Fantasy about an older coworker I keep in contact with. {cheating} {daddy} {still dressed}

I (F 21) would show up, a traveler out of time and space basically. Coming and going through his (M 40) particular time randomly. Let him see me, freezing as he recognized me through the bakery window, me on the customer side of the counter. I’d motion that he shouldn’t say anything and slip out. Leaving him to burn with curiosity, until he had his break and grabbed his phone to text me.

I know him, and it’s not that hard to predict when he would take a lunch break. All I have to do is send him a picture of an easily identifiable landmark, make him find me to catch up about the last two years we haven’t seen each other.

We sit casually, swinging our legs over the river, eating ice cream…me telling stories of some places I’ve seen and people I’ve met. Reliving golden memories from the bakery when we worked together, and inside jokes we shared. Then…the first lead in. Me coyly slipping in, “you know I had a terrible crush on you…right?”

Him, being flustered and forgetting how to eat ice cream. Being nonchalant, “oh, really?”

Just a sly grin in reply, I’m in control of the conversation now and I allow that moment to rest undisturbed.

We would move to sitting further from the water, the bakery in view but we’re out of sight, backs against a tree. Me sitting close enough to rest my shoulder against his bicep (He is bigger than me)

With the pregnant pause hanging in the air, seductively sweet, but heavily arousing…I would smoothly but not rushed, get up on my right knee, and roll to the right, curving my left leg over his lap and landing straddling him as he sits upright against the tree. His look of surprise, his hands moving to my hips in protest and a weak effort to make me get up. I would confidently settle my weight on his straining bulge, staring him in the eye, daring him to move me

I would get even more turned on while he blustered “I can’t…my wife…we shouldn’t”, but trailing off into a soft exhaled breath as I twirl one finger in his beard and rock on him just a little. His stifled moan, getting me all slippery and hot.

I would lean over, breasts against his chin, his head tilted up like a drowning man trying not to let his lips brush my décolleté. A soft whisper in his ear, “kinda still have a crush on you. Just a little…{grinding more} bit…”

I would brace one hand on the tree behind him, rising off his lap 6”, seeing his momentary relief thinking he won’t have to tell me no…fading to wide eyed paralysis as my fingers slip his belt and button open.

Finally I would lean down, swiftly, kissing him hard, feeling the catch of my breath and moaning into his mouth. His hands finding my hips again, this time digging his fingers into the flesh of my ass like he is looking for his resolution.

I’m wearing a sun dress, and as I settle down again onto his exposed, rock hard cock, I whisper the now obvious…”I’m not wearing panties under this”

Using two fingers to tilt the head of his cock up toward me, his abs clenching from the sensitivity…kissing him again, pulling away just in time to be forehead to forehead while I slide onto him.

After that, any pretense of “shouldn’t” falls away, and I’m gratified with his arched back and mumbled “hnnmmmgggg”

When I continue slowly sliding up and down, purposefully taunting him with how wet and tight I know I am, until he uses his callused thick fingers to drive me down hard on him, peeking up into my face through my hair as I squeak with the surprise of being fully taken. We find a rhythm and move together, recycling our breath through the curtain of hair, eyes closed, neither in control of our moans.

He can feel me getting desperate, my climax getting closer. I ride just a little harder, matching his urgent digs into my guts with his cock that absolutely cannot become any tighter with blood. I dig my fingers into his shoulders, the sweat on my palms and the strength of my grip creasing deep lines in the shoulders of his ruined button down shirt…he takes the hint and lets loose a ripping orgasm. The painfully satisfactory result of three years taunting foreplay.

Eyes heavy, he slides me off onto the grass where I lie on my back, pussy exposed to the sky, grinning stupidly. Buttoning up, he gets on hands and knees, hovering over me, leaving a parting nip on the top of my barely covered breast, whispering “I’ve gotta get back”

He gets up and casually strolls away, head high and shoulders straight like someone simultaneously proud of himself, and trying to look normal.

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/gvaafb/fantasy_about_an_older_coworker_i_keep_in_contact