Angus: My Co-Worker

Angus: My Co-Worker

This, it sort of a dream I had once about myself and a co-worker. I work at a grocery store and it's not very exciting, I often day-dream about things like this.

The girls name is my own, Sarah. I haven't changed the males name.


First of all, I like to extend a hearty "Thanks for reading." I'm really happy you've looked at my writting. I'd also like to say that the speed in which the next part is written will be determind by the response I get from this one.

This is my first time ever posting something here… Please, be gentle.

Part 1


Tonight, I am working with the dairy products. The moo-moo; as I usually like to call it.

On any other day, I'd rather be at home. But… as unusual as it sounds, I am working the weekend. It sucks being the only fifteen-year-old working full-time, however, the money is great.

Really, it's not so bad – Working in a secluded milk cooler, filled with yellow milk crates stacked above my head and the hum of a fan loud enough they won't hear me moan. Because that's what I do when I have spare time at work; masturbate.

I'd also like to add that I'd only get more excited if I get caught – so what?

Anyways, I am pressed against the before mentioned crates, and it feels good, really good. It's such an intense feeling; urgency, pleasure and the chill from the cooling fans. I'm moaning loudly as I try my best at dirty talking, to myself I guess. Or maybe I am calling to that new teenage co-worker.

Yeah, right. Because relationships at work are so hot these days. Especially when you break up. Then everything is awkward. But I would still go through 100 years of awkwardness for Angus, the 16-year-old bag-boy.

Short dark brown hair, freckles, a lop-sided smile and the kind of demeanor that makes you want to throw him to the ground and wrestle the secrets out of him, yeah – mysterious.

Anyways, back to me moaning. I have my uniform pulled up and held loosely in my teeth. There's a whole range of sounds coming through those teeth. High pitched squeals when I 'accidentally' run my thumbnail over my clit and lower sounding moans as I try to get my middle finger as deep inside me as I can.

While I am emitting my own personal orchestra I can barely hear the sound of the cooler door sliding open, and then… closing?

Chapter 1

The cooler is a surprisingly compact space, 3 strides and you'd see me, behind the milk crates, one of my hands down my pants, the other teasing my nipple and a dazed look in my eyes.

But I guess I don't learn. I've never been caught, why should I care now?

I've never actually thought of how I would react if I got caught but I knew I could do one of 3 things:
Scream, preferably loudly.
Pretend to hide it. (Who knows it might work.)
Offer sexual favors, for their silence.

What happens next wasn't anything I had thought of, but now in my personal dreamworld it happened.

Angus steps from behind the corner, but through my half closed eyes, he's just a trick of the artificial light. And as I turn my head to look closer; he's at my side already.

My hands are already sliding out of my black dress pants and away from my body, but he replaces them with his own. I feel the brush of his fingernails as he moves under my panties.

And I emit one of those weird squeeling sounds again. You know the sound I make when I touch my clit. Well now Angus is touching it for me. And that's not the only thing he's doing. I can feel another finger, halfway inside me.

He is using the other hand to place my shirt in my mouth again. Now Angus is using it to pull and squeeze both of my nipples.

Yes, theres a lot of squealing coming from me. But I am making other sounds. There's one that stands out – I believe it's the sound of my dreams coming true and my head exploding momentarily.

It's the perfect sound to him, aparently, because he laughs and kisses under my ear. Like he knows it's my weak spot. They perfect place to make me purr.

And I do purr for him. I curl my arms around him and reply with a few kisses of my own, to his neck and lips.

He kisses my spot again and then makes a trail with his lips down the collar or my shirt and over my hard nipples. His lips move around one nipple, then to the other. I can feel his breath on my skin; it's warm and a bit shaky.

I lean back more, if that was possible and watch Angus as he runs his tongue smoothly over the crease between my breasts, which are now moving in a steady beat as my breathing quickens.

I have never been more excited, or more nervous, because he's the definatition of perfect. Look at me… For all I know – I might squeel again.


First of all, I like to extend a hearty "Thanks for reading." I'm really happy you've looked at my writting. I'd also like to say that the speed in which the next part is written will be determind by the response I get from this one.

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