Desire of the Day- Day 1 Part 1 [MF 30+][POV][Coworker][Story] – Short Sex Story

Day 1

Morning glory, with no opportunity for release, is a difficulty I don’t want. Waking up, tired and groggy, to my alarm playing some random music and rolling over to turn it off; realising my member is in a bright mood when all I want is to have a piss. I stand up and work my way to the bathroom.

My bed calls to me with its warmth and lagging memory of a dream I cannot recall but know I enjoyed. My ‘gentleman’ being evidence enough of that. Climbing into the tepid shower to help alleviate the situation I briefly consider a more physical solution. There’s no time, it at all times takes longer in the morning, got to go to work. Why does it at all times take longer in the morning? Tiredness? Lack of energy? The idea that if I do it now my day will never improve from this point? That sounds pathetic but if I really think about it, it’s not far wrong. The cool water isn’t helping and I still need a piss.

Whilst washing my hair I think “fuck it”. Every guy knows the difficulty aiming with a hard on. It’s either in the shower now, or risk flooding the seat, wall and floor as I attempt to control the flow. Shower it is. Cleaning and drying up, then brushing my teeth, before a quick spray of deodorant and wandering out the bathroom a little more awake, but still cold in my nakedness. I put on my boxers, socks and shirt before heading downstairs for my bike jeans and jacket. Its a routine I could, and have, done in my sleep. That was not a pleasant Saturday. I pet the still sleeping dog before topping up his food and water, grabbing my bag, gloves and helmet, heading out the door and getting the bike ready.

She was named recently, MeQueen, after the Disney Cars character. Is there something in people naming their vehicles? In my experience men named their’s women’s names and women name them men. Riding out my garden I pass Chris, my car, bucking the female name trend, and cruise down the street.

As I travel with traffic I people watch. Bearded men in estates, some company types in big oversized SUVs, a few younger people in an assortment of hatchbacks and the odd biker. When was the last time I saw a female biker? No idea. Its hard to tell sometimes.

I pass a bus stop with a few kids on their way to college, one signals to rev my engine and I enthusiastically pull a wheelie. As I land it I see a car pull out in front of me from a side road and I anchor on the brakes. I see the driver do the same and I manage to turn the bike to a stop not far from the front bumper. I can see the driver flailing trying to signal apology and open the window. I raise the front of my helmet, one of those with a full face lift where it opens at the sides so my face is on view, it makes smoking easier than with just a visor. I do it so the driver can see my face as she shouts out the window,
“oh my god I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you” a common response.

I look at her attire, white blouse, black jacket, probably works in an office. Driving a small white audi, standard for office workers i think. The sun shining off her makeup covered face giving her a waxy look, her straight brown hair down to below her shoulders. Her head tilted as she talks out the window again,
“are you OK?”

I awkwardly nod with the weight of my helmet as my heart rate slows down. I want to say something flirty but nothing comes to mind and I say,
“all good, maybe you’ll get me next time” with a smile.

I lower my helmet and as I set off again I turn slightly to look at her and wave. I turn back before I see a response.
“I’m better now I’ve seen your beautiful face”,
“I’m fine, clearly my good looks momentary blinded you”,
“if you wanted to talk with me you didn’t need to run me off the road”,
“maybe next time I can pull out on you”.

All these responses immediately come to mind, the last one I say out loud and laugh to myself. “She didn’t even look at you like that!” I again think. But if she did…. My mind wanders to thoughts of embracing.
“Stop” I say out loud as my pants tighten as my morning glory attempts a revival. I really need to have sex, it’s been a couple months.

An uneventful trip later, I arrive at the main road outside work and as I signal to turn I see a car approaching, signalling it’s own intention to go into my office. I flash the lights and nod with my head and see a hand raised in thanks from a familiar face. Turning in and following down the short tree-lined drive I pull into my usual spot at the door and shut off the engine. I glance across the car park and see you pull into your own preferred spot.

Taking my time dismounting and removing my helmet, before quickly brushing my hair with my hand to get it flat, I unlock my backbox to get my bag and stow my helmet away. You’re walking towards me now, I feel a rush of adrenaline as I turn my head, towards you, and away again to my bag as I excitedly await greeting you. There’s at all times been a bit of flirtation and cheeky comments between us. I assume it’s because you’re just being nice to me, you’re out of my league after all, your blonde almost gold coloured hair is caught by the breeze and you push it from your face as your eyes look up and catch mine.

You still have a wisp of hair on your lips as you smile and say “hiyaaa, didn’t know it was you. not seen your new bike properly yet”.

“Mornin’, its nice isn’t it? She’s called MeQueen” I respond, signalling to the bike.

“McQueen? As in Steve McQueen?” you say as you look questioningly with a smile at the bike.

“No” I laugh, “M-E-Queen” I annunciate.
“As in me” I jab a finger at myself “King, and Me” pointing at the bike, “queen”.

You let out your familiar loud single “Ha” with your head slightly tilted back and I take the opportunity to continue.

“Though I’d be willing to go all Henry the VIII and have her beheaded for a new queen…”, my flirt game is weak.

Another short “Ha” a little louder than the first, which I take as ridicule, and you take a few steps to the door. I take a quick glance at what you’re wearing, a yellow loose flowing dress with a, faux I’m guessing, leather jacket and short black heeled boots. Professional meets summer necessity. Topped off with a large bag I’m guessing carries your laptop.

After a few steps you stop and say,
“Heard any news?”, your hand on the door ready to push it open.

“Nope, except for the usual something about flexi work. Might work a bit late tonight so I can finish early Friday though”, I lie.

I’ve not intended to work late. But I still fantasise about the two of us working late and getting busy in an empty office. It isn’t gonna happen, but the thrill of it excites me. Like a starving man presented with food; I stuff myself with my fantasies in the hopes of nourishing my sexual appetite. Its probably making it worse. To continue my analogy, like a starving man presented with a video of people eating food.

“I’ll pop up later, I need your help with something” you say as you push open the door.

“No worries” I respond “see you later then.”

“Byeee” I hear you say as the door closes.

It’s gonna be a long day. I shoulder my bag, attempt to fix my hair again and light a cig.

NSFW: yes

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