Lately i've been kind of obsessing about one of the women i work with. Her name is Trina. She has black hair, of Hispanic heritage (though she looks like she could be Italian, too, with her pale skin), wears glasses, and is attractive enough, but what captivates me about her is that every day she wears very tight black skirts that zip up the back and hug her thighs and shapely full bottom, and dark pantyhose underneath.
i've thought many times about how much i would love to slowly hump up against her bottom through that skirt...then slip her skirt up (or pull the zipper down and peel it down her hips and thighs), see what kind of panties she wears, how her bottom looks out of her skirt, and of course, continue humping against her.
i've snuck off to the bathroom at work many times after getting an eyeful of her bending over in that skirt, walking across the office with her round bottom swaying in that tight, tight skirt. And then, of course, i masturbate while thinking of her.
i imagine that she and i are in the break room after hours, and she mentions that she's noticed me watching her. She's caught me staring at her several times but never said anything about it to me. She asks me point blank if i find her attractive. Embarrassed and awkward, i confess that i think she's extremely attractive. She smiles and tells me she's flattered, but of course she's a married woman. Still, she says, she likes being looked at the way i look at her, and she asks me if i like her bottom. Even more embarrassed, i stammer that i do. She asks me if i fantasize about her, coming closer to me, standing only a few inches away from me so i can smell her perfume. "It's okay...I won't say a word to anyone. We're both adults, and we're just talking, right? Now, tell me...when you stare at my bottom, what do you think about? Do you think about me when you're, you know...by yourself?"
i confess my fantasy about humping her bottom in various states of undress. She giggles, and i realize as i describe my fantasy just how juvenile and pathetic it sounds. i don't even fantasize about fucking her, just frotting against her until i cream on her pantyhose. She takes on a new expression, playful and seductive, and i realize that she doesn't see me as a potential lover, but rather just another harmless pervert.
"Would you like to see it?" she asks, grinning as she reaches around behind her back. My mouth has gone dry and i'm trembling, so i just nod. She giggles again, and then turns around, presenting her backside to me. She slo-o-o-o-wly pulls the zipper of her skirt down, shifting her weight between her feet, which makes her hips tilt and her calves flex in their sleek dark hosiery. Then, as she looks back over her shoulder at me, still grinning, she pushes the skirt down. Her blouse covers up her backside at first, and her skirt falls down to the floor around her ankles. i watch, enraptured, as i see what she must look like at home, seeing her for the first time in nothing but shirt and pantyhosed legs. i feel an intense pang of jealousy for her husband, who must get to enjoy seeing her around the house like this all the time. She gathers up her blouse in her fingers, slowly drawing it upward, until i get a glimpse of round cheek, a seam in the hose that begins under her seat, the satiny pale peach color of her panties showing through the dark hose as it stretches over her sweet, luscious bottom. Her panties have ridden up between her buttocks a little, and crease where the peak of her bottom cleavage must be underneath. It is fairly easy to imagine what she must look like nude from the waist down. She lifts her blouse all the way up to her bra, so i can see the small of her bare back, a dark mole on her pale skin, and the dark elastic waistband of her pantyhose.
"C-c-can i...can i t-touch it?" i manage to squeak out hoarsely, feeling even more juvenile and pathetic as i hear myself begging for permission. She shakes her head no.
"I'm married," she says, "and it would be cheating on my husband if you touched me. But you look at me all the time, and you're still just looking, right?" She glances down at the obvious tent i'm pitching in my Dockers. "Do you want to touch yourself?"
Her question burns in my ears. i feel keenly ashamed, but i can't bear to pass up this opportunity. i nod again, and she whispers in a faux conspiratorial voice, "I won't tell." Again, she makes me feel like a naughty child being given permission by an auntie, and the mental comparison sends a new flush of blood to my cheeks and to my over-excited penis...adding to the shame i feel. i hope she can't read my perverted loser thoughts as though they were written on my forehead.
Supremely self-conscious and unable to keep from trembling, i fumble with my belt, button and zipper, tugging it over the bulge of my erection. i pull down my underwear in front just enough to free my stiff penis, which springs up into the cool, air-conditioned office break room. It feels so familiar because i'm a chronic, addicted masturbator who engages in this ritual several times daily, but it's given a taboo dimension by exposing myself like this in the workplace, right out in the open, much less in front of the woman i've been fantasizing about in my wank-off scenarios for weeks.
(It just occurred to me that, if this happened on the right day, i would have been wearing panties under my pants when i unzipped them. The thought of her making that little discovery about me and how she might have reacted just gave me a little surge of precum, and i had to let go of my penis to keep from losing it)
She watches as i begin to masturbate openly in front of her. Mine aren't the long, slow strokes of a porn star, but the quick, eager hand-humpings of a hormone-surging teenaged boy. She laughs at my eagerness and encourages me to take my time, no one's going to come back to the break room until 6 AM tomorrow. i try to slow my pace and exert some measure of self-control, but i'm too aroused by this situation, by the sight of her luscious, desirable body exposed in front of me, and by her teasing, encouraging, and subtly mocking smile. She would never have sex with me now. There might have been a point earlier tonight when i confessed to staring at her and fantasizing about her, maybe, that i might have seduced her and ended up fucking her on the break room table. But then i told her about what i thought about - rubbing and humping and frotting against her like a dog. They were the fantasies of a perverted little boy, not a real man. And now that she was watching me feverishly jacking off in front of her, i could see in her eyes that this would be the last time i would ever get to see those shapely curves she barely concealed beneath her skirt. Those sweet cheeks, so sleek and voluptuous and utterly fuckable --
i cum suddenly and uncontrollably. The orgasm hits me out of nowhere, and before i realize what's happening my semen is spattering on the floor, on my shoes, and down my pant leg. "Oh my god, did you cum already?" she asks incredulously, half-laughing and half shocked. "You didn't last long."
i mumble an apology as the orgasm washes over me, rendering me momentarily unable to think coherently. i pump out the last of my semen, feeling it dribbling down over my knuckles and certain that it's staining my bunched-up underwear beneath my hand as well as the crotch of my dockers. "You're just so sexy," i finally manage to say, smiling in embarrassment and trying to play it cool.
She smiles again, and bends over to pull her skirt back up. It isn't a slow, sensual bending over, like she was still trying to seduce me, but just a 'well, we're done here' movement. She pulls her skirt back up and i watch her dumbly, watching that beautiful bottom vanish forever from my sight. She tucks her blouse in and zips up her skirt primly. "Well," she says softly, "I hope you enjoyed yourself." She meets my eyes again, and i hope for a second that maybe she'll tell me it was exciting for her, too. "We probably shouldn't ever do this again," she says. "Don't you think?"
She must see the disappointment on my face; it feels like i've been punched in the gut. "Aww," she says, making a sympathetic face, "it wasn't bad as all that, was it?"
"No," i say, "it was incredible."
She nods, not in agreement but just in acknowledging my feelings on the matter. "You probably should clean that up," she says, gesturing down at the milky puddle at my feet. "The janitors won't appreciate seeing it." i wait for her to leave, but instead she just stands there. "No, really," she says, "you should clean up after yourself."
i don't zip up my pants. i don't even stuff my limp, slick penis back into my underwear. i go over to the counter and get a wad of paper towels and then get down on my knees and wipe up my jizz. She stands there in her work shoes and stockings the entire time, watching me. She points out another few droplets i missed with the toe of her shoe, and i dutifully wipe up each one. As i look back up at her, i realize that my penis is resting against the crotch of my dockers, and there is now a dark cum stain there where it's resting.
"Okay," she says. "See you tomorrow." And she turns and walks out, leaving me there.
Minutes later, i masturbate again.
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