Office Masturbation: Squirting All Over My Chair

I probably shouldn’t be saying this.

Like, I really shouldn’t share about my office masturbation moment. But I’m gonna anyway because it was that fucking good. I came so hard during a call last week I soaked straight through my yoga pants. Not like a cute drip or whatever I mean full on, thighs shaking, face buried in my elbow, couldn’t stop kind of wet. It was a mess. Like… puddle-on-the-chair kind of mess.

Office masturbation wasn’t the plan. It just sorta happened. The call started normal. He was kinda shy, new. Asking those soft, sweet questions guys ask when they’re still trying to figure out if I’m actually real. But something about how he said my name… like, the way it dropped into this low, slow wanting? That shit lit me up.

Office Masturbation

I didn’t even think. My hand went between my legs like it had a mind of its own. No toy, just fingers. Warm. Fast. Already wet, already kinda twitchy. And the thing is, when you do this job all the time, office masturbation just turns into a normal-ass part of your day. People think it’s all fake moaning and pretending. Nah. It gets real. Especially when a man is telling me he wants me to cum first soft and sloppy and loudand you can tell he means it. Like, he’s into hearing me fall apart.

And then he starts asking me where my fingers are. “Are you sitting on your headset while you ride your palm like a little whore?” I couldn’t even answer. I was grinding into my chair like I hadn’t cum in a week. Tank top shoved down. One hand working circles between my thighs and the other squeezing my tits, pinching, tugging. My breath was already catching in my throat. And then he goes, “I want you to cum all over that chair for me, baby. Make a fucking office masturbation mess. I know you need it.”

I swear I blacked out for a second. I bucked forward so hard I nearly knocked over my drink. Legs shaking. Toes curled. I fucking screamed when I came like loud, ugly, full-body orgasm from office masturbation. When I looked down? Yeah. My pants were dark and sticky. Fingers soaked, and the chair was dripping. I actually had to go grab a towel.

One of the best orgasms I’ve ever had. No joke.

I mean, I masturbate daily, sure. But that? That was something else. That kind of release just doesn’t happen from a quick touch. It happens when I’m in it. When the call hits just right. Like when I sent that accidental sext a few weeks ago and ended up bent over the kitchen counter, or that night in the Airbnb when voyeur sex turned me into someone I didn’t even recognize in the mirror.

This time though, it wasn’t a stranger watching me or the wrong guy texting me back. It was just me, soaked in my own sweat and slick, giving the sweetest girlfriend experience I could while making a mess of my damn work chair. Office masturbation’s part of the routine now. I don’t even fight it. And honestly? It’s better than coffee. Better than yoga. Hell, better than most dick I’ve had in person. So yeah… I keep a towel under my chair now. Not for show. For survival.

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