My co-worker became my boss.

I don't have much experience in storytelling, but I will give it a try.
It all happened when my co-worker and I were sent to do systems deployment in a small town outside of Rondonia. I'm 34 years old, skinny, have body proportional to my height, 5 feet 7 inches tall and 67 kilos, green eyes, brown hair. I don't even look like a Greek god but I think that I am actually handsome. My friend -- let me call him John -- is about the same height as me with brown eyes and hair, slightly younger than 30. In contrast to his boyish face, the result is an indescribable hotness. I became quite friendly with him even before we went to that end of the world, but did not have much hope because he's married and already has two children. He always gave a little nudge, let my silly hand touch his legs etc. I never knew if it corresponded or not because most times he didn't react, but also did not avoid.
Arriving in Rondônia, we shared a room because the company had this custom to save money. In town there was nothing for us to do so at night we would stop by a bakery and have some beers and go back to our hotel to sleep already tired from working very hard.
Needless to say, when he was asleep I'd go straight into the bathroom and smell his used underwear during the day and punch myself like crazy. Occasionally dripping a little pee in my pants throughout the day it would get that pinto scent which I love so much how did I suffer and delight at the same time! When I saw him changing in the morning, especially when he was wearing gray slippers that had a softer fabric and marked all his dick and pocket nicely, I could only think of the delight I would enjoy at night when I could shove those delicious panties up my face until almost swallowing them. His roll wasn't very big no but it was thick and really hot from what I could see. His ass was a treat, but this was far beyond any of my most creative imaginations because he was an unconvinced heterosexual without being offensive or even feminine. I have a boyfriend and love him, he loves his wife and children; but what I wanted had nothing to do with that.
One night we arrived at the hotel and on TV there was a documentary about all forms of "alternative" sex: gay, straight, sado-masochism, pedophilia etc. He commented to me that he had always been facetious in this regard. Not that I didn't have any curiosities but because I got married early, I did not have many sexual experiences, just basics. I confessed that I already planned it long before starting dating and remembering with excitement surgeries and crazy trances especially those where I caught my face.
- Did you take him with a whip and everything?
"Not strongly", I said, "but not so weak that you couldn't feel anything". Let's just say they were vigorous slaps.
He seemed to be enjoying himself at my expense and I tried to end the matter with a half-dry "taste".
He noticed that I was not funny and corrected: "Don't stress no, I am just asking because I always wanted to do something crazy. But women... you know? They are not very advanced in these things".
I didn't think so, just curious.
- You haven't met the right women, as you yourself could see on that show.
- Yeah, I think it was.
We went to sleep, but that conversation made me even more horny. I stayed almost the whole night smelling his underwear, remembering every word of our talk, repeating it in my mind, laughing and whining softly. He got up at dawn to pee and I had to interrupt the pleasure already with a swollen penis from so much pussy. He probably didn't notice me because he was drowsy. I went to bed but could not close my eyes.
The next day I fell asleep, a bit depressed already thinking that was the farthest we'd get. It made for a scorching sun and we went to the swimming pool late in the afternoon because it was summer time.
His blue thong was half-worn. It was the same one he had worn last summer on the beach when we went to my boyfriend's apartment: me and my fiancé, him, his wife and children. That thung was my consumer dream. I could eat it because I loved it so much. I imagined its smell after use. The texture. Lycra was partly used up and then it became even more malleable, further marking that pussy which was my greatest object of desire. I could even see the outline of his head, and when he was standing up, if I leaned down pretending to pick something up off the ground, I would be able to see the hair between my legs near the bag as well as behind it on his butt. Those smooth hairs, that appetizing ass, that round heavy sack.
I was sadder still, so much desire in vain.
He tried to start a conversation on the same subject as last night. I didn't show much interest, he was full of feeling so many things and could only relieve me in his fistful. He gave up, sat down at the edge of the pool, hugged one leg with his chin resting against the knee while the other continued into the water. The sight was unbearable how deliciously exposed the sack was, its stick resting in the void formed by the bent leg and belly, hairy buttocks and wet legs. He brushed it off, adjusted the sling slightly away from my thighs and I got a glimpse of the furry bag underneath the swing. I almost drowned. He bought a beer, sat back down on the edge of the pool with both legs in water and put it between his open-legged but somewhat distant from himself; he asked me if I wanted to have a sip. I walked over to the rim, pulled out his feet playfully and pretended that I was going to pull him into the water. When I picked up the can my face came very close to one of his thick white thighs. I placed the can at its right place but made sure my hand touched his bag. Of course you could say it had been unintentional, but my hand stumbled more slowly than by accident. He stared at me, without smiling or making a face of amazement but just looking as if he were scrutinizing. It was even more beautiful with that look. I plunged because I didn't understand this reaction and decided never to try anything again unless I had absolute certainty that it would succeed. I wanted to be under the water of so much shame which might not have been understandable for anyone who reads it and if he wasn't such an intimate friend I wouldn't have felt so embarrassed. But after all these years of friendship it did not seem like one of the most correct attitudes that I had ever tried.
In the elevator to my room, he was right behind me and pressed a button that corresponds with our floor.
He went to the bathroom and then came out saying, "I'm so tired that I didn't even wash my tongue! I knew he had pissed in the pool because he was joking about it. I ran into the toilet taking a shower and grabbed his very coveted tongue. The white lining smelled like marvelous cotton balls. I would smell them, put them in my mouth, rub them on my face, deliriously". He knocked at the door: "Let me pee that beer is having an effect. I kept talking with him, therefore he peed. I never saw such desirable lipstick before, and what's worse, there were only underpants made of white cotton.
He said, "Uh-oh! My bong wasn't in the sink!" You were playing with it, weren't you little boy?
I thought, "Fuck you".
I replied, half jokingly: "It was true; it smelled all of her".
- Go on joking, you shameless boy. The minute I catch up with you... You'll ask for water!
He walked out, and I ended up in the pussy again.
Keep going.