What I Discovered About the Mature Engineer One Night

I got my first formal job as a secretary at a large construction company thanks to a contact of my mother’s. It was my first real job, and since I was the last one to join the team, I was also the one least able to complain. My job was to organize the files, close out the day’s spreadsheets, and leave everything ready for the next morning. That’s why I almost always stayed late, long after everyone else had gone home.

The other person who never left early was Esteban, the engineer in charge of the entire office. He was around fifty, with graying hair and big hands that moved with a calm that made me nervous for reasons I couldn’t understand. He stayed behind to review the reports I would then have to file, and little by little those dead hours became ours.

We talked about everything. He told me about his tired marriage, the routine at home, the things he no longer said to his wife. I listened to him leaning against the edge of his desk, and he asked about me with an attention no guy my age had ever given me.

“Don’t you get bored staying here with me, Renata?” he said one of those nights.

“Not at all,” I answered, and it was true.

We started going out for coffee when we closed up. Then it was a quick sandwich at the corner bar, almost at dawn. Nothing ever happened that we could talk about, but there was something in the way he held my gaze a second too long that left me thinking about him all the way home.

I shouldn’t be thinking about my boss like this.

I kept repeating that to myself, and the next day I still chose the tightest skirt and the tiniest panties, the ones I knew would show under the fabric. At night I touched myself thinking about him, with two fingers sunk into my wet cunt, imagining they were his.

***

One night I thought he had already left. The lights in the back were off and his door was half open. I walked to his office to leave a folder on the desk and pushed the door open without thinking.

Esteban was there, reclined in his chair, with his pants open and his cock out, thick and hard, gripped in his right hand. He was stroking it slowly, squeezing from the base to the head, eyes closed and mouth slightly open. He hadn’t heard me. I froze in the doorway, unable to step in or back out, holding my breath.

I looked longer than I should have. The desk lamp cast light across his chest and left the rest in shadow, but I could see his dick perfectly, shining at the tip, bigger than I had ever imagined in my lonely nights in bed. I pressed the folder against my tits and felt my panties getting wet, felt my nipples hardening under my blouse. I bit my lip so I wouldn’t gasp. I made no sound. When I saw him tense and come in his own hand, with a barely contained groan, I backed away silently and left before he opened his eyes.

That image didn’t leave me all week. I replayed it in my head at night, on the bus, in the shower, with my hand between my legs. I imagined what would have happened if instead of leaving I had taken a step forward and put it in my mouth right there.

***

So I decided to tease him. Not with words yet; I still didn’t dare do that. I started wearing tighter pants, leaning a little more than necessary when I handed him papers so he’d get a view down my blouse to my bra, making excuses to brush his shoulder when I explained something on the screen. And I watched him swallow, watched him stop reading halfway through a sentence, watched him shift in his chair and adjust himself discreetly between his legs.

“You’ve been different lately,” he said one afternoon, without quite looking at me.

“Different how?” I asked, pretending to be innocent.

During those days I learned how to read him. I knew when he stopped pretending to check a blueprint just to follow my ass with his eyes as I crossed the office. I knew he cleared his throat before speaking to me when he was nervous, that he gripped his pencil when I bent over his desk and showed him my tits without really meaning to. Every gesture of his was a confirmation, and I collected those confirmations like someone gathering proof of something she still didn’t dare name.

I liked that tension more than I was willing to admit. The slow way it built, day by day, one look at a time. It wasn’t the clumsy urgency of the boys I’d known before. It was something patient, contained, like a rope tightening little by little until you know it’s going to snap any moment.

He didn’t answer me. But that night, when I passed by his office again, I found him just like the first time, with his cock in his hand and his eyes closed.

This time I didn’t leave.

I walked in slowly. He opened his eyes wide and went rigid, mortified, trying clumsily to cover himself, red all the way to his ears. He started stammering an apology.

“Don’t say anything,” I murmured.

I locked the door and knelt in front of him before he could react. I moved his hand away and took his cock in my hand, feeling for the first time the weight and heat of him in my fist. I licked it first from base to tip, flat of my tongue, and he let out a sharp breath as if he’d been holding it for months. Then I took it all the way into my mouth, as much as I could, until I felt it hit the back of my throat.

“Jesus…” he said quietly, gripping the armrest. “It’s been years since anyone did this to me.”

Those words made me even hotter. Knowing I was the one giving him something he didn’t have at home gave me a confidence I’d never known. I sucked him slowly, paying attention to every sound that slipped out of him, going up and down with my mouth tight around him, my tongue working his head, my hand taking care of what wouldn’t fit. I sucked his balls too, one at a time, while still stroking him, and he let out a hoarse groan that made my thighs clench.

“Renata... wait... like that I won’t last,” he panted, his cock shining with my spit.

He gently pulled me away, almost afraid of breaking the moment. He stood up, lifted me off the floor, and kissed me for the first time. It was a long, hungry kiss, with his tongue deep inside, the kiss of someone who had been holding back for far too long. He pulled my blouse off with impatient fingers and ripped my bra away in one tug. He bent down and sucked my tits one at a time, biting my nipples until I moaned, while I loosened his tie and unbuttoned his shirt without taking my eyes off him.

***

He sat me on the edge of the meeting table, the same one where every morning we signed spreadsheets like nothing was happening. He yanked down my pants and panties in one motion, spread my legs, and knelt this time, with a devotion none of the clumsy boys my age had ever had. He looked at my cunt first, soaked and open for him, and took a deep breath before burying his face there.

He licked me all over, from bottom to top, with a broad, slow tongue, and then focused on my clit, sucking it like a piece of candy, barely biting. He slid two thick fingers inside me at the same time and curled them, searching for that spot even I didn’t know how to find. He knew exactly where and how, and I had to bite my hand so I wouldn’t scream in an empty office.

“Don’t stop,” I whispered. “Please, don’t stop. Keep sucking me there, don’t stop.”

He didn’t stop. He held my hips with those big hands that had distracted me so much, his tongue working me without rest and his fingers going in and out, reading every reaction of mine. I felt my control slipping away, my whole body tightening, my legs closing on their own around his head, until I couldn’t take it anymore and came in his mouth with a long shudder, soaking his beard, one hand tangled in his graying hair and the other squeezing a breast.

“That’s what I wanted,” he said, standing up, his voice rough and his lips shining with me. “For weeks I’ve wanted to see you like this.”

***

He turned me over on the table with a firmness I didn’t know he had at work. There, where the man was all manners and measured words, now there was something else, something quiet and determined. He pressed my tits against the cold wood, spread my legs with a gentle kick, and gripped my waist. I felt the tip of his cock at the entrance of my cunt and held my breath.

He entered slowly, pushing little by little, opening me centimeter by centimeter, giving me time, attentive to my breathing before he really moved. He was thick; I felt him filling me completely, and when he had him in all the way he stayed still for a second, breathing against the back of my neck.

“Are you okay?” he asked in my ear.

“Yes,” I said. “Fuck me. Don’t stop now.”

He didn’t. He started moving, pulling almost all the way out and then plunging back in to the balls, with a patience that drove me crazy, without hurry, like someone who knows he has the whole night and doesn’t need to prove anything. The office was silent except for our breathing, the wet sound of his cock sliding in and out of my soaked cunt, and the dull slap of his hips against my ass. I clung to the edge of the table and threw my head back, feeling him in every nerve ending.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he murmured against my neck, squeezing one breast with his hand and digging the fingers of the other into my hip. “All day thinking about fucking you like this.”

“Me too,” I confessed. “All week thinking about your cock.”

He sped up a little, and I started moaning, unable to keep quiet. He tugged gently on my hair, forced me to arch my back, gave me a slap on the ass that left his handprint there and made me clench around him. He pulled out suddenly, turned me over again, lifted me in his arms, and carried me to the window where the city lights could be seen. He pressed me against the cold glass, spread my legs around his waist, and shoved into me again in one thrust, hanging off him there.

The difference in temperature, his hot body in front and the icy glass against my back and tits, made me tremble in a new way. He fucked me like that, standing, driving into me against the glass, while outside the city stayed awake, oblivious to us. That feeling of doing something no one was supposed to see made everything even more intense.

“Look closely,” he said, never stopping his thrusts. “Down there people are crossing the street and nobody knows I’m fucking you.”

And he was right. That idea, that we were a secret suspended on a vacant floor above the whole city while he split me open against a window, took me to the edge once more. I came screaming in his ear, digging my nails into his back, squeezing his cock inside me with my whole cunt.

***

We went back to the table. This time it was slower, almost tender, as if both of us wanted it to last. He laid me on my back, spread my legs wide, and slid into me slowly again, looking into my eyes the whole time. I held his face, kissed him, licked his mouth still tasting like me. He moved inside me with long, deep thrusts, never taking his eyes off me, and that, that complete attention, was stronger than anything else. He wasn’t some boy in a rush to finish. He was a man who knew how to fuck me while looking me in the eye.

“Tell me this doesn’t end tonight,” he asked, with a vulnerability that broke me apart, never stopping his thrusts into me.

“It doesn’t end,” I promised, even though neither of us knew whether that was true. “Let’s come together now.”

When I felt I was about to go, I wrapped my legs around his waist and asked him to fill me. He sped up, buried his face in my neck, and let out a deep sound that raised goosebumps all over my skin. I felt his cock pulsing inside me, his hot load flooding my cunt in long streams, and I came with him, clutching his back, my heart pounding as if it were going to burst out of my chest and semen running down my thighs onto the table.

We stayed still for a long while, catching our breath, still embracing over that meeting table, with him still inside me. The city kept shining beyond the glass.

***

We dressed in silence, not quite knowing what to say. He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear with a tenderness that didn’t fit what we had just done. I could still feel his cum between my legs, wetting my clean panties.

“Tomorrow we’ve got a meeting at nine on this table,” he said, and smiled for the first time all night.

“I know,” I replied. “It’s going to be hard to concentrate.”

I went down in the elevator alone, looking at myself in the mirror, my breathing still ragged and my hair tousled. I knew something had changed forever, that I would no longer be able to watch him sign a spreadsheet without remembering the taste of his cock in my mouth or his hands gripping my ass against the glass. And I knew, above all, that I was going to find a way to stay late again.

But that’s another story.