you filled my mind today
and you filled my heart
you filled my pants too
i turn up at your workplace, no flowers or chocolates, just a grin on my face. i want to know if you have a stationery cupboard. you giggle and blush, but you lead me there anyway.
inside, i push you roughly against the steel shelving and the foolscap foldering and drop to my knees. i lift your skirt and pull down your already dripping panties and start to kiss your waiting pussy. my tongue laps at you hungrily and your lust grows inside you and your hands grip tighter at the shaky steel scaffolding of our metal and cardboard love nest. paper clips begin to rattle in their boxes, soft, shiny leaf holders quiver in their coloured cases. staples shudder and hole punchers grind as your orgasm rises and your knees tremble in time with the thrusting of your pussy, and the rattling of the loose, grey shelving, as you fuck my face, folder holders and post its fall and flutter around your face mirroring the vivid tingling of your orgasm as you grit your teeth and savour the rushes of your pussy as your whole soul is washed with wave after wave of hot, bursting shudders. you bite your lip hard to stop yourself calling my name, so hard that you leave the only tell-tale sign of our liason, a tiny drop of love red blood on my shaven head.
your workmate doesn’t notice it when he knocks on the door and all he sees when he comes in is me, on all fours, helping you find your contact lens.
i ask you if i can get a stamp for my parking permit. with a giggle and a wink, you tell me, “not a fucking chance.”
A sweet idea
I thought it was a sweet idea at first, a way to reduce the thousands of miles that separated us, a way to bring us closer. You wanted me to promise not to touch myself until you said so, and I did. At first I thought you would just make me wait until the end of that day or maybe into the next, but you really liked the power, enjoyed the feel of my burning desire.
It was a full week before I first begged. You giggled as you shook your head, aroused by how my longing grew stronger each day, thrilled by how easily you could get me erect. You teased me mercilessly, taunting me with pictures of you wearing nearly nothing and calling me day and night, moaning and panting into the mouthpiece, telling me what you were doing to yourself, letting me hear you come, knowing exactly how wild you were driving me and loving every tantalising second of it.
Eventually you told me how long you intended to keep me waiting, saying something about a birthday treat. I grinned from ear to ear, my birthday was only days away. “Not your birthday, silly,” you giggled wickedly, “mine.”
The virgin (part one)
they became friends when he moved in next door. she was a bit of a pacifist and was not the type to fall for an ex soldier. he had left the army after three tours of afghanistan. he was beautiful physically, had a finely tuned body and apart from the scar on his face was about one of the most handsome men she had ever met. he was unemployed, the government, it seems was less keen to help those that had fought for their country than it was to help violent offenders leaving jail.
they would sit and chat on her stoop, and over the weeks and months that they got to know each other she grew to realise that he was not like a soldier as she had imagined soldiers to be. he had a gentleness to him as well as a toughness. he told her how, as a teenager, he had wanted to serve his country and had perhaps been idealistic in this. he told her stories of such bravery and self sacrifice, stories of comradery and of men weeping openly at the loss of each other. he kept his medals in a box in a drawer and when she asked why he didn’t display them openly, he looked at her in such a way that told her she hadn’t understood the horrors of war. he got up and made her another cup of tea. she could’ve cried.
when he told her that he was still a virgin, she almost squealed, and inside she did. time and circumstance had contrived against him he told her, it wasn’t like he hadn’t wanted that, but he had reached the age of twenty-five and still hadn’t known a woman.”wasn’t gonna just fuck some whore for the sake of it” he told her, one day he would meet the right woman.
she melted, worse, she became obsessed with him and the idea that he was a virgin, barely aware of how much she had fallen in love. she spends her time folding sheets and washing her kids’ clothes, imagining how she could show him, how she could teach him how to be good to a woman.