#Deep throat

In the warehouse where I work, they've got security posted at the entrance to keep us from pocketing tools or materials. A few months back, they ditched the usual meathead guards and brought in two women. One's a fiery 28-year-old, all sass and quick wit, and the other, Lisa, is a sultry 50-something with a stare that could melt steel. We started with polite nods, then handshakes, and lately, when I shake Lisa's hand, her fingers linger - brushing, teasing. I thought I was imagining it, but every time, it's like she's tracing dirty promises on my skin. I decided to test the waters. One morning, I swung by with a coffee and a cinnamon roll for her. She asked what she owed me, and I smirked, "Not a damn thing." She grinned, and that was the spark. This warehouse is a dead zone. Ground floor's got a handful of grunts, the second level's just storage and me brooding solo, but the top five floors? Nothing but dust, shadows, and zero cameras - a playground for trouble. After that coffee, Lisa and I got chattier - traded smirks, let our eyes linger. Two days ago, I bitched about the cold snapping at my bones. She shivered and agreed, and I threw out, "Weather like this makes me wanna fuck someone senseless under a blanket." She laughed, husky and low, and said, "Yeah - upstairs'd be perfect for that. Warmer, too." We chuckled, but the tension was thick. Today, with the chill still clawing at us, I went for it. "If this cold keeps up, " I told her, "I'm grabbing us some whiskey shots to take upstairs after everyone's gone. Warm us up right." Her lips curled, and she purred, "Fuck yeah, I'm in." I lied to my girlfriend about a late-night inventory count and stuck around. Once the place emptied out, I hit the liquor store, snagged a bottle of Jack and some beers, and rolled back. Lisa was at her post, and I dangled the bottle. "Here's the heat - you good locking up so we can climb? " "Hell yes, " she said. "No one's sniffing around, and my boss doesn't check till midnight." "Sweet - let's move." I carried the booze; she grabbed the beers. I let her go first up the stairs, and fuck, those tight leggings hugged her ass like a second skin. Every step, she swayed harder, knowing my eyes were glued to her - my dick already twitching. Two floors up, it was dark, the upper levels a blackout maze. We dropped onto some crates, cracked the beers, and shot the shit. Then she leaned in, voice dripping, "This cold's begging for some nasty, sweaty fucking to heat things up." I grinned, "Shit, I'd pound you all night, but I've gotta drag my ass home eventually." She locked eyes, wicked. "We've got time - let's fuck the cold out of our systems, then you can run." She laughed, but I growled, "You serious? " She nodded, biting her lip. "Take me to your spot - now." She led me to a corner with a ratty mattress she kept for crashing. She turned, smirking, "What's it gonna be - you just gonna stand there, or you wanna wreck me? " I grabbed her, slammed my mouth on hers, tongue diving deep. She moaned, clawing at me, and I gripped her ass - firm, juicy, begging to be owned. I squeezed hard, grinding against her. She broke free, dropped to her knees, and yanked my jeans down. My cock sprang out, rock-hard, and she didn't waste a second - wrapped her lips around it and sucked like a pro. Her tongue swirled, flicking the tip, then slid down, taking me deep till I hit the back of her throat. I groaned, fisting her hair, fucking her mouth while she gagged and slurped, spit dripping down her chin. I couldn't take it - hauled her up, spun her around, and shoved her against the wall. I ripped her leggings down, exposing that perfect ass, and spread her wide. She was soaked, dripping, and I licked her from behind - tongue plunging into her pussy, lapping up every bit of her. She squirmed, cursing, "Fuck, don't stop! " I sucked her clit hard, then stood, lined up, and rammed into her, balls-deep. She screamed, and I pounded her relentlessly, slapping her ass red, her tits bouncing free as I tore her shirt up. We collapsed on the mattress, panting, but she wasn't done. She climbed over me, shoved her pussy in my face, and I went to town - licking, sucking, tongue-fucking her while she leaned down and sucked my cock again. We locked into a filthy 69, her grinding on my mouth, me thrusting up into hers, till we both exploded - her squirting on my face, me unloading down her throat. I flipped her onto her back, spread her legs, and fucked her again - slower this time, but deep, grinding into her while she clawed my back. She begged for more, so I pulled out, flipped her over, and took her from behind, slamming into her till the mattress creaked. She came again, shaking, and I finished hard, collapsing on her. We lay there, wrecked, till she straddled me one last time, riding me slow and dirty, her tits in my face. I sucked them raw, biting her nipples, and she ground down till we both lost it again - a sticky, sweaty mess. I dressed, kissed her sloppy, and said I had to jet. Downstairs, I scrubbed the smell of her off in the bathroom sink. Got home, and my girlfriend was horny as hell - clueless. I fucked her too, still buzzing from Lisa, and crashed, spent. What a fucking night.

On Fridays, my dad always hosted a get-together with his buddies. They'd lock themselves in the basement den, cracking open beers and laughing over card games, while my stepmom headed out with her girlfriends for cocktails. My stepsister and I usually ended up at college parties or grabbing late-night burgers with friends. I'd met both my parents' crews plenty of times, and I couldn't deny the heat that flared up whenever I saw Mark, my dad's closest friend. He was older, ruggedly handsome, with broad shoulders that screamed gym hours and a trimmed beard that framed his jaw just right. I'd fantasize about him scooping me up in those strong arms. He always smelled like cedar and spice, and I didn't care if he caught me staring. Whenever I greeted him, I'd tilt my head just enough to brush the corner of his lips with mine, and he'd play along, pulling me in by the waist until I was pressed against him. It happened every time, like our little unspoken game. That Friday, I decided to skip the usual plans. I was restless, buzzing with energy I couldn't shake, so I took a steamy shower and slipped into a lacy red bra and panties set. I snapped a few mirror pics - damn, I looked good - and didn't want it to go to waste. Voices drifted up from downstairs; Dad's friends had arrived. I threw on some tight leggings and a cropped tank top, then sauntered down to say hi. I worked the room, flashing smiles at everyone, until I spotted Mark off to the side. He was in dark jeans and a gray Henley, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, top button undone. My pulse kicked up a notch as I made a beeline for him. "Hey, Mark, " I said, leaning in. His eyes raked over me, and I went for it - a quick, bold peck right on his lips. It was so fast no one noticed, but it threw him off for a split second. Then he recovered, gripping my hips and pulling me into a "hug." His breath was hot against my ear as he murmured, "You're looking way too good tonight." I was already soaked, but before I could respond, Dad called out, herding the guys toward the den. I couldn't let it end there. I bolted upstairs, peeling off my clothes until I was down to the lace. I teased myself through the fabric, but it wasn't enough - I wanted him. He'd given me a sign, right? So I propped myself on the bed, legs spread in front of my full-length mirror, slid the panties aside, and snapped a photo. No hesitation - I sent it to Mark with a caption: "Waiting for you up here." Less than five minutes later, my door creaked open. Mark slipped inside, leaning back against it, just staring. I'd ditched the bra by then, lounging in nothing but a sheer robe, legs parted, fingers circling my chest. He tipped his head back, eyes shut, like he was fighting himself. Pointless. I stood and closed the distance. He didn't move as I pressed my lips to his neck, trailing kisses along his collarbone while I popped the buttons on his shirt. His breathing hitched, but he stayed still. I worked lower, tasting the hard planes of his stomach, then dropped to my knees and tugged at his jeans. His boxers strained against him - thick, tempting. I freed him, licking my lips. He was big, pulsing, already slick at the tip. I took him in my mouth, and his hand tangled in my hair, guiding me. He tasted salty and perfect, and I went all in, tears stinging my eyes as I took him deeper, spit dripping down my chin. He gripped my head with both hands now, thrusting hard but keeping his groans low. I slid a hand between my thighs, rubbing myself, but before I could get far, he yanked me up, spun me around, and pinned my face and chest to the door. One hand locked my wrists behind my back. "You have no idea how long I've wanted you like this, you little tease, " he growled, landing a sharp smack on my ass. I gasped, heat flooding me. He kissed my ear, my neck, working his way down until he was nipping at my cheeks, spreading kisses and bites across my skin. "Goddamn, this ass, " he muttered, delivering another smack before letting my hands go. I braced them on the door, arching back as he parted me and dove in. His tongue was wet and relentless, flicking over me like he'd done this a thousand times. Between licks and slaps, I was unraveling, and then I turned around, shoving his face where I needed it most. He didn't hesitate, devouring me as I gripped his hair. "Faster, please, faster, " I panted, rocking against his mouth. A second later, I shattered, trembling as he licked me clean. Then he scooped me up and carried me to the bed. He hovered over me, attacking my chest - sucking hard, biting my nipples until I was squirming. "I've gotten off thinking about these so many times, " he said, slapping one while he latched onto the other. "They're all yours, " I moaned. "Didn't know you were such a dirty girl, " he teased. I proved it, climbing on top of him, lining him up, and sinking down slow. I threw my head back at the stretch - so thick, so good. Once he was in, I rode him fast, and he grabbed my hips, slamming me down harder. Smacks and thrusts blurred together, pushing me to the edge, when his phone buzzed. It was Dad. He'd been gone too long for a "bathroom break." Without missing a beat, he answered, flipping me onto my back and clapping a hand over my mouth. "Yeah, got a work call, heading out soon, " he said, pounding into me. "Be there in a sec, man." The thrill of Dad waiting downstairs, oblivious, sent me over - I came hard, clenching around him. He hung up, tossed the phone, and rasped, "I'm gonna cum." "Inside, " I begged. "Fill me up." That did it - he groaned, unloading deep, and I felt it spill out, warm and messy. Then he kissed me, our first real one, all teeth and heat, the best I'd ever had. "See you next Friday, trouble, " he said, giving my sensitive skin a playful smack that made me jump. He dressed quick, stealing one more kiss before slipping out.