked in. He did not belong behind a desk in an insurance agency. He belonged on a movie set or at a photo shoot. He knew how to carry himself so that the tattoos climbing above his collar on his neck and reaching out of his sleeves on the backs of his hands only added a little extra spice to his look.

My desk sat across from his, but I rarely spoke. Remember, when I started this job, I was still married to my high school sweetheart. I occasionally caught myself stealing glances at Preston, but I hoped he wouldn’t notice. How would he? I didn’t even register on his radar. See, back when I started here, I kept it modest. I covered up. I wore conservative clothes, convinced no one wanted to see me anyway. If my husband wasn’t interested (and he married me) why would anyone else be? Besides, did I really want someone else to check me out and complicate things further?

The answer, I discovered after my divorce, was a resounding YES, and it had been for quite some time.

After my boy toy, though, something changed. Maybe it was the way I carried myself. Maybe it was the low-cut blouses and dresses I’d started wearing – god, I wanted him to see my cleavage, wanted his eyes to bury themselves between my tits in hopes that his face would end up there. Maybe it was the lingering stares, not turning away when he looked up, though I still blushed like a little school girl when he caught me. Whatever it was, it became clear that I’d managed to get his attention.

I caught his eyes straying from work several times a day. I’d look up, and he’d already be staring at me. He even started speaking to me when he came in, no longer ignoring me or looking over me as he sat down behind his desk. I started getting, “Good morning,” or “Hey,” just little a little something here or there to make sure he had my attention. If he’d only realized how much I wanted more.

Our boss had been coming in less and less over the last few weeks, to the point that we would go days without seeing her. On this particular day, though, she called to let me know she wasn’t coming in. The phone had been ringing when I opened the door – I never understood why she didn’t text or call us directly, insisting on reaching out through the office phone instead. In this case, she caught us slacking, coming in late.

Preston didn’t show up for another half hour, looking straight back to my desk as he crept through the front door, mouthing the words Is she here? as he walked in. I laughed and shook my head.

“She’s not coming in today,” I told him, surprised that my voice didn’t come out as a timid little whisper, afraid to let him hear me speak. I leaned forward with my elbows on my desk, giving him a full shot down the front of my dress as I spoke loudly and clearly for him to hear while smiling. Despite how many days we ended up spending in that office alone because our boss just never showed up for work, it was still exciting to know that she wouldn’t be there and we had the office to ourselves.

“Well, if that’s the case.” He turned as he closed the door, taking his shades off while he looked through the glass.

I heard the distinct sound of the deadbolt sliding to before he turned around. His crystal blue eyes locked on me, and he started walking towards my desk, stepping around it and holding his hand out for me to take it. I did. I placed my little hand in his, and his fingers wrapped around mine, pulling me gently out of my chair.

“Come with me.”

My stomach did flips. My legs barely held me up. My lips – yes, those lips – quivered with anticipation as he led me to the break room in the back. There was no door leading from the hallway. The only privacy offered by the room came from the fact it dipped around behind the wall. This was where we kept the shred box for any documents we threw out, a row of printers and copiers, and a round table with four chairs for employees to eat lunch.

He didn’t have to tell me why we were walking back there. I felt it in his energy. I felt it in his touch, the possessive way he held my hand and pulled me down the hallway. We didn’t speak, didn’t say, “Good morning,” or ask how the other was doing.

As we turned the corner into the back room, though, he spun around and pinned me to the wall with my hands over my head. He looked me up and down, his eyes tracing my figure and then coming back up to meet mine. Without another word, he leaned forward and kissed me. Our lips pressed together, and then his tongue was in my mouth. I tasted his need for me, his desire.

His hands ran down my arms and along my sides, grabbing the black dress I wore and pulling it up. He revealed my black lace panties and the bra that barely held my breasts in as he pushed the fabric up to my chin. He held it there, pushing my head back as our lips separated.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he breathed in heavy words.

“Just kiss me,” I told him, putting one arm across his shoulders and burying my other hand in his golden hair. I pulled his face back to mine, our lips and tongues embracing one another again.

His hands roamed my body while we kissed and our bodies pressed together against the wall. His desire reached for me through is pants, his rod rubbing against the thin fabric covering my slit. He grabbed my breasts, his large hands gripping and squeezing, rubbing, then pinching my nipples and pulling them before one hand slid under my panties, his soft skin running against my wet lips, parting them, dipping two fingers into me.

I moaned into his mouth.

I felt myself gushing over his fingers, felt them sliding in and out of me effortlessly. He knew where to touch, stroking me until I felt like my knees would buckle under his caress. My grip on him tightened as I held on for dear life. Waves of pleasure crashed through me threatening to wash me away. My muscles tightened around him, creating more friction as he drove his fingers into me.

He cupped me, pulling back to watch his hand, watching my hips as I rocked them back and forth, riding his touch. I panted and tried to keep my eyes on him, but my head tilted back and my eyes rolled back in my head. Fuck, he felt so good. His fingertips rested against my G-spot, his fingers brushed my lips, and his palm pressed on my clit. I shook with even the slightest movement between us.

I held onto him with one arm and pressed the other hand flat against the wall, making sure I wouldn’t collapse. I took over, rocking against him, using him to drive myself closer and closer to orgasm. I felt ecstasy rising from deep within me, growing nearer and nearer as it rushed to meet his touch.

“Fuck, Preston,” I gasped. “I’m going to cum.”

“Not yet,” he said, sliding his fingers slowly out through my lips. I felt robbed.

My pussy throbbed, aching for his touch. It was all I could do not to grab his hand and force his fingers in my mouth, tasting myself on them. I wanted to tear his clothes off and jump on his cock. I wanted to make him finish me off, dammit! Little did I know I was about to get what I wanted.

“Turn around,” he said as he turned me and bent me over the shred box. I heard the unmistakable sound of his zipper as one hand held me down, pushing on my back.

Two fingers pulled my panties aside, and I felt the hard tip of his cock press against my lips. A moment later, he sank every inch of his dick into me, mercilessly pounding me, banging the box underneath me against the wall with the steady rhythm of each thrust. He barely fit, stretching me as his pants brushed against my ass.

He grabbed my hips, and holding me against him, he rocked his hips, grinding the ridge under his shaft against my G-spot, running it right along the same spot his fingers had just stroked. Immediately, I felt myself returning to the edge, teetering over, ready to cum, breathlessly panting as my entire body trembled.

“You’re going to make me cum,” I told him.

“Not before me,” he said behind me, pulling back and driving deep into me again.

I couldn’t see. I closed my eyes and focused on breathing while he pounded me, filling me with his throbbing manhood, using my hole to please himself. My pussy quivered. I was so close. Fuck, I was there. I felt the eruption before it happened, delayed as long as he could manage to hold me close without letting me finish. It was an explosion of color behind my eyelids, and I could hear myself crying out – Oh fuck! Oh god, Preston! Fuck! Yes! Yes, baby! – as ecstasy ravaged my body, cresting and crashing against his shaft.

He stopped stroking himself inside me and pulled back, his rock-solid tool sliding slowly out inch by rigid inch. He rested his length between my ass cheeks and let his seed spill onto my back. Groaning, his strong hands pulled my hips back, pressing his cock hard against me. His warmth dripped and spread across my skin, and we stayed like forever, it felt like, before his straining rod relaxed and he pulled away.