[rest] [1994-09-14] Rest Room Reaction [FFm mast voy humil]
Rest Room Reaction, by Rajah Dodger <rdodger@hotmail.com>,
Copyright (c) 1994. All rights reserved, except that electronic
not-for-profit reproduction rights only are explicitly granted
with the stipulation that this authorship and permission note
must remain attached.
Word Count: 1422
I was heading down the hall toward the men's room when I
heard a squeaking noise coming from the women's room. I thought
this was odd, since I didn't think anyone else was working this
late. I think the lateness of the hour got to me, as otherwise
I'd never have considered opening the women's room door. It was a
good thing this place oils its hinges well.
What with it being after 10 pm, the bathroom only had about
a quarter of its lights on. I heard a female voice panting,
saying something like "ummmm, nummm, do it, do it..." Between
that and the squeaking sound I managed to work out that some one
was in here trying to get off. I ducked my head down and scanned
the spaces under the stall doors till I saw one with feet. Nice
feet, splayed wide with sensible blue pumps set to one side. I
wondered how I was going to pull this off...
I slid under the side of the stall at the end. It was only
two down from the one where the woman was sitting. Her voice was
lower and softer now, little fluttery noises from deep in her
throat. I took off my shoes, set them up on the ledge, and
climbed up on top of the toilet. Good thing I did a lot of push-
ups when I was young, my arms were up to the task of getting up
on top of the stall wall. Of course the bonus was that with my
shoes out of view, and me at the back of the stall, I was pretty
much invisible to a casual onlooker. I balanced my belly on the
wall and poked my head out further. Finally I saw what was going
on. Or getting off, more like.
She was nice looking -- black hair, frilly yellow blouse
gaping open, medium tits, smooth legs. Her panties were out of
sight, probably on the floor the way she had her legs spread. She
was leaning back on the toilet seat with three fingers sliding
through her wet slit and her left hand mauling her breast. She
must have been pinching her nipple -- it was red, and stuck out
like a cherry on a sundae. Her eyes were closed, and I got an
immediate erection from the scene. Her fingers started going
faster again, and she flipped her thumb against her nipple as she
muttered "fuck him, don't need him, don't need her, fuck 'em, got
myself, yeah, right there, do me, do me, ahhhhhhh...". Her
mumbles faded into groans and gurgles, as her right hand became a
blur between her pussy and her clit, ending when she suddenly
sagged back with a long "OOOohhhhhhhh".
I was breathing faster myself, and I watched in fascination
as she took some toilet paper and dabbed at her sweaty face and
chest, then sat up and flushed the toilet, using the spray like a
bidet. I couldn't get enough of this, but suddenly something
happened that made me freeze. I felt a hand on my crotch.
Now understand my position: balanced on the stall separator
wall, head and chest on one side, waist down hanging in the air
on the other. I hadn't heard the bathroom door open, and I would
have felt the breeze if my stall door had been opened. (At least
I *think* I would have... I'll admit I was pretty much absorbed
in the woman I was watching.) That only left one possibility --
someone had heard this woman and had the same idea I had. I hoped
it wasn't security.
I hoped it was a woman, and I really wished I could do
something to find out because there were fingers tracing my
erection through my pants and I couldn't move without making
enough noise to draw attention from the woman I had watched. That
didn't seem like a good idea. She was buttoning her blouse now;
her nipples were almost visible through it. As she drew her
panties back up her legs, I dropped my head to be on the safe
side. I had my own problems to deal with. The fingers in my
crotch knew what they were doing, and a hand had joined them
pressing my pants into the split of my bottom. It looked like I
was going to be having my own sexual experience, but it was going
to be in my pants.
I heard the woman leave her stall and wash her hands, then I
heard a female voice from my stall call out to her. "Elaine? You
still working on that Harkins project?" "Oh... hi, Marge. Yes,
it's a grind but you know how it is when you have to get
something done."
I was grinding my teeth by now, as Marge (I assumed) was
bringing me closer to the edge and I knew I wouldn't be able to
last long. She was playing with what felt like her thumb and one
finger, running up the ridge of my shaft, gripping the head
through my pants and rubbing it with her thumb, then scratching
with her nails back down to my balls. I put one arm out to press
against the wall and reached back to hold the top of the stall
with the other as I felt my cum start to boil.
What a scene... Elaine was drying her hands, and I was never
so happy about a bathroom being equipped with those hot air
dryers. The sound that made drowned out any squeaks I may have
caused as I shot off in my pants, my hot sperm coating my rod as
Marge rubbed my pants against me. She kept this up until I
wasn't jerking my hips any more, by which time I knew the front
of my pants was stained clear through. I could feel the pool of
semen from my waist down to my sticky balls.
Elaine finished drying her hands and started to leave the
bathroom, but Marge detained her to talk about someone who had
just had a baby. Me, I was managing to keep my balance, keep my
head and legs down, and wondering what Marge's game was. I got
really worried when I felt her dig my wallet out from my hip
pocket, but I wasn't in any position to protest. Finally they
finished talking and Elaine left. That left me with Marge, who
kept her hand on my crotch as she spoke to me for the first time.
"You've got a nice ass, Tim. I'd like to see it again some
day. Up close and personal, and I think you know what I mean.
I'll be leaving now, and if you get down quickly, I'll make sure
the hallway is clear for, oh, say two minutes. Long enough for
you to go do something in the *right* bathroom." She chuckled, a
deep throaty sound, and rubbed my wet spot. "Don't look around
for me -- it would be a waste of your time, and besides, now I
know how to find *you*." Then she left.
I clambered down, put my shoes on and hurried to the
bathroom door. Sure enough, the hall was empty. I didn't even
hear any footsteps, although the carpet made that clue unlikely
to begin with. I rushed to the men's room and looked at my
pants. Stained from the waistband to the bottom of my fly. Well,
there was nothing to do about *that*. I unzipped, took some wet
paper towels and did as much as I could to clean up. I smelled
like a cross between a locker room and a whorehouse mattress.
The cleanup helped a little.
I went back to my cubicle, skittishly checking at corners so
I wouldn't run into anyone. When I got there I saw my briefcase
and breathed a sigh of relief. I could hold that in front of me
when I left. When I tried to pick it up, the handle slipped out
of my hand. Funny... I looked closer, then took a sniff. I had
a thought and opened it -- seems Marge decided to leave me a
little present to remember her by. There was a pair of damp
panties on top of my papers, and they weren't wet from urine. I
certainly couldn't give my boss my project report now, but that
could wait until morning. I had the stirrings of an erection
again, and somehow I didn't trust the men's room any more.
/end/ 09-14-1994 Rajah Dodger (c) All Rights Reserved