Skip to main content

(18+) Mitchie Milks Mark


Once a month she would wear something sexy beneath her charcoal trouser suit, something only she could know.

She had stopped counting the months since her last date, let alone her last fling. She wondered what had happened to her. She used to take risks. She used to be spontaneous. She was embarrassed that she had traded it all in for a T-shirt bra and a competitive wage. She wanted more than anything to reconnect with herself, and she knew it wouldn’t happen unless she took a risk and made it happen.

Mitchie wanted a break from maturity and Mark was going to provide it. They were colleagues. Mark is a cool gentle man. Mitche is the quiet wild girl.

He would wink at her. She would smile and blow a kiss. Work became fun since the day Mark was posted to her branch.

She knew it... they both wanted that escape from fantasy. Down the hall that connects the back exit door, they stood, staring hard and long. She pressed her back against the door and took him by the tie, pulling him to her, and without a word, they kissed hard and urgently. He wrapped one strong hand around the back of her head, gripping her long hair, and pressed his weight into her.

“We only have five minutes,” she whispered, almost to herself, “before the janitor arrives.” They locked eyes. “You need to fuck me, and you need to do it right now.”

She quickly undid Mark’s belt and zipper, and found him hard, thick and ready. She pulled it out and stroked it as she stroked herself, and then pulled him to her, lifting her leg to his waist. He held Mitchie’s leg around him and felt her wetness as she guided him inside her.

Mark lifted her leg a little higher so she was on tiptoes, and stroked long, satisfying strokes in and out of her. Mitchie could feel his strength, he was essentially lifting her off the ground and pressing her into the door like he was going to fuck her through it.

Her face was turned up at the ceiling, eyes closed, mouths opened, soaking wet and moaning loudly... every single thrust bringing her closer to the finish line...she raced towards orgasm.

Exhausted, they slumped into each other smiling, the sounds of the janitor's whistling sneaked into their ears as their senses rallied.

They pressed their foreheads together and kissed and headed for the back exit door.

Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Fiction | The Tripod Effect

THE TRIPOD EFFECT The Smiths were unable to conceive children and decided to use a surrogate father to start their family. On the day the surrogate father was to arrive, Mr. Smith kissed his wife and said, "I'm off. The man should be here soon" Half an hour later, just by chance a door- to-door baby photographer rang the doorbell, hoping to make a sale.  "Good morning, madam. I've come to...." "Oh, no need to explain. I've been expecting you," Mrs. Smith cut in. "Really?" the photographer asked. "Well, good. I've made a speciality of babies"  "That's what my husband and I had hoped. Please come in and have a seat"  After a moment, she asked, blushing, "Well, where do we start?"  "Leave everything to me. I usually try two in the bathtub, one on the couch and perhaps a couple on the bed. Sometimes the living room floor is fun too; you can really spread out!" "Bathtub, living room floo...
Post a Comment
Read more

Letter To My Son

Dear Son Try to forget that nothing waits in the dark, raise your shoulder high wave off the frea and step into that lane. Won't you rather be gone in there than stay out here playing the coward? Get up now, son everyone falls. #Pengician #SSA http://bit.ly/2haEhoj
Post a Comment
Read more

RIP: Return If Possible (Ode to my High School crush)

She would wink at me from the corner of her eyes. She would dare to slap the tallest in my class if he dares bully me for penning his name in my list of noise makers. She would share her pen  when mine is spent. She would help me take notes when sick I lay in bed. She played my advocate  even when I least deserve it. Her height, though intimidating earned more of my admiration. Her fingers Her palms though long and bold compared to my petite own were my favourite to hold. She was loud and noisy not never made the list. She would speak Igbo and wink 'you dare not write my name' Her drawings, I did when others I snub. JSS 3 to SSS 1 I crushed on this pretty girl But I was too shy to ink that poem. I left without letting you know how much I care. Had no time to appreciate your kind gestures undeserved defense... You were my crush. Augusta, When I found first Facebook you were the first I searched to add... In vain I searched  You were not found. I stalked the walls of our cl...
Post a Comment
Read more