I squirmed in my seat.
Conferences were never my thing, but this was insufferable. “Driving Taxing Conversations” sounded interesting on the surface, but it was a long, drawn out PowerPoint presentation on mitigating state unemployment tax. Fuck me, right? And being the third session in a row, right before lunch. And after three cups of coffee.
The presenter, a Mr. Joshua Lynnborn, wasn’t much to look at either. A droll voice with a dull body in a plain suit, with a blah tie to match. Not that I was much better. Black jacket, white button down blouse, black skirt, one inch heels. Instantly forgettable. I only knew him because he happened to be my boss.
The pinging from my bladder grew. I was substituting sleep with caffeine and it was catching up. Worse, I decided to sit right smack in the middle so I couldn’t slip out. Worst, my skirt was digging in and I had no way to loosen it. I clenched my legs tight.
The gentleman on my left looked my way. I was shifting too much, but what could I do? As boring as the presentation was, I couldn’t leave. This was my boss, and I had a role to play. A staged question with his rehearsed response. Anything to make him look good.
My fidgeting continued. Slide fifteen of forty. Ugh, so much more to go and clamping my thighs together wasn’t enough. No, I was going to hold it even if I had to physically force myself. I pressed my hands between my legs.
My neighbor’s annoyed glance turned into a side eyed stare. Whatever. I couldn’t focus on anything except the mounting pressure. His name badge read “Sam – Consultation Assistant,” which was funny because he wasn’t any help at all. Just making me more aware of the floodgates begging to open between my lower lips.
Slam! A woman dropped her binder on the floor. It wasn’t even that loud, just shocking compared to Joshua’s monotone lecture. I yelped. Not because of the noise, but for a hot second I let go. A wet squirt into my panties, the shortest moment of relief followed by sheer panic.
And surprisingly pleasant dash of warmth on my nether regions. Maybe I was doing this to myself on purpose? The daring taboo, the challenge, an escape from this boring as hell presentation. I looked up at the slides. Twenty five. I had time to go to the restroom.
I didn’t.
What kind of fool am I? This was my job, and here I was playing some masochistic game. I hadn’t wet my panties since I was a teen, and here I was in formal ware getting my kink on. And I wasn’t the only one enjoying it. My neighbor looked me in the eyes. He didn’t say anything, but the way they slid down my blouse and focused on my rocking hips I could tell his thoughts were less than clean. I sat somewhat sideways in my chair, giving him a clear view of what I was up to but protecting myself from any onlookers from the other side.
I shivered. I realized my hands pressed against myself could do more than just prevent disaster. I started varying the force rhythmically, my skirt tight against my private place. Each push made the waistband push into my bladder, which caused a little fluid to slip out. Each slip sent chills in all the right ways, causing me to push harder. Causing the wetness to spread, dampening my lavender polyester panties, especially my bottom.
Biting my lip, I watched the slides continue their snail’s pace. My neighbor meanwhile watched me pleasure myself. He had his notepad conventionally covering his hand and crotch. He reached down to his bag and handed me a bottle of water. I looked at him. The bottle was full.
A challenge. I took a breath. Despite how wet my undies were, I was still aching. If it wasn’t for the distraction of the pleasure I would have abandoned this quest long ago.
I opened the bottle. “Thank you,” I said sarcastically in a hushed voice. I gulped it down. I thought about sipping on it, but the look on his face when I drank it all was priceless.
I had a few minutes before it kicked in, but boy did it. The satisfying feeling of being full, of feeling pressure in fun spots was replaced with a panicked urge to run to the women’s room. That chance had long passed. Only a few more slides now, I can do this! It hurt to move, to rock, all I could do is stay frozen in place.
It was a slide away but I got a reprieve as Joshua jumped through it, and it was question time. As expected there were none, so I raised my hand and was called on.
I stood up and the dam burst. My beaver could only watch helplessly as the stream started. It was a trickle, but wouldn’t stay that way for long. I felt the warmth running down my legs. I stammered out my question.
“With the current state of affairs, how do we protect ourselves from a flood of complaints from the public?” With the word flood, the stream opened up. Luckily Joshua jumped right on to answer, covering up the hiss from under my skirt. My ankles were wet, and then my heels. I sat down.
I closed my eyes, allowing myself a moment to bask in both relief and pleasure as I peed myself. Me, a business professional in suit and all and I was wetting myself like a drunk college sorority girl.
I forced the flow to stop. I was sitting in a pool of warmth. The back of my skirt was completely drenched, as were my legs all the way to my toes. Opening my eyes, I was thankful that the session was wrapping up. People started shuffling out, I waited until most had left to hide the signs of my shameful lust. My neighbor stayed too.
Finally it was almost empty and I stood up. He must have too, because the next thing I heard was a wet shmack! Hid hand smacked my soaked ass and grabbed hold. “I’ll walk behind you.” So generous.
I stepped over my puddle, my heels squashing as I walked. I wanted to head to the bathroom and finish relieving myself and clean up, but there was no saving this outfit. Instead I walked across the street to my hotel. He followed me.
It wasn’t until we were alone in the elevator that he made his move. He pulled my backside into his groin. I felt his erection grinding between my cheeks, felt his hand plunge down the front of my skirt to find my pussy. The extra pressure was all I needed. I let go, wetting his hand and myself all over again. I gasped and leaned against the elevator doors, having the presence of mind to hit the button.
I didn’t hold back, not in my moans of pleasure or on my flow, which splattered on the tile floor. Being lunch time midweek we were lucky that our floor was empty. The doors opened and I scrambled to my door. He resumed diddling me as I fumbled my key card.
The door was still closing behind us as he pushed me onto the bed. I dutifully spread my legs for him as he pulled my lavender, now deep purple panties to the side. Another breath and his cock was out. I caught a half glimpse of it before it was exploring my womanhood, my lips soaked and ready for more pleasure.
We fucked. His hands held me close as we rocked together. I grabbed the sheets as he grabbed my breasts ripping my blouse partially open so he could get at my tits. Fuck this felt good! I was hot and bothered and getting my snatch filled. I came first, hovering post peak as he finished. He pumped his cream into me, then collapsed, head resting on my tits.
After a few moments of heavy breathing, he stood back up. His cock slid out from inside me, and I got a better look at it. An uncircumcised head, a couple a veins, and fluid spurting out. What!? He was relieving himself on me. The front of my skirt and blouse were sprinkled with his water. He hit all the remaining dry spots – my belly button, my exposed breasts. My mouth opened partially in a half shocked smirk, and he got me there too. I didn’t know what to think or do. I sat up on my elbows and basked in the warm yellow droplets.
It was so salty, on my tongue and in my eyes and on my hair. As the flow slowed I really didn’t want it to end. A few last spurts splashed down my open shirt. Then nonchalantly he shook his prick off on me, the last droplets scattering over my debased skin and clothes.
His dick was spent of all fluids, but he wasn’t done with his debauchery.
“Pull your knees up.” It was an unclear instruction, but I knew just what he wanted. I grabbed my knees and pulled them to my chest, then spread my legs as far as they could. My panties were bunched to the side, my nipples perky from the cooling liquid on them. He had a clear view of both lower holes.
Then he stuck two fingers up my ass.
Yikes! I knew it was coming but I wasn’t ready for it. My butt clenched, but he just forced them up further. Surprisingly it wasn’t an unusual feeling, just going the wrong way. As soon as my ass gave up clenching, he finger blasted it.
It wasn’t thrusting in and out so much as stretching, but it was enough to set my rear nerves on fire. It wasn’t pleasure or pain. Neither of us got any direct stimulation, just the knowledge that I was being debased utterly. And I loved it.
I unhooked my skirt and let it fall to the sides, then rolled over and stuck my ass in the air. While he worked it, I reached back and started playing with my bean. Ahhh, that’s better. I knew what my clit liked, how to roll it between my fingers, when to pull and where to push and how to flick the ever loving shit out of it. He grabbed the TV remote and pushed it in my slit. Mmm. He didn’t fuck me with it, just let it fill me. I clenched and flicked and he fingered and I came a second time.
He took the remote out, the buttons that I didn’t even notice on the way in sent electric jolts through me coming out. He sat down in the only cushioned chair in the room and turned on the TV, his cock semi-stiff hanging out of his boxers. He motioned.
I knelt beside the chair and sucked him off as he channel surfed. It was so casual and chill compared to the rest of our romp. I licked and swallowed like a good little whore, after which he simply got up, zipped up and left. I looked at the bed. It was unsurprisingly a disaster, much like my suit.
Time to find another bed to sleep in.
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/qb4y11/desperation_dancing_debauchery_and_conferencing