It all started with some flirty sexting one morning on my commute to work, and ended with me in the men’s private bathroom at work fingering myself.
Flirting makes me feel so alive. It’s an instant high that spreads through my whole body starting with a smile on my face, a flush of warmth across my skin, and moves downward to crescendo into full blown juiciness between my legs (if done well). I’d say it’s like a drug, but of course it is, it’s dopamine, baby. It’s the (for the most part) kind of high I get from running, which is kind of funny, because as I was Googling around I found this article that basically discusses this same parallel.
I love it even more when it’s done with someone who understands the fine art of seduction, and who enjoys the art of subtly. I love the mental “cat and mouse” game. Teasing, chasing, and getting caught are so much fun. And when he tells me how hard I make him with our flirtatious interludes, I can’t hep but feel intensely satisfied at the thought. Thinking of that always makes me smile like the Cheshire Cat.
So one morning this week as I was commuting to work (don’t worry, I wasn’t driving at the time), some random flirty text messages transported me from the hum drum of the usual routine, and into a dopamine-induced fantasy land of arousal that literally had my head dizzy with want.
They started with that playful subtly that I love, little innuendoes that tease, and eventually worked their way into full-blown sexting at it’s finest. I could feel my pussy literally dripping tight with desire at the thought of his face buried deep between my thighs covered in my juices, imagining his tongue lapping at my clit as he slid 2…3…4…fingers deep inside my hungry cunt. And that was just the beginning, just the opening tease to make my body ache with need for his cock to be sliding into me like a hot knife through butter. It was a wonder I had even made it into the building at work without walking straight into a wall in the haze he had me in.
When I finally made it in and settled, I was downstairs in a common room we all share for lunches. Two other women were there also engaged with their phones, but definitely not having an experience like I was. I could feel my skin flush with lust, and as much as I can hide my inner world, there is only so long and so well one can hide a ravenous primal hunger. I became aware that I was making impish faces and involuntary light moans. I was sitting with my legs crossed so I could rub my clit between my thighs without anyone noticing, a trick I learned when I was 14 while reading the book The Joy of Sex, and I just knew the dizzying cloud of my arousal was now too much to go unnoticed.
I told him it was a good thing he was so far away because if he were here, I would not be able to control myself. My willpower was at zero, and I would have NEEDED to touch him. Nothing was truer.
I know, you’re thinking what would be so wrong with that? And while I am single, he is not. And no, he’s not polyamorous (which I am actually quite thankful for because honestly I’ve had my share of that for this lifetime, thank you). I suppose if I was his girlfriend I would probably want to strangle the shit out of me (and him) if I knew we were having such a lascivious sexting romp, but then really, nothing is really happening. It’s all just talk. No one is acting on anything close to this, however, in those moments if he had been in the same room with me, my desire was so rampant that it would have been near impossible to control. So, luckily I wasn’t actually in that position because I don’t want to be a shitty human.
Fictional moral dilemmas aside…at least I could give myself the release my body was begging for.
With my lustful desires now being impossible to adequately hide, I took myself upstairs and into the one place I knew was quiet and no one would bother me: the men’s private bathroom. It’s tucked away in a part of the building that no one seems to bother to go to, which makes it the perfect spot to feel comfortable enough to touch myself without fear of being interrupted. I’m a very vocal lover, even when solo, so there was no way I could take myself all the way over the edge, but at least I could rub some of this torrid desire out of myself so I could at least attempt at being focussed on work and not distracted by all the lurid thoughts I was having about what I wanted to be doing with him.
I slipped into the bathroom, locked the door behind me, pulled my pants down around my hips, and slid my fingers inside my warm, wet, slit. I stroked my clit with the lightest of fingertips to tease myself. I couldn’t resist sending him a photo of my fingers covered in my juices. He told me he thought that was fucking hot and that he wanted to lick them clean. That just made me wetter. I was almost going to post the photo here, but decided it was more erotic to me to keep that just between the two of us.
I teased myself some more, sliding fingers up inside my pussy to caress my g-spot and free myself from the desperate need to be filled by his cock. I knew I couldn’t keep going for much longer because if I had cum, there would have been no being quiet about it, so I fixed my clothing, splashed some cool water on my face, and did my best attempt at going back to my room to focus on the day. I can tell you it was definitely not free of distractions, as I found myself lulled into daydreams of him bending me over, holding me down, and burying his cock deep inside my ass.
It made for a most interesting day to say the least. Admittedly, those same thoughts have been distracting me ever since.