[M]y going-away present [F]rom a coworker before I changed departments (longish)

Once again reaching in to the Wayback Machine and going back to when I had a sex life, this dandy little tale comes from the six-month stretch between when I threw my incredibly terrible long-term relationship in to the trash (readers of my previous posts may recall something about her abusive ways) and my getting together with my last real girlfriend, Elle (who you can read about here: [https://www.reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/8qywdn/sharing_an_old_but_good_story_longish_bit_of_a/](https://www.reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/8qywdn/sharing_an_old_but_good_story_longish_bit_of_a/) ).

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So, from 2003 to 2016, I worked for a major tech firm in Silicon Valley, holding a variety of positions (hah!) during my tenure there. For the first three years, I worked in Network Operations, both as a primary tech and a trainer. This story takes place in December of 2006, two months after kicking Restraining Order out of my life. My coworker, we’ll call her Gabby, and I had been buddies on the job for a while. She knew all about my issues with RO, which had been going on for some time, and had been a good ear of sympathy, having her own share of shitty issues in relationships. After the breakup, Gabby told me she was making it her mission to find me someone good, decent, and healthy for me.

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The way Gabby decided to do this was by sending me dozens of IM’s during the day, while we worked our shift, asking me what my likes and dislikes were, what kind of women I was interested in, and so on and so forth. I wasn’t feeling it at first (you try getting in to the idea of a friend trying to hook you up right after you throw someone out you’ve been with for over a decade), but eventually she wore me down, and then her questions started getting more and more involved.

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What kind of kinks was I looking for?

What sort of sex was I absolutely not about?

If I could have one ideal date night, what would it look like?

Favorite lingerie? Be as specific as possible.

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Every few days, she’d send me a picture of one of her friends, ask what I thought, and then offer to set up a date. Finally I agreed to one of them, got a time and place set up, and then it got cancelled, but it’s the thought that counts, right? Gabby said she was running out of friends, but she’d keep trying.

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Cut to my final shift on that job, the Friday before I start the new position. Because no one ever gets out alive, my douchebag of a boss has decided to put me on a 12-hour overnight, 5pm to 5am, for my last stint on the roster. Something-something-let other people have a night off since you’re leaving anyway bullshit bullshit. It’s not so bad, though, since after 11:30pm, the crew in India takes over primary until 8am, so my job for the remainder of the night is basically clean-up and prep for the morning crew. Looking at the shift calendar for the weekend, I was surprised to see Gabby on the 12am-8am slot, but didn’t think much of it.

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The first half of the shift was fucking *torture*, with Jackwad The Management Weevil just piling up a shit ton of work on me. The guy did *not* like letting people transfer out (and was later demoted because of his shitty treatment of employees), and he was going to make my last night a pain in the ass. But, some of my coworkers waited until he clocked out at six (on. the. dot.) and then divvied the work up amongst themselves, leaving me with not a lot to do but organize all of my materials and sort it all out so that when I left, everything would be sorted. From about 8 to midnight, it was just me and my coworker Justin, and then he was out.

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Gabby showed up about ten minutes late, walking in to the fishbowl that was the Network Ops Center with a happy, slightly drunk look on her face and a bag full of take out. She was dressed up like she was ready to go to a night club – the tightest and littlest Little Black Dress I’d ever seen, shiny black stilettos, and a pair of rose-lace stockings that seriously made my heart skip. I’d *never* seen Gabby done up before – she was the quintessential jeans-and-t-shirt type, with a collection of Converse sneakers that was so big that she bragged about being able to wear a different pair every day for two months without repeats. Suddenly my nerdy work buddy was standing in front of me with a bag full of restaurant food, oozing sex appeal and smelling like red wine and roses. Cue my very confused boner.

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Somehow I stammered out wondering what the heck was going on, and she told me she’d been on a date, but he’d been “super fuckin’ skeezy” so she’d told him to fuck off, made a scene when he wouldn’t leave, and then spent the rest of the night at the restaurant drinking wine until she realized she was going to be late. So, she ordered us dinner, paid up, and (not being stupid) called a cab to get her to work. So, here I was with this 4-star restaurant filet mignon dinner, with my tipsy and suddenly *very* chatty coworker sitting next to me, spinning in her chair and giggling at every damn thing I said.

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About ten minutes go by, while I’m making sure the India team has their shit together, and I feel this sharp prod on my leg. I look down, and Gabby’s got her heel poking in to my thigh, grinning at me.

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“Hey,” I said.

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“Hey,” she grinned back. “What’cha doin’?”

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“Working,” I replied. “Why?”

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“I’m drunk as fuck,” she said back. “I shouldn’t work.”

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“Probably not,” I laughed. “But we still have to get all my security shit transferred before I clock out.”

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It’s at this point that Gabby got a very serious look on her face, sat up straight, and pointed out that all security transfers had to be done in the conference room built on to the Ops Center, since there were cameras in the Ops room, two entire walls made of glass, and that anyone could just look in and breach security. The conference room had no cameras, and blinds we could drop for extra protection.

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Something in my brain started sounding an alarm, but I didn’t think anything about it, because I was brain fried from work, full of steak and vegetables, and still kind of reeling from the fact that Gabby looked and smelled *great.*

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So we pick up our laptops and head in to the conference room, and Gabby immediately shuts the door and drops the blinds. As I’m sitting down, she comes over and stands right behind me, closing my laptop. Her chest is pushing in to the back of my head, and as she runs her hands along my shoulders, I lean back and look up at her.

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“God, you smell great,” I told her.

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“About time you noticed,” she smiled, leaning down to kiss me.

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The next several minutes are kind of a blur, honestly, both because of time, and because I had no idea *what* the fuck was happening, until eventually she ended up in my lap, legs straddling the arms of the chair, murmuring at me that she hadn’t been on a date, but she had been drinking, because she needed to build up the courage to do this tonight, or not at all. I still had no idea what to say, but didn’t really need to, as she leaned back and pulled herself up on to the conference room table, spreading her legs wide, which caused her dress to hike up over her hips, revealing the absolutely tiniest pair of black lace panties I’d ever seen.

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“Like what you see?” she asked. I replied by basically diving in between her legs, not even bothering to move her panties out of the way, just using my teeth and lips to nip at her pussy through the fabric, which caused her to grab at my head and let out a long, slow moan.

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I know we like to talk about how wet our partners get or how slick their juices make them when they’re really turned on, and this is no different. Later on, in my relationship with Elle, I’d genuinely meet the wettest, most easily lubricated vagina I’ve ever met in my life, but in this case, Gabby was *sopping*. Her panties were squishing, a layer of shiny moisture stringing between them and her skin as I pushed them aside with my fingers to get at her slick, bare pussy. I gave it a long, slow lick from the base of her slit, taking probably ten seconds to go from there up to her clit, which I gave a tiny nibble. Her nails dug deeper and deeper into my head as I took my time, and when I got to her clit, she gasped, pushing her legs tightly around my head, moaning and quivering as she came.

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I looked up at her and asked “So is this why you were asking me all those questions?”

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She shook her head, telling me that she really *was* trying to hook me up with her friends, at least at first, but as things had gotten more and more intimate with the questions and answers, she just kept getting more and more turned on. Apparently after the last round of questions she’d asked me, she’d had to take a break to go masturbate in the restroom, she was so worked up. When my transfer came through, it was “now or never time,” and so here we were.

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She got up off the table, turned around, and asked me to unzip her dress. The zipper ran the length of the dress, and she shivered as I finished undoing it, letting the dress fall to the floor. She turned around and did a little spin, saying that since she knew what I liked, she tried to deliver, and I told her she’d scored a perfect ten as she stood in front of me in nothing but a choker, a pair of heels, a garterbelt and stockings, and that almost nonexistent g-string.

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I should take a moment to describe Gabby. She was about five-three in her bare feet, with wavy (not curly! she made the distinction often) dirty blonde hair down to just past her shoulders, which she usually kept in a pony tail. Now that she was naked in front of me, I finally got to see that she had what a lot of people call “champagne glass titties,” perky little things that were just the right amount of jiggly, but explained why she had in the past said she only ever bothered with bras when she was at the gym. Clearly, she’d been paying attention to our IM conversations about my kinks, because she was waxed from the waist down to her ankles, and she had a tiny little tattoo of Kirby on her right hip. Suspended from a piercing in her navel was a bright blue stone. Probably not a sapphire, and just costume, but it sparkled and looked great.

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I was still standing up, my erection threatening to burst out of my work slacks, and as she stepped up to kiss me again, I felt her nails dragging lightly over my crotch. After years of a sexless relationship, I was about ready to explode right there, and I guess it showed, because she dropped to her knees, wrestled my belt open, and undid my pants, pulling them down around my ankles with an excited grin on her face. She let out a happy squeal as my cock throbbed in front of her face, giving it a few quick strokes before I had to warn her I was about to come. Her mouth opened, and I just cut loose, grabbing my erection and trying my best to aim it into the target she’d given me. Gabby took over, pushing my hand out of the way and gently lapping at the head of my cock before sealing her lips around it and slowly running her tongue around it, gathering up all of my semen before grinning at me, showing me that she’d swallowed it all.

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I stood there, looking down at her for a while, until she held up a hand, asking me to help her up. Then, we were back in the chair, making out – she’d go to town on my neck, and had pulled my shirt open so that she could get her hands all over my chest (I still have a scar on my left pec from where she got a little too happy with the clawing). Finally, she reached down under the seat of the chair and popped the releases for the chair’s arms, shoving them out of the way so that she could grind against my cock, which was back in action. Her pussy was hot and slippery, making wet, slurping noises as she slid it around on my hard on – her panties had come off somewhere in there, and I later found them in my shirt pocket – until finally she looked at me, breathing heavily, her mouth half open in a pant, and gasped “there’s a condom in my purse, put it on and fuck me on the table.”

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As I’ve said before: I’m not an idiot, and when a good looking, enthusiastic woman tells me to put on a condom and fuck her on the table, I do that thing, by god. I found the condom easily (there were actually, like, six in there), wrapped my cock up, and slid in to her as she lay back on the conference room table. The condom was a super thin, and did little to block out her heat, which just turned me on even more. That moan she’d made when I’d first started eating her pussy came back, louder, longer, and just as hot. Her legs wrapped tightly around my waist, locking me in place for what seemed like an hour as her pussy clenched and pulsed around me.

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“You good?” I asked her. The only response I got was her biting her lip and moaning through a closed mouth as she crushed our hips together and her eyelids fluttered as her eyes rolled back into her head. Finally her legs relaxed and she smiled up at me, running her right hand down between us and grabbing her leg behind the knee, winking at me. I took the hint and hooked her knee up over my shoulder, pushing slowing in to her, getting as deep as the new position would let me. She gasped again, and started to moan in time with my thrusts. Gabby, who normally never shut up and always had a witty comeback, was now just a big pile of moans and whimpers, and the smell of her sweat and her perfume, mixed with the smell of her juices, was driving me crazy. I started changing up my rhythm – a few short, shallow, fast strokes followed by long, slow, deep plunges – and each time I’d push in, she’d moan. When I’d pull out, she’d breath in, sharply, her nails flexing on my shoulders.

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She reached down and grabbed her other leg, hooking it up over my free shoulder, and moved her hands down to my waist, pulling herself against me and panting “More, fuck, more” before going back to nothing but the rhythmic “uh, uh, uh, uhhh” in time with my strokes. I slipped my hand down, sliding around her mound until I found her clit, swollen and begging for attention. I started rubbing it, slowly at first, but building up to a rapid jiggle, which did the job. Gabby threw her head back, throwing out something between a yell and a moan, in that “AH! AAAAhhhh HAAA!” way that always tells you you’ve done a good job, and as her legs shook and her nails started gouging channels in my shoulders and back, I lost all ability for rational thought, wrapping my free hand up in her hair, pulling her head back as I started hammering my cock into her pussy, which was shuddering just as hard as the rest of her body. Our sweat-and-lube drenched hips were slapping against each other, making sticky, wet sounds that were almost drowned out by Gabby’s voice as she just fucking *lost it*. Thank whatever god you want to for soundproofed conference rooms, because that “AHHH! AHHH! UUUUHHHHH!” just kept going and going like a battery commercial. Midway through her final surge, I couldn’t hold back, and blew up with years of pent-up sexual frustration, exploding in to the condom for what felt like forever, just pumping and pumping inside her, holding the two of us down on the table until we both stopped shaking.

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I don’t know how long we stayed like that, her up on the table, one leg up over my shoulder, still, the other locked around my hips, idly rubbing up over my ass and lower back while she recovered. I couldn’t stop kissing her chest, nipping at her tits and nipples while trying to get my head back together, but I know I eventually stood up, pulled off the condom, and made some kind of remark about how much I’d deposited in it – the damn thing was over half full – which got a giggle out of her as she told me that was at least as much as she’d swallowed earlier. I decided to toss it in to the empty steak container from earlier, rather than leaving any evidence in the conference room trash can.

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We sat in the chair for a bit, while she laughed and worried over all the marks she’d left on me. I started to get hard again after a few minutes, and asked if she wanted to go again, which got a big grin. She pulled a second condom out of her bag, handed it to me, and *slooooooowly* bent over the conference table, feet wide apart, balancing on her toes and wiggling her ass at me. I wrapped up, stood behind her, and slid into her swollen, shiny red pussy, which felt like it was almost literally steaming. Her nails scraped across the top of the table, and she grabbed at the edge for leverage, pushing her ass back against my hips as I pushed in to her. Her moans started coming again, a little more urgent and sharp this time, and I grabbed her hip with my left hand, while reaching around with my right to get at her clit. She dropped her head, her hair brushing along the top of the table, and started panting, hard, in time with my thrusts as I began to plow her, hard and fast. My hips were slapping against her ass, the sound of my cock in her pussy a rhythmic, slippery squishing, as my blood pounded in my ears and sweat started dripping into my eyes. Gabby started to growl, I guess is the best word, twisting her hips back and forth as I fucked her, reaching down with her hand to chase mine away off of her clit, working on herself faster and harder than I’d been doing to her.

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Now that I had a free hand, I grabbed her other hip, and lifted her up off of her feet, driving as deeply into her as I could. Gabby’s growl erupted out of her chest, somewhere between a moan and a shriek, as her legs went crazy, kicking and trying to wrap around me, but just ended up flailing around backwards for several seconds. She started begging me to turn her over, so I slid out of her and helped her flip over on the table. Her hand never left her pussy, still going crazy on her clit, as she reached out with her free hand to grab my cock and guide it back into her. I pulled her hand off of my shaft, grabbed her by the knees, and shoved my cock as deep into her snatch as it would go, pushing her knees up to her shoulders and railing her as deep and hard and fast as I could manage. Gabby’s eyes started to roll back into her head again, and as her body started to shake for what felt like the twentieth time that night, she stopped working on her clit and reached up around my back with both hands, sinking her nails into my ribcage. She *lunged* at my neck, sinking her teeth into my shoulder and screaming – literally *screaming* – into my shoulder as her legs and arms shook and tears streamed down her face and her body tried to fold up on itself. (Interesting note, the only other partner I’ve ever had who did anything like this would be Elle.) I pulled her up off of the table, holding on to her and sitting down on the chair, still thrusting inside her, but much, much more slowly. I let her legs down, feeling the sweat-soaked fabric of her stockings sliding against my thighs, and just kept rocking inside her slowly, finally starting to feel my limit being reached.

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“I’m gonna cum again,” I told her, and she smiled, leaning back to put her hands on my knees, grinding her pussy into my hips, watching me with this absolutely fuck-drunk look on her face. Her lips were bruised, her cheeks were flushed and wet from sweat and tears, her chest was scarlet from all the exertion, and her pussy was covered in slippery, sticky wetness. Her clit was absolutely swollen and red, and she looked and sounded like she was having the time of her life. She kept grinding, slow and long motions at first, getting faster and shorter as she went, little grunts and moans coming out of her throat as her eyes closed. The closer I got, the faster my breath got, and the louder my own sounds became, until finally I let out my own loud, shaking moan, my cock pulsing and jerking inside her pussy. Gabby leaned forward, resting her head on my shoulder, kissing the marks she’d left and sighing into my ear.

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“I hope you like your going away present,” she laughed, sitting up and pushing her tits into my face. I ran my teeth and lips around one of her nipples, and told her it was the best thing to happen to me in the job.

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I’d like to say that we went another round, and give you more to get your jollies with, but the India team paged us with an emergency shortly after that, while we were sucking down a couple of water bottles to hydrate ourselves, so we actually had to go to work that night. Gabby pulled on her coat, went to the ladies room and changed clothes, putting on a pair of leggings and a sweatshirt, making sure I knew there was nothing underneath either of them, “just in case.” After the emergency was over, I sprayed the conference room down with lysol and febreeze, so there’d be nothing for The Weevil to complain about come Monday morning.

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I’d also like to say that Gabby and I hooked up again after that, but that would be a lie. We talked about it (a lot), but it never happened, and a couple of months after that, I met Elle.

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Sadly, I no longer have Gabby’s g-string – it was lost in a move. Damn it all.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/ahvl3k/my_goingaway_present_from_a_coworker_before_i