My Lifelong Friend and I, Alone in the Storeroom

At last, my service transfer had been approved. We were about to open the clinic’s new wing, and there was still quite a lot to do before it could start operating. The supervisor had assigned a handful of us the task of getting the ward up and running: cleaning, organizing the supplies, labeling everything. And luck had it that I would once again be working alongside Damián, my lifelong friend, a former classmate and the person I got along with best in that building.

As far as I could see, quiet weeks lay ahead, with unhurried coffees and plenty of time to slip away and lend a hand to some of the other women whenever I had no patients. The first few days, with barely a computer and a wastebasket for furniture, had been wonderful. I hoped it would stay that way for a good while.

The supervisor instructed us to make the most of the weekend, when there would be no workers or outsiders wandering around, and go over the storeroom thoroughly: put away the new supplies, check expiration dates, and decide on a sensible arrangement. On Saturday we spent the whole afternoon at it, laughing nonstop because each of us wanted to organize our section our own way and we clashed at every turn.

It was a rather small room, with metal shelving reaching all the way to the ceiling, crammed with boxes. We emptied it completely, cleaned it, and began putting everything back with a little more logic. With music playing in the background, we worked in silence for a long while, and I found myself thinking again about how comfortable I felt by his side.

Damián was easy to talk to, excellent at his job, and we understood each other with a single look. It had been a long time since we had worked on the same ward, so for days we had been swapping stories about our previous departments. In those quiet minutes, each of us focused on our own task, I felt simply happy.

Then the new orderly showed up to bring more boxes. He was a young guy and, like nearly all the delivery boys in the place, strong and eager to flirt with the first woman who crossed his path. He started talking to me, asking about the ward’s schedules, whether I was comfortable there, whether I had been working here long. As he spoke, he smiled and kept moving too close.

The truth was, the kid was incredibly hot and had amazing green eyes, although gym types had never really been my thing. I noticed Damián watching him with his jaw clenched, and I knew he was dying for him to leave. He had never had much patience for the orderlies’ flirting. I got rid of the young man politely, and we went on working.

That night I dreamed about him. I barely remembered the details when I woke up, but it had clearly been an erotic dream. I sat up in bed, breathing hard, my nightgown stuck to my body with sweat and my pussy soaked, throbbing between my legs as if I had just been fucked for real. My nipples stood hard against the fabric, and I had to squeeze my thighs together to calm the tingling. I was as surprised that he had been the star of the dream as I was by how aroused it had left me. My husband slept peacefully beside me. I turned over and closed my eyes again, resisting the urge to slip my hand inside my panties. I didn’t dream anything else.

***

On Sunday we went back to the storeroom, but it was no longer the same. I looked at him differently. He was a little taller than me, dark-haired, with strong arms, and for the first time I noticed his lips, full and suddenly impossible to ignore. I had never paid attention to his mouth before, nor imagined that tongue moving over my neck, traveling down my tits, getting lost between my legs.

I felt self-conscious with him so close, something that had never happened in all our years working together. I could smell his aftershave, and the proximity of his body made me tense and a little excited. Every time he bent down to put away a box, my eyes went to the bulge outlined by his uniform pants, and I had to look away. But doing anything about it seemed unthinkable: first, because I was married; second, because he was my friend.

He said something I didn’t quite understand because my mind was elsewhere, and when he saw that I wasn’t answering, he laughed at me and gave me a gentle shove. I played along as best I could, but I was flustered. I imagined that same gesture in another context and, without meaning to, wished it would happen. He stared at me. My stomach twisted.

—What’s wrong with you today? Are you all right? —he asked.

I didn’t answer. My mouth had gone dry. It was absurd to feel this way over a dream I barely remembered. He moved a little closer, bewildered.

—Marina, you’re scaring me...

I didn’t let him finish. Something shifted inside me, and I knew that only one thing would restore my calm. Impulsively, I closed the distance to his face and kissed him on the lips. I pulled away almost at once; he hadn’t moved back, but he stood frozen, staring at me.

—What was that? —he said.

I didn’t know what to say.

—I’m sorry, I...

I noticed his gaze jump from my eyes to my mouth, and in that second I understood that he wanted it too. I moved closer by another inch, hesitating, and he was the one who closed the gap, returning my kiss. This time it wasn’t timid: he thrust his whole tongue into my mouth, seeking mine, biting my lower lip, panting against my face. I felt his warm skin pressed against mine, his lips devouring me, our breaths joining and quickening together.

He tasted so good that I wondered if the rest of him tasted the same, if his cock would have that same flavor in my mouth. Almost without realizing it, my back was against the shelving and his body was pressed against mine. His hands held my face while his mouth explored me, firm but unhurried, and I could feel exactly how his cock was hardening against my belly, demanding, warning me about what was coming.

I didn’t know what I wanted until it happened. But I wanted it. I wanted to be his, at least for that day. I wanted him to fuck me against that shelving, fill me with come, rip off my uniform, and make me forget my name. The mix of his smell, his taste, and his urgency flooded through me. All at once I understood the hostile look he had given the orderly the afternoon before; I understood a million little gestures and intimacies built up over the years.

I ran my hands over his back, drawing him closer, caressing him, and grabbed his ass over his pants to press him fully against my pelvis. He pulled away a few inches, just enough to catch his breath, and whispered in my ear:

—You’re married...

—Yes... —I admitted.

—Are you sure this is what you want?

—...Yes... please... fuck me.

The word shone in his eyes. He kissed me again, slowly but passionately, while sliding one hand beneath my uniform and moving up my thigh until his knuckles brushed my panties. There was no holding back now; we were enjoying each other. I wanted to draw those moments out forever. I needed to touch him, to have him touch me, to feel his hard cock against me. And feel it I did, when he thrust his hips against mine and drove it into me through our clothes, right against my pubic bone, outlining every inch.

He undid the buttons of my uniform one by one, taking his time, and caressed my chest over my bra before yanking it down. He took his mouth from mine only to bring it to my neck; his breath and tongue sent shivers through me, and my nipples hardened even more. He bent down and caught one in his mouth, sucking it hard, tugging with his lips, nibbling until I moaned aloud. Then he moved to the other, licking it in circles while his free hand squeezed my breast and kneaded it without gentleness.

—Fuck, what tits you have —he murmured against my skin—, I’ve been imagining them for years.

I pulled him toward me, wanting his hips close, and moved mine, seeking to fit myself against his body. With a tap of his foot he spread my feet apart, leaving my legs open and his pelvis pressed to mine. I could feel his cock, hard as a rock, against my mound, and I moved slowly, rubbing myself against it, my panties already soaked with desire.

I couldn’t believe this was happening. But it was, and I intended to enjoy it until the very last second. I brought two of his fingers to my mouth and sucked them slowly, watching him, mimicking what I wanted to do to him a little farther down. That aroused him even more. He asked me in my ear if I was really willing to go all the way; in response, I undid his pants, slipped my hand inside his boxers, and grabbed his cock directly, wrapping my fingers around it. It was hot and thick, the tip wet with precum.

—God... —he moaned, throwing his head back.

I began masturbating him slowly, squeezing firmly, sliding my fist up and down, pausing at the glans to coat my fingers with what dripped from him. He devoured my neck, moaning softly, unable to keep still. I needed to taste it. I released him for a moment, nudged him back to make room, and crouched between the boxes until I was kneeling in front of his half-lowered pants.

I yanked down his boxers and his cock sprang out stiff, pointing at my face. It was thicker than I had imagined, with prominent veins and a shining glans. I gripped it at the base and put it in my mouth without ceremony, tasting all of it, feeling my palate fill with its salty flavor. Damián let out a hoarse gasp and buried his fingers in my hair.

—Marina, fuck... you suck me so damn well...

I lowered myself little by little, swallowing him as far as I could, until I felt the glans press against my throat. I came back up, letting it slide from my lips on a thread of saliva, and licked its entire length from his balls to the tip, looking him in the eyes. He watched me, fascinated, mouth half open, breathing hard. I put it back in my mouth, tightening my lips, moving my head faster and faster, sucking eagerly while caressing his balls with my other hand.

—Stop, stop... I’m going to come if you keep going... —he panted, gently pulling me away.

He lifted me by the armpits and kissed me again, tasting himself in my mouth without the slightest hesitation. He moaned softly and kissed my neck again, right at the hairline, while pulling down my uniform pants. When I felt them around my ankles, I kicked them aside. I was left wearing only my underwear and my open shirt, my breasts exposed, my nipples wet with his saliva and my panties soaked right through to the seams.

He grabbed my buttocks and, with a small thrust, sat me on one of the shelves. It was cold, made of metal, but I was burning, so I didn’t care. We had the entire ward empty, ten rooms with sofas and armchairs at our disposal, but in our little world it didn’t even occur to us. It seemed perfectly natural to remain cornered against a metal shelf in that narrow storeroom.

He crouched down, spread my legs, and pulled off my panties, sliding them down to my ankles. He spent a few seconds looking at my pussy, open for him, glistening, with barely trimmed pubic hair. Then he moved closer and ran his whole tongue from bottom to top, very slowly, finishing on my clitoris with a languid circle that made me arch my back.

—Fuck, you’re so wet —he murmured against my lips—, if I put it in now, I’d swallow you whole.

—Shut up and keep going... —I panted, grabbing his hair and pushing his face against my pussy.

He began eating me hungrily, licking, sucking, thrusting his tongue inside and pulling it out, pressing my clitoris with his lips and tugging gently with his teeth. He inserted one finger, then two, curling them, touching a place inside me that made me jerk. I no longer had control over my moans; they escaped me loud and high-pitched, surely carrying into the hallway, but I didn’t care. With his other hand he pinched one of my nipples, tugging it while devouring me between the legs.

—I’m going to come... Damián, just like that, don’t stop... —I begged in a broken voice.

But he did stop, right before I came. He straightened up, smiled at me with his mouth glistening with my juices, and kissed me again so I could taste myself. He opened my shirt completely, finished taking off his pants, and removed his last garment. For the last time he moved only slightly away from my face and looked me in the eyes, but he never got around to asking the question.

—Please —I begged, panting, desperate—, put it in me now, I need you inside me.

My body ached with need; I couldn’t take any more of it. I wanted to feel his cock splitting me in two. I buried my fingers in his black, thick, soft hair, and after pressing himself closer to me, he placed the glans at the entrance to my pussy, rubbed it up and down to wet it thoroughly with my juices, and penetrated me slowly, burying himself to the hilt in a single thrust, effortlessly, because I was more than ready for him.

I let out a long, deep moan when I felt him completely inside me. I had only ever been with my husband, so I had nothing to compare it to and didn’t really know what to expect when I felt him inside me. It was different, thicker, hotter, and I felt complete, filled to a point I had never known. Amid moans and ragged breaths, he pulled almost all the way out and drove back into me, each time deeper, harder, giving me more pleasure. He panted as he fucked me, growling fragments of words against my ear, and I panted with him.

—What a pussy... you’re squeezing my cock like crazy... —he whispered between thrusts.

—Harder, fuck me harder... —I answered, clinging to his neck.

We savored every inch he filled, barely noticing the plastic containers falling from the shelves beside us with every thrust. The shelving creaked and shook with every push, and I gripped the metal shelves until my hands hurt. I had never felt so turned on, not even when my husband and I were dating, but I didn’t want to think about anything beyond that. Not then, when every part of me wanted only one thing: for him to fuck me until we were exhausted.

And he did. He thrust with all the strength of his pelvis, as if he wanted to drive through me, holding one of my legs against his hip and sliding his other hand over the nape of my neck. He stopped for a moment, pulled his dripping cock from my pussy, and made me climb down from the shelf.

—Turn around —he ordered in a hoarse voice.

I obeyed without thinking. I braced myself against the shelving, facing it, my hands gripping a shelf level with my face and my ass thrust back. He placed one hand on my back, pushing me so I bent farther over, and with the other he guided his cock until he found my entrance. He drove it into me in a single thrust, all the way to the balls, and I screamed against the metal.

—Fuck, yes, all the way... —I panted.

He began pounding me from behind, gripping my hips and pulling me against him with every thrust. The sound of his pelvis striking my ass filled the storeroom, mingling with our moans and the noise of falling boxes. He reached around me and brought one hand down to my clitoris, rubbing it in circles to the same rhythm as he fucked me. I was about to explode.

—I’m going to come, don’t stop, just like that... —I managed to say between gasps.

We were ravenous for each other, and although passion urged us to speed up, whenever he felt me getting too close, he slowed a little to prolong it. Seeing him over my shoulder, his body covered in sweat, his jaw clenched and his eyes fixed on the place where his cock disappeared inside me, aroused me even more. Hearing his moans, feeling his fingers on my clitoris—everything sent me wild. We prolonged the pleasure as long as we could, until I felt something beginning to pulse inside me and an unfamiliar heat filling me. I wasn’t used to coming that way; with my husband it had always been different, quicker and quieter, and that new sensation swept over me when the orgasm hit: my whole body tensed, my pussy closed in spasms around his cock, and I let out a hoarse moan from deep in my gut while clutching desperately at the shelving.

Damián endured the contractions without stopping his thrusts, prolonging my orgasm, and as soon as the worst of it passed, he turned me around again, sat me back on the shelf, and spread my legs. He put it inside me again and fucked me with his remaining strength, fast and desperate, his eyes closed and his mouth half open.

—I’m coming, Marina, I’m coming... —he panted a few minutes later—, where should I shoot?

—Inside —I told him, grabbing his ass with both hands and pressing him against me—, come inside me.

We had nothing to protect ourselves with, but I didn’t care; I wanted him inside me until the end. With one final thrust that practically pinned me against the shelving, he emptied himself inside me, and I felt his cock pulsing perfectly inside my pussy, shooting jet after jet of hot semen deep inside. He growled against my neck, gently biting my shoulder as he finished coming. He collapsed, exhausted, his body on top of mine, both of us sweaty and satisfied. When he finally pulled his cock out, I felt his come begin to run down my thighs, warm and thick. He covered my face with kisses, and I kissed him too. There was nothing to say.

***

An hour later, dressed again and wearing a knowing smile, I realized as we resumed working that I felt free. I could go home with the tension relieved and carry on with my life, taking a beautiful memory with me.

Damián understood that it had been a one-time thing, that he didn’t want to be the third person in anyone’s relationship, and that was where it ended. We have continued to be colleagues and friends; we still understand each other with a look, and we haven’t repeated it. But even today, I can’t help smiling every time I walk past that storeroom.