I spent my lunch break in the women's locker room at the factory, buried balls-deep in Becca Ferguson, the nineteen-year-old press operator who wanted me. I didn't want Becca. She was flat-chested and kind of dumb, no real ambition but to get married and start cranking out babies like a puppy mill. Still, she wanted me, and I was willing to use her to get what I really wanted, which was Susan.
Becca and I had our shirts on, but our pants around our ankles. I pounded into her, stroke after stroke after stroke. She'd slipped her hands up under my shirt and dug her nails into my spine. I cupped my fingers over her hips and tried hard to make sure I didn't come too soon.
I knew when Susan was supposed to take lunch. I'd timed seducing Becca precisely. Of course that wasn't hard, since I only had to get her to do what she already wanted to do. Becca and I took first lunch, and Susan was on second lunch. So I just walked into the women's locker room as Becca was taking off her work smock, wrapped my arms around her waist from behind, and began sucking her earlobes. She leaned back into me. I rubbed my thumbs in figure-eights over her belly and pressed my crotch into the back of her jeans.
After a moment, Becca tried to turn to me, but I squeezed her back into me. "Neil?" she asked.
"Ssh," I whispered, and slipped one hand up to cup her tiny breast. Every time she tried to talk I shushed her. That was the only thing I said to her, over and over, just "Ssh," whenever she tried to talk.
I leaned us forward so her cheek rested against the cold metal lockers. I pressed my weight into her. One hand pinched and pulled at her nipple through her t-shirt, the other hand slid down to her jeans. My fingers went under the denim and fingered the elastic of her panties. She started to moan, and I pressed my lips onto hers. My thumb and index finger went into her panties and sought for her clit. Becca was already starting to get wet in her clothes. Slowly, tentatively, I began to move my crotch up and down against her.
"Stop, Neil," she whispered, but her voice was trembling with lust. "Someone might come in."
"Ssh," I answered.
I didn't love Becca, and I didn't want her. She was pretty enough, guess, she was the high side of average anyway. But she was just I child. I want real grown women. Women like Susan.
The strokes of my crotch on Becca's pert, childish ass became quicker, longer. I dry-humped her from behind while I used one hand on her slit and one hand on her breast to keep her interested. My fingers found her clit, and I rubbed my thumbnail in several slow circles over it. I wanted to stick my fingers into her, but her jeans fit too snugly. So I took my other hand off her breast long enough to unbutton her jeans, and I fit first one finger into her, then two.
I worked my fingers in time to how I worked her ass. With each upstroke on her ass I pulled my fingers out of her. With each downstroke I pushed my fingers back in. Becca moaned and trembled as I took her from both sides at once, standing up. I slipped a third finger into her.
Even as I worked Becca's body like a violin, I struggled to think about anything but sex. I thought about the pneumatic presses out on the factory floor. I thought about bills and cleaning out the refrigerator. I didn't want to come yet. I didn't want to come until the right audience saw me.
Becca was just theatre. I wanted to be seen with her. I wanted Susan to see how I made love. Susan worked on the shear line and I only saw her when we were clocking out or taking a coffee break. I would talk to her when I could. She was forty-one, ten years older than me, but whenever I talked I felt the flutter in my belly that told me it was love. Susan had sleek black hair and large firm breasts, long muscular legs and feather-soft fingers.
Susan was also married. Her husband was my boss, Jeff. But everyone knew Jeff was a bigamist--his first wife was his job. Jeff didn't treat Susan like a smart, sexy woman ought to be treated. I wanted to be the one who gave Susan what her halfwit husband wouldn't.
I wanted Susan to see how I made love to a woman. I worked hard to be gentle but firm, commanding but affectionate. Becca would make a good example, because she wanted me and would do whatever I asked of her.
Becca closed her eyes and smiled as I slid a fourth finger into her. I didn't know if Becca was a virgin, and I didn't want her to cry out and draw attention too soon, so I was being careful. My other hand switched to her other breast, pinching at her through her shirt. I bit her gently on the neck and sucked her skin through my teeth. Her ass was soft and warm, and her cheeks folded over my dick through her jeans.
Suddenly Becca's knees wobbled and she almost dropped out from under me. She dropped what seemed like gallons of juices onto the hand I had up in her. Her hands reached around behind me and gripped my ass cheeks, pulling me into her.
"Don't stop," she hissed at me.
"Ssh," I whispered.
I lifted her up off the lockers, turned her around, and leaned her against the cool blue tile wall. We were face to face for the first time. I pressed my mouth into hers, slipped my tongue out, licked her teeth and tasted her. Though I didn't really want Becca, I had to admit to myself, she had a dark, sweet-sour taste that I really enjoyed.
Becca's hands unbuckled my belt and fumbled at my fly. I caught her wrists in my hands. "Too quick?" she asked softly.
"I'll go slower."
She reached around and slipped her hands into my back pockets. Her short warm fingers arched around the contours of my ass. Her thumbs made circles over my jeans. It felt good, and I almost forgot who this performance was for.
My crotch pressed into hers. She spread her knees so I could fit into her. Her crotch was warm and wet on mine. I pressed both hands onto her tiny breasts and pressed them into her body, rubbing them in slow circles as I kissed her mouth and neck. She arched her back and pressed her body tight into mine.
Becca slipped her hands back out of my pockets and cupped my hips. She pressed the heels of her hands into me and slid her warm palms down to my thighs, up to my waist. She repeated this motion two more times, then reached back around for my fly. I didn't stop her this time as she opened my zipper.
I took my hands off her breasts and reached for her jeans. As she pushed mine off me I pushed hers off her. Now there was only the thin cotton of our underwear between us. I moved my hips from side to side over her like a pendulum. Her juices soaked into my boxers. I would wear her smell through the rest of the shift, and the thought made me so horny I almost came right then.
My hands reached around Becca's body. The tips of my fingers met in the small of her back, just over her ass. I used my fingers to feel out the bones of her spine, and I circled them one by one as I moved up. When I reached the point where she was leaning aganst the wall I cupped my hands over her shoulder blades and hugged Becca into me, crushing her breasts into my chest.
The more I stroked her back and sucked her neck and dry-humped against her she started to tremble again. She threw her head up so I got a full view of her white throat. Her pulse beat in the veins of her neck, and I nibbled at her like a vampire. Then her knees buckled again. She arched her back so hard I was afraid she'd push me over and we'd tumble to the floor. Her juices spilled out again, and began to run down both our thighs.
I knew it was time to finish this performance. I gave her a few moments to stop bucking and trembling, then I reached down and wrapped my arms around her waist. She didn't speak or resist as I lifted her off the wall and laid her down on the pine bench that ran down the middle of the locker room. Her eyes were closed, and she looked exhausted. As I let go of her she dropped her arms off the sides of the bench and they swung limply. I smiled. I knew I was good, but it was easiest when a girl really wanted what I offered.
I stood over her and pushed my boxers down. The elastic caught for a moment on my erection, and I couldn't help but smile at the sight of myself standing there with my underwear hanging like laundry off an eight-inch hook. I shook myself a little and my underwear dropped to the floor. Then I reached down and hooked my fingers into Becca's panties.
"No more," she said without opening her eyes. "I can't do any more."
"Ssh," I whispered.
"Really, Neil," she insisted. "We have to get back to work."
I pulled her panties off her. She lifted her hips as I pulled her panties down. I smiled again--so much for her protests.