Crossing the Line

One of my co-workers and I have fairly open discussions about our sexual natures. It's definitely not appropriate for work and is kind of odd considering he's married and 10 years older than me.

He doesn't know of all of my antics (ie: married men, Ashley Madison, webcam, blog, etc...) and still thinks I'm a horndog. He knows I go for the older guys, that I love to blow (although not the calibre) and that I'm good to go whenever. He's heard about The Doc, Mr. NYE, R2, myValentine and probably more. Despite his attempts of trying to tell me that I should settle down with a nice boyfriend he knows I want a guy strictly for fucking with no drama.

Our conversations started off tame a few months ago but have been slowly amping up in sexual tone. We don't work together that often anymore and when we do we usually aren't alone so we can't really talk about this subject as freely. The other day he was telling me about his youthful 'dog days'. He actually said, "I can't believe I'm telling you this stuff" so I knew he was stepping out of normal conversation mode and into something else. He stuck mostly to tales of his friends in gang bang type situations. Hilarious, scandalous and almost unbelievable all wrapped in to one.

He was trying to gauge my level of nympho-ness and told me about the only girlfriend he's ever had that was hornier than him. I told him he was basically describing me. Sometimes during our talks he says he can't look at me anymore or will actually have to leave the room. This was one of those times:

"It's a good thing I have so much self-control or I'd be all over you." Exit.

My jaw dropped on that one. That comment crossed the line in to dangerous territory. I'll admit I’ve thought about doing bad things to this man. I want my hands all over his jacked bod. He is working on bulking back up and always asks me to feel his ab progress. I did once but now I turn him down every time because I know my hand will wander south and be out of my control. Against my better judgement, I once massaged a kink out of his shoulder. It took considerable will power to not roam. I regularly think of places where we could fuck during the shift and when the probability of a supervisor showing up is minimal. Bent over this desk, on this counter, in this closet, in this bathroom stall, the upstairs kitchen…

Near the end of the same shift:

Co-worker: "If I met you in a bar, do you think I could pick you up?"
Me: "If I knew you, or you were a stranger?"
Co-worker: "Stranger."
Me: "Probably."
Co-worker: "Wait... and if you did know me?"
Me: "Uhh... no comment. Shit, I've fucked up my work really badly."
Co-worker: "Why? Got something on your mind?"
I stole his move and ignored him until the shift was over.

I'm not sure he realizes that all he has to do is ask and I'm in... or rather he's in.