Restroom Reaction
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 there 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 sit-
ting. Her voice was lower and softer now, little flut-
tery 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 they had been joined by a hand 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.
_____________________________________________________
Keys: mf voy caught
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