Ok - this one is definately FICTION. Yes, I am the only woman in a male dominated workplace, but the guys here are not even close to hard bodies, or sexy.
And I always wear underwear to work....*wink*
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It’s hard working where I do. Being the only woman in a company of hot, sweaty, grease covered men really taxes ones … patience. *grin* It’s not easy to behave, sitting at my desk while they parade by, their coveralls pulled halfway down by lunch, showing off their ripped bodies covered in sweat from hauling transmissions around.
It’s not easy to sit across from my boss, his deep blue eyes twinkling as words like dipstick, lube, shaft, moisture, and ram - the truck of course - fall from his beautiful lips. He knows what he’s doing. He knows the type of girl I am – the type who appreciates the male form, the type who is in full acceptance of her sexuality.
The type of girl that today isn’t wearing underwear under her skirt.
He’s making me squirm, and he knows it. His hot gaze burns a hole through my shirt. I know he can see my nipples poking through the thin material. My pussy is so wet that I can’t get up without leaving a trail on my leather chair. So until he leaves, I’m stuck where I am.
My hand travels down to pull up the material that is the only barrier between myself and release. I pull my chair in closer to the desk, so that he can’t see what’s going on. But by the smile on his face, he doesn’t have to. Slowly, my thighs part. My fingers skip across my clit, and I almost moan out loud.
Five o’clock can’t come soon enough.
And neither can I.
©2008
#Chain ~ #DailyPractice
3 years ago
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