A Thousand Orgasms: Erotica Collection

This past summer, one of my coworkers said goodbye to us because he was moving to another city. 

  His name is Jaime; he is a very pleasant and friendly guy. He liked to "hit on me," you know, with compliments and phrases like "you look beautiful today," "you are the prettiest girl in the office," "I wish I were your boyfriend," "what a beautiful body," "you have gorgeous eyes," etc. 

  I told him several times to give up trying to flirt with me, that I had a boyfriend and that he was married. It's also true that I love hearing compliments and nice phrases from my coworkers and my bosses. Besides, Jaime never said anything obscene to me, always nice compliments.

  The truth is that the man, who was about 35 years old, seemed very attractive to me—strong, tall, and with very beautiful dark eyes—but you could say that I simply liked him, like many others, and nothing more. 

  On the day of his farewell, I was wearing a short, sleeveless patterned dress that showed off my legs quite a bit, with a large neckline that displayed my cleavage, and some heels. We opened some bottles of wine and threw him a kind of party when work finished, with cakes and everything. Jaime didn't stop looking at me throughout the celebration. 

  I knew he liked me a lot, and I didn't mind him staring at me; deep down, it flattered me. He looked for a way to get closer to me and managed it with a certain subtlety.

  I was sitting on my work desk, and he came closer and sat next to me. We stayed like that for a good while, chatting and commenting on unimportant things and pouring ourselves more glasses of wine.

  He started to get more confident and dedicated several of his phrases to me:

  "That dress looks great on you," he told me.

  "Thank you," I smiled gratefully.

  "You are the most beautiful blonde on Earth," he insisted.

  "Oh, I think you're exaggerating a little," I replied, laughing.

  "No, I don't think I'm exaggerating at all. You have a beautiful face and a divine body. I think you're physically perfect..."

  "I think you've gone too far, you're going to make me blush..."

  After all his beautiful phrases, the farewell party ended, but Jaime wanted to continue with his private party. 

  He approached me and whispered in my ear:

  "Will you give me a goodbye kiss?"

  "Of course!" I said kindly.

  I gave him two kisses on the cheeks. He closed his eyes to capture them with all their intensity, but it wasn't exactly what he wanted.

  "I'd like a more memorable kiss. I want to have a memory of the taste of your lips. I want to kiss you on the mouth," he told me.

  I kindly clarified to him that it couldn't be, but he insisted over and over, begging me.

  "No, Jaime, don't be silly," I scolded him.

  But he insisted one more time:

  "Come on... just one kiss... A little kiss..."

  I refused again, saying it wasn't right, that I appreciated him a lot, that I liked him, that we were both committed people, and it wasn't a matter of having a make-out session.

  "Just one kiss, I beg you..."

  "No, Jaime, don't insist, please."

  "I just want to know how those great lips I've always dreamed of kiss."

  He begged me so much, and seeing that he wasn't giving up easily, I wanted to downplay the issue, and perhaps somewhat uninhibited by the glasses of wine I'd had, I thought it wasn't a big deal and agreed to give it to him. But of course, we couldn't do it right there because there were people.

  He took my hand, and we went to the storage room where the cleaning products, brooms, and all that are kept. He took the key out of his pocket.

  "What are you doing?" I asked him.

  "Nobody will bother us here."

  "Hey, but we were only going to share a kiss, right?"

  "Yes, of course, but it's much more discreet here, don't you think?" he clarified.

  He took out the key, opened the small room, we went in, turned on the light in that cramped space, and closed the door behind us. 

  That place, somewhat dingy and narrow, has a characteristic smell of cleaning products, a mix of bleach and detergents.

  To this day, every time I enter that storage room, the memories of that day come to my mind; even its smell brings back memories.