Sweat, Satin, and the Manager After Hours
See my Post supermarket Sweep for the 1st part of this.
I was eighteen and still new enough at the supermarket that Saturday nights felt like a reward. After the work outing we all piled into a local club. I wore the black long-sleeved dress that hugged every curve, the thin white stripe sitting right across my hips, shiny tights underneath and a pair of satin panties that already felt damp from dancing. The thigh-high boots made my legs look longer than they were. The place was packed, lights low, bodies pressed together. By midnight my skin was slick, hair stuck to my neck, the dress clinging in all the places it already clung.
We ended up at someone’s small flat. People drifted off or passed out in the other rooms until it was just the two of us left in the lounge. He was in his mid-thirties, my manager, the same man who’d already taken me over his office desk once before. His hands found my legs first, sliding up the shiny tights. He kissed me, slow at first, then deeper. When he asked if he could eat my pussy I shook my head. “I’m too sweaty,” I told him. “It’s hot and messy.”
He smiled against my mouth and said he liked that. We went back and forth for a minute—me saying no because I felt self-conscious, him insisting he wanted it exactly like that. Then he just dropped to his knees. He pushed the dress up, ripped the tights open at the crotch, and yanked the satin panties aside. His mouth was on me before I could stop him.
He licked through the wetness and the heat like it was exactly what he’d been waiting for. I came the first time with my fingers in his hair and my thighs shaking around his head. He didn’t stop. He kept sucking and working his tongue until I came again, harder, flooding his face. I could hear people breathing in the next room. The flat was tiny. Every sound felt too loud.
He stood up already rock hard. No talking. He just slid into me in one long push, my pussy still throbbing and soaked. He fucked me hard over the edge of the sofa, one hand on my hip, the other covering my mouth when I started to moan. Every few strokes he kissed me deep so I could taste myself on his tongue—salty, hot, unmistakable. He didn’t pull out. He came inside me while I was still clenching around him, both of us trying to stay quiet with people asleep just the other side of the wall.
Afterwards he fixed my dress as best he could. The ripped tights stayed that way. I sat there for a minute with his cum leaking into the ruined satin, the white stripe of the dress still perfectly in place, my boots still on. Then we both pretended we were just two people who’d had too much to drink and needed to get home.
