Dear Diary: The Coworker

Have you ever met someone who just blew you away? They walk in the room and it's instant chemistry: your hands get sweaty, your heart races, you're suddenly incapable of coherent thoughts.

Yeah.

It's intoxicating in a way. And as life tends to go, you can't just act on your carnal impulses. No, you're stuck admiring this person from a distance because life sucks that way, and because you are coworkers, you can't have him.

So for months,
a year,
two years,

you maintain a professional relationship, a work friendship at best. But God, it's frustrating: he kisses you on the cheek when you cover a shift for him; his hand brushes your hip when he passes you in the hall; he delicately brushes a strand of hair from your forehead at the end of a long day; he treats you with all the familiarity of an old lover, in such a tender, natural way, his attraction to you implied but never forced. And this of course, only fuels your lust for him.

While the other guys at work are blatantly juvenile in their attempts to bed you, he is nothing but polite. You crave his little attentions; they are small gifts that brighten your day. At night, you fantasize about what it would be like to actually have him. Besides his natural charms and easy laugh, he is of course, over the top gorgeous. Dark hair and hazel eyes, tan skin, high cheekbones...what more could you want? You know that, under his clothes, he is perfectly built. You once caught him changing shirts in the back room at work. It was only a glimpse before you apologized and slammed the door.

But it was enough. Afterwards, you can't stop thinking about the definition in his stomach, the breadth of his shoulders. He is muscular, but not bulky; his arms are powerful and you can't help wondering what it would be like for him to pull you close, to pin you down, to take you.

But this is only wishful thinking, right?

Mid July nights are so tantalizingly perfect in Nevada. The desert air is still warm from the heat of the day, broken up by the occasional westerly breeze from the lake. You're both at the annual company party, a barbecue thrown at a nearby park. You've only been sipping water, but the heady evening air has intoxicated you, left you feeling fearless. You invent an excuse to get him alone, some bullshit line that would probably sound stupid in daylight hours. But at the moment, its perfectly viable and he follows you away from the crowd.

Eventually, the tents and lights are far in the distance. Before you can turn, his hands are snaking around your waist. You look down and in the dim light, you can see his arms embracing you around the middle. His chest is pressed against your back, his breath warm on your exposed shoulders. He has never held you like this before. He nuzzles your hair, brushes it away from one side, his mouth brushes the sensitive spot along the curve of your neck. You are speechless, your mind attempting to follow the action. You were ready to be the hunter, not the hunted. As your thoughts catch up, your body is far ahead, a deep need growing in the pit of your stomach. He whispers your name. "I've wanted you for so long," he murmurs into your ear and punctuates the sentence by grazing your ear with his bottom lip. The effect is immediate: sparks shoot down your body and the nerve endings at the bottom of your spine light up. He turns you to face him and you melt into him; he cups your face with one hand and he's kissing you. He takes your bottom lip between his. His tongue teases yours; his breath is sweet like spearmint.

You wrap your arms around him, try to pull him closer, try to feel all of him. You only succeed in throwing him off balance and you both stumble a little, breaking the kiss. You don't really care though, and use the moment to drop to the grass, pulling him down on top of you. He doesn't kiss you again; he pushes your t-shirt up, and unties the bikini top underneath. Your shorts are quickly off too and you're suddenly glad you decided to forego underwear. For a second, he pauses, still straddling your hips. You are suddenly aware that he is fully dressed and you are completely naked. The grass beneath you feels prickly all of a sudden; you squirm self consciously. He runs a hand down your flat stomach. "You're beautiful," he says, now using his fingers to draw imaginary patterns on your skin: little circles around your belly button, between your breasts and circling each nipple. You hold your breath and watch him transfixed. You feel vulnerable and turned on. You are torn between wanting him to fuck you and never wanting this to end. He slows as his hand trails south...

"Can I eat you out?" he whispers, his voice rough. This question is almost too much. You try to say -yes, yes, of course, please fucking do- but only manage a half whimper, half laugh. This is enough for him because he pushes your legs apart without pause. In the moonlight's glow, you watch him dip between your thighs.

He presses his mouth against you without hesitation. He is not shy; his tongue immediately finds your sweet spot. The sensation is heightened as his lips touch your pussy. He is not just licking you, he is eating you out, enveloping your clit and your inner folds in his mouth. And its fucking amazing. You pull up on your elbows and watch him between your legs, and you are torn between pleasure and awe at his ardor. As you watch, his mouth slides down the oft-neglected little path from your clit to your very center. Your head drops back and the stars are suddenly in focus as his tongue thrusts into you. "Oh my God," is all you say and its all you can manage. You open your legs wider to allow him more access to you, anything to keep this going. His hands wrap under your legs, grab your hips and pull you closer. Your breathing is getting shallow as you feel the internal pressure building. Inhale, exhale, you can feel your insides contracting...

And all too suddenly, he pulls away, breathing hard. You feel a pang of disappointment as your insides scream for release. But he climbs on top of you, kisses you again, his mouth wet. You can taste yourself, bittersweet, mixed with his own minty flavor. You reach down to clumsily fumble with his belt. You can feel his length through his jeans as you unbutton him. His kisses are rougher now, driven by lust and the heat of the moment. He moans into your mouth as your hand wraps around him. It figures, you think, that this part of him would be amazing too. He is bigger than you've had before. Not huge, but definitely more than you've experienced in the past. He is shaped well, the slightest curve, and his delicate skin is the softest you've ever felt. He sits up again, pulls off his shirt and now its your turn to admire him, his lean muscled body, his dark eyes and slightly parted lips.

He's over you now and you can feel him at your entrance. You push your hips up to him, allowing him to slide ever so slightly into your warmth. You breathe in, your heart racing again, because this part is so fucking delicious. There is nothing quite like this moment in fucking, and this moment with him is so utterly luscious. He pushes into you, parting your folds, that slight delectable pain as he fills you entirely. Like summer nights or the warm haze of whiskey, there is an indescribable essence to this pleasure. And like that, the moment is gone and he is fucking you gently. You luxuriate in the slow pace; you can tell that he is completely soaked. You sit up a little, one hand on his firm chest, and you watch him sliding into you, glistening in the dim silver light. He picks up the pace, driving into you with extra force. You cry out, arch your back, drop back to the grass. With both hands on your hips, he drags you forward, fucking you deeper now. It's almost too much; no, it is definitely too much. You attempt to pull away without luck; his strong arms hold you in place, keep you pinned, and you take it because you have to. Your cries are becoming louder; it hurts, but in the most satisfying way. The pressure is building again and you raise your hips to meet him with every thrust. You're getting too loud and he covers your mouth with his hand. But you don't care-it only makes it hotter.

Inhale...he pushes into you, fills you over and over.

Exhale...your muscles tense, ready for release. The moment is too sweet, an abundance of sensation that overwhelms each breath and you're teetering on the precipice.

Inhale...you're over the edge.

The internal wave begins to wash over you; your insides contract as climax hits you. You pulse around his length. Your heartbeat is pounding in your ears, your face hot. You can't help but say his name, muffled by his hand, and somewhere outside of your own ecstasy, you are aware of his grunt of satisfaction. You're still riding the last few aftershocks when you open your eyes to meet his gaze.

He is half-smiling, a look of pride on his gorgeous features. You only see it for a second before he pulls out and effortlessly flips you over. On your hands and knees, he enters you from behind. A second orgasm is already close. You beg him to fuck you faster, to fuck you harder, and the begging works. He leans over you, pulls your hair to make you look back over your shoulder. He kisses you again, his lips sliding over yours, his tongue deep in your mouth, all attempts at soft caresses abandoned.

He pulls away, his mouth only an inch from yours, and his voice is ragged as he hisses, "Tell me you're mine." You can't, because this order, with his kisses, his cock still filling you repeatedly, is enough to make you climax again. He lets go of your hair and you drop your face to the grass, the waves washing over you again, as you push your ass against him, encouraging him to fuck you deeper, to let you ride this out.

The pleasure is still resonating when he pulls out and turns you over again. Your pussy is so sore; another enjoyable pain, something you'll feel tomorrow. He only continues for another minute before finally, his breath catches and-"I'm fucking cumming." He collapses into the crook of your neck, and you can still feel him throbbing inside of you, adding another beat to your own inner resonation.

You're staring up at the stars, the smell of his sweat and cologne adding to the sweet night air and you inhale him deeply. You lay together, your bodies cooling in the night air, still intertwined, and absentmindedly, you wonder if he'll want to leave right away. He rolls off you, and you sit up, unsure of yourself. Should you get dressed? Are you supposed to go as soon as its over? Thats what happens in a one night stand kinda thing, right? You sit up, scan the surrounding area for your clothes.

"Come cuddle," he says from behind you. You look over your shoulder and he's still lying on his back, arms held open. Inside, you are overjoyed, and without skipping a beat, you settle into his arms. He strokes your hair, and a soft breeze blows in from the west...