Night shift - Sex Stories

Night shift

... peel your clothes off and remain naked, real and sensitive like a bare vein? Make a mess of your place of work and desecrate it? However, the night gives you thousands of options to dedicate yourself to forbidden pleasure at the dark corners. At the day light she was looking at the mirror and all she could see was a tired, frustrated working bee in a gray suit and smeared lipstick. At night she was... everything she wanted. Her fantasies could prevail. Especially when she was lying on the couch with a fist shoved to the wrist at her gushing peach and her breasts poured with some wax from the burning candles surrounding her... who really needed the break of dawn, anyway? Just when she was on the edge of her orgasm, the telephone rang. She groaned in pain and dragged her feet with the utmost efforts to the irksome awful piece of machinery and pulled out her hand drenched in juices. She automatically switched on her business voice like a real actress. There was not a hint of emotion or thrill in this tone of voice. However, the person on the other side of the line seemed to know better than that. His bitter, sarcastic laughter pierced her keen hearing. "Can you see me?" She was startled. Her mouth suddenly got strangely dry. She looked cautiously through the window as far as she could to make out something through that thick mist. There was not even a single light switched on in the adjacent building. She could not even see the street lanterns. "Answer sincerely, you trickster! ...

... Otherwise I will get mad." The fear crept up her skin like a row of predatory, flesh-feeding ants. The air in her lungs froze while she was pronouncing in a stifled whisper, not really sounding like herself. "I... I don't see anything..." "Good girl. Now..." "Who are you?" she asked in an astonished way as she was slowly regaining her composure. She couldn't believe that a voice, a mere voice on the other side of the line had made her lose her balance and her wits. "Don't ask questions. Just follow my lead." "Mister, you obviously have got the wrong number. It is..." "Don't play innocent, pussycat! I know who I am calling, I know all about you. You may not be able to see me but I can tell you apart perfectly from where I'm standing. You stand up, partly leaning on your desk, your body vibrates with anxiety and you can't wait to lick those sweet juices off your fist." "Mister!" She used her voice of an indignant white-collar worker. "Should I remind you that the calls are being recorded!" She was speaking in a firm and clipped manner but her insides were melting like a heated butter. At the same time her body was coated with cold sweat and her legs were visibly trembling with sharp, unbearable fear. Fear... or arousal? Sometimes the boundary between them was so thin. "Don't play games, kitten. I'm much more experienced than you. I know exactly what are you going to do at that moment. Do yourself a favor and submit to me. You will love it, you understand it perfectly." "Yes, in ...