AUTHORS NOTE: This is my first time publishing, and I wrote this story some time ago, so I'm not sure how it stands up, but I'm eager to hear any constructive criticism.
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Charlotte didn't expect to be spending her work break masturbating in the bathroom of Cuppa Joe's coffee house, but here she sat; skirt pulled up around her waist, pink polka-dotted panties around one of her ankles, ass perched on the edge of the toilet seat, with three fingers of her right hand vigorously massaging her now heavily swollen clitoris.
She suffered from heavy moisture build-up; her pussy dripping from the beating it was taking, dripping sweet liquid on the toilet seat, down the side of the bowl, creating a small, viscous puddle on the floor. Her mouth was also lubricated, with spit and slobber, sliding all over the meaty palm of her left hand, shoved between her teeth to muffle the sound of what would most certainly be alarming, orgasmic screams. She didn't want the entire coffee shop to know what she was doing and hoped that nobody was standing just outside the door because they would have no doubt to the state of things inside.
This wasn't the first time Charlotte had masturbated in the bathroom of her workplace, but it definitely was the most intense. Circumstances being what the were, she doubted anyone would blame her for this much needed release.
"How on earth had I not seen that side of him before," she thought to herself, and another wave of the orgasm shook her to the core. The discovery seemed too inexplicable to her because the "him" in question was Jacob, the shop manager; a man to be nothing special until now. Jacob was a regular guy with at least fifteen or more years on her. He was atypically handsome, rugged; and far from some of the pretty boys she normally hung out with, but Jacob was a bit too gray in the temples for her to normally consider a potential mate. Right now, he had lots of potential to her, as another orgasm quivered within her.
Charlotte liked Jacob as a friend, but they never hung out together. He is a sweet guy, treats his employees with respect, but for the most part, he has different interests than her. He likes camping, and woodworking, while she likes nightclubs and shopping. They do enjoy some of the same music, and she is constantly turning him onto new artists; while he's shared a lot of classics that she'd not known about. Charlotte respects his tastes, but at the same time, it reminds her of how much older he is, and she never had much of a "daddy" fetish. That was right up until the moment they collided behind the counter moments ago.
It wasn't a big collision; more like an accidental bump, with inexplicable timing and placement. Charlotte was bending over to pull some paper cups out of a cabinet, while at the same time, Jacob turned around without looking. Jacob's blind pivot spun his pelvis right into Charlotte's round, protruding butt, pushing her forward with enough force to make Charlotte gasp. The contact lasted less than a second, but just enough pressure for Charlotte to feel what could only be described as a warm cucumber encased in a thick, tube sock; firm, but spongy enough to flex against her tailbone. Was this protrusion really Jacob's cock wedged between her plump cheeks?
Incidental touches happen all the time in the workplace. Combine small spaces with fast moving bodies, and people are eventually going to try and take up the same space, at the same time. 93% of the time, the body mashing is harmless. 4% of the time, it's playful, in the form of slaps on the arms, high fives, and hugs. 2% of the time, it goes into the files as harassment, which usually ends in disciplinary action. And then there is that 1% of the time where it's of a different nature; spontaneous and overwhelmingly carnal in nature.
Because this collision happened so quickly, Charlotte wasn't certain she felt what she thought she felt, but the accidental gesture intrigued her immediately, and she knew she needed to investigate further. Perhaps it was just an odd placement of something in his pants; perhaps it really was a cucumber, but the likelihood of that was slim. More likely, it was Jacob's big dick that tried to bluntly cut her in two. How had she not noticed this tremendous asset of his until just now?
Despite her previous ambivalence to his sexuality; she was immediately obsessed with the thought of his concealed weaponry, and now it needed further investigation. Charlotte schemed and plotted; planting herself into random positions adjacent to Jacob, in hopes of getting a better look at his package. Unfortunately, the poly-blend work shorts he wore made it tough to see any protrusions. After thirty minutes of trying to catch the tiger by the tail with no luck, she almost gave up, but then something magical happened.
Staring intently at the oblivious Jacob, she wished to herself for him to show some evidence of the pork loin hidden under the tan canvas of his shorts. At that moment, as if fairy princesses were real, Jacob squatted down on his haunches, to stretch his tired legs after being on his feet for several hours. She peered down at him in that squatted position—there was the sign she anticipated.
Most people, even if looking dead at his groin, might not see what Charlotte's widening eyes saw. The slight rise of the fabric along his inner, right thigh caused a shift of a shadow; something larger than just ripple in the fabric. Her eyes corneas tightened, focused at that moment, as she tried to calculate the dimensions in her mind. He had to be at least 7-inches, flaccid, which meant at least 9 or 10-inches hard; perhaps more. The girth was a bit more difficult to discern, because of the fabric, but she guessed he had to be at 2-inches in diameter.
An instantaneous and curious thought hit her—how would she ever get her mouth around something like that. That thought both excited and terrified her at the same time. "Wait, back up." she thought to herself. Did she really just think about what it would be like to suck the cock of a guy she only thought of as a work friend? Being a bit of a size queen, she'd seen her fair share of big dicks, but this might be the biggest, and her mind gripped that thought with both hands. She tried to shake it off, but suddenly it was the only thing in her world. In an ironic twist, it was the cock that was now consuming her, instead of the other way around.
"Earth to Charlotte," toyed Jacob.
"I'm sorry, what?" She shook her head and acted as she'd just come back into the room.
"You were just staring at me." Jacob laughed, "Well, not really at me. More like into me."
"I wish you could be putting something into me." She thought devilishly, and then shrunk in embarrassment, "Fuck, what the hell is happening to me?"
Jacob scoffed, "Hitting the pipe in the alley out back when I'm not looking, or something?"
She laughed it off, "Nah, I just had some weird shit pop in my head...personal stuff. My mind was in a different place."
"Yeah, it was. Well, come back to us, because we got a bunch of stuff to do before we close this joint tonight, and I want to get home early."
"Yeah, totally." She agreed and turned away to head to the back. "Hey, I'm going to do the dishes, and then take my break, if that's cool with you.
"Sure thing. We're gonna be dead the rest of the night, so have at it."
Now here she was, on her break, cumming harder than she had in a long time, at her own hand. Charlotte was finally coming down from her high when someone outside jostled the bathroom door handle; startling her, and bringing her back to Earth again.
She grabbed some tissue, wiped the saliva off her face, and from her left hand. She looked down and saw the edge of the toilet seat, and the floor in front of her was covered in her pussy juice, as well as the pink, bikini panties at her ankle.
"There was no way those panties would be comfortable again tonight," Charlotte mused. She kicked the panties off feet, and onto the floor. Grabbing more tissue, she wiped from her sodden pussy, down to the crack of her ass, cleaning as much as she could, but with the thought of dick still on her brain, she might be good and moist for a while.
Standing up, she shuffled her form-fitting, black skirt back down her hips, grabbed some paper towels from the dispenser, and mopped up the toilet along with floor beneath it. The surprisingly large amount of wetness on the floor had made a temporary moisture stain on the porous granite tile. Whoever might be waiting outside the door, if they looked down at the floor, might wonder how it got so wet. Perhaps they would think she peed a little too much, and somehow missed the bowl. How that happens to a woman, who knows. Also, the fact that Charlotte would prefer any strangers who enter think that about her pissing the floor, rather than that she had masturbated so much, she wet the floor.
