Sweaty Uniform Clinginess: Kind Manager’s Waist Grind Fetish

I’ve never told anyone this, but that waist grind with my old manager is still burned into my memory, and it all started because of how that sweaty uniform clung to every curve after a late shift. We were the only ones left in the office, and he came up behind me to “help” with some paperwork, but his hands found my hips first, pulling my ass back into him until I could feel exactly how hard he was through his slacks. That slow, circular motion—him grinding his waist against me while I braced against the desk—had me soaking through my panties in seconds, and every thrust of his pelvis made me whimper into my own arm, trying to stay quiet. He wasn’t rough, just deliberate, pressing that bulge right against my swollen clit until I was trembling, and when I finally came, it was this long, shuddering release that left me gasping. It was nothing but pure, filthy office heat between two adults, and I still get wet thinking about that casual, possessive grind.