A Slow Work Day

I'd been working at a hotel in Newcastle which will remain nameless for a few weeks when I first met Devon. It was nothing more than a summer job of holding down the front desk, laying tables, and cleaning rooms and I'd expected nothing remotely special until she wandered in -- and in an instant I was starstruck. Not just because she was attractive, in a slightly scary way -- short black hair, blunt bangs which I didn't realise were still in, pale skin that looked like it'd never seen the sun, a slender body with small breasts but a peachy butt -- but because, though she was smaller than me, she still found a way to be intimidating whenever she looked at me. It was almost a gift for her. And in a way, for me.

Devon, like me, was doing summer work between university semesters. She was studying molecular biology, which was quite a bit more creative than my, well... creative writing. I tried to make light of her over-qualification while demonstrating how the online booking system worked but she didn't find it very funny. She didn't seem to find much of anything very funny. It was clear, pretty quickly, that I had little chance with her.

That summer was an unseasonably wet one -- and so we were flooded not just by leaks in the old Victorian roof but by cancellations. Some days, not having seen a single customer, you would wander the empty corridors like you were in The Shining. Being understaffed as well as underbooked, with even the manager rarely to be seen given his love of the pub three doors down, it started to feel like we could get away with anything. So it was that whoever ran the desk would usually be reading, or listening to music, or even, as I did more than once, setting up their laptop they brought from home just so they could play video games. On one occasion, Devon even announced that she was going to shower in an empty rooms after being caught in the rain on her way from home. I warned that she could get in a lot of trouble and she just shrugged and told me that'd only happen if I was a nark. I guessed she wasn't too concerned about holding down this job.

When Devon did go upstairs, having printed off an electronic card for Room 12, I waited a safe amount of time and then followed -- I had no intention of peeking on her, to be clear, but I wanted to be sure that she really was showering. It seemed like such a taboo to break given we were, in a sense, custodians of this place -- a word better used in museums but that was what it was coming to feel like here. With my ear against the door, yep, there was the sound of the shower. She was really doing it. I shook my head in wonder and returned to the front desk. Devon clearly had the kind of guts I could only dream of.

Slowly, despite feeling like the type of guy Devon would never even look at if she wasn't forced to by her employment, something began to develop. She enjoyed my sense of humour -- I'd ditched the barely disguised self-pity of self-deprecation in my late teenage years and now just claimed to be the best at everything no matter how bad I was. Devon didn't believe me -- it'd be fucking perfect if she did -- but she enjoyed what I think Americans call my moxy. Or moxey. One of the two.

As a consequence, slowly but surely, something flirtatious began to develop between the two of us. It's pretty easy to put a finger on when it started because Devon was certainly not the subtle type. In fact, she was so unsubtle that I didn't interpret it as flirting at first. I thought she was just fucking with me. It would be in her character. The first time was, in a sense, the most dramatic -- she'd showered, again, and showed up at the bottom of the stairs and stood at the precipice between stairway and hallway, wrapped in a white towel with her hair still wet. She played it off with some "nobody came in, did they?" and, of course, the answer was no. I found it hard to even look at her while she was in that towel, and not just because of all the rules she was breaking but because I wondered if she even knew what she was doing. And, also, I knew that once I started looking I wouldn't want to stop.

Then, Devon just casually asked: "Hey, Toby. What would you do if I just dropped my towel right now?" I stared at her.

"Probably rub my eyes," I replied. "Like in a cartoon." She smirked -- it was such a poisonous little smirk and she fucking knew it as well. With a shake of the head, she turned and went upstairs to get dressed. But I knew at the time that it said quite a lot that I'd been half-expecting her to actually do it. And I'd been quietly hoping to live in that universe. Alas, I didn't.

The next few days saw all kinds of comments while we worked -- or didn't. When I asked Devon to hurry up with laying the tables for breakfast, she replied with "or what, you gonna spank me?" When I was just sat there trying to listen to Weezer and she kept pulling up porn on the work computer and saying "you ever tried that one?" When I left for the night and she muttered "don't forget to fuck me on your way out."

Okay, so, by this point you're probably thinking the following: "the fuck? I know you said she wasn't subtle but, like, come on, man. That's farcical." And you'd be right. But here's the thing -- when someone goes so far, so out of nowhere, it comes full circle and you stop thinking it's flirting and start thinking they're just fucking with you.

And then, one Monday mid-afternoon, everything changed.

Rain was lashing down amid this historically shitty summer -- Devon and I were both at the desk, watching the grey swill outside and listening to its pattering on the roof, trying to imagine a world where somebody would come and not even able to do that.

"Why the fuck are we here?" Devon sighed for the thousandth time. As we were permitted our own clothes, so long as we kept our name tags on at all times (Devon had drawn lovehearts on hers in black marker), she wore black jeans, black trainers, and a black Nirvana shirt with that white logo of the weird face. You know the one I mean. No wonder we got no customers. "Nobody's even booked," she complained.

"We won't be here for long," I remember replying. "No way the hotel survives business this shitty."

"What a tragedy." Devon nodded and went back to her phone, scrolling mindlessly through Twitter, before continuing: "I guess I'll miss it in a way, though. Next summer I'll probably have to find some other job and no way will I get paid to do fuck all like I do here."

"Oh, no way," I chuckled. "We both lucked out even if it doesn't feel like it right now."

"Better to be bored than stressed," Devon agreed.

A period of silence followed as I sat down and stared into space, thinking about nothing in particular, while Devon also sat and put her feet up on the desk. Her trainers were muddy but I was way past protesting.

"Funny how we can do literally whatever we want here," I muttered. "Hell, could probably sleep in the beds and nobody would know."

"Or have sex in them," replied Devon, nonchalant as you like. I glanced at her. "What?"

"You know what you did."

"You love it." I just shook my head and looked away. And then... "Why don't we?"

"Why don't we what?"

"Have sex." This time I didn't so much look at her as stare at her. Her very casual expression was disconcerting to say the least.

"Is this another one of your jokes?"

"No." She shrugged. "I dunno. I'm bored. You're bored. No-one's around. Why not?"

"Well..." Nerves were gurgling in my stomach -- or was it excitement? I wasn't coming up with an answer, though.

"Are you gay?"

"No."

"It's fine if you are."

"I'm not."

"Okay." She gave me a look like I was stupid. "So... why not? You like me, right?" I looked away from her, certain my face was going red, hoping like hell that she couldn't see my hands were trembling. This really didn't feel like a joke.

"Maybe a little."

"Well, there you go. I'm offering."

"By that logic you must like me, too. If you're offering."

"Apply whatever logic you like." I looked back at her and sighed -- no way this was real. I'd say yes, be about to go for it, and then she'd pull back and laugh at me. And I wouldn't recover from that. Not for years.

So, despite knowing I'd probably regret it, I said no. Crestfallen, Devon filled her cheeks with air and let an awkward silence hang over us.

Finally, she spoke again: "You don't believe me, do you?"

"Not at all," I laughed. "You're fucking with me. I know you well enough."

"You don't know shit about me," Devon replied, smirking.

"Wanna bet?" I hadn't given nearly enough thought to the implications of that question.

"Alright," Devon said, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms under her intimidating breasts. "Tell you what, then. I will suck your dick right here, right now, and then we'll see if you think I'm messing with you."

"Devon..." I jammed my tongue into my cheek. There were the nerves again. And I was getting uncomfortably hard and knew that, if I tried to adjust how I sat to make it a little less so, she'd clock it instantly. "Don't be ridiculous." At that, Devon stood up -- I stared at her.

"Just tell me to stop, and I will," she said, shrugging and approaching me. I didn't.

Devon took the two or three steps towards me, span my chair to face her, then got to her knees. With hands on my own knees, she spread my legs open enough so she could shuffle between them. Oh, shit, I remember thinking, this is real. This is really about to happen.

"Devon, are you serious?" I hissed. She was unbuttoning my jeans, so it definitely seemed like she was, and all she did in reply was roll her eyes at me. Then, quite suddenly, my jeans were pulled open and all that separated her from my dick was the thin fabric of my black boxers. Against it, she could see how hard I was, and with two fingers pulled back my boxers to pull it out. When she did, seeing me rock-hard and immediately guaranteeing we could now never just be friends, she just stared at it.

"What the fuck?" she mumbled, then looked up at me with big, brown, almost accusatory eyes.

"What?"

"Why the fuck is it so big?"

"What're you talking about?" I laughed, nervously.

"I just didn't think you're the type to be this big," she said, looking back at 'me,' before taking my cock in her hand. I shivered at the feeling of her delicate, pale hand wrapped around me, my eyes constantly checking the door, certain we'd be caught now that we so tempted fate.

"Someone's gonna see," I hissed.

"So watch the door then, pussy," Devon snarked back, before putting my cock in her mouth. I tried my best to keep any noises I made to a minimum, still grappling with a ridiculous feeling of disbelief that this was happening, that Devon was between my legs going down on me and doing it about as eagerly as I could ever imagine -- she moved up and down smoothly, her mouth warm, her eyes closed, and I thought about holding her head but she clearly didn't need the help. She deep-throated me multiple times, her hands on my thighs.

"Fuck..." I hissed -- or maybe whimpered, I don't know -- as the pleasure cavorted through my body. I really, really didn't want to cum too quickly. I wanted more time to enjoy how cute she looked with a dick in her mouth. But, then, Devon pulled away and looked at me with smugness -- while, painfully hard, I quivered in front of her. It's quite a feeling to be at someone's mercy when they're the one on their knees.

"Still think I'm kidding?"

"No, I..." I shuddered. "No, I'm sensing some sincerity, now."

"Fucking hell," she muttered, sniggering. "The way you talk..." And then I was back in her mouth.

Devon went faster, and faster, one of her hands now jerking me off, her tongue doing its own thing, and I must have really been embarrassing myself now with the sounds I was making and the way I jolted at the pleasure. Those movements probably became a little too dramatic because Devon pulled away again, licking her lips, and fixed me with a glare.

"You better not cum in my mouth," she warned, a hand still gripping my shaft. "I'll actually skin you."

"I won't."

"Cause I want it in my pussy, you got it?"

"Uh..." What do you say to something like that? "I got it."

"Good." She stood and, looking down on me, moved to unbutton her jeans.

"Wait, wait, wait," I said, quickly, "shouldn't we talk about this, first?"

"Jesus," Devon sighed, her hands moving away from her jeans, causing me to regret my every word. "You're one of those guys who wants to 'talk about it.' Honestly."

"What's wrong with that?"

"I just wanna get laid, mate. I'm not asking you to be my life partner."

"Okay..." I mumbled, looking at her. "Okay, sorry."

"Just fuck me and then we'll talk."

At that, she went back to her jeans and unbuttoned them -- they were skinny enough that she had to fight them down her pale, soft-looking thighs and to her knees, before she turned to the desk and bent over it, holding herself up by her elbows. I just stared at her and she glared at me.

"Well, any time now," she laughed and, slowly, having thought we'd at least find a room upstairs, I stood. Lowering my jeans down to my knees, which I thought a safe distance in case I needed to pull them back up in a hurry, I went behind Devon -- she was still wearing her black thong, which barely covered her pretty, pale butt, a cute little mole on one of her cheeks.

"Can I take this off?" I asked, snapping the waistband.

"I prefer keeping my knickers on," Devon replied -- still as casual as you can imagine. "Makes it feel more desperate when you just pull 'em aside."

"Okay," was all I managed to say as I slipped a finger under her thong and pulled it aside. With one hand, I pulled her cheeks apart, exposing her tight little asshole and pink, shaven, very wet pussy. Devon murmured some little noise of approval, her head lowering to rest on the desk and raising her hips to better meet me.

"You look so good," I mumbled, a hand stroking her bare hip as it took hold to keep her in position.

"Thanks," she replied, just as I slipped inside her.

Devon's pussy was tight enough that it took a moment to properly press inside her -- when I did, and started slowly fucking her, she was letting out little grunts that told me to keep going. With my hands on her hips, occasionally moving to get her thong out of the way whenever it tried to slip back into place. Devon's grunts turned to pretty little moans as I picked up the pace -- and, as they did, a goal developed in my head. She'd started this in charge. I wanted to make sure she didn't end it that way.

So, seeing Devon moaning prettily against the desk, I leaned forward, grabbed her hair, and pulled her back towards me.

"Oh, God!" Devon cried in reply, as her back arched and her ass reared onto me. "Yes, oh my God, yes, yes, yes, yes!" Her words turned to wails as her hands reached for the other side of the desk and she clung to it, her moans almost sounding like crying, before I felt her get tighter around my cock as she cried out: "Oh, fuck, I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna..." And then she screamed beautifully and, as I let go of her hair, fell forward onto the desk, breathing heavily, while I slowed down but never stopped moving in and out of her girlhood.

"Such a good girl," I whispered, and she grunted in dissent.

"Don't call me that," she hissed. I replied by slapping her ass, leaving a light mark across her cheek, and she squeaked.

"I'll do what I want." And then both my hands were on her hips again and, despite her performative protests, was fucking her as hard as I could once more. This time I let her stay laid out across the desk but, with her rear at my mercy, spread her cheeks with one hand and spat on her pink asshole. Devon cried out at the feeling and, shuddering, came a second time. I pressed myself deep inside her and didn't move out again, just stayed plugged deep inside her body, and she whimpered with her hands clasped over her mouth before shaking her way through another orgasm.

By this time, I was close enough to finishing that I thought it'd be fair to give her the option of me pulling out. So, I grabbed Devon's hair again and pulled her back towards me once more.

"Oh, fuck," she whimpered, shivering.

"Do you want my cum?" I asked, semi-rhetorically, and she just nodded energetically. This was no longer the Devon I knew. I let go of her hair and, with my hand between her shoulder blades, pushed her to bend over again -- and, as I came inside her, she shuddered again and came with me. I fell forward and onto her back, my cock slipping out of her, while intimidating, scary Devon lay panting and still moaning beneath me.

For a few moments we lay there, breathing heavily, with me enjoying the feeling of my cock on Devon's bare ass. Finally, slowly, I stood, and Devon pushed herself up to stand, too, my cum dribbling down the inside of her thigh.

"You okay?" I asked, breathlessly, as I pulled up my boxers and wrestled my cock away, sticky with the mixture of our juices. Sex is a grim thing, really.

"I'm fine," she replied, adjusting her thong to better cover herself, then fighting her jeans to come up her sweaty thighs. "You're better than my ex -- but he'd shout 'let's go' when he came, so the bar's not that high."

"No, not at all."

"Besides -- good way to pass fifteen minutes."

"Is that all it was?" I asked.

"You cum quickly," she said, shrugging, as she finished pulling up her jeans. Without re-buttoning them, she hurried away from the desk.

"Where you going?" I asked after her.

"Gonna piss -- I don't want a UTI, do I?"

"No, I guess not," I conceded, and then she was through a door and gone. Left all alone, the wind still hammering on the outside world, the mental images of what had just happened whirled through my mind. I was already getting hard again. My main thought -- being a straight male -- was, inevitably, hope that we'd be doing it again, and soon.

About five minutes later, Devon returned from the bathroom, her face still a little flushed.

"Hey," I said, dumbly.

"Hello," she replied, smirking, as she returned to behind the desk. So the balance of power was back already. "I'll probably shower in a bit."

"Okay. That was definitely..." Don't ask it. "...good, right? For you?"

"Toby," Devon almost snarled, pushing me backwards with a hand to my chest, "nobody in history has ever gotten those noises out of me. You're such a bastard."

"Sorry," I said, grinning stupidly.

"Don't smile like that."

"Or what?" I asked. "Gonna spank me?"

"Don't tempt me. I still can't believe how big you are." I smiled as she sat back down and crossed her legs, wincing as she did.

"You good?" I asked.

"My clit's still twitching."

"Sorry."

"Don't be. We should do that more often." I laughed.

"You mean we could've been doing that this whole time?"

"I'm as annoyed as you." She flashed me a smile that got me most of the way towards being hard all over again.

"Plenty of summer left," I suggested.

"Oh, yes. I can't believe you spat on my arsehole..." She shook her head and looked away in embarrassment. "Where'd that Toby come from?"

"I guess he was always here."

"Yeah. And he should come here, now." She beckoned me with a finger and I obeyed, shifting my seat towards her. Devon took my collar and pulled me into a rough kiss, her tongue exploring my mouth, and my own met it and toyed with her. She bit my bottom lip and I murmured something indistinct, felt her smiling against me, before she pulled away again, licking her lips and regarding me. "You're cute."

"Yeah?"

"Definitely. Wanna come home with me tonight?"

It didn't stop raining that summer. It's not often you feel grateful for that.

...

I hope you enjoyed! This was my first time writing a straight sex scene so hopefully it came across well. Please do leave a comment to let me know what you liked, what you maybe didn't like, and follow me for more! Love you <3