New Coworker Erotic Story
Late nights. Stolen glances. One shared coffee… and then everything changed.
She never expected the new coworker to look at her like that — like he already knew what she wanted.
This New Coworker Erotic Story builds slow and deep… until the tension finally snaps.
One office. Two professionals. Zero regrets.
The first time I saw him, he was standing at the coffee machine.
Black shirt. Rolled-up sleeves. Strong forearms. A calm presence in a room buzzing with noise. He wasn’t trying to be noticed — but somehow, that made him impossible to ignore.
He turned slightly when I passed. Nodded once. A polite, professional hello.
But his eyes? His eyes lingered.
Just a second longer than necessary.
His name was Mark. He was new in our department — senior project lead, transferred from the regional office. Word was, he was smart, disciplined, and not one for office gossip.
Perfect. Just my type. The kind I never acted on.
We didn’t talk much at first. A few polite words in the hallway. A shared laugh in a group meeting. But I felt it. Every time he was near, my body seemed to become more aware of itself. My skin remembered touches that hadn’t happened. My imagination filled in the blanks.
One afternoon, we were stuck in a late meeting — just the two of us and one other manager who left early.
I stayed to finish my slides. He stayed to prep his notes.
Silence stretched between us. Comfortable. Unspoken.
“Long day?” he asked.
I glanced up. “Is there any other kind lately?”
He chuckled — low and quiet. “Not around here.”
Then that pause again. That tension.
He looked at me over his laptop screen. “You always stay this late?”
I shrugged. “Habit.”
“Same.”
The next morning, I found a sticky note on my desk.
“Great slides yesterday. You made that mess actually make sense. -M”
No emoji. No over-explaining. Just sharp, direct… and kind of hot.
I smiled like an idiot.
The real shift happened the day the AC broke.
Middle of summer. Office full of restless, half-sweaty people pretending to function. I wore a sleeveless blouse, hair tied up. Anything to keep cool.
Mark passed me in the hallway. His eyes flicked to my bare shoulder, then back to my face.
“Hot day,” he said.
I laughed. “Is that your version of flirting?”
He paused.
Then smiled — the first real one I’d seen. “Is it working?”
My heart stuttered.
I didn’t answer. I didn’t have to.
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That Friday, we both stayed late again.
Most of the lights were off. The quiet hum of equipment filled the empty space. I had my headphones in, half-working, half-drifting.
When I looked up, he was standing by my desk.
He held out a coffee. “Thought you might still be here.”
I took it, our fingers grazing just slightly.
“Thanks.”
“You work too hard,” he said.
“So do you.”
He nodded. “Yeah.”
Then a long, charged pause.
“Want a break?”
I tilted my head. “From what?”
“From pretending this isn’t a thing.”
My breath hitched.
He didn’t move. Neither did I.
But everything in my body leaned toward him.
“I’m not imagining it, right?” he asked, voice lower.
I shook my head slowly. “No.”
“Good.”
He stepped a little closer. “Come with me.”
He led me into the empty meeting room across the hall. Closed the door behind us. Dim light spilled from the hallway through the frosted glass.
I stood still. Heart pounding.
Mark walked over to me, slowly, giving me time to change my mind. But I didn’t.
His hand came up, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers grazed my jaw, then stilled there.
“Okay?” he asked.
“Yes.”
He leaned in — and kissed me.
Not gentle. Not hesitant.
It was slow, deep, certain. The kind of kiss that said, I’ve been thinking about this for weeks.
My body melted into his. My arms slid around his neck, his hands finding my waist.
He pulled me in tighter, and our bodies pressed together — solid, warm, real. I could feel the heat between us. The tension. The ache that had been building from every glance, every moment we hadn’t touched.
When his mouth left mine, he moved to my neck — kissing, tasting, breathing me in. One hand slid down to cup my ass, the other to the small of my back.
“You smell incredible,” he murmured. “You’ve been driving me crazy.”
“Same,” I whispered, lips against his ear.
He groaned softly.
I felt him — hard, urgent — against my hip.
He pushed me gently back against the meeting table. My hands reached for his shirt, fingers slipping the buttons open, revealing skin I’d been fantasizing about. Firm, smooth, warm.
My blouse came off in seconds. Then his hands were on me — full palms, exploring, claiming.
He cupped my breasts through my bra, thumbs grazing my nipples until I gasped.
“You’re beautiful,” he said, staring into my eyes like he meant it.
“Touch me,” I said.
And he did.
His hand slid down, under my skirt, over my thigh, higher — fingers finding the edge of my panties.
I was soaked.
One finger slid over me. Then another.
He looked up. “You want this?”
“God, yes.”
He slipped my panties aside, sliding two fingers inside me while his thumb worked my clit.
I grabbed his shoulders, breath catching.
He kissed me again, harder now, deeper. The rhythm of his fingers matched the rise of my hips. The way I moaned told him everything.
He pulled back just enough to lift me onto the table. My skirt rode up. My legs wrapped around him.
Then — he paused.
“I want to see you come,” he whispered.
So I reached down and touched myself. While he watched. While he stood between my legs, hand on my thigh, mouth parted in awe.
It didn’t take long. I was already so close.
I rubbed faster, breath coming in ragged bursts. And when I came, I cried out — no shame, no filter. Just pure release.
He kissed me through it. Softly now. Sweetly.
When I opened my eyes, he was watching me like I was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
“I want you,” I said.
He nodded. “Yeah. Me too.”
He unzipped his pants. I reached for him, took him in my hand. Thick. Hot. Hard.
I guided him in.
The first thrust made me gasp. So full. So deep.
He moved slowly, savoring. Letting me feel everything.
Our bodies met over and over, each thrust building the fire higher. I held onto his shoulders, hips lifting to meet his. Sweat slicked our skin. Breath mixed. Mouths found each other again and again.
We were wild. Desperate.
And when we both came — it was loud. Intense. Irresistible.
Afterward, we stayed like that. Tangled. Quiet.
He kissed my forehead. Smoothed my hair.
“You okay?” he asked.
“More than okay.”
He smiled. “Good.”
We dressed in silence. Not awkward. Just… satisfied.
As we walked back to our desks, I glanced at the clock. Late.
He looked at me. “Next week?”
I laughed softly. “Try tomorrow.”
He grinned. “I like the way you think.”
And just like that — everything changed.
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How to Use New Coworker Erotic Story:
- Read in bed. In the bath. Wherever you’re alone.
- Let your breath follow the rhythm.
- Touch if it feels right. Pause if it’s too much.
- There’s no wrong way to feel pleasure.
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💌 A 7-day erotic diary about tension, longing, and the moment everything changed.
Follow her journey — from the first innocent touch to the night she couldn’t forget.
Sensual, emotional, and written just for you.
