My Co-Worker Was Waiting for Me in a Nightgown That Morning

We left the building as a group, as always happens when a shift ends on a Sunday afternoon. Those who were staying, those who were leaving, the usual comments about days off and weekend plans. I crossed the parking lot with my keys already in my hand, without meeting her eyes.

—Hey, Marcos! —she shouted from the far end, loud and clear, so everyone would hear—. Remember we agreed you’d give me a ride home? This afternoon a dashboard light came on. Tomorrow I’m coming back for the car on the tow truck.

I’ve never been much of an actor, but I did what I could.

—Ah, yes, of course! I’d completely forgotten. My head’s all over the place these days.

Some of my coworkers smiled. No one suspected anything, or at least that’s how it seemed to me. We got into the car. I closed the door, started the engine, and before I could say anything:

—Find somewhere. A dirt road, an empty lot, a dark parking area, anything. I can’t and don’t want to get home like this. I’ve had my cunt soaking wet since noon, Marcos. I need you to fuck me now.

She said it while unbuttoning her pants. As soon as we left the company grounds, she slid her hand into her panties, leaned back in the seat, and closed her eyes. Out of the corner of my eye I saw her moving her fingers under the fabric, saw her mouth part, saw her hard nipples pressing through her T-shirt. She brought her fingers, shining with wetness, to her lips and sucked them slowly, never taking her eyes off me.

—See how I am? Touch me —she said, and took my hand and slipped it between her thighs.

My fingers sank into something hot and slick. She was so wet it was dripping down the crease of her thigh. I rubbed her clit with my thumb while I drove and she let out a hoarse moan, resting the back of her neck against the headrest.

We’d been carrying this around for a whole week. Seven days of looks in the hallways, of brushings near the photocopier that lasted a second too long, of conversations that always ended in the same dead point: the two of us half a meter apart, my cock hard under my pants and her crossing her legs to ease herself against the chair. A week like that has a physical cost that builds up without your noticing. You wear it all the time.

—If I park next to a truck, warn me. I don’t want to make a scene —she said, her breathing already faster, without taking her hand out of her panties.

I wasn’t exactly in the best position to drive calmly either. I’d lowered my zipper on the outskirts of the city to give myself some relief and keep my jeans from becoming a serious problem. My cock had come out through the opening in my briefs, swollen, the head already damp. Elena reached out, wrapped her hand around it, and started jerking me off slowly while I tried to keep the car in my lane.

—Fuck, you’re rock hard —she whispered—. You’re so heavy. I can fit the whole thing in my mouth, you know? And even so I still choke on it.

—Don’t keep going or I’ll come before we get there.

—Hold on. I want you to come inside me.

From the moment she slid her hand down there, something inside the car changed temperature. The smell of sex grew thick, impossible to ignore. She took her fingers to her mouth again and sucked them with calculated obscenity, staring straight at me, then buried them back between her legs.

There were no trucks. There was a farm track on the outskirts, a metal fence at the end, and four holm oaks no one cared about. I turned off the engine. Outside, you could hear only a distant cricket and the wind in the branches. The moon gave just enough light to see without being seen too well.

We got out almost at the same time. We met in front of the hood as if we’d planned it beforehand. The kisses were quick, rough, full-tongued, with hands going everywhere in no particular order. I slid my hand under her T-shirt, yanked her bra open, and grabbed her breasts, pinching her nipples between my fingers until she gasped against my mouth. She pulled at my belt, jerked my pants down, and grabbed my cock with both hands.

She dropped to her knees on the dirt without thinking twice. She took me into her mouth to the hilt, so deep the tip touched her throat and made her gag briefly, but it didn’t stop her. She started sucking me with hunger, with noise, letting a strand of saliva run from her chin down to her tits. She looked up at me through watery eyes while her tongue swept over my glans, while she pulled back to lick my balls and then swallowed me again in one thrust.

—Get up or I’ll fill your mouth right now —I said, grabbing her by the hair.

She smiled, gave me one last long suck, and stood up. She pulled down her pants and panties in one motion, leaving the smell of a horny woman hanging in the air. She turned around. She put her palms on the hood, still warm from the engine, arched her back, and spread her feet wide. I opened her ass cheeks with my hands. Her cunt opened on its own, glossy, with swollen lips and a stream of slick running down the inside of her thigh. Her ass, tight and throbbing just above it, trembled with her breathing.

I drove into her in one stroke to the balls, and she let out a short, deep cry that vanished into the field. I hit no resistance. Everything she’d been building up all afternoon had prepared her more than enough for this. Going in felt like arriving somewhere you’d been expected for a while, a hot cunt closing around me like a soaked fist.

—Like this, Marcos, fuck me like this, don’t stop, harder —she panted with her face against the hood.

I thrust hard, in rhythm, grabbing her hips to slam her back onto my cock with every stroke. The sound of my balls hitting her pussy mixed with the splashing of how wet she was. She helped herself with her left hand between her legs, rubbing her clit while I fucked her, because she knew, and I knew too, that it wasn’t going to last long. I smacked her on the ass and it shone pink under the moon. Again. She moaned louder.

—Put it all the way in, fuck, all the way to the hilt, I want to feel you in my stomach.

I bent over her back, grabbed one breast under the T-shirt, bit her neck. Seven days of holding back have their own limit and don’t negotiate. When I felt I could no longer hold it in, I clamped onto her hips and slammed her against me. One last thrust, held still inside her, and I started emptying myself slowly, in spurts, while I squeezed her hip bones hard enough to hurt. I felt her cunt contracting around me, milking every drop out of me.

Her fingers kept brushing my cock while she rubbed her clit. It took less than a minute. She came with a long spasm, a shudder that climbed from her legs to her shoulders, squeezing me inside with contractions that almost made me shout. Her knees gave way slightly and she had to press her arms harder against the hood to stay upright. When I pulled out, my cum dribbled from the tip and ran down the inside of her thigh, mixing with hers.

We separated, panting. The smell of dry grass, damp earth, and sex filled the air. I realized that since we’d taken the track we hadn’t exchanged more than five words that weren’t filthy. It had been urgent, almost clumsy, and completely necessary all at once.

She took a pack of wipes from her bag —as if she’d planned ahead, of course— and handed me one. She cleaned herself between the legs calmly, pulled her stained panties back up, and fixed her hair while looking at herself in the window. We got dressed in silence. We got back in the car.

She picked up the phone.

—Yes, darling, don’t worry. The afternoon got really complicated. Yes, I’ll be there soon.

She hung up. I was already joining the main road, heading to her place.

—Tomorrow I’ll take a taxi to go pick up the car —she said, looking out the window—. Don’t worry.

It was more a monologue than a conversation. I dropped her off in front of her building. She got out without looking back, and I stayed three seconds longer than necessary to watch how her pants fit before shifting into first and getting out of there.

That night I was sleeping at a friend’s place. My apartment had been under renovation for days and I’d set up a temporary camp in his guest room. When I got there he was already asleep. I took a shower without eating dinner. The hot water slowly settled everything that was left on me. I went to bed and in less than ten minutes I was completely out.

***

The phone woke me up. It was the renovation company: in two days I’d be able to go back to the apartment. I hung up smiling.

It rang again almost immediately.

—Good morning. Did you sleep well? —It was her voice. Direct, without preamble.

—Very well. I was out cold as soon as I hit the pillow. And they just called me: in two days the place is ready.

—Have you had breakfast?

—I don’t even know what time it is.

—Quarter past nine. I went to pick up the car and bought ensaimadas. The little girl is with her grandparents all morning, I made up a pretty elaborate excuse but it worked. I’m alone until four. Are you coming? I still have your cum inside me. I woke up with my panties stuck to me.

She didn’t wait for an answer. She hung up.

Fifteen seconds later a video arrived. She was wearing a thin printed nightgown with spaghetti straps. She slid them down slowly, first one and then the other, and the fabric fell on its own to the floor under gravity. She ran a hand over one breast, pinched the nipple, and slid two fingers between her legs, parting her cunt lips for the camera. One second looking into the lens with that half-smile I’d been seeing all week in the office hallway. Cut.

I brushed my teeth and went downstairs two steps at a time.

***

She opened the door before I could knock. She was still wearing the nightgown.

We kissed on the threshold. I slipped my hand under the nightgown as soon as I got inside and found her naked, no panties on, wet again. The fabric flew off in the hallway, my clothes were left on the floor as we made our way toward the living room. We didn’t make it to the bedroom on the first pass.

I pushed her against the back of the sofa. She bent at the waist, braced her hands on the cushions, and arched her ass toward me. I ran my tongue across her slit from bottom to top, tasting the salty trace from the night before mixed with the fresh wetness. She let out a whimper and spread her legs wider. I sank two fingers into her cunt while I licked her clit from behind, and I felt the inner walls tighten at the first touch of my tongue.

—Fuck me again, I can’t take it anymore, I’ve been thinking about your cock all night.

I stood up, grabbed her by the waist, and fucked her like that, bent over the sofa. I went in with one thrust. I started moving slowly this time, deep, letting her feel every centimeter of me inside her. She pushed back seeking me out, moaning with her face in the cushions, clutching the sofa fabric with her fists.

—Turn around —I told her after a while.

I laid her on her back on the rug, spread her legs, and got between them again. I wanted to see her face this time. I braced myself on my forearms, looked into her eyes, and started fucking her calmly, setting the pace, pulling almost all the way out and then sinking back in to the hilt. She dug her nails into my back, searched for my mouth, sucked my tongue like it was another cock.

—Touch yourself —I asked without stopping my thrusts.

She brought down her hand and started rubbing her clit between my strokes. I watched the blush rise up her neck, saw her mouth part, saw her eyes squeeze shut. She came biting my shoulder to keep from shouting, and her cunt squeezed so hard it dragged me over the edge in a rush. I pulled out in time, took my cock in her hand, and finished over her belly, thick spurts falling from her navel down to her tits.

There was something fundamentally different about this compared with the night before: time. The whole morning ahead, no roads to explore looking for a discreet spot, no clock pressing down on us constantly. That difference shows in the way two people fuck. There’s more calm, more attention to detail, more desire to linger on what the night before had to skip over.

When we were both again panting and lying there with our legs intertwined on the sofa, it was already past eleven. We lay there for a while without moving, she resting on my chest, me staring at the white ceiling, both of us silently catching our breath.

—I’m starving —she said at last.

—The ensaimadas.

—I’ll bring them now.

She went into the bedroom to find something to cover herself with and came back to the kitchen. I followed her, naked. The box of ensaimadas was on the counter, closed, with no sign of unwanted visitors.

—Coffee? —she asked, opening the cupboard.

—Yes.

While we waited for the coffee maker to finish, I stood behind her and wrapped my arms around her waist. I felt her lean back into me, and how her ass pressed against my cock, half hard again. I lifted the loose T-shirt she’d put on and grabbed her breasts from underneath. I pinched her nipples between thumb and forefinger. She let her head fall onto my shoulder and spread her legs slightly against the countertop.

—Again? —she whispered with a smile.

—Again.

I tipped her forward over the marble. I opened her legs with my knee, stroked her cunt with the tip, and entered her from behind, slowly, feeling how she took it all, open and still shining. I fucked her like that while the coffee was making, holding her hair with one hand and her hips with the other, watching her reflection in the microwave glass. We didn’t say anything for a while. Only the sound of the coffee brewing, my balls hitting her ass, and, outside, a summer Monday beginning with a normality that didn’t quite match what was happening inside that apartment. I came inside her again, pinning her hips to the marble, and she came a second later biting her forearm.

—How many days off do you have? —I asked when I could speak.

—Until Thursday. You?

—Same.

No one added anything else, but it wasn’t necessary.

After the coffee we went back to the bedroom. No longer in a rush, no longer with that clock component that had marked everything until then. We recovered everything we’d had to skip over during the previous week. I laid her on her back, spread her legs, and spent a good while between them eating her cunt calmly, sucking her clit, fucking her with my tongue, feeling every moan grow longer. I put one finger in her cunt and another in her ass while I kept sucking, and she came, arching her whole back off the mattress, both hands in my hair.

Elena had a habit of speaking little in bed and communicating with her hands, with the pressure of her fingers, with the direction of her gaze. In bed, that’s a rarer quality than it seems. I learned more about her in those few hours than in the whole previous week combined.

We took all the time we needed. We tried different positions with no particular rush. Her on top, riding me slowly with her hands on my chest, letting the penetration go all the way in before rising again. On our sides, with one of her legs over my hip, lazily fucking while we kissed. On all fours on the mattress, her face buried in the pillow while I rammed into her hard and held her by the hair at the nape of her neck. The lubes and toys in the nightstand drawer stopped being hypothetical at some point that morning: she took out a pink vibrator, put it on her clit while I fucked her from behind, and the contractions that hit her dragged me into a third orgasm that morning, this time over her tits while she licked my stained fingers.

At around two, an alarm went off on her phone.

—I have to pick up the little girl at four —she said without moving yet, with a thread of my cum sliding between her breasts.

—Plenty of time.

—Yes.

But by then it was different. The limit now existed in a concrete way, and we both knew it. We lay there a little longer, talking about things that didn’t matter at all. She told me something about the car, I told her about the renovation work. The conversation of completely normal people in a situation that was anything but normal.

At three I got up to collect my things from the hallway.

—When are you going back to work? —she asked from bed.

—Thursday.

—Me too.

Nothing else needed saying. A kiss at the door, brief, without drama. I went down the stairs with my hands in my pockets.

On the way back I thought about how strange a week can be sometimes. The Monday before had been a completely gray day, with no story to tell. The next one was hard not to imagine taking up some space in my memory for a long time.

Two days later I picked up my things from my friend’s guest room and went back to the apartment. The renovations had been cleaned up, the new floor gleamed under the ceiling light. I sat on the sofa and stared at the wall for a moment, thinking about nothing in particular.

Or maybe I was thinking about something, but that’s another story.