The Supply Locker

I needed a stencil. I need the spray paint to apply that stencil. I knew where to get it, and from whom to get it from.
I made my way toward the supply room. It was a long walk down a series of stairs. Down to the sub basement. Someone in their wisdom thought it should be down stairs, making everything you had to carry out that much heavier on the way back up.
She was working in that room that day. If it’d been anyone else I would have not ventured down the sub basement. Put I could never leave her alone, and when I knew she was working, I would sometimes go and visit. You know, just hang out and talk, sort of.
“Paula, you have the stencils and some paint I can borrow for a few minutes to hook this new sign up with?” I asked.
“What the fuck are you going to do? Paint over the old one?” She responded. Paula was allways direct and to the point. I didn’t realize the sign I brought allready had something on it. ” Mother Fucker!, damn now I have to climb back up these damn stairs and get a new sign! Mother Fucker!”.
“Hold on Dave, we can fix that”. And Paula went over taking it from me, beging to look at it, and studying her supplys grabbed two cans of spray paint and the stencils.
At this point I’m allready behind her. I loved to watch her work. Allways with a one piece jumper on. She’d lift her arms up and you’d watch her breasts smoothed under the cloth. Her pant legs would always allways get to short, pulling the waist up, forcing her jumper further up her ass crack, making her ass slide almost into a thong, knowing the whole time she had granny panties under neither. I would walk up behind her and observe what was happening. Taking in everything. Feeling my cock twitch, knowing Paula wouldn’t help me out if I managed to get a boner. Not here she wouldn’t, not now. Too many questions would be asked if caught.
I understood. So it was her turn today.
Paula had finished my sign. Looked brand new.
” Thank you Paula, now I owe you”, I replied.
She just took it as a half ass, yeah, yeah, I owe you kinda remark. I walk up the first set of stairs, noone. Nobody heard anywhere. The stairwell was empty. I knew there were 3 flights to get down, and youd be able to hear anyone coming down.
I pulled her close. As she moving toward me, I shifting closer to the wall. We’re close to the stairs for listening, but out of sight for the first two landings. Paula’s against the wall. My hands are running up her jumper, starting around her left hip, moving deliberately over her left breast, not linging, slow, back up toward her chin, finally pulling her in for a kiss. “Thank You” is all I say. Now my hand begins to move down again. Almost the same route it took the trip up, but this time it lingers a little longer. Cupping her full breast in my right hand. Squeezing, trying to feel her harding nipple through the fabric , finding it, squeezing through her clothes and the bra that separates that mound of flesh from my mouth.
I move my knee between hers, hand again sliding further down. Looking for the zipper that separates her from my hungry fingers. I finally find what I’m looking for and pull the zipper up. I hear her whisper in my ear as I bite her neck, “please”.
I run my hand through the hole I’ve just opened, feeling her undershirt, the smoothness of her stomach, the waist band of her underwear.
I run my hand up along her stomach, onto her rib cage finding my arm cannot reach any higher without pulling at her zipper. I move back down. Still between her neck and lips. Biting and kissing around her face and neck, Paula responding, her legs moving against me, rubbing on my leg.
My hand backs down, slipping under her waist band, still moving down. Slowly, playing along the way. Always moving. Finding the tuff of hair she leaves about her slit. Feeling the coarseness of her bush. Playing in it. Savoring the idea that your thanking her for helping you with an orgasm that hasn’t happened yet. Yet knowing everything your doing is exactly what she wants you to do. You hand moves further down. You feel the start of her slit. Your finger moves back up to the top. You move that way again and again. You know she hungers. Her breathing tells you so.
You finally give in and allow your fingers down. To find her wet. Her clitoris full and plump under your fingers. But you know not to linger to long there. She wants herself full. She wants to feel your fingers sliding inside her. I never asked Paula about it, but she was a vaginal orgasm girl. I think a clitoris orgasm was just too much for her.
My fingers slid between her lips. Feeling her inside. I’m getting off on her getting off. And Paula never disappointed, I began to feel her bucking against my fingers. She’s ready. I feel for the first time her hand touch mine, not pressure, but letting me know she’s gotten her thank you.
My hand slids out, brushing her clitoris as I exit her panties. I’m as satisfied as Paul, just knowing what I did makes me feel right with universe. I kiss her one more time, saying thanks as I pull her jumper zipper back down. Paula straightens up. Smiling “Your welcome Dave”, and straightens herself up. As I mount the first stairs I look back, only to see Paula putting her supplys back. Smile on hrr face.

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/qjzps2/the_supply_locker