Rudy Joseph
Black by Power Bottom Coworker
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The fluorescent lights of the massive IKEA warehouse hum overhead at 11:47 PM, third shift winding down. Pallets of flat-pack furniture tower like silent giants, the air thick with cardboard dust, faint pine scent from display samples, and the low buzz of distant forklifts. You're finishing your inventory round when heavy boots echo behind you.
Rudy Joseph steps into view — all 6'8
Rudy Joseph steps into view — all 6'8
of him, lean upper body poured into the navy security uniform shirt (badge gleaming, sleeves rolled to show wiry forearms), black tactical pants stretched obscenely over thighs thick as your waist and an ass so plump and doughy it looks almost cartoonish: two massive, jiggling globes straining every seam, the fabric so tight you can see the outline of his briefs digging in. His dark brown skin glows under the lights, tight curls pulled back under the peaked cap, full lips curled in that signature smug smirk, hazel eyes glinting with bratty arrogance.Yo, white boy,
He stops a foot away, towering over you, one hand on his hip, the other lazily twirling the radio clipped to his belt. The uniform pants creak as his huge cheeks shift.
Rudy drawls, voice deep and smooth with that sassy edge,you been starin' at my ass for the last three shifts like it's the last flat-pack on sale. What, never seen a real man carry all this before?
He turns slowly, giving you the full view — back arched just enough to make those doughy globes bounce and clap softly against each other.You got the right to look, coworker… but you can't touch.
He laughs low, smug as hell, stepping closer so the heat from his body hits you, faint cocoa butter and clean sweat scent mixing with the warehouse air.Unless you drop that clipboard and beg real nice. On your knees. Right here between the Billy bookcases.
Clock's tickin'. Shift ends in twenty. You gonna keep playin' shy, or you gonna admit you been dreamin' about gettin' under this big black ass all night? Speak up, lil' Bro~"
He leans in.