For this week’s Masturbation Monday, you’ll have to forgive me for not following the prompt. Instead, I’ve written another little ‘confessional’ story, as my airport story was enjoyed a lot by some. This one is a pure, cheeky piece of naughtiness for you.
I lay on the bed, half wet, half dry, still trying to calm my breath. I couldn’t manage to make myself come in the shower, so I’d played with every vibrator near to hand the moment I’d got out. And now, here I am, phone in hand, wet hair that he loves splayed out all over the duvet, as I click the camera and take a picture of my flushed face, neck and chest, together with my fingers having a cheeky pinch at my left nipple.
I send the message, with the picture: That one was good.
I hold the camera between my legs and take another shot, and attaching a: See?
It takes no time at all for me to get a return picture. His cock is rigid in his hand.
His message: I’m gonna turn on the camera.
My reply: WTF?
I send a second, more explanatory one: You know I love to see you. But I’m spent. I can’t come again right now. And you’re at work. What if customers see your screen?
His message: Believe me, they won’t be watching my screen.
Before I have a chance to feel an inkling of confusion, there he is, on my phone, grinning at me, his shirt up to his neck, his work trousers wide open and his cock sliding slowly through his fingers. He’s laid on a bed, a duvet beneath him, his head on a wrapped pack of pillows. He grins, waving a hand towel, still with its tag on. He’s only whispering, but I can hear him loud and clear. “For when I spunk all over this lovely new duvet.”
“What the hell are you doing? You’ll get kicked out! Where are you? You’re not…?”
He swishes the camera around, so I can see exactly where he is: in a corner of the massive shop floor, hidden behind a right-angled corner unit of stacked towels, face flannels, and various types of bedding. Right above his head there’s a sign saying Special Offer: buy the bed package, get a mobile phone of your choice free.
“It’s a demonstration bed. A very expensive one. Well, I’m going to give you a demonstration. Shhh. Let me whisper to you. I’ve been thinking about you all morning. Can you tell?”
I can feel my chest begin to flush as he bends his knees, digging his feet into one of the shop-floor duvets. His hips thrust up towards his camera and he begins to stroke fast, lightly. Every now and then he catches his cockhead between his finger and thumb and rolls his thumb tip over the glistening droplets that ooze one by one from his slit. Watching him draw it from his cock tip and bring it to his lips sends a throb from the centre of my body straight down between my thighs. He smiles, his thumb still touching his tongue.
“Want to taste? I wish you could taste it. Rub your clit for me.”
My mouth is gaping open, trying to lick his precum from his thumb. Or his cock. I’m really not fussy right now. Somewhere beyond is the sound of shoes clicking on the tiled floor, and a squish-nosed loudspeaker voice announcing the latest bargains in haberdashery. A pang goes through my chest; at least these bargains aren’t in the bedding department. I stand my phone up against the back of the dressing table and stand in front of it so he can see almost all my entire naked body, my fingers slipping underneath me, finding myself still swollen, my nerve ends tingling as I begin to roll my fingers over my folds. Pushing myself forwards, I give him the best view I can, and he moans.
“Fuck, woman, you make me want to come. I wish I could come inside you. I want to come in your arse. Will you let me come in there? I want to do it now. I want to fuck you until you can’t bear it. Or fuck your butt with a strap-on so I can come in your pussy.”
His head rolls back as he strokes himself faster. I can hear that gorgeous sound his cock makes as it gets juicier and it leaves my fingers drenched, my tender pussy throbbing, needing him to take it and fuck it into the floor. His breath is heavier, half sighing, half panting and it drives me crazy. I love listening to every sound he makes. I straddle myself on the end of the bed, so he can see as my fingers begin to slide in and out of me, my other hand rubbing my clit. I try and contain my noise, biting my lip hard so I can hear him gasp, “I want to come for you.”
Just those words tip me over the edge. So much for not managing another. My orgasm tears through me as I struggle to keep my moan to a minimum, but he can see what’s happening to me. It makes him clutch his shaft hard, stroking faster, his other hand clutching at his balls. His eyes refuse to close in the agonising ecstasy of the moment and find mine, as he forces out the words, “For you.”
His release is beautiful. Thick white cream fires itself upwards onto his belly in three beautiful spurts and I watch as the remaining cum begins to drizzle down over his cockhead and down his shaft. Struggling, he grasps at the towel by its ticket and wipes his cock, mopping up his belly as his chest still beats like a bass drum.
His breath erratic, and wide-eyed, he manages to utter, “I’ve just… been spotted by… two customers. Couldn’t move… I was in full flow.”
“Bloody hell, man, you’ll get fired. Or arrested.” I can feel myself panicking, burning up, imagining the headlines in the newspapers. “Why the hell are you laughing?” He can’t stop grinning as he replies,
“I don’t think I’ll be needing bailing out anytime soon. One bloke grabbed a duvet and a whole set of towels, squashed them against his dick and called out to his missus that she needs a new mobile phone, and I just heard one other grab one of the assistants and ask if he can order the special offer bed package!”