Here’s Exactly What It’s Like To Sleep With Your (Very Hot) Coworker

santiago__cervantes
santiago__cervantes

I knew this might become a sticky situation.

After all, when I walked through the doors of the store to fill out my new hire paperwork, he gave me a look that was equal parts amusement and “I want to fuck you.”

I’d taken a job at a relatively upscale boutique right after college just to make some money; jobs in my field were pretty scarce and this job paid well, plus I liked the clothes and the people I’d interviewed with.

I’d seen him when I came in for my interview. He looked me up and down, eyes traveling from my cute little printed dress to my heels in one warm, wanting sweep. He was cute, tall and well-dressed, a shark of a salesman who charmed dudes and old ladies alike. I figured if I was going to take a full-time retail job, it’d be more fun if there was someone worth flirting with on the sales floor with me.

I caught him staring at my ass in my favorite Citizens as I did go-backs. He caught me watching him change lightbulbs; I could see just enough ab and happy trail when his shirt hiked up as he reached for the socket. We were playing a fun little game that made me eager to clock in every day.

We worked together for a few weeks before anything happened. The crew I worked with was young, cool and always down to get a drink upstairs at the restaurant after we closed for the night. One night, when he was counting down a register and I was straightening the racks, he stopped mid-penny count and looked at me. “Hey, Jillian,” he said. “You wanna get a drink?”

“You mean like now?” I said. I was tired; we’d both worked nine hours, and my makeup was faded and my flats were killing me.


“Um, duh.”

“I’m kind of tired and I look disgusting,” I said, smiling shyly.

“No, you’re hot. Let’s go. A glass of wine will feel great, I promise.” The look in his eyes was nothing short of lurid. A blast of heat whooshed over me and I hoped I wasn’t blushing.

“OK,” I agreed. “Let’s do it. But just one drink!”


“Just one drink.”

We didn’t make it that far. I was in the back room, shrugging into my coat and grabbing my bag, when I felt his hand on my back. He spun me around and kissed me hard, his tongue darting into my mouth and his hands moving up into my hair.

I gasped a little, then stopped him. “Can the cameras see us?” As hot as this was, I kinda needed this job.

“I’ve been working here for like six years. There aren’t any cameras back here.” He kissed me again, deeper and hotter, working on the buttons of my jeans. As an old retail pro, he knew the mechanics of each denim line’s fly. Soon he was yanking them down as I kissed his neck. His breath was heavy in my ear, his hands hot as he sought the easiest entrance to my panties. (Pink, with hearts.) He’d shoved me up against the shelves and we were so close no air could move between us. Under his raw denim jeans I could feel a very hard, very large dick against me. My jeans were around my knees and he’d yanked my panties down with them.

His fingers were rubbing fast, intense circles around my clit, stopping only to dip into the wetness and then start again, playing me into a frenzy.

“You wore those jeans because you knew I liked them, didn’t you? You naughty girl,” he panted. “I can’t stop staring at your ass when you wear them. It’s bad for my sales. You’re so fucking hot, they gotta move you to a different store so I can focus.”

I couldn’t wait any longer. I knew this was technically frowned upon in the workplace, fucking your hot coworker, but I wanted him inside me now. I slid my hands up his shirt, running my nails down his back and whispered, “Fuck me right here.”

“Say it again.”

“Fuck me right here. Now. I want you.”

He spun me around and spread my legs, then shoved all of that length and hardness into me. I tried not to make any noise; the cleaners would be coming in soon and I didn’t want them to come in and get a free peep show. He yanked me back towards him, rough the way I like it, and bit the back of my neck. This made me yelp.

“God damn, Jillian, you’re so tight,” he whispered hotly in my ear. “I knew you had a good pussy the minute you walked in the door.”

He thrusted into me hard and fast – after all, we were on borrowed time now – and kept two fingers on my clit, circling fast, then slow, teasing me until the tension was too much for both of us to handle. The delicious sensation of fucking at work made everything a thousand times hotter and more heightened. “I’m gonna come if you keep touching me like that,” I managed to moan.

“Do it,” he said, and I did, exploding into a million little pieces. He clamped a hand over my mouth, then came right after me, his dick pulsing and throbbing inside me. When we’d finished, pulled up our jeans and surveyed the area for any suspicious clues (condom wrappers are slippery fuckers!), he slapped my ass. “How about that drink now, Miss Paulson?”

The next morning, he came in for his shift with a wink and a coffee for me.

“I scheduled us to close together next Monday,” he whispered to me while I folded tank tops. “Maybe wear a skirt this time.” Thought Catalog Logo Mark

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