Office Space

Nothing like a quick romp.. at work

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With a soft click, I shut the door to the tiny janitor’s closet behind me. It was dark inside, and as my foot felt around for the wheeled mop bucket, it touched a firm object.

“Hi,” she whispered, pressing a slim digit to my lips.

I kissed the finger, nibbling the sensibly-manicured tip, letting it slip between my lips and gently sucking on it.

She extracted her forefinger, and then pulled me towards her by the back of my neck. I leaned in for the kiss, unseeing eyes shut, but breathless at the thought that this was finally happening.

Id stared at her a bit too obviously since the day I started, bewitched by her enchanting smile and dazed by the beguiling way she looked at me.

My mind raced to remember what she’d been wearing when I saw her earlier in the day even as her essence enveloped me in the gloom of the closet.

We kissed fiercely, her full lips encircling mine with authority that would not be challenged, while I countered with an untamed hunger.

Her hand ran through my hair, tugging at the roots with urgency. Teeth clashed as she pulled my head away, then pushed me down towards her feet.

I kissed the tops of her shoes, right where the stockinged toes disappeared into the patent leather. My lips slid upwards, grazing the gossamer material, planting little kisses as I worked up her ankles to the back of her knees.

Almost hesitantly, I raised the hem of her A-line skirt, and inhaled deeply, taking in the musky aroma of her naked want.

Eyes closed, she sighed with pleasure as my tongue traced again the well-trodden path from her toes to the delicious top of her tantalising thighs. I buried my face in her mound, tongue laving the sodden cotton until she pulled the gusset aside with a quick tug and straddled my mouth.

In the sexually-charged gloom, the unspoken instructions were quite clear and I got to work.

An abridged and edited version of this was submitted for Round 2 of this year’s Smut Marathon, story #70. This was the first finished draft before cutting down to fit the 125 word limit.

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An Englishman in New England, seeking a place to pen his thoughts

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