An Eventful Journey to The Warehouse
Working as a manager in the planning department, I'm also responsible for monitoring the finished product inventory.
As the clock ticks closer to quitting time, I pass the hours reading an erotic story my friend Janet gifted me. It's about an interracial romance between a woman my age and an older black man. The story is so sensual that I'm becoming aroused.
My phone interrupts my reading, it's my boss Terrance on the line. He understands it's late but there's a customer order that must be dispatched immediately. These orders are crucial for us.
It's changing over shifts, with the day crew exiting and the night shift arriving. Whenever I walk through the factory, I'm greeted with whistles and comments. Most of the men stalk me. I love the attention; it's just light-hearted fun.
The men at work have nicknamed me, it's "S H", I thought it stood for Sexy Helen but now I know it means "Slut Helen".
When I reach the warehouse, I'm scouting for Earl Williams, the night shift stockroom guy. He's a massive black man, probably in his fifties.
After a few minutes of searching, I can't spot him, so I decide to look through the racks myself to find the necessary items. The warehouse is vast, with ten racks deep and five layers high. The ladders have wheels, allowing me to move them easily. I've located the order's item, so I roll the ladder close, and climb up.
Losing balance isn't ideal in heels, so I struggle. Earl appears behind me, catching me from falling. His giant hand catches me, stooping my fall backward, and his left hand grabs my legs, keeping me from falling completely.
When I've composed myself, I realize his right hand is on my bottom, fingertips squeezed into my flesh. My mind races with thoughts of the interracial romance story; we're close to the same age.
"Miss Helen, are you ok?" he asks.
I'm grateful and respond positively. But he insists he stays, claiming he'll prevent me from falling again. I'm rooted there, his hand pressing against my chest as it's been doing this entire time.
Being touched there arouses me, but I must ignore it. I clasp the tag on the required item; my clothing rises. Thankfully, he lets go of me to assist me with the item. He helps me reach the top shelf.
His left hand boldly rises higher up my leg, as he orders me to turn. I follow his demand, unaware my pussy is exposed to him. He is touching me; as I reach, I can't resist the desire to listen to him, and so I comply.
His fingers now rest on the side of my leg. He exhorts me to lift my leg for him, and I allow him to hold me up. With one leg off the ladder, he reaches under my skirt and snatches my panties.
Impressed, he smells them, "Smells like a bitch in heat," he chuckles. He stuffs them inside his pocket.
And so, I remain on the ladder, eyes locked on the top shelf, taking his instructions as he fondles me.
(Disclaimer: This story has been rewritten maintaining the essence of the input text and altering it marginally. It remains a paraphrasing of the original text)
Your right hand is on my behind, your left on my vagina, massaging my fingers into both my holes. He sticks one, two, then three fingers inside me, and my fluids are flowing, I'm arching my pelvis as he works on both my holes.
I let out a groan, I'm gasping for air,
He tells me to "expand my legs further for me whore, you're my inflamed female, observe how moist you are."
Nobody has ever spoken to me this way before, it arouses me, I spread my legs a little more, as he continues caressing me, After a while you can hear the sucking sound stemming from me. I'm about to climax,
I hear him chuckle, which infuriates me.
Then he declares to me, "How does it feel having a Black male's fingers fucked you whore?"
I don't reply anything as I'm in another dimension rocking my hips more forcefully, poised to explode in a strong orgasm. He takes his finger out of my ass and smacks my behind, roughly.
"Speak to me bitch."
"I said what?"
"You will designate me as Sir, or Master, if others are in attendance you may refer to me as Mr Williams, do you comprehend slut?"
I nod affirmatively, and he smacks my behind again.
"Respond to me slut."
"Yes Master." I respond, I can't believe I referred to him like that.
"Splendid slut, now my first query, how do you cherish having a Black male's fingers rogering you? Do you cherish?"
"Oh yes, I do, please Master, please I adore it.."
He laughs again. "Think about how much you'll adore my 10-inch Black cock jamming into your cunt, you white whore."
I can't believe this, I'm so horny I'll do anything he requests. He advises me to look down, to witness him fingering me.
"Listen slut, observe my Black fingers as they penetrate your slutty white cunt."
I'm watching his hand and then I begin this uncontrollable shuddering.
"State to me what you want slut."
I start mumbling. "I, I, I, need..."
However, in an instant, he stops, I look back and he's gone. I clutch the ladder, and I hear someone else calling out. It's the shipping supervisor Mr Frank.
I tell him about the urgent order that must ship out today. I give him all the information I have gathered and tell him that I'll prepare the shipping paperwork, and for him to have it ready to ship out.
I revolve away from him, I'm still very neurasthenic since I have no underwear on, I have my hands down by my side restraining my skirt from ascending, I'm almost sprinting through the factory, I feel like everyone is watching me, do they grasp what just transpired to me in the storage room. I maintain my head down as I stroll briskly.
I get back up to the office space, I ponder on going straight to the restrooms and clean myself, But when I arrive outside the restroom, the cleaning cart of Winston is there, he's the older Black dude who cleans the office overnight.
"Fuck." I mutter to myself and instead go straight into my office. Entering my office, I snatch my tissue box, I look behind me for someone to observe me and then I lift the edge of my skirt, and with a pile of tissues begin cleansing myself, I shiver as I wipe along my vagina, still very sensitive due to Mr Williams.
Then I hear something behind me, I rotate around and there's Winston, I ponder what he has seen.
"Winston" I command at him. "What do you want?"
"You seem really attractive this night, Ms Helen."
As he observes me, he stares directly at my genitalia, making me uncomfortable, and then he inquires if there's anything I need to accomplish this evening. I'm shooing him away with my hand, and intoning no, but then I recollect other employees whining.
"Yes there is, When you vacuum this evening be sure to do under the chairs, some staffers are complaining of dust."
"Yes Ms Helen. Can I accomplish something for you, can I procure you a mug of coffee?"
My mouth feels parched, I counternarrate, "That would be really kind Winston, thanks."
As I am relinquishing him my coffee cup, I discern the swelling in his trousers and can't avert my gaze.
"Winston" I utter.
I watch as he departs from my desk, unable to avert my gaze from his behind. What's wrong with me, I'm now staring at Winston. He's likely over seventy, walks with a limp, smells of liquor, and hasn't bathed himself or washed his clothing in some time, yet I feel my thighs becoming damp again.
He strides to the small room where the coffee machine is located, which is directly opposite my work station. I notice him performing some unusual actions, What's he up to, I wonder. It takes an unacceptably long time for him to pour a cup, but he then straightens abruptly and begins shaking before returning to my desk.
Presenting me with my cup, he grasps my hand once more, causing me to blush again. I steal a look at his groin, but there's no bulge, was I simply imagining it?
I place my cup down, express my gratitude, and inform him that I need to complete this collection of forms. But he doesn't depart.
I inquire, "Is there something else, Winston?"
"Why, Ms. Helen," he responds, "Won't you partake in your coffee, I prepared it specifically for you."
I gaze up at him, taste the coffee, and remark enthusiastically, "Delightful, Winston. I take another sip, thoroughly enjoying it, recalling the taste brings back memories. I turn my attention back to the documents.
Just as I complete the forms, I hear a door creak open and shut. There's no question which one it is. I listen intently for any sound, and suddenly I hear two voices. One I recognize immediately:
"Winston, it's Ms. Helen's," remarks one voice. The other is unfamiliar, but then I recognize it: it's Earl Williams from the warehouse. What's he doing on this floor? Behaving in a hush tone, I stand from my desk and peer outside, observing them near the restrooms. They're chatting, and Mr. Williams demonstrates some gestures to Winston. I comprehend his meaning: it concerns the events at the warehouse. Mr. Williams extends a hand, and Winston extends his wallet, affording Mr. Williams several notes. Mr. Williams grabs the notes and offers Winston my underwear in return. Winston's face transforms into a smile, and he then puts the underwear to his face, inhaling deeply.
I involuntarily utter a gasp, and both men pivot in my direction, uncovering their heads. I dart back to my desk, making it appear as if I'm still busy working. I rotate my chair toward the back of my office to conceal my sight of the entrance.
I muse to myself, Stay calm, take control. I'm the one in charge here. I catch sight of it being Mr. Williams,
I inform him, "Employees from the warehouse are strictly prohibited from this area."
He pauses for a few seconds before replying, "My boss instructed me to ascend, I'm present for the shipping paperwork."
"Fine," I respond, "I'll finish in a moment. Motioning him to depart from the premises. "Go sit over there," I suggest.
"I'll notify you when I'm done," I say, reasserting my dominance.
A few seconds pass, but he doesn't budge. "About something else you want?" I enquire.
He beckons Winston to approach.
"Alright, I say, but then you two leave," I assert, my heartbeat quickening as I await their exit. Winston starts to leave, but Mr. Williams halts him.
"Hear me out, bitch," he intones seriously. "You were watching, and you saw me sell your underwear to Winston. It's his big day, and apparently, he has fantasized about you relentlessly. He desires proof that the garments belong to you."
I'm flushing with embarrassment as I sit there with my mouth agape.
"What? You wouldn't dare," I scold angrily.
Mr. Williams strolls behind my desk, approaching me. "Well, bitch, either you comply, or I will, and I won't be gentle."
"You wouldn't dare," I retort defiantly.
He approaches my desk, moving around me where I am sitting.
"All right," I relent, "but then you two go."
Standing up, I reach down my sides, grasp my skirt, and slowly begin to lift. I close my eyes as the humiliation hits me. When I get my skirt up around my waist, I hear Mr. Williams comment, "Behold that wet pussy, Winston. See how it glistens? She is soaking wet thinking about our black dicks."
I open my eyes. "What? No, you said you just wanted to see that I wasn't wearing any panties."
"No, I didn't say anything, bitch," he replies. "They were your words. Go ahead, Winston. Wipe that pussy with her slutty panties. Get some of that smelly pussy juice on them. That aroma will last you for a while."
Winston moves around to where I'm standing, and at the same time, Mr. Williams approaches me from behind. I look up at him with a frown on my face.
"What are you doing?"
Standing behind me, he grabs my ponytail, pulling my head back, turning my head to the right, and kisses me. I'm in shock; it's not just a peck but a full, hard, sloppy kiss. I just stand there, he continues, pushing his tongue between my lips, and I open my mouth and suck his tongue. Then I push my tongue between his lips. We're in a very passionate kiss.
His right hand moves to my breast, squeezing gently at first, then very roughly. I start moaning. At the same time, Winston, in front of me with my panties in his hand, begins wiping my pussy. The sensation of the silk material over my sensitive pussy lips drives me over the edge, and I start shaking uncontrollably and moaning, causing me to have a powerful orgasm.
Winston laughs, holding my cum-covered panties in front of my face, making me feel like a real slut. Mr. Williams's hands move from my breast, and he begins unbuttoning my blouse, roughly pulling it open. Then he grabs my blouse's back collar and in one quick pull, rips my blouse off my body, crumpling it up and tossing it into the trash can. He pulls my bra up and over my breasts, and they are now exposed. Winston, standing in front of me, is staring at me, drooling, as he watches Mr. Williams expose my breasts. He leans forward, and I watch in horror as this messy, stinky, seventy-year-old black man grabs my breast, squeezing, pinching my nipples, pulling on them, and then he begins sucking on my nipples, first one, and then moving to the other.
Mr. Williams grabs my wrists, pulling them behind my back, and he places my hands over his crotch, rubbing my hands up and down over the bulge in his pants. "Feel that, whore." He says.
"Yes, Master," I reply. I can't believe I'm calling him that, but I do. It feels so big, so hard. He removes his hands but I continue to rub.
"My whore is getting wet again, aren't you bitch."
"I am, yes, Master."
"Good, now I want you to undo my pants and take out my cock, cunt."
"Yes, Master."
I reply, turning around now to face him. I drop to my knees and begin undoing his pants, letting them fall to the floor.
"Now the shorts, whore." He commands.
Pulling his shorts down, his huge black cock springs up almost hitting me in my face. I just stare at it, it's not the first black cock but definitely the biggest I've seen. My husband Steve and I have watched porn movies and fantasized about me being taken by a black man. My breathing increases, my palms sweating. He leans down and whispers in my ear, "Suck that black cock whore." As he sits down in my chair.
Reaching, I take it in my hand and begin to slowly stroke. He grabs the back of my head, my ponytail, then wipes his black cock across my face, and on my lips, I taste him, his precum. From the corner of my eye, I notice Winston standing there watching me, and he has his cock out and is playing with himself.
Mr. Williams pushes my face onto his cock, forcing me to open my mouth and take his black cock into my mouth, using my ponytail, he pushes my head deep down onto his cock, I gag, and he laughs.
"Breathe, whore. Open wide."
Using my ponytail, he begins forcing my head up and down over his black cock, face-fucking me. I feel like a rag doll as he uses my head and my mouth. Then he starts moving forward, pushing me, making me move back, and he keeps pushing till I'm under my desk. He is sitting at my desk, and I'm under it, sucking his cock, and I hear him laugh.
"Always wanted to try this with a fair-skinned hog like you whore."
She's currently unable to pick up the phone since she's busy. This is Earl, and he's in the shipping department. He's waiting for Helen to finalize the shipping documents. You're fortunate to be married to such an attractive woman, you're welcome. He will let her know you called.
Meanwhile, I'm under the desk with Mr Williams, and he's on the phone with her husband. Mr Williams lifts me out from under the desk.
"Time's up, whore."
Why did he say that now, I wonder.
He pulls me up by my hair, then turns me around and grasps my hip. "Lower yourself onto my cock."
I start to lower myself, reaching down for his member. "It's too big."
He pushes my shoulders down, "Keep going, whore."
I take more in, inch by inch.
"Faster, cunt."
I’m shaking, taking more into me while riding him, feeling as full as I've ever been. "Ride it harder."
I’m riding him quickly now, moaning with each downward movement.
"Harder, whore."
I go faster, losing track of the situation. "Fuck me, give me your big cock."
They're watching, Winston next to me. I feel like a cheap whore.
After a few minutes of resting, Mr Williams gets dressed, retrieves the shipping papers, and plants a kiss on me.
"I gotta go, slut. Maybe we'll see you later."
He leaves, and I climb off the floor. Winston heads to my trash can, retrieves my blouse and bra, and proceeds to the men's toilets.
"Stop! I need my blouse and bra!"
But he continues his way down the hall. In only a skirt, I smoothen it out, then head after him. He's standing in front of the sinks, and as I approach, I see that he's naked from the waist down, stroking himself with my silk blouse wrapped around his cock.
"No, Winston, stop! You'll ruin my blouse!"
"Kneel down, whore. Suck my cock till I cum in your mouth, then swallow it."
"I'm late. I don't have time,"
"Get on your knees now!"
I kneel in front of him, my vision blurred with tears. He forcibly wraps my blouse around his dick and demands that I suck it.
"Winston, please. Give me back my blouse. I spent a lot of money on it."
"Or what?"
"Just give me my blouse."
I try to free his hand, but he won’t let go. Angry, he tosses it on the floor and then grabs my head. Forcing his cock in my mouth, he thrusts roughly. I shove him away, but he’s too strong. The old man's strength is formidable.
"Please, it's ruining my blouse. I have to leave."
"And you'll swallow everything."
Negotiating now is not an option. Winston pulls me onto his lap and forces his erection into my mouth. I choke, trying to push him away, but he continues to hold my head in place.
"Please, I can't breathe!"
"Keeping you quiet."
My tears are steadily falling.
"I'll give you your blouse back if you stop,"
He ignores my pleas as he continues to forcibly penetrate my mouth. I begin to cry, sobbing.
"Please, Winston, I'll do whatever you want, just give me my blouse."
Winston releases my head and tosses my blouse onto the floor.
"Suck my cock!" I sit in front of him, and he starts to stroke his cock, which is now sticking out with my blouse wrapped around it.
"So you want a taste of your own blouse, do you? Very dirty."
I try to politely refuse, but he grabs me and pulls me face first onto his dick. Trying to push him away, I scream for him to stop.
"Beg me, whore."
I am desperate to get my clothes back, "Please. I need my clothes."
He grabs my hair and tells me to beg.
"Please, Winston. I’ll do anything. But please, just let me have my blouse and bra."
"On your knees."
I drop to my knees, hands grasped over my eyes.
What’s happening now? I'm not sure.
I try again, pleading. "Please, I am going to be late!"
He takes a step back and tears his blouse away, balling it up in his hands before letting go of it.
"Now what will you do to earn your clothes back, whore?"
I plead once more, "If you let me have them, I will do anything."
He grabs my head again.
Winston is losing control, he's ramming it harder and faster now, he's face fucking me, I'm sucking madly, I need it. My mouth slides up and down his dark dick, I hear Winston growl as he cums, filling my mouth. With Winston's now flaccid cock still in my mouth, I realize what his cum tastes like, the same as the coffee he makes for me! I've been drinking his cum for some time,
I trudge to my top, as I get up, I hear the door to the office section open again. Panic sets in; I can't let them see me like this. The ladies' room is next door, I try to sneak in silently, but the damn door squeaks.
Ugh, whoever it is will know someone entered the ladies' room. I move to the sink area, where the mirrors are, and seeing myself, I look like a destitute street person, my clothes are dirty and rumpled. I appear like a scared cat, my hair sticking up. I button my blouse, tuck it into my skirt, and my hair doesn't have my comb; it's in my handbag on my desk. I just wet my hands and brush back my hair with my hands, tie it into a ponytail, and try cleaning my blouse and skirt as good as I can. Then there's a knock on the door, my heart freezes.
I don't say anything,
Another knock.
"This is Guard Mike, is anyone in there? I'll count to three and then I'm coming in."
I shout,
"It's me, Helen Bradley, I'm just getting cleaned up, I'll be out in a minute."
"Sorry, Helen. It's Mike from Security, just checking up."
Dam, of all the people it has to be him, Mike is a nice guy, but he's a flirt. He's asked me out a dozen times, I always tell him, Mike, you know I'm married. He just laughs and says one of these days.
I take one last glance at myself in the mirror, straighten my skirt and blouse as well as I can, and, my breasts, I'd never realized how sheer this blouse was, my breasts are visible through it, bra-less.
Leaving the ladies' room, Mike is waiting at the door, when he sees me, his mouth gapes open, starring at me.
"Helen, what happened? Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. It's been a tough day."
As I'm explaining myself, Winston bursts out of the men's room, holding my bra in his hand. Quickly, he stuffs it into his pocket. Mike notices.
"Hey, what you got there, Winston?" he asks.
"Nothing, just something I fetched from the trash."
As Mike is questioning Winston, I sprint to my desk, inside my office I'm searching for my shoes. Going under my desk, I retrieve them where I dropped them when Mr. Williams shoved me under. Standing and putting on my heels, I grab my handbag.
To avoid passing them, I make my way to the back staircase. Just as I'm about to exit, I hear Mike,
"Helen, wait. I turn towards him, Helen, while I was talking with Winston, there've been several thieves in the office. The company's installed surveillance cameras that monitor every desk and office up here. So, if you are missing something, I can look it up."
As he says this he's staring at my breasts,
"Yup, if you are missing anything, I can check the videos. I can access them."
My mind spins, I have to do something or he'll see me with Winston and Mr. Williams. Standing in front of Mike, I push my chest out, giving him a clear view of my breasts, I take his right hand with my left and place it over my left breast. Giving him my coyest stare, I ask,
"Mike, can you show me where the surveillance recordings are?"
His hand on my breast squashing it, he's got a puzzled look on his face.
"Oh, yea, sure. I guess we can."
He takes my hand and leads me to the office in the corner. Unlocking the door, we enter. Mike shows me the president's grand mahogany desk, and diagonally across from it on the wall are nine monitors.
Perusing the monitors, I don't see my desk, relieved, but Mike then goes to the top right monitor, hitting a button. The screen starts switching until my desk is visible, it's unmistakable-my office.
I inquire Mike, "Can you show me the playback of us before we entered the office?" [
He shifts to the monitor on the right side, presses a button to rewind it, then plays it, and a vivid image of Mike and me appears, revealing his hand on my breast, pressuring it.
"You've got to erase it so someone doesn't see it and we'll be in deep trouble," I say.
I observe him as he deletes the video. He rotates back around to face me, and I place my hands around the back of his head, prompting him to bend down to my breasts, holding his head between them. I reach out behind him to the monitor displaying my office, where I'm depicted entering and wiping myself. I keep pushing buttons until I find the right one, and then I click the delete button, feeling relieved. I then disentangle him from my chest.
"Mike, Mike, we need to leave this place right away in case someone spots us," I inform him.
He is still endeavoring to get near me:
"Mike." I yell, and he shakes his head viciously.
"What?"
"We must vacate this premise promptly before anyone sees us," I tell him.
"Okay." He nods his head.
"I'll exit first, and then you wait another fifteen seconds before you make your departure," I instruct.
I speedily exit the office, making my way to the exit, swiftly descending the rear steps and moving to my car in the parking lot. When I'm about to leave my spot, I spot Mike at the back door, glaring at me with his hands on his hips, shaking his head furiously. I wave to him and blow him a kiss. Later, I'll have to address the situation with Mike once I return to work on Monday.
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