Warehouse Heat – The After-Hours Fuckfest

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.

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