Her name flashed across the tab in my browser window. Another G-chat. I made sure that the boss wasn’t stalking up and down the floor before I checked the message and responded. Chatting with her was the thing that got me through those days. It was a low-paying job at a company I hated doing work that sucked the life out of me.
No one liked it there, which is why the boss took time out of his day to walk around looking over our shoulders. But she was the bright spot in that place.
It started one afternoon when we found ourselves at the elevator at the same time, taking a quick break to buy a drink from the lobby newsstand. We made small talk on the way down and chatted until we returned to our desks. After a few days, it became a routine. I’d see her get up to leave, she’d glance at me, and we’d go down together.
Then we started using G-chat. It was mostly gossip and shit-talking our coworkers, but the conversation expanded to other things. Eventually, she started saying provocative things like, “I’m a bitch today because my bikini wax is stubbling out,” or, “This thong is really flossing my ass right now.” I’d react as if it didn’t phase me, but it sure as fuck did.
I’d test the water with little comments here and there, but then one day asked, “Hey, is it weird for a girl not to like getting her pussy licked?”
“No, why do you ask?” Before I could type a response, she said, “Don’t answer, tell me on the elevator.”
I told her that the girl I had been dating refused to let me go down on her, and it was disappointing and frustrating for me. She explained that there could be plenty of reasons that she didn’t like it, she told me to be patient, and then added, “But nobody’s getting inside me unless they’ve got good tongue game.”
Our G-chats became a little more flirty, a little dirtier. Talking about her “tongue game” opened the floodgates to all sorts of sexually charged conversations during work hours. The biggest problem was her boyfriend, the guy she had been dating since college, the one she planned to marry.
But that day, when I watched her name flash across that tab in my window, something felt different. “When are we going downstairs,” she asked.
“Now.”
I met her by the elevators and didn’t say a word. I just looked her up and down, studied the way her thighs and her ass looked desperate to rip out of her slacks. The elevator doors pulled open, we stepped inside…
And I pressed her against the wall, my forearm across her chest. I kept my lips a hair’s width from hers while I stared right into her eyes, foreheads touching. I smirked a little as I pushed my forearm further up with a little more force, mashing it right into her neck.
My right hand crept down her body, right between her thighs. She gasped a little when I rubbed the front of her and pressed my harsh fingers into her pussy through her clothes. I felt the elevator settle to a stop, and I leaned back and released her from my trap. Her cheeks were red and she didn’t break eye contact until the doors opened.
We walked out of the elevator. She turned to head toward the newsstand. “No,” I snapped, “this way.”
I gestured to the side exit, the one that led to the parking garage. She nodded, then followed me like an obedient pup.
We crashed through the heavy door, then hustled down the concrete steps. We reached the bottom floor. I twisted around, grabbed her, and slammed her against the wall. She lashed at me with her mouth, trying to kiss me or bite me. I pulled back, just out of reach, and clamped my hand around her neck to hold her still on the cold concrete wall.
My right hand fumbled at her waist, trying to open her belt and her slacks. She slapped it away, opened her belt, then peeled open her pants. I slid my hand under her panties. Her pussy was smoother than I thought it would be. I licked my fingers, rubbed her clit, then tasted her wetness.
“Do I have to lick it before we fuck?” I whispered into her ear.
“Tongue game,” she said.
I crouched in front of her, pulled her pants down. She threw her thigh over my shoulder and I pushed my mouth up into her. She clawed into the top of my head, trying to leave marks while I ate her cunt like I was starving for it. I’ve never made anyone cum with my tongue as fast as her. It was exhilarating. The way she gushed into my mouth, the way she whimpered and tried to keep quiet, the way her body melted and trembled as she came.
I stood up and looked her in the eyes. She wiped some of the glistening wetness off my lips with her thumb, then tasted it herself. I scooped her by the ass and held her against the wall; she angled her hips forward and took my cock up inside her.
“Fuuuck,” she said when I was all the way deep.
Her hand clenched into the back of my neck, her nails gouging into my skin. I fucked her hard and fast, keeping her whole body close to mine.
She whispered into my ear, “When you cum, leave it in me.”
That was all it took.
I came hard, fast. It felt so hot when it sprayed, the heavy flow of cum flooded into her pussy. I held myself inside her and gave her the last draining thrusts.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
I backed away, let her put her pants back on. I zipped up and straightened my clothing. We walked up to the newsstand together and bought our drinks like normal.
We returned to our desks, and resumed our work, hoping that none of our coworkers wondered why we were gone so long.
Then the boss called my name, I turned to see him towering over me. “Why’s your neck bleeding,” he asked.
I saw her smiling at me through the corner of my eye.
