A special Internship

Every year a student is selected from the local university to intern at our office. Usually a college junior or senior, and the idea is to give them real life working experience in the field before they graduate. Its a big deal for the intern, obviously. Our owner is an alumnus and likes to give back. It can be handy for us as well, to have an extra (and unpaid) hand with clerical work, typing, errand, simple things.

There wasn’t anything special about Charlie. And I don’t mean that in a cruel way, he was a fantastic student and a great guy. But I didn’t do any of this because of anything about him. It’s not that he was just too handsome, just too charming for me to say no to. In fact, it was less about him and more about me.

I had been divorced for about a year that summer. Separated for longer, but it’s not really real until it is. It had been hard, at first. I spent a lot of nights alone, crying into my pillow. As they say, however, time heals all wounds. I started going out with friends, meeting new guys. And it was exhausting. They say there are plenty of fish in the sea, but what they don’t tell you is that there’s a lot of garbage in there too. Date after date, I found myself with losers, cheaters, or great guys I just didn’t mesh with. I had a few casual flings, but nothing that was very satisfying or lasting. I was taking a break for my own sanity when I met Charlie.

He worked in my department, but I really didn’t have much to do with the interns. Debra, from HR, brought him around to meet everyone. She knocked on the open door to my office, introduced us. Charlie seemed nice enough, obviously smart if he got this internship. I didn’t really think twice about him. I ran into him throughout the week in the office. Around the water cooler, in the break room, outside sitting in the sun. He was a smart kid, and liked to read on his lunch break. He would sit out in the sun, reading and basking in the warmth. I could watch him from my window, and would often ask him about what he was reading. It was usually some classic: Jane Austen or George Elliot or Charlotte Bronte. He liked women authors from this time, he said. It took a lot of courage and resilience to publish in a male dominated field, he said he admired that.

“Plus, I just feel like they have more to say sometimes.”

I started talking with Charlie more and more. He was an interested kid-man? Guy. Not quite a man, but certainly not a kid. After a few weeks, I was at a work sponsored happy hour. Charlie was there, but we didn’t really talk more than “hello” and “thank god it’s Friday”. He said he was going camping over the weekend, a solo backpacking trip into the mountains. I didn’t peg him for an outdoors, active type. But now, outside of the office and a little more relaxed, I could see it better. I wished him luck, gave his arm a little squeeze. Just a friendly thing, obviously.

“Erin, if you stop short that boy is going to run you over,” Margaret told me, not entirely seriously.

“I don’t get it?” I said, picking up my beer from the bar. They usually didn’t do these Friday night happy hours, so all of us tended to take advantage of it. We could go pretty hard, and it had been a long week. We had just signed a big client, like county-wide big. So there was plenty of reason to celebrate.

“Charlie! That kid is head over heels.” Margaret teased. She was my closest friend in the office, and one of the ones that worked hardest to get me over my ex-husband. But she was a gossip and a tease.

“Oh, come on.” I rolled my eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. No one wants an old divorce like me.” I said it as a joke, to kill the conversation. But it wasn’t far off from my actually feelings. Certainly not someone young and handsome, just starting off in their life like Charlie.

“Oh please! He’s young and horny, you’re beautiful and accomplished. I bet he jerks off to you every night.”

Margaret was obviously drunk. I corralled her into a cab not too long later, and found myself at home, an open bottle of wine and a warm bubble-bath as my companions. Margaret didn’t think before she spoke. Obviously Charlie didn’t “jerk off” to me. That would be crazy. Wouldn’t that be crazy? Wow that would be crazy.

I started to feel warm, and fuzzy. The bath and the drinks were doing their job wonderfully. It was strange seeing Charlie in a relaxed, informal atmosphere like at the bar tonight. It’s like peeking into someone’s separate, secret life. The life they hide away from work. A different, more accurate persona.

I didn’t even realize I was on Instagram before I was on his page. He didn’t post much, and even fewer pictures of himself. But the ones he did were artsy, classical, tasteful. He had such an easy going smile, genuine and warm. No girlfriend, it seemed. Which was odd, because he really was such a smart and kind and handsome guy.

A few pictures of him and fiends rock climbing. A harness around his waist and legs, framing his-

Quickly scrolled past that one.

Wouldn’t it be crazy if he jerked off to me? It would be crazy. That wasn’t something that “normal” people did. They didn’t masturbate to other people, right? I certainly didn’t. I masturbated to fantasies, to actions, to ideas. Not to people. What would it even be like?

I had become intimately familiar with my own body in the last year. Not that I didn’t touch myself before, I did. But in the past, it had always been about “getting it over with”: quick, aggressive movements to make myself orgasm and get on with my day. It was secondary to sex, which was about pleasing my husband. Not that we didn’t have a good sex life, we did. It was fine. But since the divorce, masturbation become more about me: finding out what I like, taking my time, exploring my own boy and mind and knowing what turns me on and gets me off. Experiment with angles and toys and pressures. Playing with my clit, with penetration, even with my ass. It became about the journey.

I found myself on that journey tonight. Warm water and bubbles surrounding my naked body, I began softly touching myself. My neck, ever so sensitive. Dreaming of soft lips, of another touch caressing me. Whispering in my ear. My breath quickening as my hands move to my breasts, cupping and feeling. Groping, massaging. Feeling their weight and warmth. Squeezing and rubbing, my nipples sensitive to touch. Dreaming of a warm mouth, an eager tongue on them. Licking and sucking, gently but more forceful after time. As his passion grows for me, he begins to lose control. As my own hands move down my body, I imagine his hands in their place…

My phone, still open to Charlies instagram, in my other hand. He was so handsome. Such a nice smile. So smart, and kind. And maybe he did have a little crush on me? He was always so quick to say hello, to tell me about his day, to bring me coffee or a pastry for breakfast. I pictured him naked, hard for me, touching himself to me. My hands moved to my thighs, stroking the soft, warm skin on the inside of my leg. I squirmed in the tub, water splashing softly around me. My pussy ached to be touched, throbbing softly. I thought about Charlie, breathing heavy, eyes shut tight, stroking himself. Did he play with his balls? Squeeze and pull them as he touched himself? Or simply cup them in his hand, feeling the weight of his sensitive manhood? I was rubbing my clit now, the water splashing around me. I wondered what he tasted like. I licked my lips, imagining him in my mouth. Imagining him inside of me. I felt myself tighten, felt a shiver run down my entire body, my toes curl in orgasmic pleasure. My heart was racing, my breathing heavy. My pussy throbbed, not quite done. Needy. Desperate for more.

I sent Charlie a “follow request” that night.

To be honest, I was a little embarrassed when I woke up. I was twice his age, and I felt a little dirty, shameful. I lay in bed, thinking. And the more I thought, the more I liked the feeling. I did feel dirty. I felt… liberated? Besides, I hadn’t done anything wrong. I hadn’t embarrassed myself. I hadn’t really done anything at all, actually. I spent the rest of the weekend without giving it another thought.

Sunday night, as I was getting ready for bed I saw a notification on my phone. Charlie had accepted my instagram request, and liked a photo. It was from a few months ago, when I was still dating. It was just a simple selfie. I was feeling confident and sexy, and wanted to immortalize the feeling, for my own self esteem if nothing else. My hair done up, my makeup on point. Dark eyes, red lips. A short black dress that showed plenty of leg, and plenty of cleavage. And Charlie had liked it. Charlie found the sexiest, most suggestive photo on my page and liked it.

The next morning I woke up feeling… How did I feel? Bold, needy, feminine, strong. I felt like making mistakes. And I felt horny as hell. Although I couldn’t recall any details, I knew that my dreams had been steamy, erotic. I lay in bed, my hand between my legs, rubbing furiously at my clit. I twisted around in bed, my sheets getting tangled up and thrown off the side. My orgasm was intense, long, and totally unsatisfactory. I showered and put on my clothes for work. My nipples were sensitive under my bra, poking into the fabric. I considered going braless. My panties felt warm, uncomfortable from my wet vagina.

What was happening to me??

Work was a nightmare. I couldn’t focus on any of my tasks. I sat alone in my office, awkwardly fidgeting in my chair in an attempt to relieve that itch between my legs. I could feel my wetness in my underwear, down my leg. I watched Charlie from my window. He sat out on the picnic table in the sun, reading his book. He looked tan from his hiking trip. I could see now his body under his clothes. Strong, masculine, young. Nothing like the men I had been seeing.

I had to escape to the bathroom to finger myself. My panties were soaked. I was losing control of myself. Goddammit, what was happening to me? I had never been this needy or obsessed before.

Charlie stopped by my office right around closing time.

“Hey Erin!” He said cheerfully, smiling brightly at me. Making me melt in my seat. He pulled a flower out from behind his back where it was hidden. “I saw this when I was out this weekend. It made me think of you. I don’t know, it’s silly I guess but… There’s just something about the shape and color I guess. It’s strong but passionate, colorful and artful but resilient. It just reminded me of you.”

It was blue and yellow, pressed and dried so as to last. I stood up to accept it, twirled it around in my fingers.

“Oh, fuck it.” I said, and kissed him.

The next day was… normal? I woke up, feeling exhilarated. I got ready for work with a stupid smile on my face. No one in the office knew or suspected anything. I saw Charlie alone in the hallway. He blushed and smiled sheepishly when he saw me. I walked up to him, squeezed his arm a little, and gave him a kiss on the cheek. I had to get on my toes to reach his face.

I sat in my office and thought about last night. After he gave me that flower, I just exploded. The critical, thinking part of my brain turned off and the cavewoman inside of me took over, and she knew what she wanted. He was surprised, shocked, when I grabbed him and kissed him. But it only took a second before his hands were on me, pulling me in closer. His lips on mine, his taste on my mouth. It was passionate, quick, and then it was over.

“Wow,” He said, his chest beating next to mine. His arms were still around me, and I felt small next to him.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Charlie.” I whispered, before kissing him again. He nodded, smiled, and left. I stayed a few moments longer before walking out.

The rest of the day slowly faded into the rest of the week. Charlie and I exchanged glances, smiles, laughs together. Subtle, innocent flirting when no one was around. Light touches. I could feel his eyes on me, watching me with hunger. Friday rolled around after a week of teasing. I had requested that Charlie stay late to finish some project. And soon it was just the two of us in the office.

I was wearing leggings and a short skirt, something that sat right on the edge of workplace appropriateness. I had caught Charlie staring at me throughout the day, staring at my legs or my ass. I liked catching him, seeing the guilt and shy smile when we made eye contact after. A subtle “sorry, not sorry” kind of smile. After everyone went home, I snuck off to my office. I pulled my leggings off, leaving just my short skirt and my long, naked legs. I didn’t have any panties on. I called Charlie into my office.

“Close the door behind you,” I told him, my legs crossed. He did so. His eyes slowly looked me up and down, taking in the view. I slowly uncrossed my legs, and then spread them. As I did so, my skirt hiked upwards naturally, revealing my naked pussy. His eyes grew large, and a soft moan escaped his lips.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “I-”

I interrupted him. “Take your pants off,” I ordered. My heart was beating, I was so excited, so nervous, so uncertain if I was really doing this. He fumbled with his belt, his hands shaking. He was as nervous as I was, it seemed. Finally, he got it loose and pulled both his pants and his underwear down between his ankles. I bit the bottom corner of my lip, seeing him standing there. “Take your shirt off,” I ordered, my hands slowly caressing the inside of my thigh. He never took his eyes off of me while he unbuttoned his shirt, leaving him standing more or less naked before me.

His cock hung between his legs, standing firmly at attention.

“Stroke yourself for me,” I told him, my voice not betraying any of the emotions I felt. His hand dropped to his cock, and he slowly began stroking it. His breathing was deep, his eyes glued on my pussy. I slowly rubbed my clit, matching with the rhythm of his own hand. I watched eagerly as he stroked himself slowly. His cock was wet with the precum I could see slowly leaking from the thick head. His body twitched lightly with pleasure. I slid my fingers down from my clit, using them to spread my labia. A thick strand of grool got caught up around my fingers, and I slowly pulled my hand free from between my legs. I stared into his eyes as I brought my hand up to my mouth, and slowly sucked my own juices off my fingers.

“Oh fuck….” Charlie moaned. “God Erin, I am so crazy about you.” You said, his voice shaking, his hand now moving faster. I said nothing, just watched as his heavy balls swung back and forth. The head of his cock was growing darker and more swollen, a beautiful color and shape. Like a mushroom, begging to be consumed. My hands moved quickly back to my own neediness, matching his quickening pace. He stroked quicker and quicker, his breathing interrupted by quiet moans of pleasure, quick grunts and soft whimpering. His eyes darting from my face to my pussy. His face scrunched up in intensity, his eyes wild with desire.

I watched as his balls swung more and more, full of cum, needing release. His body trembled more and more, his thrusting alternating between fast, furious, and slowly methodical.

“Oh god, Erin… Fuck.” He looked at me with such devotion, admiration in his eyes. “Fuck…” His shut his eyes tight then, his whole being focused on the pleasure between his legs. “I think-I think I’m going to cum,” he whimpered. He seemed so small and delicate in that moment, and so incredibly sexy. I could feel my own body trembling with his words.

“Please do it,” I told him quietly, unable to project my own voice. And then, with a little more confidence: “Cum for me, Charlie.”

He let out a guttural moan, and his hand slowed to slow movements up and down his shaft. I trembled as I saw him shake, his eyes shut tight. I watched as this man half my age orgasmed for me. I could feel a warmth starting in my vagina slowly pass through my whole body. I could see the thick ropes of white cum erupting from his cock, shooting out and landing on the floor with an audible sound. He shot rope after rope of the thick jizz. My toes curled and my body seized up in my own orgasm. My eyes remained locked on Charlie. His cock throbbed in his hand, not wet with his own semen. We both remained where we were, breathing heavily, uncertain of what to say or do next. We remained that way for a while, until Charlie pulled his pants back up over his wet, sticky cock. I closed my legs, and smoothed out my skirt. He slowly buttoned his shirt, and tucked it in.

“I- er, I mean…” He stumbled around with the words.

“Have a good weekend, Charlie.” I told him. He smiled at me.

“You too.”

After he left, I spread my legs back open and fingered myself to another orgasm.

The weekend went by quickly. Admittedly, I was feeling a bit of regret about our encounter, and trepidation towards the future work week. I didn’t know if Charlie was going to brag to any of his friends about what happened between us, or heaven forbid one of our coworkers. Things seemed normal at the office, but my heart was racing. I wore a conservative pantsuit, trying to send the message to Charlie that things were all business now. I didn’t want to have to tell him that any kind of romance was obviously off the table, and he had to remain professional and forget everything that happened between us. God, I had been so stupid. I couldn’t believe I let this happen.

Then I saw him. He stepped into my office. He stood where he stood just a few nights ago, naked and masturabting for me. The carpet between us still bore the stain where he orgasmed. He smiled at me, such a handsome, easy smile. I smiled back at him, and my heart began racing a little.

“Hi Erin!” He said cheerfully, casually.

“Charlie,” I said, in a voice that was much more seductive than I intended. Or maybe much less seductive than I wanted?

“Have a good weekend?” He took a sip of his coffee. His other hand was in his pocket.

“It was fine. Slow, relaxing. You?”

He nodded. “Same.”

And just like that, I knew. I knew he would keep our secret. I knew he would be professional, quiet, be whatever I wanted or needed. And more importantly, I knew that wouldn’t be the last time we saw each other. I knew I wanted more. I knew I wanted him.

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/v4ucra/a_special_internship