Jerking at work to my co-worker Meghan

Without question the most intense self-inflicted o***** I have ever experienced took place in the early one sunny Saturday afternoon at the office. I arrived about 7:30 AM that morning and I needed to wait around for a phone call.

With four hours to kill and nobody around I started messing around with Photoshop, some nude model pics and a few shots of my favorite female co-workers. I pondered my catalog and decided Meghan would be an interesting project and went to work straight away.

Meghan is a very attractive small breasted blonde in her early thirties, pretty face, dark almond shaped eyes and a spectacular plump-ish ass.

I'm usually a breast man but something about her always captivated me. I'll admit I entertained many naughty thoughts of her in several dark hotel rooms just before drifting off to sleep. H***, sometimes she was just down the hall... but I digress.

I set to work blending Meghan's photo with some nude shots of a model with the identical body type. This was very detailed work requiring the minds full attention. With many attempts and lots of trial and error the two photos eventually became one. Considering my limited talents with art, I was amazed how believable the resulting photo was.

As I worked a large conspicuous bulge shown across my lap and strained against my jeans. I probably worked on the finished product for about three hours in all.

I had been concentrating so closely I really hadn't noticed the pronounced ache that began to radiate through my groin. I suppose had just fantasized my way to a pretty nasty case of blue b****. It was either time for an ice pack or some self-abuse was in order.

My first thought was to just go rub one out in the men's room but that seemed almost anti-climactic. No, this required something special, something audacious... I resolved to finish this fantasy in her cubical.

Okay, so that may seem a bit strange but I went with it. Higher level thought was no longer possible through the fog of my considerable testicular pain and primal need for release. Without further risk assessment I made my way there.

I made the rounds glancing into the offices and cubicles. I called out but got no answer. The coast seemed clear and it looked like I was alone. Once I had arrived, I settled down in Meghan's desk chair which was opposite of where I normally sat when we visited.

I remembered she kept a tube hand lotion in her desk drawer. After all, I didn't think she would mind. Besides borrowing a few drops of her lotion to prevent chaffing would be the least of the offenses I was about to commit.

As I squeezed to lotion from the tube I the familiar fragrance almost put her there with me. I had seen her apply the same lotion to her hands several times. That thought put the fantasy machine in high gear. I could just picture her discovering me there and insisting on giving me a hand finishing-up.

Anyway, with my lotion free hand, I fumbled at the buttons of my jeans and extricated my semi-erect c***. The coolness of the air on my hot skin and the view of my c*** in these surroundings had me diamond hard in seconds.

I reclined in her chair, with eight stout inches brandished proudly in the air. Wasting no more time, I took myself in-hand and stroked slowly and deliberately. My first upward stroke produced a thick clear bead at the head of my aching c***, lubricating the downward motion that followed.

As I continued to stroke the full length of my c*** the movie of Meghan's slender fingers gliding up and down my shaft played in my head. The occasional aroma of Meghan's lotion was putting me over the edge.

With the next few strokes a single white pearl wept from me and rolled lazily over my thumb. My groin began to tighten in spasm. Two seconds later I exploded with a series of involuntary grunts. The underside of my c*** thumped hard against my fingers as twisted ropes of s**** tumbled through the air. They splashed across Meghan's desk with a wet thud.

I was startled, almost panicked, at the sheer volume of the issue. So much so, I tried to stop myself but only deflected the rest to the floor. I could hear dripping sounds tapping on the roll pad below.

I relaxed for a second and enjoyed the endorphin rush until I came back to my senses. Suddenly, cleaning-up and getting out of there quickly seemed like a reasonable plan. As I tucked myself back into my pants, I noticed dark wet streaks running across my right thigh and random speckles forming on the green upholstery of Meghan's chair. Oops...

There was c** everywhere.... I brushed at the streaks on my jeans and the upholstery with a Kleenex but the stains only darkened and smudged. I began to feel the sticky wetness against my thigh.

I then turned to the considerable task of mopping-up the mess on Meghan's desk. Fresh s**** festooned the desktop and almost everything on it. I wiped-up what I could find and headed for the door.

Just as I made my way to the main section of the building, I met Meghan herself heading straight for her cubicle. I'd guess she was less than ten seconds walk from where I had just come(pun intended).

Meghan greeted me with a nice smile and a friendly "Hey you! What are you doing here on such a nice Saturday?"

Conscious of the way my jeans were clinging to my thigh, I nervously moved my laptop bag laptop in front of me to hide the tell-tale streaks on my thigh.

"Oh.. Just cleaning up a few things from last week" "What about you?" I replied.

She said she had to finish some work by Monday morning but wouldn't be saying long. I didn't get the feeling she suspected anything at that moment but I was beginning to wonder what happened once she reached her desk.

While I'm semi-confident I did a pretty good job of cleaning up, I'm equally sure that she might have noticed a familiar but out-of-place musky smell. A smell almost like s**.

And as she went to sit down wondered to herself what is that on her chair and on the floor?

2 Comments

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  • Ask her out. All she can do is say no. Good story, you can spell and make complete sentences. I'm not making fun of you I am pointing out the fact that you have a brain. A girl in her thirties is going for someone with a Mind. Ask her out. If she says no then ask her to loan you her hand lotion.

  • Your reply is more believable than the story...

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