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This time, I’m not willing to risk us being interrupted. While I definitely enjoy watching others have sex, as I’ve always thought I would, I’d much rather prefer to have a whole night with her hands and mouth all over me. I’m also hoping she’ll give me the chance to have mine all over her. She said something before we were interrupted… I was about to ask if I could make her come, and she said I already had. She said I’d made her come twice, in fact. I’ve been thinking about that comment alone day and night. I’d wondered if she came when she was on top of me, rubbing her sex against my own. She must have. That’s so fucking hot. I don’t know when she came a second time, but maybe she somehow came silently when she was behind me while we watched the two women pleasure each other.
I close my personal computer and tuck it back into my bag. Then, I check my calendar on my work computer and notice I don’t have another meeting for an hour. I click the button on the remote that runs my automatic office door, locking it behind my assistant, and I know it’s crazy, but I have to… Prior to meeting this woman, I’d never touched myself at work; I’ve never even thought of it. But since meeting her and taking this step in my life to acknowledge what I like – what I need – I’ve locked that door at least ten times. Normally, I wear business suits to work. Sometimes, I wear pants, and other times I’m in skirts, but I’ve been wearing more skirts than usual lately because it’s better to picture her head between my legs. I’ve only worn a dress when we’ve been together. I push my chair back a bit and spread my legs. I know it won’t be as good as when she touches me, but I can’t stop thinking about her, so I have to give myself some relief if I’m going to get through the next week until I can see her again.
My hand lightly grazes the skin of my inner thigh. I close my eyes and picture her kneeling in front of me with my legs spread for her, my feet still in my heels. She kisses my thigh. I run my fingers over those spots. I picture her eyes looking up at me just as I stroke my index finger over my hard clit through my thong. I’ve been wearing those to work now. I never did before, but I loved how easily it came off for her when she wanted to take me fully into her mouth. This feels so good, and I’m already wet, but I know what I really need, and it’s not my own hand. It’s her.
“Fuck,” I whisper as I stand and reach down with both hands to remove my skirt and my thong.
I’m standing there in just my silk shirt now, but I don’t care. Luckily, the window behind me is tempered glass, so no one can see what I’m about to do. I find my purse, which is in my bottom drawer, and I pull out the bullet vibrator I bring with me everywhere I go now. Standing with my hand pressed to the glass, facing the city below, I turn it on and press it to my clit with my non-dominant hand.
“Fuck,” I repeat as I slip my other hand down and inside.
It’s not the same as being fucked by her. Although we haven’t done that yet, I know it’s not the same. She’d fuck me hard, fast and deep, and then slow and steady until I came again and again. I want her to. I want her to take me from behind, from on top of me, with me on top of her, and in any other way she wants. I flick my two fingers inside my own body, wishing so badly that it were her fingers or her toy that she’s wearing just for me. The bullet isn’t the strongest vibrator I own, but it is the smallest one and, therefore, easiest to conceal. I start coming on my clit first. My hips buck forward, and I’m pressed to the glass without being able to stop myself. My fingers go deeper, and now I’m coming inside.
“Jesus, yes,” I say.
I can hear the vibrator hitting the glass – I don’t care.
“Fuck. Fuck. Yes,” I say every time my hips buck forward again.
Finally, I remove the vibrator, pressing the top to turn it off. I slide my fingers out and press my forehead to the glass.
“What has she done to me?” I say when I’m finally able to catch my breath.
I clean up in my private bathroom, leave my thong in my purse until I can wash it, and put my skirt back on. By the time my meeting is about to start, I look presentable again. I click the button to unlock the door, and when there’s a knock at it, I tell them to come in.
“I’ve booked the spa for this weekend. They have the masseuse you like and said they can give you the suite you had last time, too,” my assistant says.
“Thank you,” I tell her as she ushers in the two people I’ll be meeting with today to discuss contracts. “Have a seat,” I tell them, motioning to the small conference table in the corner.
“Oh, I need to get the staff to take care of that,” my assistant says.
“Take care of what?” I ask as the man and woman sit down at the table.
“Your window. It’s filthy,” my assistant says, pointing to the window.
My eyes go wide – my wet spot is clear as day from where I stand.
“You know… don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it,” I tell her.
???
I need the trip to the spa. Despite the numerous, and I mean, numerous orgasms I’ve had over the past two months, I don’t feel any long-lasting relief. My muscles are tight, and I can’t stop thinking about sex. I knew this could happen, and now I’m worried that it’s interfering with my life. Work is fine. I haven’t dropped the ball on anything, but that could change. The longer I go without seeing her, without being there, the more I want it; the more I want her.
As my favorite masseuse tackles the tight knots in my shoulders, I think about what she might be doing right now. There’s a chance she’s having sex with someone else. It is her job. She could be spreading the legs of another woman, removing her thong, and licking her pussy, making her come until she can’t hold on any longer.
“Are you okay?” my masseuse asks me.
“Sorry?” I say with my head in the pillow.
“You’re moving a little,” she says.
Oh, shit. I was moving. I’m naked under this sheet, and I’m also wet. For fuck’s sake, I think to myself. Am I just going to be constantly turned on for the rest of my life now?
“I’m okay,” I reply.
After the massage, I disappear into my room before my mud bath. I visit the messaging portal on the site again, and there’s still no response. The party is in six days. How long are these people going to make me wait? I need to plan. If we have all night, there are things I might think about buying or bringing with me. I go to my favorite sex toy site and find a few toys to add to the cart. I’ll just buy them no matter what, I tell myself. Then, I visit the site I normally go to for lingerie. She liked my corset so much, I consider wearing it again, but I like the idea of showing her something new, too. I find a few options and add them to my cart.
It’s time for my next treatment. I enjoy the mud bath and the hot shower I take after. I haven’t taken care of the swollen nerves between my legs, and they’ve been begging me for release. While I’m in the shower, I give myself a quick but not nearly good enough orgasm. Then, I decide to eat dinner in the resort’s restaurant because I need to be in public – the more I sit in my room, the higher the likelihood I’ll touch myself, and my body could use a break right now.
