“Tom and I”. [F]. Risky Public Masturbation.

*Preface*: *Hi! This is my first time writing erotica and also short fiction, so I’d be interested to see if anyone likes it? I’ve got some follow up plot and ideas with this set of characters (this is just dipping a toe in) so please me know if you’re a fan :-).*

*I’m a little nervous, but thank you to anyone who reads this!*

*TOM AND I*

I met Tom six months ago, during the annual Christmas party at my husband’s office. I spent most of the evening schmoozing my husband’s clients and drinking as much champagne as I could get my hands on – after all, there’s little less interesting than discussing the inner workings of a conglomerate for six hours. At first, Tom didn’t seem like anything special. He was just another face in the room, another person to eventually partake in mundane conversation with until one of us thought of a good excuse to leave. That was, until he spoke to me.

“Aha, hello Graham! How are you doing? Is this your wife?” He let out a large grin that seemed to consume his entire face, and looked genuinely pleased to see us. I noticed immediately his broad shoulders and sandy brown hair, even as my vision swayed a little from the tipsiness. For someone in corporate finance, he was ridiculously fucking good looking. Unfortunately for us both, my eye immediately caught onto a shiny silver ring on his left hand.

My husband began to ramble on in his standard inane way, and Tom dutifully listened and smiled before covertly shooting glances at me. We had an instant spark even though we only spoke in small talk, some kind of sexual charisma that lit the room on fire if we looked at each other for too long. Yet, I couldn’t stop looking.

When we said goodbye and I stumbled out the door, red in the face from all the alcohol, he squeezed my arm and I felt the electricity shoot through me like my whole body was burning up. I looked quickly to my husband to see if he had noticed anything, but he was too invested in his goodbye conversations. I didn’t know if it was the alcohol or Tom himself that night, but I felt passion deep in my belly.

Soon there was nobody else I could think about when I masturbated. Even during sex, as Graham fucked me in some god-awful position, the only images that sprang to my mind were of Tom. His gentle but strong presence, the kind of man who would mean it when he said he loved female pleasure. He almost reminded me of a lumberjack – something about that rugged protectiveness and calm charm. I could see him building a cabin in a snowy alpine resort and then lovingly fucking his wife next to an open fire when he came home. He was just that kind of man. My desire for Tom grew, and my dissatisfaction within my marriage worsened.
______________________________________________________

A few months later, it was early in the morning and I was packing up the car for a roadtrip with Graham. It was part of some big grandiose plan to save our marriage – the idea that we wouldn’t be so sick of one another if we spent more time together. Graham had even more compulsively dedicated himself to his work in the past few months, with the hours on the clock piling on and the hours spent home with me becoming less of a priority. He had managed to grift himself into a nice new managerial role, but the only thing that helped was our bank account.

He came downstairs while sternly speaking to someone on his phone, as I closed up the boot and walked into the hallway from the open front door. I saw him begin to hop around while he put his socks and shoes on, and he pressed the phone to his neck while mouthing at me;

“Have you got everything?”

I nodded my head quickly.

“Your phone?”

“Fuck. No, I think I left it in the kitchen last night.”

He shot me a mildly disapproving glance and continued to do the laces up on his shoes. I walked quickly to the kitchen and grabbed my phone off the island counter, but upon realising it was dead I decided to leave it there.

He bundled me into the car while still on the phone, and locked up the house. We were about ten minutes from home when he started shouting something loudly down the phone. After a few more moments of driving, he hung up the phone and sighed loudly.

Almost immediately, he took the wrong exit and began driving in the opposite direction of our destination. We were headed into the city where he worked.

“Is something wrong?” I said, as we pulled up outside his office space.

“Just stay in the car.”

“Why? For how long?”

“Few hours. It’s a work thing. I’m sure you’ll find something to keep yourself entertained.”

“Graham, please. We have plans.”

“And what exactly do you expect me to do about it?” He said viciously, refusing to make eye contact with me.

I remained silent. He hurriedly drove the car into a parking space, before grabbing the keys and his phone and opening the car door. While looking at me with a furrowed brow I could see him forming a sentence in his mind, but he seemed to think better of it. That was Graham for you – the king of communication.

As I watched his shadowy figure leave the car and walk away to scan his key-card at the front desk, I decided my best chance at salvaging the day would be to go for a nap in the backseat. After all, the asshole had ditched me for work and locked me in. I climbed over the armrest, doing my best to preserve whatever modesty I had left and grabbed a blanket that we had stuffed in the boot for an earlier excursion. It smelt faintly perfumed, and the stitching was coming apart in two places but I had nothing better to do than cuddle up and try to sleep. I kicked myself for forgetting to charge my phone.

The midday sun streamed through the windows and I could hear the noises of a bustling cafe nearby as I shut my eyes, but after about thirty minutes I managed to fall asleep.

______________________________________________________

I awoke suddenly, the once bright sunshine fading into the deep blue of early evening. Graham must have been gone for hours. I rubbed my eyes sleepily and reached forward to grab the powder compact from my handbag. My mascara was caked around my eyes and I did my best to wipe the residue of sleep off my face. The crick in my neck from this uncomfortable position had put me in a worse mood, and I was beginning to grow hungry and bored.

Tucking myself back into the blanket for warmth, I stared up through the sunroof at the stars in the sky. Where the fuck was he? I had nothing to do, and no way of even contacting him. I could be here all night, for all I knew. My hand lay rested on my thigh, with my fingers dancing little circles on my tights. The gentle pressure caused a quick thought to flash through my mind – could I get away with masturbating right now? There was nothing else to do, and the fact that I even had the thought would seriously piss Graham off. My heartbeat quickened at the idea and images of Tom suddenly raced through my mind – the taste of his lips, the way he’d feel inside me. I felt a distinctive tingle in my underwear.

My logical brain quickly dismissed the idea. It was crazy – I had no idea when Graham was coming back and despite the late evening’s darkness, strangers were still going to their cars. I could be caught at any second, even from underneath the blanket – by my husband’s colleagues, no less! But something forced my hands to keep moving down my thighs, slowly enveloping my flesh until it reached the edge of my skirt. I let out a breathy sigh and quickly gripped the fabric, pulling it down over my hips and thighs and kicking it underneath the blanket. I stopped myself for a moment and smirked at the notion of lying in my tights and underwear outside my husband’s office.

Quickly, my hand slid into my underwear, meeting my already wet patch of pubic hair. I slowly pushed one finger inside of myself and dragged the wetness up to my clitoris, letting my fingertips run in circular motions. I felt myself getting warm and wet, and my hips began to gyrate. All I could think of was Tom.

I imagined the way he’d buck his head and grunt my name as I pushed him deeply into the back of my throat. I imagined straddling him and taking everything I wanted, making him orgasm like he’d never orgasmed before. I wanted the fireworks, the miraculous explosion – the euphoric rush of him desiring me more than he’d ever desired anybody. My fingers began to move faster and faster across my clitoris and I could feel the sweat pool around my neck. I let out a gentle, earthy moan and my hips began to buckle. With one hand gripping my breast and one hand inside my underwear, I was beginning to see stars. My clit throbbed with the earthly pleasure and I was so close. So fucking close.

I squeezed my eyes shut and pushed my head back against the car door, my feet beginning to lift off of the seat. My mouth opened voluntarily and the orgasm rushed over me, an indelicate moan escaping my lips as I played with myself to completion. Everything was white noise in this intoxicating rush.

I remained in my climax position for a few moments, my hips still in the air and my mouth open and panting. I felt all the life-force had been drained from me in one exhilarating moment. God, this was so fucking good.

Without any warning, I heard two quick raps on the car window and immediately shot up, trying to cover myself with the blanket. I craned my neck to look out of the steamy car window, and my jaw dropped in shock when I saw who was standing there, looking smug.

“Tom?”

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/nt9bhi/tom_and_i_f_risky_public_masturbation