The warehouse was one of those places that smelled like old wood and motor oil, the kind of scent that clung to your skin long after you left. I leaned against a stack of crates, arms crossed, watching you argue with the forklift driver over a misplaced shipment. Your voice had that sharp edge, the one that made men either shrink back or stare a little too long. I knew which category I fell into.
You turned, catching me looking, and that smirk of yours curled up slow and dangerous. "You got something to say, Fred?" Your fingers tapped against your thigh, nails painted a dark red that matched the flush creeping up your neck. The heat in here wasn’t just from the broken AC.
"I got plenty," I said, pushing off the crates. "But none of it’s fit for company."
You laughed, low and throaty, and stepped closer. The hem of your skirt rode up just enough to tease, the fabric clinging to your thighs like it was afraid to let go. "Good thing we’re alone then, isn’t it?" Your hand landed on my chest, fingers splaying over my pec before sliding down, down, until your palm pressed against the growing bulge in my jeans. "Fuck, you’re already hard. Did watching me yell at Gary do that to you?"
I groaned, my hips jerking into your touch. "You’ve been doing that to me since you walked in this morning. That blouse—" I tugged at the thin fabric, my knuckles brushing the swell of your tits. "—is practically see-through when you sweat."
"You like that?" You bit your lip, eyes flicking to the warehouse door before you dropped to your knees right there in the aisle. The concrete had to be hell on your knees, but you didn’t seem to care, your fingers working my belt open with practiced ease. "Tell me how much you like it."
My cock sprang free, thick and veiny, the head already glistening. You wrapped your hand around the base, your thumb swiping over the slit before you leaned in, your breath hot against my skin. "Goddamn, Fred. You’re fucking huge." Then your mouth was on me, lips stretched wide as you took me to the back of your throat without hesitation. The wet, sloppy sounds filled the space between the shelves, your free hand cupping my balls, rolling them gently before you pulled back just enough to say, "You taste like sin. I could suck you all day."
I tangled my fingers in your hair, guiding you back down. "Less talking, more sucking." My voice was rough, my hips rocking into your face as you hollowed your cheeks, taking me deeper. Saliva dripped down my shaft, your hand working the base in tight, twisting strokes. The sounds you made—wet, greedy little moans—had my balls drawing up tight. "Fuck, just like that. You’re gonna make me come."
You pulled off with a pop, your lips swollen, eyes dark with hunger. "Not yet." Standing up, you hiked your skirt around your waist, revealing the fact that you weren’t wearing any panties. Your pussy was bare, glistening, already wet for me. "I want you inside me first. Right here. Bent over these crates like a dirty little slut."
I didn’t need to be told twice. Spinning you around, I pressed you against the stacked wood, your tits mashed against the rough surface. My fingers found your cunt, slipping through your folds before plunging inside. You were soaking, your walls clenching around me as I curled my fingers, hitting that spot that made your knees buckle. "You’re dripping, Jan. You love this, don’t you? Love being used in the middle of the warehouse where anyone could walk in."
"Yes," you hissed, pushing back against my hand. "Take me already. I need you."
I lined myself up, the head of my dick notching at your entrance. Then I slammed into you in one rough thrust, burying myself to the hilt. You cried out, your nails scraping against the crates as I set a brutal pace, my hips snapping against your ass, the sound of flesh slapping flesh echoing off the metal beams. "You take me so good," I growled, my hand snaking around to find your clit, rubbing tight circles as I fucked you. "Your pussy’s gripping me like it never wants to let go."
"Harder," you demanded, your voice breathless. "I want to feel you for days."
I obliged, my thrusts turning punishing, the crates rattling with each snap of my hips. Your moans turned to broken whimpers, your body trembling as your orgasm built. "Come for me," I ordered, my fingers working your clit faster. "Come on my cock like the good girl you are."
Your back arched, your pussy clamping down around me as you came with a choked scream, your juices flooding around my dick. The sensation pushed me over the edge. With a groan, I pulled out, my cock jerking in my hand as ropes of cum splattered against your ass, dripping down the backs of your thighs. You reached back, spreading yourself wider, letting the last spurts paint your skin. "Fuck, that’s hot," you murmured, watching over your shoulder as my cum trailed down your leg. I swirled my fingers along your leg, painting cum from knee to thigh. It shined from the one lamp nearby.
I leaned in, my lips brushing your ear. "Next time, I’m gonna fill that tight ass of yours. See how long you can walk straight after."
You shivered, your fingers dipping between your legs to scoop up some of my cum before bringing it to your mouth, licking it off with a slow, deliberate swipe of your tongue. "Promises, promises." Then you straightened your skirt, turning to face me with a smirk. "Now help me clean up before Gary comes back. Wouldn’t want him to slip on something sticky*"