(loosely follows on from “box of treats #3– aisle of plenty” ……. )
Another week came around and here I was as I’ve now become accustomed at the postal sorting office sorting, archiving, guiding badly-addressed letters find their way to the correct postbag. I was no even doing some public-facing work for those picking up packages, parcels, or who have general queries, some of which potentially fraught but somehow I mostly managed to be friendly and in the end they always calm down and become decidedly reasonable.
During downtime moments such as tea breaks, lunch, or finding myself on errands which involved covering the vast distances inside the warehouses from end to end I found my thought returning to previous weeks and what had transpired at different times. All seemingly starting with innocently stumbling on two of the staff, Gillian and mystery man, having sex in a quiet least-visited corner of the warehouse barely hidden by pallets and piles of boxes, and having done so stayed and watched. So much had happened, including me finding myself twice now at the mercy of said mystery man, none is which was in the job description when I first applied and none of which I imagined in my wildest imaginings would happen in such a place; I certainly don’t remember reading as one of the pre-requisites being “essential: the ability to entertain one or more mutual and spontaneous sexually-explicit encounters”, or in fact as it was and he still was really, a stranger.
Of course I am keenly aware of unwanted sexual advances that might happen in a workplace, anywhere in fact, it’s happened more than one, not all welcome for sure, but these were different. I felt quickly drawn to them, inextricably so, so in a sense a willing participant for which even now in week four I have no regrets, just occasional flushes of embarrassment when I recall them. Not to mention, in a sense I started this by watching them in the first place. I, in a sense, invited them, into my personal space, and their actions, the consequences of which I’ve felt in the most intimate and thrilling of ways. I did though feel I’d been lucky not getting caught, all of us were, so felt from this point I wouldn’t be drawn so into such a thing again while I’m here. Quit while you’re ahead, kind of thing.
That is until once again I was walking past that very quiet corner of the warehouse. Suddenly I was standing on the spot by the boxes and pellets I’d watched and a couple of weeks later had been a willing participant in pretty much the same act. I surrendered to my darker nature and to be honest, it felt good. More than good, it was electric. As I stood there feeling like I’d been sent to the naughty-corner, which I would’ve deserved being that I had been extremely naughty, I found my thoughts directing one hand over my blouse, caressing my breasts through my blue polo work shirt. Then it slipped over my tummy and down to my crotch where I gently rubbed imagining and perhaps a bit reimagining what had occurred previously.
My movements became compulsive. A pang of guilt flashed through my mind at what I’d promised myself: that I would behave from this point on. But, standing there with no one, in the shadows, I felt unable to stop myself breaking my own rules. Rules are made to be broken, aren’t they?
Through closed eyes I pictured the previous three events and here in week four here I was again, unable to contain myself, my desires, my needs, which have a habit of clawing to the surface as and whenever they choose, regardless even of where I am or what I’m doing. I unbuttoned the top waistband of the work blue work trousers and lowered the zip and slipped my hand inside to enjoy my own warmth once again. I don’t understand the chemicals that must combine and collide and stir inside you when suddenly your body is aroused. It’s all fight or flight though, I am sure, stay or go, do or don’t, yes or no, and my body was saying yes, yes, and yes again. A little devil on my shoulder saying you know you want too, you know you can’t say no now. It was right, I couldn’t. I didn’t. My hand found its way inside my knickers and suddenly my whole being lit up inside the way it does when the lust, when desire, takes the lead and will not let it go until it has finished what it intends. Sometimes I never know what will happen but always know that I’m powerless when feeling like this to resist the temptation, so urgent it so quickly becomes.
Images crashed through my mind as I let my fingers indulge my urges further with my trousers open and my other hand now under my top rolling one nipple between two fingertips and squeezing to make me wince, to encourage my senses to more extravagant levels.
I have no excuse, my own base needs have always been there, using me, making me, feeding me, sometimes it feels to the lions to be eaten time and time again. I’m not powerless, just perhaps willing, too willing or willing enough, I’m not sure.
My fingers grew more anxious in my knickers and I felt surges rising up through my body then pulsing down my legs. They bent me forward to leaning on a box with one hand as I continued to bring my body closer to the edge again and again. I should just do it, get it over with so I can get on with my shift, just cum right now but I couldn’t. I wanted to make it last as the shelves around me swirled I felt an addictive ecstasy twist and tumble. I pushed against the box and equally urged my fingers in and out of my sex, smearing my mound and clitoris
A noise, behind me, brought me up short and momentarily froze to the spot. Someone’s here. Shit, I thought. Who wouldn’t? I knew I should have stopped myself, I knew this was going to happen. I should know better. Then I caught her scent, so distinctive, so now also familiar, then her voice from merely inches from my back. I didn’t dare turn around. A soft whispered voice, let me help you with that; a hand reaching around, her scent following, overwhelming, and also reassuring; fingers slipping along mine and into my knickers to touch me there over and over, expertly finding exactly where they need to be without help. Her body pressed against mine all along my back, her breath comforted my neck, made the smallest fine hairs on my skin stand up. Gillian.
She began masturbating me, urging my fingers also to continue the journey I’d begun. She slid, she hooked, she touched, drew circles and slipping inside my now very moistened folds in a most tangibly seductive way. Pushing her body ever more insistently against me, rubbing her hips against my buttocks, we moved to a tune only we could hear. Her breath became moans along with mine which I found hard to suppress, so didn’t, biting my lip in the process. I felt a rising again inside, the edge fast approaching, an edge that this time I wouldn’t be able to stop myself falling off.
I fell, my body convulsed against hers, my muscles tightened and shook me and made my legs struggle for control. We were two tides meeting for the first time rolling under and over each other in an orgasm which I thought for a moment stopped my heart.
She stayed close against me and held me as the last of the ripples subsided and my breath found its way back into each lung. I turned and flopped back onto the box, she did the same beside me. Her head turned to me and I could feel her expression without looking was smiling, she whispered, now me.
Staying where she was she opened her legs and placed my hand between them as she made me feel her through her smart black work pants. She was slim, like me, a inch or so taller, her hips were tight, she clearly kept fit, again like me, her mound felt warm beneath my palm radiating through the fabric. I methodically moved my hand then she pulled me and guided me onto my knees before her. I did what she wanted.
She started me off by unbuttoning her waistband, two buttons then free. She took my hands were I’d for a moment had lain them on her hips to steady myself, and too her zip. I knew what she wanted and pulled it down and opened them easily able not to pull them down. She again whispered. Take them off. I looked around, nervous and imagining again like before being caught in the act. Nevertheless I did what she asked and pulled off completely. Then I slipped my fingers into her pale pink underwear and pulled them away and down. I was faced with a fine, well-trimmed red hair, just a little, and the enticing smell of her sex now glistening with her own juices. Her folds were a beautiful soft pink, slightly protruding her labia. I moved my face closer, drawn in without a second thought and kissed her there, a taste so intoxicating. She shuddered. I did it again and again her body shivered like a butterfly’s wing.
I kissed her more, around her mound and she opened herself up to it, and her legs. I ran my mouth over her inner thighs taking in the pale smoothness of her skin. I felt her fingers slide through my dark hair and caress my head, holding me to her inner thighs. I was hers now and she knew it. I licked her sex, her soft fold, savoured her flavour and kiss her clit, my fingers massaged her open and in went my tongue as her hands held me more firmly now. I tasted her sweetness, and the muskiness, her muscles contracted and opened as I teased her clit. She endeavoured not to close her legs which were threatening to clamp around my head. Her grip held firm.
The rhythm of her hips moved her back and forth on top of the box; I felt the hard floor burning into my knees but didn’t care. It didn’t take long before her thighs tightened and closed around me. I couldn’t escape and didn’t want too. I was just about managing to breathe as I lapped her flesh until it was her turn to surrender to her impending convulsions and she came, in small squirts which I never do, and I lapped her into my mouth and kept doing so until her body came to a stop and she pushed my head a few inches away allowing her to close her thighs and pull her knees up to her chest now heaving with the effort. I was left for a moment staring at the underside of her soft sculpted very pale thighs, although somewhat flushed with what we’d just done.
I clambered up the box and flopped once again on the box beside, as we were before, both of us staring up at the ceiling, her still naked waist down and me with my trousers open and awry. The first thing that came to mind was, if someone were to walk by now, oh my lord, what a sight we would be, a scarily embarrassing and embarrassed one. She didn’t seem to mind, as though she knew that the likelihood of someone else being here at this time of the mid evening was virtually none.
I felt the back of her hand brush my, her fingers playing in mine and I reciprocated. It seemed to take ages but could only have been a few minutes before we sat up and rearranged ourselves, her retrieving her knickers and trousers. We both had grins wider than warehouse doors.
As I pulled up my zip she cupped my face in her hands and pressed her lips softly against mine, a short kiss, moist, smiled as she pulled back placing an index finger against her own lips saying, our secret, turned, and lightly walked away.
(continued in “box of treats #5- share the love”………..)