🔥 Hot Freight 🔥[32F 36M] [Coworkers] [Taboo] [Cheating] [Rough sex] [Office setting] [Risky] [Slow burn] [Escaping a dead marriage]

Hey everybody! This time I decided to write a long slow burn story. I hope you enjoy, and don’t forget to upvote, share, or follow me for more!

*****

Tiffany glanced down at the ID badge as it swung from the lanyard around her neck. She was sitting in the passenger seat of her husband’s car as he drive her to work. Her shoulders were draped by a pink cardigan, and beneath that her ample curves were hugged by a black T-shirt and cream colored slacks.

“How much longer do I have to do this?” he asked.

“The mechanic said it would only be a few days,” she replied.

“But it’s been a week since the accident.”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry.”

After a pause he asked, “What did the doctor say about the brace?”

“He said I’d have to wear it until we can schedule the surgery on my wrist.”

He sighed, “Which is shaping up to be never. You’re going to have to deal with this for the rest of your life, dear. Get used to it.”

The conversation trailed off as they neared her office. Moments later, she freed herself from the confines of her husband’s car, and walked towards the front door as he pulled away. She stopped at the last minute, turning back to wave at him. He was already gone.

The reception area consisted of the space between two badge-operated security doors There were two chairs beside an end table, as if to excuse the company’s paranoia by offering a token comfort that nobody ever accepted. The receptionist sat behind a glass window, and behind her was a small office with a desk, a door and a drab green filing cabinet.

‘This is ridiculous. I work in an office, not a bank. Why do I need security to enter my own building?’ She wondered as she tapped her badge against the reader that controlled the inner door. It unlocked with a click, and she stepped through.

The office was decorated with cheap paper crafts her coworkers had made during their daily downtime. They did this a few times a year, to correspond with whatever the coming season was. A couple of plants and a clock hanging from the wall. Per recent trends, there were no cubicles – management had decided to embrace an ‘open floor plan to foster collaboration.’ She stepped through the door into the smaller room that the desks belonging to her and her coworkers occupied, and closed the door behind her with a sigh of relief.

‘I’m back. My little corner of the world,’ she thought.

She set her messenger bag down on her chair, as her coworkers welcomed her for the day. The first to say good morning was Shirley, the divorced 60-something lady that desperately needed to get laid. After that came Luke, the small man who sat behind her facing the opposite direction. Then came Guinevere, the middle aged lady who was known for being hard on her kids. Lastly came Rod, the beer-bellied supervisor from the other department that shared the room. There would be more faces later, as the shifts rotated to provide 24 hour coverage.

The air conditioning was strong, and she pulled her cardigan tighter around her to stay cozy. She sat down to log in and get set up for the day. Her job was to track shipments at a small branch of a large logistics company in Northern Ohio. It might have been the most boring job in the world, but it offered steady hours and nice bonuses.

“Good morning, everyone!” she greeted them, “How was your weekend?”

Shirley looked at her, and rolled her eyes so hard they nearly left her head and landed in her purse. She could feel Luke glaring daggers at her from behind, and she could see Guinevere grimace from behind her desk.

‘Tough crowd today,’ she thought. But she was used to being the bubbly positive one of the bunch, so she didn’t take it personally.

As the first hour passed she found herself present for a lively discussion between Shirley and Guinevere about people that put diapers on their chickens, and let them run around the house.

“Yeah, they do that for macaws too – so they can fly around the house without poop going everywhere,” Shirley informed Guinevere.

“Aw, hell no – macaws are mean. They can take your finger off with one snap,” replied Guinevere.

“I have a macaw,” Shirley said indignantly.

“Oh, really? And does he poop all over the place?” Asked Guinevere.

“No, he poops in his cage. I clean it every day,” scowled Shirley, her lips pursed.

“Well, you know what they say about birds and their feathers,” muttered Luke, and Tiffany had to suppress a giggle. Shirley hadn’t heard him.

“What do they say?” asked Guinevere, and she couldn’t keep from smiling.

“That they’re full of shit,” replied Luke, and the rest of the group broke into laughter.

‘This is going to be a great day,’ Tiffany thought to herself as she listened to the bickering and back and forth about nothing in particular.

*****

2:00 p.m. arrived, and the temperature in the room had reached a comfortable level. Brandon arrived right in time, and rushed to clock in before the clock declared him late at 2:01. He was wearing a pair of blue jeans and a yellow plaid button down shirt, unbuttoned at the very top. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, his hair had something small and tan stuck in it, and he was sporting a few fresh scratches on his arms.

“Hey, there,” greeted Tiffany.

Brandon mumbled something in response that she didn’t quite catch. He looked tired.

“What’s that thing in your hair?” Tiffany asked, peering curiously.

Brandon reached up and ran his fingers through his hair, slightly improving it. The small thing came out in his palm, and he looked at it. “Oh, it’s a wood shaving. I’ve been starting a side gig doing woodworking,” he replied.

”That’s great. What kind of wood do you use?” She inquired. She knew nothing about woodworking, except that every woodworker she could remember seeing was skinnier than her.

“It depends on what the customer wants. Some of them ask for a particular species to match a specific room in their house. Others just know that they want it to be a dark brown, so that one might end up being walnut,” he responded.

“Real wood is nice. I like the way it I smells,” she said, and he smiled.

“Me too, especially cedar. I use at least a little bit of it in most of my projects. The natural oils it contains tend to drive bugs away, so I put a little strip of it inside any drawers I make,” he said.

“You make things with drawers?” she asked, and he nodded.

“I make all sorts of furniture. I learned it back in high school. We had a great woods program where we designed our own projects, but I’ve gotten rusty,” he said.

“Rusty? But your usually such a professional,” she said, and he chuckled. It was true – the emails he copied the team in on were always immaculate. The spelling and grammar were perfect, other than the occasional typo in overwhelming circumstances. Her’s were a little more relaxed – she didn’t even capitalize most sentences.“Yes, well, I’m sure my work will speak for itself,” he shrugged.

She tried to picture him in the wood shop making something. She didn’t know about the specific tools involved, so she imagined him sanding a piece of mostly finished furniture. His hands were meticulously running over every inch of its surface, and following all the curves.

She caught herself when she started feeling a little warm, and pushed the thoughts out of her head. ‘You’re married,’ she told herself. He’d never indicated that kind of interest, even if she had been single. Besides, he was far too professional to ever get involved with a coworker, wasn’t he?

‘has the driver arrived on-site??’ She asked a freight carrier via email, as she tried to distract herself.

‘Yes, he’s waiting in the parking lot,’ came the reply.

‘great. please advise when the driver has been loaded, along with a copy of the BOL,” she typed back.

‘Yes, ma’am. I’ll let you know as soon as possible,’ they responded.

Tiffany glanced down at her phone and saw that it was nearly time for her to clock out. She did so before gathering her things, and locking her desktop.

“See you tomorrow everyone!” She called over her shoulder on her way out.

“See you tomorrow,” the group echoed as she walked down the hall.

*****

Tiffany stepped outside, but she didn’t see her husband’s car. He wasn’t one to be late.

Was he already on his way to pick her up? She waited for about 30 minutes before heading back in, slightly disappointed. When she got inside, Brandon was alone in their section of the office. Their morning coworkers had gone home.

“Where’s Winter? I thought she was supposed to be here today.” Tiffany asked.

“She called in sick,” replied Brandon.

“She’s probably doing some makeup and hair thing for some photoshoot,” Tiffany speculated. It was no secret that Winter had recently been put on a performance improvement plan by management due to ongoing attendance issues.

“Yeah, I kind of wondered,” he said.

“I guess it’s not really any of my business, though,” Tiffany responded.

“You guess?” Brandon asked, “It would definitely be my business if we hadn’t been so slow lately. Rumor is layoffs are just around the corner.”

“I don’t know where you get ask these rumors from,” she said, and he shrugged.

“People talk,” He said.

“So, what are you going to do about it?” she asked.

“What do you mean?” He asked before realizing she was referring to Winter’s repeated absences. He continued with, “Oh…I don’t know, what are you going to do about it?”

Tiffany thought about that for a moment. She wasn’t a manager, so the situation was mostly above her paygrade. But she was tired of feeling stifled, so she resolved to do something bold.

“I’m going to put her stapler in jello,” Tiffany said. She started walking towards Winter’s desk, which was the one next to Brandon’s.

“Wait, like on The Office? Are you sure that’s a good idea?” He laughed, and picked up Winter’s stapler before Tiffany could.

“I’m positive,” she said, and held out her hand expectantly. He didn’t move.

“Now what?” he asked, and she stared at him blankly for a moment before trying to snatch it out of his hand.

He was too quick for her though, and she missed. He held it back behind his head, still seated.

“Come on, just give it to me,” she grunted as she tried to reach over his head for the stapler. She had always been a short-stack, so this didn’t get her very far.

“Nope,” He said, “I don’t want to see you get fired too.” He held the stapler further behind his head.

Tiffany reached out again, but this time she tripped over Brandon’s foot. This might have only been a small issue if she hadn’t fell into him, and would have not been a big deal if he hadn’t been so imbalanced towards the back of his chair when she did. He tipped over backwards.

Tiffany fell forwards, and desperately tried to catch herself. Her hands found purchase on his shoulders, and she managed to keep their faces from colliding when they hit the floor. She wound up with her knees on the floor to either side of his hips. He tried to catch himself with one hand and her with the other, but in the momentary chaos the only thing he got a firm hold of was her left breast.

“Ouch!” He said, as she landed atop him with her full weight.

“Sorry,” she apologized as she pulled her body off of him, and sat back on her heels. Her face was flush with embarrassment.

“No, it’s okay,” he said, as she hurriedly got up and gathered her things.

“Alright, well, see you tomorrow!” She called over her shoulder as she took off like a prom dress towards the front of the building.

Brandon gingerly picked himself up. ‘At least the chair isn’t broken,’ he thought at first. Then his mind wandered to the feeling of her breast against his hand, and he processed what had just happened. ‘I…grabbed a married boob,’ he thought.

When Tiffany reached the front of the building, her husband was waiting there impatiently. She quickly climbed into the car.

“Sorry,” she said, “There was something I needed to do.”

He didn’t respond as he pulled away from her workplace, and she was secretly grateful for the silence. She looked out the window, struggling not to think about Brandon’s strong shoulders. But as the nipple on her left breast gradually grew soft again, she knew she wanted Brandon to touch her again – even if it was only in her head.

*****

Tiffany had been working at the freight company for almost two years now, and things had been going so well. The boss was nice, the customers were nice, everything was nice. It was a perfect place to work if you were looking for a job that paid the bills and didn’t require a lot of effort. So, on top of her hesitation to upend her marriage, she was hesitant to upend her professional life too.

But over the past year she had felt a strong need to be touched growing inside her, and she knew it was only going to get worse as time went on. Her husband certainly didn’t do it anymore, and the Dead Bedroom subreddit had run out of suggestions to try and fix things.

This was acutely on her mind as she got dressed that morning.
She usually wore a shirt and pants that made her feel safe and comfortable, but she knew she needed more than that. She decided to wear a pencil skirt today.

‘No harm in looking good, right? I’m doing this for myself, not Brandon,’ she lied to herself. And if he did like it, so what?

‘Maybe this will make him want to touch me more,’ she caught herself thinking as she zipped up her skirt. The skirt was tight, and she felt restricted as she put on her shoes. She was used to wearing boots, and not being able to feel her toes was making her feel uncomfortable.

Finally, she settled on a button down white shirt that was just a little too tight. She looked in the mirror and asked herself, ‘Will they see my bra through this…? I mean, I can, but they’re not going to look as closely as I am…’

She stopped herself from finishing that sentence.

‘They won’t see your bra,’ she told herself. It was time to stop being so careful with what she said and did.

She heard her phone make a noise, and she checked her voicemail. Her car was ready to pick up. She called down the stairs, “Honey, you just need to drop me off at the mechanic’s. My car is ready.”

“Glad to hear it,” he called back.

She quickly finished her outfit, and opted to wear a cardigan over it again. She didn’t have anything to hide, but she also didn’t want to be too revealing. She pulled her hair up into a high bun , and secured it with a hair tie.

‘This is good. I look professional, and I have enough coverage so nobody will see my cleavage or my tummy if I bend over too much,’ she thought as went out to the garage to get in the car. Her husband was right behind her, and seemed to be none the wiser.

When she got into the car, she buckled up and put her phone down. She was ready to go. Her husband pulled out of the garage, and turned to the right. The mechanic was only a few blocks away.

As they pulled up to the mechanic she turned to her husband and asked, “How would you feel about me picking up some overtime?”

He shrugged and said, “Extra money’s always nice. Go for it.”

She smiled and waved goodbye as she climbed out of the car and headed inside to meet the mechanic. After picking up her keys, she found her car in the parking lot and looked it over.

They’d done a good job. You could barely see where she’d been broadsided the last time she drove it. A dull ache in her wrist served as an ongoing reminder, though, and she suspected her little tumble the night before had only made it worse.

She climbed in her car and headed to work.

*****

As Tiffany walked in to work, she realized she’d left her cell phone in the car. She was running a bit behind though, so she opted to head to her desk first. But the office was actually busy today, so she didn’t get a chance to go back out for her phone.

‘It’s probably better that way anyway,’ she thought as she sat at her desk working. ‘I need to focus. If I get distracted by my phone, I might end up sending the wrong text to the wrong person, and that could cause all kinds of problems.’

As she worked, she thought about her text to her husband she hadn’t sent. It was an ultimatum that could definitely shake things up. She spent the rest of the day trying to distract herself from the text, only to find her mind wandering to the day before. She wanted to avoid thinking about that too on some level, but she definitely preferred reimagining her awkward interaction with Brandon over writing the story of her divorce in advance.

Tiffany finally managed to push both things out of her mind about an hour before Brandon walked in. He was right on time, as usual. She tried to focus on her work.

“Quitting time,” Shirley said to her.

“Oh, not for me. I think Winter’s still sick, so I’m going to stay late and cover for her tonight,” Tiffany replied.

“Suit yourself!” replied Shirley as she gathered her things and exited the office with their coworkers. Now Tiffany and Brandon were alone. Her heart leaped a little bit when she heard the door shut behind Shirley. She shrugged her cardigan off onto the back of her chair, and undid her top two buttons as if she was on autopilot. So much for modesty.

‘What am I doing?’ She started to ask herself. But as she peeked over the divider between the desks towards Brandon’s back, she felt a little tingle between her legs. She hadn’t been touched in so long.

She knew what she was doing. She was playing with fire, and her body needed to see what would happen if she got burned. She was being reckless, but she didn’t really care. She was desperate to feel something.

“Hey,” she said, “Can you come take a look at this?”

“Sure, what’s up?” Asked Brandon, as he stood up and walked around to stand beside her at her desk. The tingle she’d noticed earlier began to grow into an ache as he approached.

“My…wrist hurts. Can you feel it?” She asked him, improvising.

He looked confused, but she noticed he was struggling to keep his eyes away from her exposed cleavage. She reached up with her good hand to play with one of the bumps near the center of her collarbone, drawing further attention to herself.

“I’m not sure what you want me to do…? I’m not a doctor,” he replied.

She undid another button, trying to help him understand what she needed.

He blinked, and she could see a bulge forming in the front of his pants. She’d never looked that closely before, but…

‘Damn, he’s not exactly small,’ she thought to herself, as she absentmindedly reached for his belt buckle. She stopped herself just short, in case he decided to pull away.

But he didn’t. His breathing quickened slightly, and she took full advantage of the green light. She brought her other hand up and began to undo his belt buckle. When she was done, she slowly ran her fingers down to trace his growing bulge briefly. He closed his eyes and softly groaned before opening them again.

She stood up, and pressed her soft curves against him. Her relief was immense when his hands finally found her hips, and she shuddered as she felt his fingers trailing down to her thighs. She felt hot, and vulnerable, and excited. This was so wrong, but so right.

‘I need to feel him inside me, pushing against my walls, breaking them down,’ she thought.

As his fingers hooked under the bottom of her skirt, she grabbed his wrist gently and started to move his hand back up. Her skirt came along, and she felt goosebumps forming on her legs and arms as the rough fabric slid across her skin.

Her fingers traced their way down his wrist to find his fingers, and she took hold of them. She moved them back and forth once along the front of her hip, before using her thumb to stretch the side of her panties an inch or so away from her body. She then guided his fingers between the side of her panties and her hip before moving her hands up to cup his face and pull it towards hers.

Immediately, a change came over him. His strong hand hooked firmly under the side of her panties and pulled forward, ripping them clear off her body. She gasped, wondering what she’d started, but she didn’t have to wonder long as his other hand grabbed hold of her bun and pulled her into a fierce kiss. His tongue parted her lips and began to explore her mouth, her tongue eagerly greeting it.

Upon breaking the kiss his hands moved up to cup her breasts, squeezing them firmly. She felt hot and flushed, wanting more. His fingers found their way to her cleavage, and again he showed no respect for her clothing – he ripped the front of her shirt wide open, scattering the buttons that had remained fastened all across her desk.

Brandon spun her around. He firmly grasped her right hip with his strong right hand, and her bun with his left. He pushed her down against the desk, and she felt her breasts burst out above the confines of her bra as they were squeezed between her chest and her keyboard. Her desk organizer was thrown to the floor.

His strong hands started at her hips, tracing the outline of her sides up and down briefly before they disappeared. She heard a zip, a rustling, and then his left hand was suddenly back on her hip. A surge of adrenaline began to course through her veins as she felt something hard rubbing up and down the length of her pussy, spreading her lips a little further each time.

She knew she was wet enough to take it, and her longing began to transform into desperation as she began to push back against his strong grip. She could wriggle, but try as she might she couldn’t seem to engulf him as Mother Nature intended. Her good hand tried to reach back to guide him in, but he took his hand off his shaft and slapped hers away.

“You want me to fuck you, don’t you Tiffany?” He ruthlessly whispered. She didn’t need to answer – couldn’t really, as she was overcome by the sensation of his glans flicking up and down across her swollen little clit.

She gasped as she felt the tip of his cock sliding back up, searching for the way in. She felt an exquisite pressure growing as he leaned his weight against her, and it wasn’t long before he had eased half his length inside her using three slow thrusts.

“Oh fuck, it feels so good,” she moaned, unable to contain her excitement. The tension within her had exploded into a million pieces, and she felt herself longing for the rest of him with each agonizing thrust. It could never be enough…could it?

She was about to find out.

He pulled out almost all the way, and then surged forward, burying the rest of his shaft inside her for the first time. She had forgotten the acute satisfaction to be found in being filled, and this brought it all back. She needed more.

She felt his strong hands grasp her hips tightly, and he pulled her back until her luscious ass was pressed firmly against his belly. He let out a soft grunt of satisfaction as he savored her depths, and then he began to fuck her in earnest.

His hands pulled her hips back with each thrust of his hips, and she felt every inch of his cock throbbing against her walls in sync. She groaned each time he surged forward into her, and her voice cracked as she softly whimpered for him to fuck her harder.

‘Harder! Please! More!’ She screamed inside her mind, not daring to aloud for fear her coworkers might hear.

His strong hands moved above her hips to find purchase in both of the valleys of her waist, and he continued to pound her pussy relentlessly. Each time he slammed into her, she felt like she might pass out. She wanted him to cum, badly. She wanted to feel his hot load shooting into her cunt, and she was going to make it happen dammit. She began to throw herself back against him each time he penetrated her.

‘This is going to be my last day at this job, and I’m going to make it memorable. There’s no way they can’t hear us,’ she thought to herself. She was long past caring about anything. Not her job, not her car, and definitely not her asshole husband. She was finally getting FUCKED for the first time in years, and she didn’t care who found out. A long primal growl began in her throat, and Brandon echoed it back.

“Oh fuck,” he grunted, and she felt the fleshy pocket around her cervix become a hot little crater as his load shot into her depths.

”Aaagh! Aaagh! I’m cumming!” she screamed, and she felt her pussy clamp down on his cock as it happened, coaxing the last drops into herself. It was ecstasy, and she knew it was never going to happen quite like this again. She closed her eyes and savored his throbbing as he held himself deep inside her until he felt her pussy relax as her orgasm finally subsided.

“That was fucking incredible,” he said to her when he finally managed to string words together again. He lingered inside for a few more strokes that had turned surprisingly tender since their mutual release. The thick, warm layer of their mutual orgasm left their contact frictionless as his shaft glided back and forth the last few times.

She lowered her head and looked between her breasts, still bursting forth above the top of her bra just in time to see the flood of juices fall between her legs as he withdrew from her body. She panted at the sight.

As she slowly came back from the heights they’d reached, she unsteadily rose to her feet. He had already pulled his pants back up. She turned around and grasped her cardigan, drawing it around her shoulders. At least she could cover up during her walk of shame.

Her panties were ruined, so she picked them up and tucked them into his pocket before planting a soft kiss on his cheek.

“Thank you…I really needed that,” she sighed, and wrapped her arms around him to hug him tight.

He returned the embrace, and they lingered there in silence for a moment before he replied, “Yeah, I did too. I was a little pent up.” He returned to his desk.

“How many emails behind are you?” She softly laughed.

“Oh, not too many. My job is pretty boring at this time of night.”

She gathered up her bag, and eyed him one more time saying, “I’ve got to get home.”

He nodded and looked lost in thought.

She paused at the door and looked over her shoulder. She suggested, “Maybe we could do this again? Assuming we don’t get fired.”

Brandon laughed at that and replied, “I’m down.”

She stepped out into the ops floor and caught an intense look from Kelly, the girl who sat nearest the door to Tiffany’s department. But instead of chastising Tiffany, Kelly winked and silently mouthed, “Get it, girl!”

Tiffany would have blushed, but she was still red in the face from the way she’d just been dicked down. She opted to wordlessly make her way to her car.

As she climbed into the driver’s seat, she picked up her cell phone. She pulled up the text message she’d wrote to her husband, and added the phrase “Fuck you,” to the end.

She hit send.

Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/10y2ap3/hot_freight_32f_36m_coworkers_taboo_cheating