( loosely continues from “box of treats #1” . . . . . . . . )
I just hadn’t realised how eventful a Christmas seasonal job could be. It was four weeks work and all I wanted and expected was some extra cash to top up my meagre student grant. What I discovered and experienced over that short time far out-stripped expectations. I never thought that the menial, although important, task of sorting mail could be so unpredictably exciting.
By the end of the first week I’d already found myself being a voyeur to Gillian, the really attractive redhead who worked in the offices, with one of the full time warehouse boys having full-on sex at work, on the evening shift atop a stack of boxes down a semi-darkened aisle. It was an eye-opener to this previously secretive world and not one I turned away from. Instead, I stayed, watched this illicit workplace coital coupling, half-hidden behind another stack of boxes. I’ve heard lots of stories about the ‘office romance’ but thought they were mostly just fairytales, except here was something that could be in a way just that, before my increasing aroused gaze. It wasn’t an office, it was a warehouse, and even though she was an office worker it didn’t come across as something I’d call romantic; just raw unapologetic bonking. They clearly fancied each other, if nothing else. I found I was drawn to both, and definitely captivated by their furtive fondlings.
Midway through the second week during my evening shift I found myself down one of the many aisles of shelves and pallets, boxes and parcels doing my allotted tasks. I’d seen Gillian only once since that night, we passed in a corridor where we shared a very friendly smile, said hi, I blushed, unsurprisingly as we both knew what she had done and what I was, and what she knew I did as a result, masturbated while unable to take my eyes off the pair of them.
Her red hair made her very striking, obvious and hardly surprising why she’d be popular among the guys here. I had heard rumours about her and was sure that wasn’t the first time she’d had done such a thing at work, nor the only guy. As far as I’m concerned if she wants to then why not, she shouldn’t be judged for her appetites. After all, guys seem to get away with it without anyone batting an eyelid. Not to mention, I also have similar appetites when it comes to sex, so I felt I well understood her drives.
Since then I haven’t been able to get the image of them both going for it out of my head; her flat on her back, skirt hitched up and her legs wrapped around a guys naked flexing bottom, not to mention her quietly satisfied moaning when they both came to fruition.
While sorting through some files I heard a noise from the neighbouring aisle. The shelves here were narrow, no more than a file box width, easy to see through and, as I was soon to discover, reach through from one aisle to the other. I peered between two boxes and saw a face. I jumped at their sudden appearance to which he apologised. It took me a minute to realise it was the guy, the guy, the one Gillian had sex with last week. What was he doing here?
He smiled from clearly a slightly stooped position as he was very tall I recall, and me only 5’3 and a bit. Automatically I smiled back, said hi, not sure how to proceed other than too, annoyingly for me, blush. He clearly noticed, replied a hello and then was gone; except I could still hear him. Where had he gone?
I saw boxes on the next shelf down shift, the one at about my hip-height and then a pair of hands appeared and grabbed me pulling me against the shelves.
What?! He must’ve been kneeling. What was he doing? Astonished while pulled up against the shelving, I managed to interject, excuse me, that isn’t a box you’ve just grabbed. He said, I know, and failed to let go. His hands started squeezing and pulling me closer until all I could see was a tiny gap into the other aisle while his hands basically fondled my hips and waist and upper legs. His disembodied voice then spoke again: I saw you last week, watching us. I didn’t reply but couldn’t deny it as I knew he’d seen me once Gillian had told him after they’d both cum, and after I’d just had an orgasm watching. I could tell you enjoyed yourself, and I could say, it was partly at our expense, watching when you could’ve walked away, he said. Again, I didn’t reply but couldn’t deny.
His hands were strong, his fingers digging into my blue work trousers, my body pulled face too the shelves. I felt embarrassed by the truth of it. I couldn’t help myself watching, being excited by another’s pleasure. Well, he said, this time you don’t need to be just the spectator.
I felt the button of the trousers slacken as he unfastened it easily and without any objection from me pulled down the zip. His hands reaching through the thin shelves from one aisle to the other slipped inside my now open trousers and felt my black lace-edged Kamila knickers, his arms long enough to reach around and grab my buttocks and squeeze hard. I was startled, inhaling an audible desperate gasp. He worked the trousers away from my hips while my first thought was, what if someone comes past.
I gripped onto the shelves instead of probably what I should’ve been holding, my trousers which he’d pulled open so thoroughly they were sliding down my now bare legs. I really hoped this place didn’t have CCTV. I looked up and down the aisle towards the ceiling and couldn’t see anything that resembled a camera. Phew.
So there I stood now with my trousers around my ankles being groped by a pair of hands from arms attached to a horny man in the other aisle. How much more bizarre can it get?! One hand seductively slipped between my legs forcing me to step one leg to one side opening me. Why was I going along with this? This was completely insane and could cost me the job if we got caught. He didn’t seem to suffer the same anxieties as his hands now played with my sex in that position, rubbing me through my knickers, while the other hand firmly held one buttock keeping me pulled to the shelves. Considering the awkward angle he was hitting all the right buttons between my thighs. I felt light-headed.
Before I knew it his fingers had dextrously pulled down the front of my underwear allowing his hand to slip inside and over my bar mound, fingers working their way over my labia, between my slick naked folds which were now wet from his encouragement. Without thinking I was moving my hips with his motions as his fingers, two for sure, found their way inside me and began fingering me very expertly, I must say. So much so I didn’t want him to stop despite my now incredibly compromising position I was now in. It felt like I was being finger-fucked by an alien shelf-monster, with arms, and fingers, or were they tentacles?
What was I thinking! My imagination was getting the better of me as I tumbled back to reality, awkwardly pressed against a shelf being masturbated by a strange man with long arms and clearly a habit of seducing work colleagues. I should think this was all wrong but I was enjoying it too much to think otherwise. His fingers worked into me as his other hand caressed my bum, ensuring I wasn’t going anywhere. They hooked inside me and moved roughly then within seconds of that I cum, hard, my inside collapsing in on his fingers, my muscles tightening, my legs folding and buckling. I held the shelves which thankfully were bolted to the floor and felt my hips fold in on themselves.
At some point his fingers slipped out and before I knew it his hands weren’t there. I crumpled onto the floor still with my work trousers around my ankles, looked through a gap in the shelves to see, no one there. He’d gone. Was he ever there? Of course he was. How did he know I’d go along with what we just did? I suppose my orgasm is testament to that, and the sensation of his fingers still lingering between my thighs.
What just happened? While still on the floor I pulled up my trousers, edged my back up the shelf strut and fastened them. I had better go to the bathroom now, that is, as soon as I can walk properly. I’ll just give it a few minutes, take a breath, take a breath. What just happened? I’m not sure but wow, it was good, more than good.