This is my first story. It's based on an actual exchange I had with a female work colleague some years ago and I've repurposed, embellished and hopefully enhanced it. I remain M and B becomes male for this story.
It's definitely more on the erotic rather than graphic side and I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it at the time and enhancing it now. I'd love to hear your feedback: betweenfloors@proton.me
Please consider donating to nifty if you can, this story wouldn't have made it outside my email archive without it.
Protagonists: At the time of the first encounter M is UK based, 40 years old, straight and married. He is around 6 foot tall, dark haired and has an athletic build developed through regular Crossfit training. He has a semi-cut 6.5-inch cock whose girth belies its length. B is US based, 25 years old and gay with an on-off relationship with H. He is 5'9", dark haired with a slim, toned build and a cut 7" cock, slimmer than M's but hard as rock when appropriately aroused.
M and B had needed to collaborate on various work projects and as well as regular formal' online meetings they developed a daily messaging habit as well as more informal' online meetings on `work from home' days.
The Present Day:
M is ill. In his more fevered moments, he finds himself drawn back to affairs of the heart.
Dearest B
The Doctors tell me there's not long until this thing reaches the brain and starts attacking my mind, after which it's all downhill. "You should get your affairs in order" they say in that business-like bedside manner they must teach in Med School. Frankly though, at the moment, it is affairs of the heart and the flailing loose ends, that are exercising me the most.
I've been remembering how it started, before it all ended so very badly. I'm remembering moments. Those moments when something is said, seemingly in all innocence and you're left wondering whether they were suggesting what you think they were suggesting... or whether it was just a passing comment.
If you remember we exchanged messages almost daily on our work and personal messaging apps. We talked about work, sex, drink, books, music, the whole gamut. I was interested in your very different sex life but didn't think it had much to do with my own. One day you mentioned, apropos of nothing, the total lack of security and CCTV in certain parts of your office building, including the stairwell between the two floors of our organisation. A stairwell I knew most didn't use from a previous visit. There was only one thing you could have been talking about, surely? I think we may have alluded to it at the time and then I moved on and forgot about it until later...
It was Winter and I was visiting the office, due to be in town for the best part of a week with 3 days committed to work - most of it tied up in an endless round of meetings. Whilst in the office we continued our usual daily chats about 'stuff' and you were kind enough to ensure I had company for lunch each day. I was glad that meeting you face to face hadn't altered the easy, relaxed relationship we seemed to have developed. You were flirty, but this seemed to be your usual modus-operandi.
On the third and final day in the office I was in another round of meetings on the lower floor and was running late for lunch. You came to find me. We met in the stairwell. "I was just coming to find you" you started to say before stopping to look round and up. I remembered then and I knew. I looked at your smile and the glint in your eye I would come to anticipate eagerly. No words were needed, we embraced, we kissed, hungrily. I gestured you towards the alcove and we tore at each other. You leaned forward grabbing the fire hose reel, and, looking back over your shoulder, you mouthed 'Fuck me now'.
You were wearing loose fitting joggers and as I pulled them slowly down over your ass, I found you weren't wearing underwear either -- was this planned or were you always attired this way? I'd never been in this position before so felt a little nervous as I tried to remember what I'd seen in porn films or read in stories (yes, I'd been curious).
I knelt down and my face was close to those beautiful pert ass cheeks. Parting them with my hands I dove in with my tongue, roaming around your hole before exploring the depths within. I reached round and slowly stroked your hard, leaking cock and used the pre-cum to lubricate the fingers I then used to probe your insides. Your moans told me everything I needed to know. The strain on my trousers told me what needed to happen next.
I stood, then unbelted and dropped my trousers to the floor. My cock was hard, not HB hard but 3H or 4H hard. I spat in my hand and used it as extra lubrication for what was about to happen. I parted your cheeks again and held the top against your puckering hole, there was an initial resistance, but your moans and slight arching backwards spurred me on.
As I entered you and I felt your warmth, we simultaneously moaned and I held you there for the briefest moment feeling the soft curvature of your ass against my abdomen, breathing deep the scent of sweat and sex as I held you close and nuzzled into your neck. It was a brief moment but one I can bring back to mind to this day.
I worked to a gentle rhythm alternately fulling you deeply and then almost pulling out. Your increasing pleasure tripped something in me. I started to fuck you harder, like I wanted to -- it felt like I wanted to punish you, punish you for making me want this, making me want you.
It seemed to go on for an age, but it was probably only a matter of minutes. The sound of my balls slapping against your perfect ass would have alerted anyone using the stairwell to our presence but still I covered your mouth to stifle the increasingly loud moans, blood trickling from my hand as you bit deeper into the fingers that had briefly explored your inner desires. Then an explosion as I felt you shudder with your own orgasm, the tightening around my cock had me coming like never before, emotion overlapping emotion, both of us spent. Recovering, I gently kissed the nape of your neck wondering what it would be like to explore the rest of your body. That would come later.
Lunch was had, I don't recall where we ate or who was there. I can't have taken much part in the conversation.
Despite everything that subsequently happened, the intense few years, the others we hurt and the hurt I would eventually cause you I cherish how it all started. I simply close my eyes think of that stairwell and I'm back in that brief moment, deep inside you, holding you close, shuddering with pleasure and life is good.
Forever Yours,
M
Two weeks pass, M is resigned to not hearing back from B but picking up that morning's mail he recognises the sloping of B's handwriting on the envelope. He tears it open and reads:
Dearest M,
I treasure this letter more than I can say.
All these years later, that memory of our first time still drifts through my mind, a delicious image that haunts me still. I hadn't dared to dream that you might still be thinking of it too.
I also hadn't dared to think you wanted me the way I wanted you. Despite little glimmerings here and there, little unexpected sparks I thought I was picking up from you, you'd still been reticent enough during our online discussions that I doubted my senses. It would be mortifying, even at such a distance, even though it was wrong to think of such things in the first place, if you were to tell me you were completely uninterested...
...despite the vibe I could swear I felt sometimes, winging its way across the ether.
Then you told me you were coming over, made sure I'd be here when you were here, and I still wasn't sure what to think, what to expect, but I was excited, oh yes, couldn't wait to see you in person again, see those brilliant eyes up close.
Finally, you were here. Thank God--I could talk to you in person and not feel too shy after all we'd shared online, the sex and the music and the books, so much and yet so little--it would be the same easy camaraderie, I didn't have to worry a bit, I could relax with you in the same office, the same floor...
...and then we were in the elevator at the same time, and I so wanted you to close the distance between us and come to me in those brief moments between floors, press your body against mine and take my head in your hands, tongue me deeply, let me feel you, scent you, God, yes, please.
I said nothing, did nothing, convincing myself it was all in my head, that you weren't thinking anything of the sort and would be horrified if I said something, or worse, painfully kind in your rejection.
How wrong I was.
Even now I don't even have to close my eyes to feel you, feel your hands on me, on my face, in my hair, sliding down to my waist, gripping me there, and there. I can't even remember how we got to the alcove, I just remember feeling like we were shutting out the rest of the world. The harsh light pouring down on us didn't even register then, you had me so turned on, I was nearly climbing through you to feel your hardness even closer against me. Mmm, the way you moaned into my mouth when I reached between down to feel your hard cock through your pants.
Was I the one that turned around first? I seem to recall you spinning me around, pushing me up against the wall, but I was already lost in sensation, wanting you to fuck me hard, NOW. I knew you were leaving after the next day, I knew I might not see you in person ever again, but I wanted you inside me, I didn't care, just fill me up, don't ask, just take me.
I'm still sorry about biting your fingers, that was completely unlike me. Yet I think I'd do it all over again the same way, arching and thrusting back against you, scrabbling at the wall, trying not to scream when I came...
I can't think anymore right now, too awash with memories, hard again just like I was then--
Always yours,
B.