Warehouse Nights And Happy Days – Part I


I leaned against the wall and dropped my pants and boxers to my ankles. My swollen cock jutted out straight and my belly felt weak as I grasped the shaft and began mercilessly pounding it with my fist. In my mind’s eye, I pushed Lacie to her knees and stared into her eyes as she opened wide and took me inside. I seemed to feel her soft, overflowing breasts pressed into my legs as my cock pushed slowly into her throat, and then I imagined she pulled back and grasped my shaft with the same hand she wore her wedding ring on. I had been horny without release for several days, and Lacie’s plump, married, older form had bedeviled me all day. I slowed down a little as I remembered earlier that day. We were the afternoon and evening warehouse shift for a large jewelry and household goods store. Orders would be called over the intercoms and we would rush to the shelves to collect customers’ orders. From five until the store closed at nine, we were rarely interrupted by orders, and in that time we would clean and do inventory, then close down between nine and ten. That afternoon someone had ordered a clock that the store stacked (perhaps not wisely) on a higher shelf, and I had held the ladder for Lacie as she retrieved it. I stood there as her breasts swayed in their lacy restraints before me, nipples visible through the fabric, the plunging neckline of her light T-shirt showing the tanned skin and stretch marks of her chest. I stared into the deep cleavage that seemed to beg me to plant my cock in it and I shook my head as she finally came down with the clock. She smiled. “Enjoy the view?” I blushed and said nothing, and she continued, “Here, take the clock out.” I returned a few minutes later and grabbed the ladder for her as we went to put it away. I was just behind her, closer than I intended, when she came to a stop; I plowed into her, my erect cock pressing hard into her back. She made no effort to pull away, but out of embarrassment I stepped back. She turned and looked at me with a wicked smile and said, “You really miss that old girlfriend of yours, don’t you?” Rani had broken things off two weeks before and I was finally recovering from the break-up: my juices had started running hard and fast again and I was eager to start playing the field, or, as Lacie had joked a week before, to go out for something besides curry and vindaloo. “Well, I miss some things.” Lacie laughed, “Don’t worry, soon you’ll be making some woman’s mouth very happy with that.” She winked and turned away as I blushed. I went to the storage room, hung up the ladder, and walked back to join Lacie in inventorying. We were working through the north half of the warehouse, and a couple of times my right elbow would brush against her left breast as we counted boxes; she would blush but said nothing and I did not press my luck by trying to fondle her intentionally. Nonetheless, she seemed to have her breasts accessible at elbow height each time and my mind was in a daze as my balls turned blue and ached during the last two hours of inventory. Eventually the evening ended and she smiled broadly as she walked out the door. I immediately went to the north wall to drain my lust in private. I soon groaned, and as I envisioned Lacie’s pert, wickedly smiling lips wrapped around the base of my cock, I moaned, “Take it, Lacie, swallow my spooge.” I sprayed at least a dozen thick ropes of cum onto the floor. My balls hurt even more than before, and my cock seemed to swell even more and demanded a repeat performance. “If I weren’t a married woman, I would,” I heard Lacie’s voice say. Close to dying of a heart attack, I looked over to see her standing at the edge of the shelves in the main aisle. She smiled slowly and added, “I own you now, you know. One word what you did and you’re gone. Jerking off to a married woman fifteen years older than you! For shame.” I just stared at her. After a few seconds I found my voice and said, “Please don’t tell.” She smiled in a friendly fashion, “Of course not. You’re the only decent guy I ever worked with in this warehouse. Besides, I’m flattered. It’s not often a young man likes an old bag like me,” she pouted mischievously. “You’re gorgeous.” She blushed finally and said, “Thank you, kind sir, for humoring an old woman.” We laughed and she said, “I’m married, so no touching. But if you’re going to jerk off anyway… I’d like to watch. That’s not cheating now, is it?” I wasn’t sure if it was or not but wasn’t stupid enough to say so. “No, of course not.” She smiled again. “That’s what Rick says whenever I catch him whacking it to porn. So fair’s fair, right?” “Yeah.” She waited expectantly and finally said, “Well, go on.” “You really want to watch?” “Oh yes. I haven’t seen a real life cock besides Rick’s for fifteen years now, and yours is gorgeous. So hard, so long, so full of cum.” I began running my fingers along the length as she stared greedily at me. I stared at her blonde hair cascading down to her shoulders, her bright green eyes, her short, plump body so different from my earlier women, all of whom had been tall, thin, and less busty. She began running her fingers down to the zipper of her jeans. She looked me in the eyes and said, “And as long as I’m going to anyway, why not now?” “Why not indeed?” She unzipped her jeans and let them drop to her ankles. She pulled down her panties and let me see her light brown thicket before dipping her fingers between her thighs. Soon I heard her fingers squishing as they rubbed in a tight circle, and I increased my pace. Soon she was moaning, her face and throat flushed, and she leaned back to spread her thighs and aim her meaty pink lips toward me. As she climaxed, I sprayed another load on the floor and kept stroking. “God, that was incredible. You came almost as much as the first time. And you’re not done yet?” I shook my head and stared at her cunt as she rubbed her button to a sudden sequence of orgasms. Her groans pushed Erenköy escort me over the edge and I groaned as I emptied the last of the tightness in my balls onto the floor. Finally I was able to go limp and walk without limping, and she smiled and said, “Yes, that was good. Nice change for me, someone new.” I nodded and made to move towards her, but she put up her hand and said, “No, I told you, I’m a married woman. Look but don’t touch.” I shrugged and said, “Okay.” She smiled coyly and asked, “Did you ever try to see how many times you could jerk off in one day? One twenty-four hour period?” “Yes.” “And?” “Five.” “Prove it.” “You’ll have to help. Take off your pants. Spread wide for me.” She stripped her pants and panties off her ankles and sat down under a light bulb with her back against the shelves, thighs splayed and hips tilted to open herself fully to my eyes. Her mount was thickly forested, with two somewhat trimmed strips framing her swollen purple lips that gaped slightly to show her pink center. She reached down and began rubbing her clit with two fingers that circled in tandem with my strokes. I had quickly hardened again; I pleasured myself as I watched her as fixedly as any centerfold I had yearned to fuck. “When you tested yourself, what did you do for inspiration?” she asked. “Magazines.” “Soft core? Hard core?” “Pink and spread.” She nodded and asked, “Is this good enough?” “Oh yes, it’s the best.” “You’re sweet. I know I’m too old.” “You’re perfect. I could watch you forever.” “Well, you won’t, so get an eyeful now.” She reached around from behind and spread her lips with her other hand, then inserted two fingers and fucked herself fast. I sped up to match her and started the climb to the top as her neck and face flushed again and she cried out. I groaned and climaxed a few seconds after she started and finished a few seconds before she did. She lay back exhausted and said, “I haven’t done that in so long…” “I’ve never seen that…” She smiled sadly, “I guess you’re drained now. You’ve had enough of my saggy old body, right?” In response I started stroking myself again and soon was hard again. I stared her in the eyes as I pounded hard and soon finished all over my hand and dribbled onto the floor. “You matched your record…” “Babe, I’m not done yet.” I sat down facing her and focused on the sight of her pussy as I somehow made myself hard again. I focused on her pussy as hard as I had ever stared at any spreadeagled centerfold during my days of teenage bedroom target practice and pounded myself like a blacksmith. After three minutes I brought myself to a last climax that was more painful than pleasurable and yielded only two spurts and a few dribbles. As I caught my breath, she stood up and dressed. When I zipped up, she looked at me sadly. “You made a big mess, young man.” I nodded and said, “I’ll get this cleaned up.” “You do that. I make enough messes of my own; I’m not cleaning yours, too.” I grabbed the mop and pail as she went to her locker. I was quickly done and stowed them again as she was walking towards the loading dock. She held up a bundle of papers. “Paperwork. Forgot it. I wondered where you’d gotten to, and I certainly found out, didn’t I?” I walked with her and she didn’t look at me again until we reached the door. She paused pensively and finally held out her hand. Following her lead, I shook her hand. “I shouldn’t have done that,” she said. “We shouldn’t continue. And if you tell anyone about it, I will make your life pure hell.” I nodded. She continued looking me in the eyes and seemed at a loss for words. Finally she added, “It was good. I haven’t seen another man for fifteen years now. It was worth it. But that’s it, understand?” “Yes, of course.” She suddenly warmed to me. “Did you like it?” “That was the hottest time ever.” She seemed on the edge of saying something else, but closed her mouth and smiled happily. Then she said, “I’m so old. I used to be the hottest girl in school. Now… no-one notices me unless I let my tits hang out, and not even then. I just feel so unsexy now. Thank you. It made me very happy. It’ll be a fond memory.” She released my hand and walked out the door. Before closing it, she smiled, blew me a kiss, and waved at me with her fingers. I made a quick round of the warehouse and saw everything was by the book. As I walked, I pondered what had happened. The sex had been incredible—it was the hottest I had ever had. She was incredibly appealing; if she had been single, I would have pursued her without hesitation. The age difference didn’t matter at all, but a married woman? That scared me. And yet… I wanted her any way I could get her and every way I could think of, even with the serious risks of beatings by an outraged husband, scandal, unemployment, and the corrosive effects of secrecy and fear. They all seemed worth it for the chance of coupling with her. I wanted to use her body mercilessly and have her use mine in any way she wanted, in any place, at any time, and under any conditions she set, and I began to harden again even after our whack fest. I shook my head and decided to sleep on it. No doubt self-respect and self-preservation would reassert themselves in the light of day… and, in any case, I had a lifetime of masturbatory material in my mind’s eye now. I went home and took a quick shower and turned in. I fell asleep quickly but woke up in the small hours of the morning from a dream in which Lacie had taken me intside her. I woke up just as she climaxed and found my rock-hard cock right on the edge. I gave myself half a dozen strokes and spewed a small load that left me unsatisfied. Unable to sleep, I summoned up her body again and realized I was ready for another go. I went at it quickly and finally slept after getting off. It had been the most draining Friday night of my life, so I slept late the next day, finally dragging içerenköy escort bayan myself out of bed about ten. I was at work at the regular time, one in the afternoon, and was clocking in as Lacie came in. She smiled at me and greeted me as she always had. There was no trace of embarrassment about her but no extra warmth. I played it cool and responded as usual, and for the first three hours we did our jobs as usual. When it was time for my break, she smiled and asked, “Would you like to stay here for your break? Just chat while you eat?” I smiled and said, “Sure.” I clocked out for break and took my sandwiches to the north side of the warehouse. She stood at the intersection of the north aisle and the main aisle to keep an ear out for orders as I sat on a rickety chair against the north wall and ate. She made no reference to the night before; I sensed it was best to follow her lead. She asked me innocent questions about myself and built up a picture of my background and my interests while sharing occasional bits of information about herself. While we had been work buddies almost since my first day, we hadn’t talked much about anything beyond the problems of the moment. So, much of what we said, was new to us. At one point I said, “Lacie, I’m curious. You have a college degree, your husband’s an executive of some kind, why are you working in the warehouse?” “Don’t forget, I have a BA in English literature. I was lucky to get a job here at the jewelry counter. But every college girl with a BA in English literature wants to work at the jewelry counter, and my co-workers were better brown-nosers and all got advanced ahead of me and then married themselves off. After a year and a half, this job opened up, and it paid more. Of course, at first they didn’t like the idea of a college girl moving boxes, but I showed them. “I like it here, and I was advanced very quickly. I’d never trade now, even if they asked me to be the head of jewelry. What about you, college boy? Any luck in the job market with that BA in history?” “You know it, it got me a job in the best warehouse in town!” We laughed and chatted about college. When my break ended, I clocked in and she clocked out, and she got her lunchbox and went to the same chair. She sat down and we continued chatting, this time mostly about her. I restricted myself to innocent questions, never going beyond topics she had asked me, and she seemed to thaw even more as the hour went on. The rest of the day we worked amicably, chatting and telling stories, and took our coffee breaks separately for appearance’s sake. While I felt a constant undercurrent of desire for her, it was well within the bounds of comfort. Towards six we started the second part of the monthly inventory, and as we counted boxes and recorded them on our sheet she began telling me about her first kiss. She asked me about mine and then we chatted about her first boyfriend and my first girlfriend. When the store closed, the usual bunch of employees parked in the rear passed through the warehouse to the loading dock and back door and left. Most of the workers left by the front door. We then locked the doors from the warehouse to the main store and prepared for our own closing. We were now assured of privacy, and as we swept up, mopped, and spot-checked the aisles she asked, “How old were you on your first time?” “Seventeen. You?” “Sixteen. He wasn’t very good. I had to rub off afterwards every time he fucked me. I hope your first time was better.” “I think she came. She said she did. I lasted ten minutes. I was very proud of myself.” She laughed. “Yes, that is good for a first time.” “Well, she’d jerked me off twice before she let me in, so I didn’t floor the pedal.” She laughed again. “Smart girl.” “Experienced girl. She was a senior.” “When I was a senior, I was our school’s blowjob queen.” “Really? I’ve never…” She frowned sharply. “Never? How many women have you had?” “Seven.” “And not one of them?” “Not one.” “You poor boy. You obviously have shitty taste in women.” We laughed and she said, “So, seven women in… seven years.” “Almost eight.” “I’d had seven men by the time I was eighteen. Oral, probably twelve.” “You must have had a reputation.” “I know how to pick men who know how to keep their mouth shut. You apparently have the same problem with women.” We laughed again and she continued, “My first boyfriend introduced me to it. We were making out in his room and I didn’t want to go all the way yet. We had been jerking each other off for a month by then, and he pulled out a little book with a couple on the cover and opened it to a page and asked if I’d do that. ‘You want me to do that?’” We laughed and she continued, “He was so nervous his face was beet red, but he nodded, so I played with him while I built up my courage, and finally I licked the tip. He groaned and said he loved me, so I licked some more, and by the time I had half of it in my mouth he had promised to marry me forever and came gallons. It was easier just to swallow, and you know, I really liked it once I started. He didn’t grab my head or anything, so I was in full control and it drove him crazy.” She shook her head with a sad smile on her lips and continued, “So much power! It was intoxicaing, feeling every twitch of his column as he responded to everything I was doing, his cock hard in my mouth and the rest of him putty in my hands. I blew him every day after that, sometimes twice, and eventually got him to return the favor. But he didn’t like it very much and never got good at it. Then I gave it up for him and a week later he dumped me for an older girl. Dipshit.” We laughed and she asked, “Do you like returning the favor?” “Oh yes. My second girlfriend taught me. I love feeling a woman come on my face. It’s like you said, you can feel every part of her response.” By this time we had finished most of the cleaning. We put up Escort Tuzla the broom and mop and looked at each other. “I think we need to spot check the north aisle again,” she said. We walked back there and she said, “Since it’s not cheating, I don’t see why I can’t continue.” She faced me and looked at my crotch with a raised eyebrow. I unzipped and pulled off my pants, then stripped off my underwear. “You’re already dripping,” she said. “Even after six times.” “Eight.” She looked puzzled for a second and then laughed. “I guess you do think I’m sexy then.” “Yes, and it hasn’t been twenty-four hours yet.” “How do you want me?” she asked. “Like last night.” She stripped below the waist and lay down, spreadeagled before me, her legs in a diamond. Her pussy was already flushed and gaping and her odor filled the air. She reached down to her matted hairs and started rubbing. “Show me your breasts,” I said. She shook her head. “They’re too flabby. Just imagine them. You’ll be happier.” It was her call, so I returned to staring at her cleft as she stared at my cock. Soon we started gasping. She said, “Show me your cum,” and I stopped holding back and spewed a respectable load onto the floor. She squealed and fucked hard against her hand. When she’d caught her breath, she smiled at me coyly, “Nine. Can you make it an even ten?” “I don’t know.” “Well, I need to rub off again, and then we’ll call it a night. Tell me a sexy story.” I told her about the first time with my third lover, a thin redhead who loved my cum on her belly. She rubbed quickly and smiled as I finally hardened one last time. With a monumental effort I gave her a small spray of cum, and she finished with a quiet, short orgasm. “Ten for you,” she said, “and I’m done for the night.” “So am I.” “So rest up and be ready for hard work tomorrow.” We cleaned up our spills and she waved goodbye at the door. For the next three days we followed the same pattern of friendliness during work hours and passionate whacking starting about 9:15. We didn’t try for any more records and limited ourselves to twice each, strictly hands-off mutual voyeurismn. Once the lust had been drained, her collegial manner returned. She never showed me any skin above the waist, but every body part below the waist was imprinted on my memory. This continued until Tuesday, the last day of our work week—we had the lax days of the week off, Wednesday and Thursday, which were worked by two part-timers. The day passed quickly and soon enough we were back in our accustomed haunt, finishing twice each in a flurry of fapping and squishing sounds. When we were satiated, we cleaned up and made ready to leave. She turned to me at the door and said, “Don’t play with yourself on your days off. I want to see a massive load Friday night.” She laughed at my frown and waved as she walked out the door. I left a few minutes later and went home to relax. I managed to make it through the next two days without thinking too much of her, and I built up a decent load that I was eager to show her. She smiled at me as usual Friday morning and suddenly the task of pacifying my raging libido was, like my cock, much harder. The day went much more slowly than it had Tuesday, but finally the store closed. Unfortunately, she said, “Have to see the boss man for a few minutes.” I restrained a groan and just nodded with a smile and finished the cleaning in record time. Eventually she came back. I said, “All clean.” “Good,” she replied. I nodded towards the north wall and smiled, and she watched me for many seconds and finally said, “Greg, we need to talk. Not here.” I figured the time had come for my walking papers, so I said, “All right.” “Meet me at Furniss’s Pub in an hour. I’ll be in a booth in the back.” She turned around and quickly walked out the door. I waited a few minutes for her to drive off and then went home. The pub was near my apartment, so I did a very quick wash-up and changed into a dress shirt and khakis—no need to be ungracious, after all. I strolled over to the pub, grabbed a beer, and walked around; as usual, it was not the sort of place many young people went to, but it was still fairly crowded with no one I recognized. When I strolled into the back nook, I saw Lacie at a booth in the back corner. She waved and said, “Greg, fancy seeing you here.” “Hey, boss,” I replied. “Come on over. Care to have a beer with me before I head home?” “Sure, but no shop talk.” “Deal.” I sat down opposite her. She had freshened up with a little make up and was dressed in a light blue cotton dress with flowers that was perfect for a day in the park or a night with friends and clearly not intended for a night of club-hopping and dancing. She looked around and said, “Nobody paid any attention. Good.” The booth behind me was empty and those across the aisle were far enough away we could feel safe in speaking low. They soon left anyway. We each took a sip of beer, and she looked at me closely for a while. Finally she said in a low voice, “You’ve been having fun getting off with an old married woman, haven’t you? All nice, light, no-strings fun, huh?” I grinned. “Yep. Damn straight.” She smiled quickly and continued, “Yeah, it’s been fun. No-strings fun, not even cheating, really. Right?” She took a sip of beer and continued, “Over my break I realized I have been cheating.” I nodded and said, “Most people would say so, yes.” “Well, they’re right.” “I understand. No strings, like you said. I won’t mention it to you again or try anything with you. I’ll treasure the memories.” She frowned at me. “No, clearly you don’t understand.” I groaned inwardly and replied, “All right, I’ll try to transfer to another job in the store. Give me time to look around and I’ll even quit.” She looked at me fixedly for several seconds and replied, “No, you really don’t understand.” She tilted her head a little to the right and leaned in. “All through my break I kept imagining you inside me. I could barely keep my hands off myself. My husband… let’s just say he’s otherwise occupied, and has been for years. We still love each other though. There are reasons we’re together. At first I thought I needed to break it off, before I cheated on him.” She took a drink of beer and swallowed.

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