I knew that he would be wearing his kilt today. He had told me about it the other day. What I didn't expect was my visceral reaction to seeing him in it. He's not perfect. Not the "tall, dark, and handsome" type. 

Still, he does it for me.

And seeing him come to work in his kilt, with the heavy boots, tight t-shirt, and big thick belt, got my juices flowing. The tattoo on the back of his right calf highlighted his dense muscularity.

I had dressed a little sexier than usual, wearing a long skirt and a wispy blouse. Nothing too revealing, but maybe enough to catch his attention. I wore a sexy bra that allowed my large breasts the slightest bit of shimmy as I walked.

We’re both married. He’s happy. I’m not. I want a diversion. He wants a working relationship.

Fine.

But while I was in the back putting supplies in the broom closet, he came down the narrow hallway to wash his hands. I couldn't resist a quick grope, all in good fun, as I squeezed down the hall behind him.

And so, after all of that good-natured joking about what men wear under their kilts, I found out the truth. Seriously, there was nothing there but him. I felt his smooth cock and balls hanging, all warm and heavy and dry.

Of course, when I grabbed his scrotum from behind, his head came up so fast that he nearly took out the paper towel dispenser. I felt his dick jump against my fingers and watched a shudder run up his back.

"Maria!" he hissed. "What the hell?"

"Oh my!" I said, still surprised, both at my boldness and his near-nudity.

I couldn't feel his dick hanging against my hand any longer. Leaning down just a bit, I slid my hand forward and felt it again, thickening and rising against the front of his kilt.

I heard the catch in his breath as I wrapped my hand around it and stroked lightly.

We were in a long, dark hallway off the back of a small retail establishment. Anyone in the right place in the store could have seen us; him leaning over the sink, mouth open and eyes closed, me leaning in from behind with my hand under the back of his kilt.

He shuddered again, now fully hard in my hand. I finally let go and stood up. He turned around quickly, pinning my shoulders to the wall. He leaned in until our faces were so close I could feel his breath on my cheek. 

"What the hell was that?" he whispered furiously.

"S... Sorry," I whispered, frightened by his anger. Dark hair framed his face, and his blue eyes flashed down to my lips, and then further down to the cleavage that I had on display. His eyes came back up to mine for a moment. He turned to see if we were being observed. Finally, slowly, his gaze came back to mine, he leaned in and captured my mouth, his whole body pinning me to the wall.

It was my turn to shudder.

The surprise of his counter-attack, the sexiness of attempting this sort of thing in public, the danger of being caught, all combined to launch me up the ladder of arousal quicker than I had ever climbed it before.

I brought my hands up to his head, holding it to me, and kissing for all that I was worth. His hands left my shoulders and mauled my breasts, the nipples coming to points, and being pinched for my audacity.

Finally, panties wet and clothing askew, he pulled away from me, checked down the hallway again, and maneuvered me back into the broom closet. We couldn't fit all the way in, but he pushed me in ahead of him, leaned me against the big commercial sink, and knelt in front of me. 

I could see occasional flashes of light in the hallway as sunlight reflected off the windshields of passing cars. I could feel the rumble of traffic, not five feet behind me through the wall, the sounds filtering in would hopefully camouflage the whimpers and gasps coming from me as he kissed my legs and began gathering my skirt in his hands.

Slowly, he bared my legs. The skin still pale from winter, they seemed to glow in the near-dark gloom of the hallway. Finally, my panties were visible, and he leaned in and kissed my pussy through the material.

"Oh, god!" I cried softly. "Don't tease me! If you're going to do this, then do it, but please don't tease me!"

He leaned away, there was a soft, metallic sound, and suddenly my panties no longer covered anything important. His mouth was on me, kissing, licking, sucking. I was trying not to cry out and holding his head to me as tightly as I could.

I kept my right foot on the ground but slid my left up his body and over his shoulder. I leaned back and rested my head against the wall behind me, arching up as much as I could into his ravaging mouth. The sounds he made were angry, wet, and sexy.

Finally, as I neared my climax, he shrugged my foot off his shoulder and stood. He simply lifted his kilt, leaned forward, and fucked me. He pulled me to him and kissed me on his second thrust, our cries mingling as he sank to the hilt. As I raised my legs to wrap around him, his balls slapped my ass, and the head of his cock caressed my cervix.

It didn't take long. Ten strokes, twenty maybe, and he was firing up inside of me. I was right there with him, clutching, biting his shoulder, and crying out.

When he finished, he pulled out, reached around the corner for a handful of paper towels. He handed me some and used the rest on himself.

"Stay here for a minute," he said. I nodded.

He turned to go, then turned back, just for a glance.

"Very hot," was all that he said.

I rearranged my skirt and shuddered. I could only agree with him.