Cream for my Coffee?

“Hey Tim, think I could get some cream for my coffee?”

“Sure, Monica. Just let me finish typing this email. I’ll meet you over there.”

“Okay,” she said cheerfully and walked away. She wove through the labyrinth of cubicles to the supply closet, and closed the door behind her. When Tim slipped into the closet a few minutes later, he turned on the light and Monica dropped to her knees. He opened his khakis and eased his long, gently curved penis out the front hole of his boxers and began stroking it to life.

“How much do you want?”

“As much as I can have,” she said and handed him the stainless steel travel mug. She unbuttoned her blouse and unhooked the front of her bra to expose big, round, buoyant breasts.

After just a few quick, practiced strokes, Tim aimed his cock downward, where he held the mug of black coffee. With a soft grunt, Tim’s homemade cream began to flow. He was able to get all but a few errant drops into the mug; the ones he missed Monica wiped off her breasts and licked the finger clean.

“There you go,” he said with a smile, handing her the mug.

“Thanks,” she replied and gave his cock the compensatory tongue-cleaning. They exchanged small talk while they redressed, and Monica slipped out with another “Thanks” as she fiddled with the two sticks holding her silky brown hair in a bun.

After counting to fifty, Tim left the closet, his mind already on the work waiting for him. Turning the last corner to his cubicle, he narrowly avoided running into Denise and spilling her coffee. He apologized profusely to the leggy blond.

“Oh, Tim! I was just looking for you. Do you think I can get some cream for my coffee?”

“Sure,” he said with a polite smile. “Let me get something from my desk and I’ll meet you over there.”