The Afternoon I Was Left Alone with the New Guy

I’m going to tell it exactly as it happened, without embellishing it, because I still can’t quite believe it myself. Andrés hadn’t touched me in more than a year. My husband and I slept in the same bed like two polite strangers, each on our own side, saying goodnight without touching. At first I understood it. The stress, work, the pills he was taking for his blood pressure. But the months went by and I started to feel like just another piece of furniture in the house.

The worst part wasn’t that he couldn’t. The worst part was that he didn’t even try. I’d get into bed in a nightgown that used to drive him wild and he’d switch off the lamp and turn over. It got to the point where I stopped asking. It was enough for me to close the bathroom door, sit on the edge of the tub, and slip two fingers into my cunt while I pinched a nipple with my other hand, biting my lip so I wouldn’t moan over the sound of the extractor fan. I’d come fast, alone, squeezing my thighs together, and go back to bed feeling emptier than before.

I was thirty-six years old and felt seventy. Until Mateo walked in.

***

Mateo arrived at the company on a Monday in September, fresh out of university, twenty-two years old and smiling in a way that didn’t know the damage it caused. I coordinated the department, so it fell to me to show him everything: the procedures, the reports, where the damn printer was that always jammed. And while I explained rows and columns of numbers, I found myself watching his forearms when he rolled up his shirt sleeves, and dropping my gaze to the bulge in his pants when he sat down beside me.

I was embarrassed. Truly, I was. I kept thinking: what is wrong with you, you’re his boss, he could be your little brother. But the body doesn’t understand embarrassment when it’s been starving for a year, and mine had spent weeks soaking my panties every time he came near me to explain a spreadsheet.

That October afternoon we were left alone. The quarterly report was hanging over us and the others had slipped away at five one by one until the whole floor was empty. Just the two of us, the hum of the air conditioner, and the city lights coming on beyond the huge window.

He was bent over my desk, pointing at a cell with his finger, and I wasn’t hearing a single word. He smelled like cheap cologne and something else, young skin, and every time he leaned closer my mouth went dry and my nipples tightened against my bra.

“I’m going to the bathroom for a minute,” he said, and stood up.

I watched his ass as he walked away down the corridor. I should have stayed in my chair. I know that. But something had already broken inside me a long time ago.

***

I waited a couple of minutes, counting the thudding in my temples. Then I got up and walked down the dim corridor, carrying my heels in my hand so I wouldn’t make noise on the parquet floor. The men’s bathroom door was ajar, and from inside came a sound that stopped me cold: ragged, rhythmic breathing and the unmistakable slap of a hand moving quickly over a hard cock.

I peered through the gap. Mateo was facing away from me, in front of the sink, one hand braced against the wall and the other jerking himself off slowly. Through the mirror I could see his cock, thick, red at the tip, glistening, and the way his fist was moving up and down at a pace that was already starting to get away from him. He didn’t see me. I stood frozen to the floor, holding my breath, feeling my face burn and, lower down, my panties suddenly soaking through.

I must have made some sound. A sigh, the rustle of my blouse, I don’t know. He turned sharply and our eyes met in the mirror, his cock still in his hand. I went cold, trapped, with not a single excuse that would have worked.

“I’m sorry,” I murmured. “I… I heard and…”

I didn’t finish the sentence. I pushed the door open and went in. And he, instead of backing away, stayed still, his hand still wrapped around his cock, looking at me as if he’d been waiting weeks for exactly that.

“Don’t apologize,” he said softly. “I’ve been thinking about you since the first day.”

I stepped closer. My heart felt ready to burst. I put a hand on his chest, felt his pulse beating as fast as mine, and dropped my gaze to his cock, thick and throbbing, pointing at me. I moved his hand aside and took hold of it myself. It was hot, hard as a rock, slick with spit at the tip. He let out a choked moan the second I touched him, and that gave me the courage I’d been missing.

***

I kissed him first. A clumsy, urgent kiss, all teeth and tongue, while he pressed me against the sink with both hands already searching for my tits over my blouse. I opened the buttons one by one without stopping kissing him, bit his lip, licked his neck. I’d spent a year waiting for someone to want me like that, without thinking, without asking permission, and at last I had him in my hands, quite literally.

I yanked my bra open. He pulled it down and lunged at my nipples like a starving man, sucking them, nipping them, tugging at them with his lips until a long breathless sound escaped me. I grabbed his head and pressed him to my chest.

“Keep doing that,” I begged. “Don’t stop.”

I lowered one hand and started jerking him again, feeling him harden even more, watching the veins swell under my fingers. Then I went down little by little, leaving a trail of kisses down his neck, his chest, his navel, until I sank to my knees on the cold tiles. I looked up. He was staring at me with his mouth slightly open, unable to believe what was happening. I couldn’t believe it either.

I took his cock in both hands and brought it to my face. I stuck out my tongue and licked the tip, tasting the salty drop shining there. He jerked. I smiled, licked the whole length from bottom to top, very slowly, tracing every vein with the tip of my tongue, and then took him into my mouth all the way to the back.

“Fuck…” he gasped, burying his fingers in my hair.

I sucked him without hurry, savoring every reaction from him, every moan he tried to swallow. I pulled him out, ran my tongue underneath, took him back in until he was pressed against the back of my throat. My mouth filled with saliva and it dripped over his balls, and I smeared it over him with my hand while I kept licking the tip. I licked his balls too, one and then the other, and he muttered an oath through clenched teeth.

I liked the power I felt then: me, the formal boss in meetings, the invisible woman in her own bed, kneeling in the office bathroom with a twenty-two-year-old cock going in and out of my mouth, making him shake.

“Stop,” he gasped after a while, pulling my hair back. “Stop or I’ll come right now and this will be over before it starts.”

I stood up laughing softly, my lips swollen and my chin wet. I turned around, placed my palms on the edge of the sink, and hiked my skirt up to my waist. I pulled my panties down to my ankles and let them fall to the floor. I looked at him over my shoulder, through the mirror, my cunt already open and dripping down my thighs.

“Then don’t keep me waiting,” I said. “Fuck me.”

***

What came after wasn’t elegant or romantic. It was desperate. He came closer, ran two fingers up and down my cunt, and let out a moan when he felt how soaked I was. He slid those two fingers all the way in and curled them, and I moaned against the mirror like a bitch.

“You’re dripping,” he murmured, incredulous.

“I’ve been like this for a year. Put it in already, please.”

He got behind me. I felt the tip of his cock sliding between the lips of my cunt, finding the entrance, and when he finally pushed and drove it all the way in with one thrust I had to bite my arm to keep from screaming. He filled me in one go, all the way, and I felt everything inside me stretch after so many months empty. It had been so long since anyone had fucked me that I almost came just from that, from the first thrust.

He held my hips and started moving, first carefully, then letting himself go. His cock went in and out of me with a wet, obscene sound that echoed off the tiles. I could see our reflections in the steamed-up mirror: me with my blouse open, my tits bouncing with every thrust, mascara smeared; him with his jaw clenched, eyes fixed on the place where our bodies joined.

“Harder,” I begged. “Fuck me harder.”

And he obeyed. He dug his fingers into my hips and started pounding into me with everything he had, slamming me against the sink with each thrust. The sound of his balls hitting my pussy filled the bathroom. He reached a hand around the front and found my clit, rubbing it while he kept fucking me from behind, and that undid me.

My first orgasm hit me all at once, without warning, and I had to rest my forehead against the cold mirror while my legs gave out. I felt my cunt clench around his cock, tightening around it in waves, felt a warm gush running down the insides of my thighs. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt anything like that with another person in the room. A long, rough sound escaped me and bounced off the tiles of the empty bathroom.

“Fuck, how tight you are,” he groaned against my neck, never stopping.

***

We didn’t want it to end there. He pulled his glossy cock out, dripping with my juices, and we straightened our clothes halfheartedly, laughing nervously. We went back to my office. I locked the door—that gesture, turning the key, made me more nervous than everything before it, because it meant this was a decision, not an accident.

I sat him in my own chair, the one I signed contracts in and scolded suppliers from. I knelt between his legs first, pulled his cock out of his pants again and licked it from top to bottom, tasting myself on him. I sucked the tip with my eyes locked on his until I saw him clench the chair arms with both fists.

Then I climbed on top. I took my panties off completely, hiked up my skirt, and straddled him. I grabbed his cock and lined it up with my entrance, and looked him in the eyes as I lowered myself slowly, centimeter by centimeter, feeling him fill me again. When I had him all the way inside, I stayed still for a moment, squeezing him with my cunt, enjoying the sensation.

He pulled my blouse off completely, freed my tits from my bra and started sucking them again, tugging at my nipples with his teeth. I started moving, up and down, setting the rhythm myself this time.

“I don’t even know your full name,” he said between gasps, one of my nipples between his lips, and the two of us laughed like kids getting up to mischief.

I moved slowly at first, then faster, bracing my hands on his shoulders and riding him with all my weight. The chair creaked every time I came down, his cock went all the way in, and I could feel his balls slapping against my ass. He dug his fingers into my ass cheeks and started helping me, lifting me and dropping me, pushing up from below each time I came down.

Through the dark window the buildings across the way were visible, lit windows, people having dinner, living their normal lives without knowing that a few meters away I was riding a twenty-two-year-old with my tits out. The thought that anyone might look up and see us pushed me right to the edge again.

“Look at me,” I begged. “Don’t close your eyes. I want you to watch me come on your cock.”

And he looked at me. He looked at me while I fell apart on top of him, while I came for the second time clutching his neck, while I whispered filthy things in his ear I would never have dared say to Andrés: that I loved his cock, that I’d been dreaming of this for weeks, that I wanted him to fill me completely.

“I’m going to come,” he gasped suddenly, squeezing my hips to stop me.

“Not inside,” I whispered, and hurriedly got off him.

I knelt again between his legs and took him into my mouth just in time. I felt every muscle in his body tense, his cock throbbing between my lips, and then the first hot spurt of semen slamming into the back of my throat. I stayed still, swallowing, while he filled my mouth with a muffled groan, clinging to the chair arms, shaking. He came so much that it dripped from the corner of my lips and down onto my tits. I swallowed almost all of it, and what escaped I wiped away with a finger I then sucked while looking him in the eyes.

He looked at me from the chair, breathless, as if he’d just seen a ghost. I climbed onto his lap again and kissed him slowly, letting him taste his own flavor on my tongue.

***

We stayed like that for a while, sweaty, pressed together, saying nothing, listening to the hum of the air conditioner and the heartbeat that gradually calmed in both of us. He stroked my back with the pads of his fingers, and I could feel his cock, already soft, still resting against my thigh, wet.

I stood up, picked my clothes off the floor, and dressed slowly in front of the window. He watched me from the chair, still with his pants around his ankles and a dazed smile.

“So what now?” he asked.

I turned and smiled at him. I had no answer. I only knew I’d spent a year feeling dead inside and that that afternoon, in an empty office, I’d felt alive again.

“Now we go home,” I said. “And tomorrow we pretend nothing happened.”

But we both knew that was a lie.

***

We went down in the elevator in silence, keeping our distance in case of cameras, only brushing pinkies. I could still taste his semen warm in my mouth and feel my cunt throbbing inside my wet panties. In the lobby we said goodbye like any two coworkers, a “see you tomorrow” so normal it was funny, and each of us went his own way into the cool October night.

When I got home, Andrés was asleep on the sofa with the television on. I looked at him from the living-room doorway and felt no anger or sorrow, just a strange calm, like someone who finally understands something they’d long suspected. I took a long shower, slipped two fingers back under the stream of hot water thinking of Mateo, and came a third time against the tiles. After that I got into bed and, for the first time in months, fell asleep right away.

I’m not going to оправдать myself. I know what I did and I know what it means. But I also know that afternoon I recovered something I thought I’d lost forever, and that the next day, when I walked through the office door and saw Mateo lift his gaze from his desk with that half-smile, I knew that it hadn’t been the end of anything.

It was, barely, the beginning.