The Breakdown My Office Colleague Invented
Years have passed since that afternoon, but there are still nights when I close my eyes and return to the office parking lot. To the glare of the sun falling over the hot paving stones. To Marina’s voice calling out to me in front of everyone.
—Hey, Andrés! —she shouted, deliberately raising her voice so the rest could hear her clearly—. Remember when you said you’d drive me home? The car gave me a warning when I arrived this morning. Tomorrow I’ll come by with the tow truck to pick it up.
I’ve always been a terrible actor. This time I tried with all my might.
—Ah, yes, of course, I’d forgotten —I replied, pretending to be distracted—. My head’s somewhere else these days.
It was exactly where it shouldn’t have been: between Marina’s legs, my cock hard ever since I’d seen her arrive that morning in that tight skirt.
My colleagues laughed, making the usual comments about the end of the shift and the beginning of a few days off. Marina walked toward my car with the naturalness of someone taking advantage of a favor between coworkers. I followed behind, swallowing hard, still not daring to look her in the face.
That week had been torture. We’d spent seven days holding back, pretending to be cordial in front of the coffee machine, writing endless emails about budgets when all we wanted was to close the office door, tear each other’s clothes off, and fuck until we passed out. My apartment was being renovated—a burst pipe had turned the living room into a shallow swimming pool—and I was sleeping on a friend’s sofa. Marina’s husband was at home. So was her daughter. The office was the only place where we crossed paths, and the office was full of watchful eyes.
—Find an alley, an empty lot, whatever you can think of —she murmured as soon as I closed the car door—. I can’t, and I don’t want to, go home like this. My pussy’s been soaked since breakfast, Andrés. I need you to fuck me NOW.
While I started the engine, she fastened her seat belt with one hand and unbuttoned her pants with the other. We had barely left the company grounds when she slid her hand beneath the fabric, slipped her fingers inside her panties, and let out a long moan as she touched herself. She rested the back of her head against the headrest and closed her eyes, moving her fingers in slow circles over her clitoris.
—If you pull up beside a truck, let me know —she said, her breathing already ragged—. I don’t want to put on a show. Although the thought of a trucker seeing me fingering myself gets me incredibly turned on.
It was Sunday afternoon. Almost summer, the sun going down, the air sticky. The main road was deserted. We left the city within minutes. I drove with one hand on the wheel and the other clenched against my thigh, glancing over to watch hers moving beneath the denim, her knuckles showing, the way she bit her lower lip. My pants felt ready to burst. I lowered the zipper just enough to relieve the pressure without anything being visible from outside. My cock slipped out of my underwear and stood stiff against the steering wheel. Marina opened her eyes, looked at it sidelong, licked her lips, and, without taking her hand out of her pants, murmured:
—That’s some cock you’ve got there. If you don’t stop soon, I’ll suck it right here, even if a truck kills us.
I needed to stop urgently.
The island is full of little agricultural tracks that wind between the fields and end at a metal fence. A few minutes later I turned onto one of them. Packed earth, dry-stone walls, the smell of manure mixed with freshly cut grass. I parked close to the fence and switched off the engine. The lights went out too. The moon was still low, but it gave us enough light to see each other.
We got out almost at the same time, both of us as if our own voices were burning inside us. We met in front of the hood. Quick, dry kisses, with teeth and tongues, biting each other’s lips. I slipped one hand beneath her blouse and squeezed a breast over her bra. She grabbed my cock through my pants and squeezed it angrily, leaving the imprint of every finger. Groping through our clothes, growls, panting. I yanked my shirt off and threw it to the ground. She unfastened her bra and let it fall onto the fender; her breasts were left bare, white against the tanned skin of her neck, her nipples so hard they seemed to be screaming to be sucked. I bent down and took one into my mouth, biting it carefully, pulling it with my teeth while pinching the other. Marina let out a hoarse moan and grabbed my hair, pushing me against her chest.
—Yes, bite them, like that, harder —she panted.
Our pants reached our ankles almost simultaneously. Our underwear got caught in the same knot of crumpled fabric. I ripped off her panties in one tug without stopping sucking her breasts. I moved my mouth down her belly, knelt on the dirt, and opened her legs with my hands. Her pussy gleamed in the moonlight, soaked and swollen. I ran my tongue up and down, from side to side, tasting all that wetness that had been fermenting since breakfast. Marina threw her head back and drove her nails into my scalp.
—Oh, you son of a bitch, you’re so good at that. Don’t stop.
I sucked her clitoris hungrily, wrapping my lips around it, tugging at it, then sweeping my broad, flat tongue over her entire slit. I pushed two fingers inside her and curled them, searching for the spot she’d taught me to find. Marina began moving against my face, fucking my mouth, rubbing herself against me shamelessly.
—Stop, stop, I’m going to come, and I want your cock inside me —she panted, pulling me upward by the hair.
I stood up with my chin dripping with her wetness. She grabbed my cock and jerked me off several times, squeezing hard and looking me in the eyes, before turning around. She placed her hands on the hood, arched her back, and spread her legs as far as the pants tangled around her ankles allowed.
—Put it in me. Now. All of it. All at once.
I penetrated her with one thrust of my hips, all the way to the hilt. She let out a short, guttural cry, but I met no resistance. The arousal that had built up all afternoon, the licking I’d given her, the stimulation she’d been giving herself in the car—all of it had worked in our favor. Entering her was like arriving at a warm house in the middle of winter, with the smell of a burning firewood. Her pussy squeezed me with every thrust, slippery and burning.
I grabbed her by the hips and started fucking her hard, without pausing, listening to the wet slapping between us and the blunt impact of my lower belly against her ass with every thrust. I slapped her right buttock, leaving the red imprint of my hand. Marina growled and asked for more.
—Harder, you bastard, wreck my pussy, I’ve been waiting a whole week for this.
I grabbed her hair, pulled her head back, and kept thrusting into her faster and faster, watching her breasts bounce beneath her, watching her whole back move with every blow. Blood pounded in my ears, and the cooling engine was the only thing breaking the silence of the countryside, mingling with the obscene sound of our flesh colliding and the moans Marina no longer bothered to hold back.
Marina immediately understood that the fun wasn’t going to last long. She slid one hand underneath, slipped her fingers between her legs, and began rubbing her clitoris in time with my thrusts. I sensed it more than I saw it: the change in her breathing, the tighter, almost bitten-off moans, the way her pussy began squeezing me in waves.
—I’m coming, I’m coming, don’t stop, don’t stop.
I held out as long as I could. I clung to her hips as if I were about to fall and thrust one last time with everything I had, burying myself in her to the root. I felt myself falling apart inside her, jet after jet, emptying myself completely into her pussy. Still panting, I felt the contractions of her sex squeezing and milking my cock dry. Her arousal was as intense as mine, and she hadn’t needed much to reach the edge. She stayed bent over the hood, her back rising and falling, and when I pulled out, I felt a thick strand of semen slide down the inside of her thigh. Our bodies slowly separated, dizzy, afraid of losing our balance.
I leaned against the hood, still warm, looking at the sky. The smell of the summer countryside suddenly filled my lungs, mingling with the scent of sex rising from both of us. It occurred to me then that, since we’d turned onto that track, we hadn’t exchanged any words beyond the necessary ones and the filthy things we’d said while fucking.
It had been dirty, quick, almost animal. We hadn’t enjoyed ourselves in the calm sense of the word. But it was exactly what we both needed. A whole week of pent-up arousal discharged in five minutes against a rusty metal fence.
Marina took a packet of wet wipes from her purse and handed me one without saying anything. We cleaned ourselves separately. She crouched down to wipe the semen running between her thighs with two wipes in succession, shaking her head and smiling. We collected our clothes and shoes and wiped the traces of dirt from the hood. We returned to the car in absolute silence.
***
Her phone rang when we were already turning onto the main road back to the city.
—Yes, darling, don’t worry —she said in that sweet voice she used only for him—. The afternoon got really complicated. Yes, I’m already on my way out. See you in a little while.
She hung up, placed the phone face down on her thigh, and looked out the window. She didn’t look at me.
—Tomorrow I’ll take a taxi and go pick up the car at the office —she added in a neutral voice—. How much longer until you have the apartment ready?
It was more a monologue than a conversation. I answered in monosyllables and drove. I dropped her off in front of her building. She shot out without looking back. I lingered for a few seconds watching her ass as she climbed the steps, still imagining my semen seeping through her panties, then headed for my friend’s house.
When I arrived, he had already gone to bed. I didn’t have dinner. I got into the shower and jerked off spectacularly, trying to calm the arousal I was still carrying. I gripped my cock with a soapy hand and imagined Marina on her knees sucking me, her mouth open, her tongue out, waiting for me to come. I came against the tiles with a moan I had to smother against my shoulder. Then I fell straight asleep, without thinking about anything.
***
The next morning, my phone woke me. It was the renovation contractor. In two days the apartment would be ready: the work finished, the insurance company sending a professional cleaning service. I sketched a victorious smile. I had barely hung up when it rang again.
—Good morning. Did you sleep well? —It was her. Her voice finished waking me up.
—Wonderfully, I was out like a light —I replied—. The contractor just called me. I’ll be back in the apartment in a couple of days.
—Have you had breakfast?
—I don’t even know what time it is —I admitted—. But I’m starving.
—It’s nine. I went to get the car first thing and bought croissants. The girl—and here we both smiled at “the girl,” because the kid was already about to start university—went to her grandparents’ house. I made up some far-fetched excuse to get her to spend the morning helping them run errands. I’m alone until this afternoon. Are you coming?
She didn’t let me answer. She hung up.
Ten seconds later, my phone vibrated. A notification. It was a short video. Marina was wearing a long nightgown, ridiculously childish, with a cartoon character printed across the chest. She slowly lowered the straps, one and then the other, until the fabric gave way and fell to the floor under its own weight. She was completely naked underneath. She aimed the camera downward, spread her pussy with two fingers, and whispered, “Come lick it.” Never had a childish nightgown looked so obscene on a woman’s body.
I brushed my teeth in a hurry. I stumbled down the stairs without even finishing fastening my belt. In less than fifteen minutes I was standing outside her door.
***
She opened the door wearing the nightgown, the same one from the video. It looked freshly rearranged, the straps pulled up crookedly, as if she’d put it back on solely so I could take it off her.
We started kissing in the entryway. She pushed me against the wall, I hiked her nightgown above her hips and slid my hand between her legs: she was still soaked. I pushed two fingers inside her and she moaned against my mouth. The fabric flew aside. Mine followed the same path, garment by garment, leaving a trail between the entrance and the sofa. We didn’t have time to reach the bedroom.
It was a fabulous Monday in June.
As soon as we fell onto the sofa, Marina slid down to the floor between my knees, grabbed my cock with both hands, and took the whole thing into her mouth. She began sucking me slowly, looking up at me, sucking the tip, licking it from top to bottom, leaving a strand of saliva hanging from my chin. With her other hand she pulled my balls out and licked those too, one by one, while continuing to jerk me with her closed fist. I held her hair, moving it away from her face so I could see her properly, and gently pushed her head down until she gagged, then came back up with tearful eyes and a slutty smile.
—Come here —I said, pulling her upward.
I lifted her astride me, and she impaled herself on my cock in one fluid movement, dropping all the way down with a long growl. She began riding me with her hands braced on my chest, her breasts bouncing in front of my face. I took one nipple into my mouth, then the other, and grabbed her ass with both hands to help her rise and fall. She moved in circles, searching for the angle, moaning louder and louder in her own house, with no one to hear her, free in the knowledge that she was alone.
—You make me feel so good, you bastard. You fill me so well.
From the sofa we moved to the floor. I laid her on her back on the rug, lifted her legs onto my shoulders, and fucked her folded in half, all the way to the bottom, watching her face as she bit her lip. I spat on her pussy to lubricate her further and kept thrusting, watching my cock slide in and out, gleaming with her fluids. Marina came screaming, arching her whole body, squeezing me so tightly with her legs that she nearly took my breath away.
From the floor to the rug. From the rug, at some point, to the bedroom. The morning was filled with slow kisses, long caresses, saliva, fingers, and mouths. We made up for all the ones we hadn’t been able to give each other during the entire week. I ate her pussy until she came twice in a row, and she returned the favor by sucking me all the way down her throat, swallowing my entire load without spilling a drop. Marina took a couple of toys and a bottle of lubricant from the bedside table drawer. She asked me to put a vibrator in her pussy while I fucked her ass. It was the first time I’d taken her from behind, slowly, very slowly, with liters of lubricant, until she relaxed and began asking me for more. We ended up drenched in sweat, holding on to each other, laughing like children, with the strange, happy feeling of having made up for lost time.
After midday we went down to the kitchen, hungry. The croissants had been abandoned on the counter, and an orderly army of ants had colonized them in a disciplined column. We threw them straight into the trash, laughing.
We made coffee. I sat in a chair wearing one of her T-shirts three sizes too small, while she climbed onto the counter in a thin robe. At last we talked about real things. The renovation, my apartment, her daughter, our plans for the next few days off. We talked about when and how. We also talked about how far.
This isn’t a story with a happy ending, but it isn’t unhappy either. It’s a confession, one of many. Marina and I stopped pretending a long time ago that it was merely an office fling. And I no longer care who reads these lines. All I care about is returning, sometimes, to that afternoon on the dead-end track, when neither of us exchanged a word and we understood perfectly, without needing to explain ourselves, what the other needed.
