Within a second she is behind me, pressing her body up against my back. Her hands slide into both my trouser pockets. I was wearing baggy trouser, so she had a lot of room to slip inside. The material was not particularly thick (compared to, say, jeans). Feeling her hands on the inside of my thighs with seemingly so thin a barrier was electrifying. I was already hard before, but this was too much. Her body on mine and her hands so close to my cock made me so hard it ached.
Regaining some composure, I gulped, “Th-that’s fine. I will get it…”
But it was no use. “Why? I’ll get it, relax…”
Her hands continued to feel about in my pockets. I felt her grab the key and thought, good, get out, please. I was fucking embarrassed. Don’t touch my cock, you’ve had your fun, this isn’t right. But my wishes were unanswered. I sensed she let go of the key and, the next thing I knew, felt her right-hand stroke against my hard-on through my trouser and boxers. “Oh my!” she flirted.
She moved her left hand to the base, between my cock and thigh, and lightly pressed down. This had the effect of both feeling amazing and pushing my hardness up further. That, in turn, gave her better access to stroke it with her right hand. “No wonder you looked so sweaty! What has gotten you all worked up?” she feigned innocence.
“Nneka… Stop. Just take the key, please.”
“What’s wrong? Am I hurting you?”
“No you’re- you’re not hurting me… just, come on, stop.”
“Mmm, but you seem to be enjoying it. Bisola is a lucky girl to have such a big man!”
The mention of my girlfriend made me swallow hard. I was paralyzed. Still holding the crate against my chest with both hands, and with her body to my back, I couldn’t just push her away. I probably could have done some manoeuvre to twist around, take a step away from her, something. But I did nothing. I let her continue, hoping she would be the one to stop, and secretly not knowing if I wanted her to.
“Please,” I said, “This is wrong…”
“If it was wrong, then you wouldn’t be so excited, would you?”
She was working magic with her hands. A hand job never felt so good in my life, and this girl was doing it through my clothes! I was in some kind of twisted heaven.
“Doesn’t Bisola take care of you? If you were my boyfriend, I would always make sure you were satisfied…”
“No she- I mean yes, I- Damn it, this is wrong…” I was stuttering. Was I trying to tell her that? Was I trying to convince myself?
“You already said that, baby. Mmm… maybe it being wrong is what makes it sweet?”
At those words, even more blood surged to my cock. It was pulsing with my heartbeat. Fuck if I was never so turned on in my life. “Ah- shit, I…”
“Oh! You like that? I always thought you were a good, faithful boy. But you want to be bad? Is that what gets you off? Does… Bisola knows this, or is it our little secret?”
My mind was spinning. She was turning me on so bad, and she knew it. I could feel the rush between my legs and I knew I couldn’t last much longer. She was going to make me come. For some stupid reason, I told her that, “M-Nneka, I’m gonna- Stop, I’m gonna come.”
“Yeah, you are. You’re so bad. You’re gonna let me get you off right here. Your girlfriend is just down the hall, and you’re letting me jack you off. I bet she thinks I’m such a slut, but who’s giving it up right now?”
She was right. I knew she was right. This was so wrong, I knew it was, and that steamed me up so much worse. She kept stroking me. My breathing quickened and I grunted, “Oh shit!” And then I came. The first jolt shook me so hard that my knees got weak a little. Nneka held on fast, wrapping her arms tighter around my waist and holding me as she continued to pump my cock. I continued to spray cum in my boxers while helplessly clutching the crate.
Eventually, I slowed down and regained some composure. Her hard stroking relaxed into a gentle caress as I grew limp. I then felt her hands slip out of my pocket and her body move away from mine. Realizing my eyes were clenched shut from my orgasm, I opened them to see her standing in front of me with a wide, satisfied smile. Holding the key up to her face, she chirped “Got it!”
She unlocked the storeroom door and we went inside. I finally put the crate down on a shelf and leaned on it, hunched over in a state of disbelief. “I can’t believe… That was…”
“Wrong?” she seductively interjected.
That snapped me out of my reverie. “Yeah. Yeah, Nneka, I mean, why? If Bisola knew-”
“If she knew what? That her boyfriend let me fondle his cock until he couldn’t help himself and blow his load into his trouser?”
I was again filled with both embarrassment and anger.
“Look,” she said flatly, “You wanted it.” Her face softened, “What’s the big deal? You don’t have to tell her… and I won’t tell her either… as long as you remember one thing.”
I blinked in confusion. “Remember what?”
“Remember, I made you come. Now you owe me one.”
My eyes popped wide in bewilderment.
She laughed. “Settle down. I don’t want it right now. But soon. And when I want it, I think you’ll want to give it to me. After all, you wouldn’t want to disappoint me, right?” She batted her eyes. “Cause then I might have to tell your little girlfriend what happened here today…”
My chest tightened and I clenched my jaw. What could I say? I was hot with shame. She turned around and picked up one of the boxes of cutlery we originally came to get. “Here, hold this” she directed at me, “in front of your… mess.”
Dread swelled up inside of me as I realized what she was referring to. I looked down and, of course, my trouser was soaked. How the hell was I going to hide this?
“Nobody will notice if you have this in front of you. When we go into the kitchen, I’ll grab the dishwasher hose and make like I’m washing something. You stand next to me, then I’ll accidentally spray you. Voilà you’re clear.”
She said all of this so matter-of-factly like it was everyday conversation. How did she come up with that idea? Was she planning it all along? Did she find herself in these situations often? I thought the idea was a bit far-fetched but I was in no condition to be thinking very clearly anyway, so it sounded like a good enough idea. “Okay.”
Grinning as she turned around, she bent over to pick up another box off the floor. She made sure to go slowly and give me a protracted look at her perfect bubble ass. I stared like an idiot, just like she wanted, and actually felt myself start to get hard again. At least I was holding that box which hid it from her. Maybe I can deny her that little bit of satisfaction.
She effortlessly took up a nonchalant position and we started back for the kitchen. Everyone was busy, so nobody really noticed us come back. Before I put the box down, I began to panic. What if she didn’t go to the sink? What if she wanted to toy with me and see how I would solve the problem myself? To my relief, she moved straight for the sink and started rinsing out some bowls. I put down the box and tried to casually walk up and reach over as if I needed something from the shelf overhead.
With a little yelp, she jumped backwards and pretended like I surprised her. Still holding the hose, she deftly turned to me and sprayed my waist and abdomen before turning it off. “God! Sorry, you scared me! Ah, I totally soaked you!”
This caught the attention of the entire kitchen and they looked. “Stop scaring the staff!” one of the chefs said, and everyone had a good laugh. I laughed too, in nervous relief, but quickly stopped when I looked into Nneka’s eyes to see a very clear “you’re welcome” in her eyes.
I was confused. At first, I felt gratitude towards her and smiled my thanks. As I walked away to get some towels to try and dry myself off, I realized, why am I thanking her? She put me in this mess in the first place… I was drying myself off, lost in thought when Bisola approached me.
“You sure took your time getting that cutlery.”
I mumbled some bullshit excuse about the storeroom being packed and having to move a bunch of stuff out of the way so we could get what we wanted.
“Uh-huh.” She wasn’t impressed.
The excitement settled down after that. I went back to work, trying to mind my own business. Bisola avoided me, clearly expressing her irritation. Nneka didn’t make any attempt to either be near or stay away from me. She acted like nothing unusual had happened. But then again, she could play off anything. The only comment she made in passing, very quietly and subtly, was, “I’m looking forward to next time when you get me all wet.”
I pretended like I didn’t hear her. I tried my best to make no change in expression, to just keep doing what I was doing. But I felt my face grow hot and my cock stir. When I looked up at her walking away, she managed to turn and catch me eyeing her. How does she do that? She gave me a wink and a seductive smirk that was gone as quick as it appeared.
That night, back at my place, I was lying on my bed, arguing with Bisola on the phone. As I knew would happen, she was grilling me about the time in the hallway. Was she flirting with you again? Was she trying to show off? No, Bisola, nothing happened. Stop overreacting, we just got some cutlery, I told you. This cumulated in her fear that did she try to kiss you?
I actually let out a laugh, “Ridiculous!” I laughed both because it seemed her biggest fear was something so minor, and because what actually happened was so outrageously worse. Eventually, she finally dropped the subject, and shortly thereafter the phone call ended.
I let out a deep sigh. What a day. At this point, I honestly didn’t know what to make of it. The whole ordeal seemed like a dream. How could something like that possibly happen? I played the scenario over and over in my mind. Why did I let it happen? I could have done something, but I didn’t. I let her play with me however she wanted.
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