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Working a post-college job at a call center for a local pizza chain empire is not the most glamorous of jobs. Especially when your primary responsibility is to listen to customers calling back after their order with some kind of complaint. Nobody wants to spend their Thursday night talking to some pissed off customer who claims to have found a dirty band-aid in their calzone, or immediately got the runs from eating some chicken alfredo. Especially not when you’re 23 years old and itching for a life a bit more exciting.
There I was: young, fresh out of school, a head full of ambition and energy and goals, wallowing away in a job with virtually no upward mobility. I had started working for this company when I was a high school sophomore. At that time it was a great job to have when you were a teenager needing money, but not a whole lot of time to earn it. The hours were flexible, always after school, and all you really had to sacrifice was one weekend night a week working til close. The other nice thing was that plenty of other kids from my class worked at the same place; or you got to meet and hang out with kids from other area schools. Working there was boring and tedious, but you could usually pass the time quickly with some good laughs and good friends.
I left for a while when college started, vowing never to return, but ultimately fell back into the work after my campus job dried up. I had to start all over at the bottom of the ladder, but quickly moved my way back up into the customer service department. Fortunately, several of the people I had started with back in high school had remained there throughout, so once again I was finding the time going by quickly thanks to goofing off with fun people. The stories I was beginning to compile from irate or ridiculous or irrational customers were always a good source of entertainment as well. It was especially fun working a late Friday or Saturday night and listening to the drunks call in claiming that their large pizza had been delivered covered in pubes or shards of glass or used needles – anything to get a free credit for their next meal.
Being a young guy looking for flexible hours and steady pay, the job had its perks. One of the other obvious perks was getting to work with young, cute girls. When I had first started in high school, it was a good place to meet new friends, including girls my own age I wouldn’t otherwise have met. Maybe they hung out with different crowds in our class, or went to a different school altogether. The lulls in call volume provided good windows of opportunity to chat with the opposite sex, and try to improve my innocent and fledgling flirting skills. My social life wasn’t exactly ‘on fire,’ but I was lucky to generate a few dates from working there.
When I went back to work there after a few years away, I was happy to see that the same was still true. Girls I had worked with as a teenager were now women growing into their prime, and still the influx of younger, attractive girls from the area high schools – a bit outside my age preference, but nice to look at nonetheless.
One of the girls I had met and worked with during my first stint there was one of those who had grown into a sexy and intriguing woman when I went back. Maggie and I had stayed friends during my time away. She was a year younger than me, so we had common ground of education and life experience to go on. We had also been flirtatious with each other when I first worked there, and that only continued with the increasing popularity of online instant messaging and phone texting services.
She was cute in that girl next door kind of way. She didn’t go overboard and spend money on high class clothes and shoes, or spend hours in the bathroom perfecting her makeup. She didn’t have to work hard at looking pretty, and her confidence in herself took her appeal to the next level. Maggie was also a bit intimidating to me. She casually smoked, for one thing. When we were in high school this was something I always associated with a rebel kind of crowd, “too cool for school” and all that. But Maggie passed it off like it was no big thing; with her it just made her seem more mature and even more appealing. She was open and flirty and casual about sex, too. Not necessarily that she was an expert at the actual practice of intercourse or a whore, but she was eager and willing to talk about sex, to discuss her fantasies and desires, not to shy away from the subject as some kind of taboo. She could have been a virgin for all I knew or cared – she was erotic and exciting and I looked forward to the teasing she gave the more naive and innocent me.
Maggie and I made out a couple of times at a work party here or a meet-up there. Nothing that ever amounted to anything serious, and I was always too intimidated and chicken shit around her to escalate it too far. She made me nervous and excited and turned on and scared all at once, to this day the only woman who has done that to me. I loved flirting with her and more often than not purposely istanbul escort steered our messaging conversations towards the taboo any chance I got. I wanted to hear her thoughts and glimpse her imagination. She may have been completely honest when she described the things she’d like to do to me, or just trying to get a rise out of me – I didn’t care one bit. I was a teenager living a boring, sheltered life and she was the caffeine kick I craved. When I came back to the job I had put a few notches on my belt in college and exposed myself to a few sexual experiences, but still Maggie intrigued and excited me.
During the summer of 2005, my charm had seemed to go into overdrive and social opportunities with the fairer sex were presenting themselves at a rate I had never experienced before. I spent some time talking with an ex-girlfriend for a while, attempting to see if there was any spark left in our relationship. While a member of a friend’s wedding party, I met and started talking with one of the bridesmaids. During a vacation I met a local who worked at my favorite hiking gear shop and ended up spending most of the week with her. The year ended with me dating a different woman I worked with, a few years younger than Maggie and me.
Through all of it, Maggie and I always seemed to be circling around each other, flitting in and out of each other’s lives through work, texting each other, parties, etc. Goofing off with each other, having heated political discussions, me admonishing her horrible taste in music, her always making fun of my bland clothing style. We got along great, regardless of the constantly mounting sexual tension. At social gatherings we would always seem to know where the other was, always making eyes at the other when we came into focus. Occasionally, an opportunity for sneaking off to a dark corner presented itself and she would pull me aside for an intense few minutes of making out. Our tongues would fight for room in each other’s mouths, hot breath catching and panting between us, our bodies pressed tight together trying to get at every inch of each other, one of her arms around my neck while the other clawed at my back, one of my arms supporting her and the other gripping her tight jeans-covered butt.
And then, like the snap of a finger, we separated as if nothing had happened. She would be flushed and breathing heavily. I would be slightly sweaty under my shirt now in disarray, fully aware of the growing bulge in my pants.
That was as far as it ever went between us, though if you read our instant messages or brief texts you would think that we were passionate lovers or even seasoned actors of only the sexiest and most heated forms of pornography. My imagination would run wild with thoughts of her doing to me the things she described in our conversations; I did my best to try to fill her head with the same. It never failed that after just five minutes of chatting with her online at night, I would be forced to relieve the pressure of my erection, masturbating furiously to her words or the scenes they painted in my head. Only then could I hope to get any amount of sleep, if not to just end up waking up sometime later or the next morning in dire need of more release thanks to Maggie.
Our flirtations weren’t relegated just to online chats and texts when we were at our separate homes or together at a party. There was an inter-work messaging service the supervisors all used to communicate with each other while handling various phone calls and issues. For the most part it was used solely for its social aspect as well as an easier means to get a dinner order together. She and I ended up using it to continue our flirting and sexting whenever work got too boring. I might comment on how good she looked in the low-cut blue shirt she was wearing. She might comment on how nice my butt looked in my jeans. I might comment on how long it had been since I’d last tasted her lips. She might comment on how she had the only key to the locked storage room. And on, and on. It was fun and sexy and exciting, and a great way to make the time go by.
I still don’t quite know how it all finally happened – the universe tilted the scales just right, perhaps, or maybe the gods had finally had enough and wanted to see what would happen. Either way, an opportunity for something beyond what Maggie and I had ever done before presented itself, more than I – perhaps both of us – had ever actually imagined happening. As usual, she was the more confident and aggressive one, and I was happy to follow her lead.
We were both working late one night, me as the head supervisor and her as the floor manager in charge of the normal operations. She was the one who would manage the crew of high school kids taking orders, and the last one to leave once we officially closed down for the night. The chain of restaurants that our call center managed was a mix of corporate- and franchise-owned stores, with various closing times. avcılar escort The earliest might close at 10:30, but you were still forced to stay at work until midnight or later waiting for the other stores to close. Then, each department had to run their end-of-night numbers before finally getting to close up the central office and head home. On this night, Maggie and I were the last two standing.
The sexual flirting had been pretty intense that night. And it didn’t help that she looked amazing. She was wearing this light blue v-neck shirt and a skirt that night, my favorite look on her. Maybe it was some kind of full moon effect on my part, or a vibe I was unknowingly giving off, or just plain luck, but we seemed to really be on the same page with each other. As the night wore on and the flirting got more intense, it was Maggie who first suggested anything. “You should make sure to take your time finishing up tonight,” she typed to me on the office messaging service. “We could have some fun.” “What did you have in mind?” I replied, then looked up from my monitor to her desk on the other side of the call center floor. She looked up at the same time, bit her lower lip in that insanely sexy and seductive way that women are born knowing how to do, and then winked at me.
“We finally find out if our actions can match our words,” came her response.
“That sounds… very interesting,” I wrote back.
“You don’t seem too sure.”
“Oh, I am. Just not wanting to get my hopes up, I guess. With my luck some kid here will need a ride home or something.”
“Leave all that to me. You just make sure you’re the last one here.”
That was the end of our conversation then, as another wave of calls came in, the last rush of orders before stores started closing. I got stuck on a few calls that took forever to resolve, and when I was finally finished it was time to start shutting things down. I looked up and watched as Maggie circled the floor, picking up some leftover trash and making sure all of the closing crew had gathered their things and had rides home. Because of my late and extended phone calls, I happened to be the last supervisor there anyways, so I started the end-of-night reports and began shutting down the rest of the supervisor stations. For a brief moment, out of habit or distraction, I forgot the conversation that Maggie and I had earlier – the hint of a promise of something that might or might not happen. I was going through the motions of finishing my work and getting out of this office building I had been in all night long. I turned off my computer, grabbed my jacket and stepped away from my desk. That’s when I remembered.
She was standing by her desk, waiting for me to look up and see her. Her desk was on the way to the front hallway that led to the front entrance. She was biting her lower lip again. As I walked towards her, time seemed to slow down quite suddenly. Two paths emerged in front of me: one where I walked up to her, closing the distance between us, look her in the eyes, lean my head down to her raised face and press my lips to hers; or the other path where I playfully tease her about something, tell her something lame like “maybe next time” or “I wouldn’t have lived up to expectations anyways,” then grab her hand or something and walk us both out the front door. Tonight, for the first time, I finally chose the riskier, more exciting, more interesting path.
Just as suddenly as time slowed down, it was ratcheting forward again. She was in my arms, pressed tightly against me, our mouths hungrily searching for one another. I lifted her up and sat her on her desk, her legs wrapping around my waist. I cupped her face and lost my fingers in her hair, our tongues intertwined just as passionately as our bodies were. We were breathing heavily, the passion and tension and sexual frustration between us reaching a fever pitch. We broke apart to catch our breaths. Her clear blue eyes stared directly into mine as she hopped off the desk, grabbed my hand, and led me into the hallway.
Instead of turning left towards the main entrance, she pulled me right into the break room. The overhead lights of the room were off, but the glow from the several vending machines lining one wall gave the room a dusky, almost romantic glow. Maggie pushed me backwards onto the nearest bench at one of the break room tables, then stood before me between my legs, bending down to kiss me. “I’ve been looking forward to kissing you all night,” she whispered against my lips. “No matter what happens, no regrets.” I looked into her piercing eyes. “No regrets,” I said back.
My hands touched her legs and slid up bare skin, up her thighs and under her skirt. She moved to straddle my lap sitting on that bench, and I lowered her softly while gripping the lacy satin of her panties. Her ass fit perfectly in my hands, just the right amount of flesh to give you something to hold onto and squeeze even though it was firm and tight. I rubbed and massaged her şirinevler escort butt and her thighs and her legs as she wrapped her arms around my neck and made out with me. We kissed each other softly and sensually, our lips and tongues dancing together as if we practiced it every day. She began grinding against me, moving her hips under my hands, sliding forward against me every time I squeezed her ass. My erection was growing exponentially, confined in the tightness of my lap, but easily noticeable to her movements. She felt my arousal and growled against my lips, taking my bottom one between her teeth and pulling. I responded with renewed fervor, and kissed my way to her ear lobe, then down her neck to nip at her skin. I trailed kisses across her exposed collar bone to the other side of her neck and back up, back to her hungry and wet lips.
“I’m so fucking hard for you,” I panted to her.
“I’m so fucking wet for you,” she responded back.
For a few moments there was nothing but the sounds and motions of our mutual kissing and nipping and groping and grinding. We so easily lost ourselves to each other in those early moments. We could’ve been robbed, murdered, arrested – anything, and it wouldn’t have surprised us.
“I wanted this so badly,” Maggie said. “Just being here with you after hours is so hot.”
“I can’t believe I’m doing this – I’m only like this around you.”
“Maybe we should see what else you’re like around me.”
“I think I’d like to find that out too.”
“Are you sure about that?” she asked.
“Yeah,” I said, full of confidence, “I am sure.”
“Good,” she said and smiled at me before slowly and softly kissing me. No tongue this time, just deliberate sexiness such as I had never felt before. Everything had slowed down. My hands weren’t groping and she wasn’t grinding. Everything was focused on her expressing her sexual desire for me through this kiss. She was purposely slowing things down so that we might both savor the feeling as much as possible, enjoy this moment for whatever it might end up being. It was the perfect thing to do.
Slowly, she broke apart from my lips and stood up from my lap. She pulled me up to stand in front of her, then placed her hands at my belt and zipper. Never taking her eyes off mine, she undid my belt and slowly lowered the zipper, pushing my jeans to the floor. She then pushed me back to sit down on top of the break room table, and took up my position on the seating bench between my legs facing me. She reached her hand into my boxers and wrapped her soft, small fingers around my cock. I was immediately hard at her touch. “You remember all those things I said I wanted to do to your dick?” she asked. “All those dirty things we talked about in our messages. Would you like me to do some of those things now?” My head began swimming. I had fantasized so many times about something just like this, closed my fist around my penis imagining what this moment might be like, and now that it was about to maybe finally happen, I thought I might pass out from excitement. “Yes,” came my squeak of a reply. “Anything from you, and anything for you, Maggie.”
She smiled, and then she finally broke our eye contact when she gazed down to the penis she was holding in her slender hand. It was just above average length and size, nothing at all extravagant or astronomical. She would later tell me that it was better than she had hoped and imagined, and I was too happy to believe her. Her mouth opened and her soft tongue slipped out and landed on the crown of my penis. She slid her tongue all around the tip, tickling slightly the sensitive area on the underside of the top, before slowly – ever so slowly – wrapping her lips around the head of my dick. The heat and wetness of her mouth was almost too much to bear in that first moment; the realization that all of our sexual tension and discussions and teasing was finally coming true so overwhelming. It was all I could do to hold back, but I knew I wouldn’t last long. I simply couldn’t.
Her mouth was amazing. Her hand slowly moved up and down my shaft in rhythm with her lips. She swirled her tongue around the shaft as she moved up and down. I absently slipped my fingers into her hair along the back of her head to feel the movement as she bobbed up and down. Maggie alternated between slowly sucking the length of my cock with deep steady strokes, and quick bursts of movement along the top that got my heart racing. It was amazing in every sense of the word. All of the sexy aggression and confidence that I had witnessed from her the past few years was manifesting itself in the best blowjob I’d ever had. While one hand worked at stroking my dick in time with her lips, I intwined my fingers with her other hand, making sure she knew that I was there with her in this moment, loving and appreciating and experiencing every second of it. “Oh, Maggie,” I kept saying over and over. “Fuck yes, Maggie. Fuck yes, that’s amazing. Oh my god, yes. You’re incredible.” She took her mouth off of me just long enough to tell me to relax and calm down, before taking me again. Now she was moaning against my cock, adding vibrations to the hot, wet lubrication her mouth was already providing. Then she looked up at me. Her blue eyes locked on mine as she continued stroking up and down my slick shaft with her small hand.
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