Auto-Correct: The Truth in the Typo

This story was inspired by a prompt from NewOldGuy77, about six months ago. He has been patiently waiting to see what his ear worm wrought, and now finally, here it is. Of course, he's already read it and provided many helpful edits and comments. I hope you enjoy.

~~~~~

(Liz)

Me: I'm putting in the lunch order for tomorrow's lab day, what do you want?

Marco: I really want to eat pussy.

I gawked at the reply. My own pussy quivered, reminding me that it had not been eaten in a very long time. An image popped into my mind of Marco, on his knees in the lab, eating my pussy while I took notes on our experiments.

I would press one hand into his gray hair, pushing him into me until his glasses skewed as his face pressed into my pelvis. I shifted in my chair as I closed my eyes and indulged in the fantasy. I could almost feel the texture of his tongue slipping through my folds.

I shook my head and cleared the image. Obviously, Marco hadn't meant that. It was probably auto-correct or something. Marco, my lab tech, was in his mid-sixties and way too polite to ever send such a vulgar text on purpose. I sighed; he probably didn't even like to eat pussy. But if he did, I would totally let him. Even if he was older than my father, he had this adorable geeky look going for him and he was super nice and easy to work with.

I stared at my phone. How to respond? I could do the professional thing, the reasonable thing, and just point out that he'd probably mistyped something. Or I play this out.

Me: Oh? How long since you've had some?

Marco: Hmm... Probably about eight years, I'd say.

I was startled at that. Eight years was a long time to go without eating a favorite food, whatever he'd been trying to say. But it was not an unreasonable time period for an older single guy to go without a date, I figured. My pussy pulsed as I imagined that he really was being crude.

But, no... Marco was totally 'by the book'. Hell, he was the type to turn his own self into HR if he thought he'd made someone uncomfortable.

Me: So, where should I order it from?

Marco: Wherever, Jefa. I'm sure you know better than me.

Fuck! Another pulse of tingles shot through me. Now I couldn't just ask him what he wanted because then he really would go back up our chat and see what he'd typed earlier and then wonder why I had responded rather flirtatiously. Maybe I could get him to drop some clues...

Me: You don't think the smell will bother anyone?

Marco: Well, I guess some people don't like the smell of fish, but surely, they can stand it for one day. I'm really craving it now.

I knew, just was absolutely positive, he wasn't flirting with me. But it felt like it, and god if it wasn't the most fun I'd had in months. I was totally aroused now, and Marco was doing nothing to bring this conversation back around to something non-sexual.

I racked my brain, trying to think of fishy foods that he might have gone without for eight years. Fish sticks? Fish sandwich? Fish filet? It was no good. How could anyone go so long without having something they liked so much?

Me: How'd you manage not to have any in eight years then?

Marco: *Shrugs* Just never the right place, right time, right companion, I guess.

I bit my knuckles, staring at the screen. He must be doing this on purpose, right? There was no way he could do this on accident, was there?

Me: Why does the companion matter?

Marco: Well, I find a lot of my dinner company just doesn't like it. Beats me why. Nothing better, I think.

By now, my nipples were hard, and my clit was throbbing. If I wasn't sitting at my desk at work, I would have been masturbating.

Me: And what makes you think I like it?

Marco: Well, don't you? You've always struck me as the adventurous sort who would try new things anyway.

Me: No, you're right. I love it =]

Well, shit. I'd gone and let my fantasy take over my fingers and now Marco thought I was going to be bringing in some mystery food tomorrow. Damn!

I opened up my computer and searched for "exotic fish dishes." I scrolled down to ones that started with 'P', figuring this was a good bet for what he'd been trying to type.

(Marco)

Liz was being unusually chatty in this text exchange. I frowned, usually she'd just take an answer and execute, focused on the task and not the conversation. It was nice to chat, though. A good conversation always broke up the day pleasantly.

But duty called. The test I'd been running had just finished and I had to change out the specimen, record the results, and put in a new sample. That process took an hour and by the time I finished, it was time to head home.

I stopped by Liz's office on my way out, as I always did.

"I'm heading out, Jefa! Need anything before I go?" She never asked me to stay late to finish anything, but I always checked just in case.

Liz poked her head up from behind her computer screen. Her face was an unnatural shade of red, "No. Thank you, Marco."

I frowned, "Are you feeling well?"

The young woman worked too much, I thought. She was great to work with, always considerate and respectful of time off, never angry, just generally easy-going. She drove herself too hard though, in my opinion.

"I'm fine, Marco. I'll see you tomorrow." Her voice quavered oddly.

"Ok, Jefa. I'm looking forward to lunch!" I beamed, excited for sushi. It wasn't very common around here, but I knew Liz would know a place, she was the kind of woman who would.

There was a strangled cry from behind Liz's computer monitor, which she'd ducked behind again.

"Jefa! Are you OK?" I called, walking around her desk.

"Fine! I just, I just dropped my keys."

I glanced down and saw the keys on the floor next to her chair, "I got it," I said as I knelt down to retrieve them.

Liz was a bigger girl so she couldn't easily bend down and pick them up. I was happy to do it for her. It wasn't until I was down on the floor picking up her keys that I realized I was practically sticking my face in her lap. Oops!

I caught the scent of her as I backed up quickly and handed her the keys, my face flaming with heat, but I knew my skin was too dark for her to see my flush. I handed Liz the keys hurriedly. My fingers brushed hers, and I felt a frisson of heat pass through me. Oh no, not good!

"Thank you," Liz said, sitting frozen in her chair.

Too embarrassed to talk, I nodded and hustled out. Maybe I should schedule a meeting with HR to talk about this? I wondered. The last thing I wanted was for Liz to feel uncomfortable working around me. I had to make it right.

As I drove home, I replayed the entire awkward encounter over and over again in my head, unable to forget. As I recalled the memory though, I kept getting stuck on one point. Liz had been embarrassed from the moment I stopped to talk to her. She'd had the same look on her face and the same tone of voice as when I'd made a bungle of retrieving her keys.

But why? I don't think I'd ever seen her embarrassed before. That's why I hadn't recognized the expression at first. But going over it now, that was definitely it.

Had I said something wrong in our text chat? Had my phone sent her an inappropriate picture without my say so? Technology was always seeming to think on its own these days.

As soon as I got home, I pulled up our chat and re-read our conversation, bottom up. When I got to the top, I physically felt the blood drain from my face and my ears buzzed. How could I have written that to Liz?

Of course, the poor girl was embarrassed! I'd essentially sexually harassed her. It didn't matter that I hadn't intended it. It had happened. And she'd been so considerate, to play it off like I hadn't said anything wrong. Obviously, she'd been trying to figure out what I'd meant without embarrassing me.

I read through the text conversation again. Except, her texts didn't quite confirm my initial theory, did they? I studied her replies. It almost seemed like these were flirtatious, when viewed through the lens of what I'd actually said rather than what I'd thought I'd said.

But no... There was no way that Liz could actually want an older man like me, she was at least twenty years younger, maybe twenty-five. She had never once given any indication of attraction to me. She was 100% professional.

Except, today she had been embarrassed, as if she knew she hadn't been professional. And, I remembered, she'd had a rather strong scent. Could it have been arousal?

I felt a quiver in my loins at that thought. And, oh, that whiff of raw womanhood that I'd caught, that hounded me too. I did love to eat pussy, after all. And it had been too long since I'd had any.

(Liz)

I fled the office right after Marco left. I couldn't concentrate any more. From the way Marco had looked genuinely excited for lunch, to having his face so close to my pussy, just as I'd imagined, my thoughts were consumed with him. Not to mention his subtle cologne, wafting up to my nose as he rose to give me my keys... It was too much!

The instant I got home, I hightailed it to my bedroom and pulled out my vibrator. Shamelessly, I imagined Marco licking my pussy again. He'd certainly proved he was limber enough to get down on the ground and do it.

Oh god. I'd gone through a whole decade as a working responsible adult and managed to never lust after a coworker, and now this?

"Fuck!" I shouted as I orgasmed.

My clit pulsed as I laid back on my bed. I groaned. I should have just alerted Marco to his typo and avoided all this arousal. Except, I'd been turned on right away! Had I been suppressing a crush on my lab tech?

I mean, he was polite, he did whatever I told him to do, he always checked into to see if I needed more help when he finished an assignment and before he left for the day. He was rather the perfect man, attentive, available, sweet, and always eager to please.

And besides all that, he was cute! Not handsome, no, but endearing with his honest face and open smile. He had bushy eyebrows and weathered tan skin that especially wrinkled when he smiled. He was tall, well, average height for a man I guessed. That was tall compared to me. He was slim, but with a pot belly that would pudge out when he bent or when he tucked in his shirt.

All in all, he was an average kind of older man, as far as looks went. It was his personality and work ethic that set him apart. That's what made him an excellent lab tech, the best in the technicians' group in my opinion. And if I didn't treat him right, there were plenty of other researchers who would snap him up. Because while he always called me Jefa, I wasn't actually his boss.

Good techs were hard to find. Much harder than good fucks, I reminded myself. If I was feeling horny, I should go get a Tinder date. It would be better all around.

I would just keep my fantasies to myself.

The next morning, I was determined to be wholly professional. I got in early and was already working by the time Marco strolled in.

"Morning, Jefa!" He said with a wink.

Well, there went all my willpower as my pussy clenched just from that wink. Surely, Marco had winked at me before? Yet now, I could not recall a single instance.

"Morning, Marco," I replied, carefully controlling my tone and consciously relaxing my thighs that I'd unconsciously clenched.

Like we'd done dozens of times before, we set up for a long day of lab work. I labelled and recorded data and directed the tests while Marco prepped the samples and operated the equipment. We had a fine assembly line process that was well-established and left us free to banter, as we often did.

This morning, though, I couldn't think of anything to talk about. I had only one thing on my mind, and there was no way I was saying anything remotely sexual to Marco. He was the best tech I'd ever had, and I wouldn't trade that for any amount of pussy licking, no matter how much my clit pulsed and whined at me.

Finally, Marco broke the silence, "So, any plans this weekend, Jefa?"

"Eh, if you count knitting a blanket and binge-watching Columbo as plans," I replied, happy to have something benign to talk about. "What about you?"

"Oh, I just have some work to do around the house, small repairs you know."

"Yeah," I laughed, "I'm jealous of your mechanical aptitude, you know."

That was a big reason why Marco operated the hand tools and equipment, I was clumsy as hell. I was much more comfortable doing the data analysis and planning. I'd hated it when I hadn't had a tech and had to do all that myself. Every day, I was grateful for Marco's cheerful willingness to do the parts of science that I hated.

"When I need something repaired, I just pay someone. It would just end up costing more if I tried to do it on my own," I continued.

Marco nodded with a grin, "You know I can help with that, right, Jefa? You need your plumbing fixed, I'm your man."

Oh shit. My tummy fluttered when he said, 'I'm your man'. This was so not good. I could never let him in my house! I'd do something really unprofessional; I just knew it.

"That's very sweet," I said carefully, "but you don't work for me off the clock, Marco. You know I'd never ask that of you."

"Oh, a bit of house repairs isn't work, Jefa. Sometimes, when I'm bored, I break stuff just for the joy of fixing it," Marco smiled at me.

His goofy, lopsided, grin had no right to be so damn sexy.

"I'll keep that in mind," I promised, just to end this line of discussion.

We were quiet for a while, working steadily. I watched Marco work, his hands nimble and quick as he manipulated the samples and the equipment. I was pretty sure that he'd never married or had kids, but I'd never probed for details. I generally didn't ask people questions, I just let them tell me what they wanted to tell me. The downside of that was that I often burned with curiosity that was never satisfied.

I was so lost in speculation that I missed a couple samples and we had to pause while I sorted out and labelled them.

"Sorry," I said.

"No need to apologize, Jefa," Marco smiled. "What were you thinking about?"

Unable to stop it, I flushed. "Uh... I was just thinking about life, you know?" I hedged around the topic, but I was too flustered to think up a convincing lie on the spot.

(Marco)

I'd been watching Liz carefully all morning and it was clear she was massively distracted. Still, she was being her normal professional self until she spaced out in the middle of the morning. When she flushed and claimed to have been "just thinking about life," I knew she was hiding something. I just hoped what she was hiding wasn't disappointment in me. Again, I considered setting up an appointment with HR. I just wouldn't feel right if I was making Liz uncomfortable.

But a big part of me wanted to believe that Liz was thinking about me between her legs, lapping at her clit. That just wasn't likely though, was it? She'd never mentioned if she was single or dating, and I couldn't think of a good way to ask. A weekend spent knitting and watching Columbo seemed like a positive sign of singleness to me, though. Even if she was single, though, so what?

Honestly, I couldn't wait to see how Liz was going to handle lunch. She'd promised to get me what I'd asked for. But what I'd asked for had been pussy, despite my best intentions to write sushi! The morning dragged on slowly as Liz and I were both lost in our own thoughts. Intermittently, I felt a little tingle in my dick as I returned to the idea that I might ever be able to taste Liz's sex. The memory of the scent was haunting me.

Finally, Liz announced that our food was here, and she went to get it from the delivery driver.

The strong smell of fish preceded Liz's return to the lab. She set the food bags on the small conference table that was tucked in the corner of the room and started unpacking. I frowned as Liz pulled a plastic container out of the bag and took off the lid.

"What's this?" I asked.

"Poké." Liz responded.

"Poké? What's that?"

"It's a Hawaiian dish with raw fish." Liz replied, drily.

Deciding to be a bit playful, and a little bold, I looked at her, smiled, and said, "You know this isn't what I asked for."

Liz's cheeks burned red, "I couldn't find it, sorry."

It was delightful to see her squirm, but I felt bad for teasing too. "It's OK, I know it's hard to find good sushi."

I enjoyed watching her face as she realized what food I'd been after. I really wanted to flirt with her a bit and see more of her cute faces when she blushed, but that would be very rude, I told myself firmly. By my age, a man should be able to control himself, I thought resolutely.

I scooped out some of the Poké and tried it. There was just the subtle hint of salmon in the bite of fish, grainy rice and crisp cucumber. I rolled the food in my mouth, savoring it.

"This is really good," I grinned.

I looked up and caught Liz staring at me with a strange look on her face. It was like she enjoyed watching me eat, but that seemed unlikely. Still, it was hard to shake the idea when she blushed and looked away from me.

We ate the rest of our food quietly, each of us lost in our own thoughts. I didn't know what Liz was thinking about, but I was wondering if maybe I should flirt a little, to make it clear that any interest would be welcome.

But what if I was reading the signs all wrong? I worried. Not only did I love my job, but I loved working with Liz in particular. I didn't want to put that at risk.

(Liz)

Watching Marco enjoy tasting the Poké was hypnotic. The way he rolled the food in his mouth, sampling the texture and taste meticulously, was arousing. I couldn't help but envision that same careful consideration of my clit, my labia, my entire vulva.

"This is really good," Marco startled me out of my reverie.

I didn't react fast enough, and he caught me staring. I flushed and looked away. This weekend I would definitely be looking on Tinder for some meaningless sex, I vowed. Sure, I told Marco I'd be doing nothing but knitting, but I'd still be able to carve out a couple hours for sex.

Throughout the afternoon, I felt that there was a magnet pulling my hand and Marco's together so that we touched over and over again, and each brush of the hands sent shock waves through me. When I joined Marco to look at an unexpected error on the equipment, his body heat next to mine seemed to radiate pure arousal.

It took all of my self-control to not shift closer so that my arm touched his. Our productivity rate flagged as I became increasingly distracted, but we still managed to get done what needed to be done, barely. I practically ran out of the building, desperate to put space between myself and Marco.

The instant I got home, I opened up my Tinder app. Consumed by lust, I swiped right indiscriminately and found myself chatting with a couple looking for a third on one tab and a married man on the other. Neither scenario was going to work for me. I let them down as gently as possible, berating myself for my misguided enthusiasm.

Deciding I better cool off before attempting any more Tinder, I pulled some porn up on my phone instead and pushed my vibrator into my clit. Shamelessly, I searched for "older Hispanic man" and scrolled until I found someone who looked like Marco. I watched as the dark-skinned, gray-haired man licked a woman's pussy enthusiastically. Imagining it was Marco licking me, instead of the look-a-like stranger I was watching, I came.

After, I lay in my bed and worried about this newly developed crush and its inevitable effect on my working life. Eventually, hunger drove me out of bed. After a quick shower, I went to the kitchen.