Justin and Me
Justin and I had worked together in accounts at a shitty law firm for two years. We started in the same week, so we'd travelled the journey together. To be honest, it wasn't really much of a journey, just a dead-end job doing clerical stuff for a bunch of fat-cat lawyers. Justin was my senior in age by a margin of twelve years or so, but he was employed on the same lowly level, so it was surprising that he stuck with it. I think he just wanted an easy job with no work stress, given that he had a demanding wife and a young family at home.
I guess we ticked the diversity box at work with our different backgrounds. Justin and Faye. One male, one female. One older, one younger. One single girl, one family man. One white guy and one foreigner, me being Asian.
My coworker was a really good guy and we worked well together but I discovered myself flirting for much of the time. We'd joke around a lot, and every now and then I'd drop an inappropriate line to gauge if he'd take my bait. I knew he was married, and I'm not an intentional homewrecker or anything, but I do like to have fun. Hey, I'll set the table and the guy can decide where he wants to dine.
At the desk in close confines all day long, I spent plenty of time in the proximity of Justin and whiled away time admiring his body. He definitely had a Dad bod, in that he was a dad and he also had a body. But seriously, his trim figure was evidence that he maintained his fitness, and I found it pleasing to spy on his physique through his casual work attire. His face was handsome and I concluded that I could definitely find myself hooking up with him, given the right opportunity. During boring work tasks I'd manufacture a fantasy where the office would empty out, leaving just the two of us behind. I'd lean forward over my desk and Justin would sneak behind me and casually lift my skirt. He'd pound the fuck out of me and I wouldn't care about the messy papers that would be strewn across my table. Of course, it never happened.
Justin was a clean-shaven, neat-and-tidy kind of guy with good personal hygiene and good office hygiene too. That's important when you work closely with someone, and clocking-in the same hours in the same office, we fell into regular habits. The one that I loved the most was our foot ritual. We had desks that faced each other with a fabric divider down the middle, that meant we couldn't see each other's faces unless we stood from our seats. Beneath the desk was this metal foot rail, or maybe it was just part of the structure that held the desks together.
Anyway, he would slip his shoes off and rest his feet on the metal bar while he worked and one day my bare foot accidentally brushed against his. That was it! Neither of us ever made a mention of it, but from that day onward it became one of the most sensual, intimate things that I looked forward to every single day.
He always wore socks, but I'd often wear sandals into the office and I'd slip them off at the desk. When we were doing the time-sheets and billing tasks each morning, I'd know exactly where his foot would be and I could even see it if I glanced down between my legs. I would extend my toes until they found his and then it was game on.
I'd use my sole, my heel and my toes to caress his feet, delivering a soft, delicate massage by gently sliding my foot around. We didn't speak for the duration, just clicking away on the keyboards, but the sexual tension was there, hanging in the air.
I've had plenty of guys tell me that my feet are really attractive, and to be honest it turned me on to push my chair back a little and watch as my feet played over Justin's. He would remain stationary while I trailed my red painted toenails back and forth across his black socks.
After a while, I'd imagine that his foot was actually his cock, and I'd place my feet either side of his. I'd turn my toes out, press my heels together and let the gap between my feet envelop the dorsum of his foot. I started sliding my feet back and forth along the soft cotton, pretending that the arches of my feet really represented the labia on my pussy, and I was sliding back and forth along his manhood. I never heard anything from Justin, except maybe his typing speed slowed down, but I could definitely feel the rhythm of my own breathing change, and I'm sure that a little moan escaped my lips from time to time.
My mind would always wander while I was caressing his feet, and I'd imagine lying naked with him, feeling his cock pressed against me. It used to make my pussy wet every single time, and I know that it used to make him hard. On more than one occasion, an in-house lawyer would visit during our ritual and they'd ask Justin for some computer help. Normally he'd jump at the opportunity to leave the desk, but during foot-time he'd say that he was busy on an urgent project and he'd come later. When finally he stood to help them out, he'd always adjust his pants, making his erection less conspicuous, but I knew that I'd done my job.
We never ever mentioned the foot ritual, which was funny because we did actually talk a lot. To be honest, I did most of the talking, and he did a lot of listening, but he was always engaged and I loved the attention that he paid to me.
Office Days
When we first started at work, I used to call Justin "Buddy" all the time as a term of endearment. It's a cute reference that shows that you're friends with someone without any additional connotations.
"Hey Buddy, do you have the Jones file?" "Good work Buddy." "How are you going today Buddy?" You know the style.
But with time I grew closer and fonder of Justin, especially when he did all sorts of nice things for me. Our special connection was really cemented when he unexpectedly brought a cake into work on my 28th birthday. I didn't even realize that I'd disclosed the date, and I'm sure I hadn't told him that carrot cakes were my favorite.
"Hey Buddy, how did you know?" I asked.
"I know lots of things about you Faye," he let on cryptically. I wondered if he'd stalked me on social media as much as I'd trawled his background.
"You didn't have to do that," I suggested, but secretly I loved my gift.
We shared the cake with the rest of the office and the big lawyer boss made a speech about how important the accounts department was. I looked across to Justin and caught him staring at me before he quickly turned away.
From that point forward, I started a sneaky transition in my name for him. Instead of calling him "Buddy", I started calling him "Daddy", but I'd only do it subtly and out of earshot of everyone else.
"Can you pass me the stapler please Daddy?"
I'd see a little suppressed smile cross his face and he'd reply nonchalantly. "Sure".
Another of our rituals was a short morning break after the initial priority tasks were completed. I had a small smoking habit, and it provided a great excuse for a mental health reset outside of the office. Everyone smokes back home, but I've managed to be much more restrained. My old friends all progressed to vapes, but I go for the other end of the spectrum, rolling my own smoke each day from a small pouch of my favorite tobacco. Justin would accompany me for the break every day, and he'd collect a latte on the way.
We would always sit on a bench and the time would fly by as we'd talk and chat. I used to spew my whole life story to him but he was more reserved. I knew he had a Latina wife called Loretta and together they had two young kids in elementary school. I knew that he'd never been to Asia so I could regale him with stories from back home, but he was more interested when I told him what was going on with my life locally.
I used to tell him about the dates that I'd go on, and he'd be fascinated in what I thought of the guys, and where we went and what we got up to. He started to inquire about what we did at the end of the date, if you know what I mean, but I was too shy to confess my deepest sexual encounters.
