The way my fingers sawed in and out of her sopping pussy was all I needed to know it was all worth it, all the shit I'd gone through to get her to agree to text, and then to talk, and then to video call, and then to send each other videos... All of it. It may have taken weeks -- hell, since that day I saw her on the register in a fucking supermarket I'd wanted her, but it was nearly a month before I was able to find her again, and that's not even mentioning the way she rejected me the first two times I tried to ask her to coffee -- since that first text, but that was really the hook at the end of my line. Once it was in her mouth, I was going to reel her in or lose my rod trying.
Rutting her with my fingers, I inhaled the musky scent as if it were the freshest of pure roses held out to me by a pristinely celibate woman in a suit who wore overpriced perfumes to cover up the dust in her cunt. She smelled divine, and as wet as she was right now -- and with my face inches from her sacredness -- she was strong. The scent of a girl who'd been wetting herself for days over thoughts I had personally put in her head, the scent of someone who'd dreamed of fucking me since before she'd realised I had a cock, the scent of pure, raw, unadulterated arousal. It was animalistic and it was driving me insane.
At first, I'd gotten in with a number. She'd given me an excuse about having a boyfriend first, but I came back again and again, and with enough admittedly beta-male, nervous jokes and compliments, she'd written it down for me. After that, we texted a while, and came to find some actually quite enjoyable conversation. A while later, we'd called, and then called again. About two weeks in, we were talking late at night when conversation began to dip ever so slightly towards... Well, night-time activities. I'm still surprised to this day that she'd stayed on the line on that call as I gently navigated her mind through the rippling waters of her increasing arousal, but she did, and by the time she was mooring on Island Orgasm, she was moaning in my ears.
I listened to every gasp that escaped her soft pink lips and felt my pants bursting at them, but I had to prime her properly first. She was aroused, yes -- and thoroughly so -- but I needed her to be ready to act first and think later. The videos helped get her in the right mood, and guided her towards the right desires, but I had to make sure the only thing she wanted was my cock before I presented it to her. Not that this was a disappointing way to achieve the goal, of course -- fingering a 10/10 in her workplace's staff toilets while she's moaning your name behind her sighs can hardly be counted as 'cumbersome work,' unless you're perhaps a middle-aged Warhammer role-player.
After that the gates were open. We called again the night after, and again I steered her towards masturbation. She wasn't so willing at first, and I got the impression she didn't usually get horny every night -- but with some careful verbal attention I had her fingering the button within an hour. When we hung up, it was with slick digits on both sides, guaranteed. After that, it was a regular deal, sharing our orgasms remotely via the phone time and time again, until she had to see it. I was already over-willing, and hearing her suggest it was perfect. A video call quickly had her spread legs in full view of her phone's camera, and my eyes drank it in as she watched me stroking it sensually on my end. The next night, to my utter amazement and pleasure, she'd shaved it clean, and from then onwards my phone background was severely NSFW.
She was rocking on the seat lid, rolling her hips back and forth on my fingers as if she were riding my hand, making it creak a little. I could barely stop myself from unloading then and there when I saw her hands had moved from the walls of the tiny stall and up to her breasts, moulding them beneath her work shirt. I bit my lip and sped up, desperate to bring her as close to orgasm as I could before her raw body alone brought mine embarrassingly prematurely from me. Once she was ready, I'd have my pick of where it went and what she did with it, and once I was inside her, the special videos would be done and dusted.
When things were busy -- and I think increasingly more so for the purpose of using them while away from home -- we started sending videos. She started it, in fact, sending me a hot but meek video of her lifting her shirt. Then I replied with a fully-naked glimpse. After that, the gloves -- or should I say clothes -- were off. The third video she sent me had two fingers sliding along her clit and curving to penetrate her body, and the third one I replied with was laced with a video overlay I'd paid $250 online for that promised to be able to hypnotise anyone. As promised, the next text she sent said that she'd played it three times over, and that it was the hottest thing she'd seen. The next video showed me how fast her hands could rub to make her squirt. I sent another three hypnosis-laced videos of myself in quick succession, and she told me that night she'd squirted five times and passed out in the bath. Nice. I'd cum not a few times myself, and I was my own brand of spent.
It was time. I put my hand gently over her mouth as it fell open to moan, and as I did so, stood up, dropping my already loosened pants with one hand in the movement. Her huge brown eyes cracked open and focussed slowly on me as I touched her face, and the fingers I'd put over her mouth slipped easily to cup her head as she tilted to look at me. There it was. The final piece. The key to this escape room of a female puzzle. The thing that, all things going well, was going to seal her affections for good.
She frowned, and for a heart-stopping moment I thought she was going to back out. I could still see her bare cunt between her legs, red raw and covered in her juice, her pants around her ankles, leaking on the plastic lid. Can't have come this far just to stop here, I thought. Then, she looked up at me. 'How are we going to fuck in this tiny space?' she asked sincerely, airily as if only half with-it. I practically guffawed, and straddled her unceremoniously, watching her eagerly and willingly take me in her mouth with one hand while the other dipped to her crotch. I pushed her back against the cistern and felt her relax into the act of blowing me, and I felt like I was on fucking cloud 9's cloud 9.
Amazingly, she came first. I felt her buck, then her legs flew together and she pushed against me, shaking. She moaned muffledly into my crotch, huffing as her fingertips brought a fresh stream of wetness from her already sopping pussy. Then, three seconds later, she put her lips against my navel, her nose pressed into my belly, and swallowed me whole, controlling the gag. When I came, she just kept swallowing, sucking in halted gulps of air through her nose as she drank everything I put out like a paid actress. Incredibly, I could feel her tongue working the underside of my cock, milking me like a mother's udder for every drop as she massaged my balls in her free hand. I just put my head on my forearm against the wall above her, closed my eyes and let it all happen, unable to process thoughts as heaven was born in the third stall of the women's upstairs toilets in a fucking supermarket between us.
When we were done, we parted with a sticky mess that joined her mouth to me with strings of saliva and cum. She panted for a long while, and I just stood there, cock out, gazing at her in awe. After a while, she grinned, and then laughed. I joined in, and she dumbly stroked me with one hand as I stood straddling her. 'You're amazing, you know that?' She breathed an inch from my red-raw tip as we looked into each other's eyes. 'You must be looking in a mirror,' I replied, grinning. She gave it a pull and I jumped, laughing at me. I joined in a moment later, and paid her back by slipping a hand across her slick pussy, making her body tense and her face morph almost instantly. She sighed as I didn't let up and I watched her body list physically into the pleasure it gave her.
'Don't leave me.' She breathed as we leaned on each other's shoulders, genitals still in each other's hands, me feeling the gentle ministrations of her hand around my half-hard length, my fingers dancing lightly at her entrance. 'Not a chance.' I whispered back.
In a normal world, we'd have parted there -- tidied up, snuck out, finished her shift and met up for dinner and more sex. But she was still hot, and when we just didn't leave, and when she just didn't stop stroking, and when I just didn't stop touching her, well...
It was a little tricky to work, but eventually I found that I could hang her legs over my arms and hoist her up by her hips while she clung onto the walls and cistern for her life. She was better lubricated than an olive oil bottle and as tight as a virgin, and only the fact that I'd already unloaded once stopped me from cumming when I felt her clenching tightly around me as I slipped inside her body. Several thrusts later and with both of us moaning louder than we should have, we struck up a good rhythm and before long I came again, folding in half over her as I jerked irresistibly with the release, desperately gripping her and the toilet for my life. It must have pushed her over the edge because just when I'd thought her tight cunt was a milking machine, she began to pulse and tense around me, and I felt her body squeeze and go rock hard around my length as tiny jets of female ejaculate squirted from beneath my shaft and onto the dirty tiled floor. She gripped her own mouth with one hand, wide eyes locked on mine as they resisted the urge to roll up into her head and when she'd ridden it down she sighed and I watched her eyes go cross-eyed slightly as she was overloaded with the overpowering release.
In the end, after a lot of toilet paper and soft, erotic licking, we did clean up and sneak out, and she awkwardly finished the rest of her shift with a lot of deodorant and paper towels stuffed down her pants. I laughed audibly as I watched her from the doorway awkwardly reaching out for an item from a large man who I think couldn't physically reach the counter, seeing the way she tensed up and tried not to rub against her padded-up pants-front or coerce any more of the unmistakable scent of sex from her body. She was flushed red and looked all hot and bothered, and when she'd served the man, I caught her turning from her till and pretending to cough while she adjusted herself. I turned to go as she pulled her phone out, and half way across the parking lot I got the text. 'You're an asshole and I think I love you.'
And yes, that night we did meet for dinner.
And round 3.