Office cravings

I’m surprised to find Nick has sent me a huge bouquet of flowers. Yes, he of golden shower fame. It’s been months; this is very unexpected. The note reads:

“Let’s have a drink!”

I put the card aside and pour some coffee, staring at the flowers thoughtfully. It’s been a very relaxed few months without having to deal with men. I have taken care of my sexual needs with my trusted vibrator, which frankly, is older than the company that sent these flowers. But do I really want to go back to the drama that comes with dealing with sexually deviant men?

And when I say my vibrator is old, I mean way old. People think sex toys are a recent phenomena that came with the women’s liberation movement in the past few decades, but this gadget has been around from the middle ages, where women — get this — used to be manually stimulated by their physicians because masturbation was taboo. So you’d go to a doctor who would rid your uterus of excess humours (fluids thought to determine a person’s physical and mental qualities by the relative proportions with which they were present in the body).

I’m serious. That was actually the term of essentially getting someone to finger you and get you off. And because it was a doctor, it was as respectable as it gets.

Heck, it was a medical condition, being randy. Ha ha. It’s not too far off from the truth, though; orgasms do keep stress levels at bay. Not to mention the release of oxytocin that is believed to promote happiness.

But paying someone to do this? Perverted male doctors that honestly, could have just advised women how to do it themselves, but instead chose to do the deed and actually charge them for it? Tut tut. Women have seriously gone through a lot, and this slay queen crap that everyone keeps complaining about is just a small payback for the many centuries of oppressing women.

I’ve pulled over on the side of the road once in a rental car I was using and masturbated. For some reason, the clitoris wants stimulation after a heavy night of drinking, and it gets unbearable sometimes. I imagine this is how those women were feeling when they booked those appointments with the doctors.

So I pulled over, spread my legs and started stimulating myself. I wasn’t afraid of being seen. If anything, the thought of someone watching made me even more excited, and I came quickly. The thought of that makes me instantly wet. I’m in my office, but when has that ever stopped me before? It’s way better than the side of the road!

I quickly lock the door and slide out of my panties. My vibrator is at home but my fingers will do. My natural lube quickly covers my index finger as I slowly slide it in and out of my va jay jay, going deeper with every thrust. I use my thenar eminence (the group of muscles on the palm of my hand at the base of my thumb) to stimulate my clitoris. I feel myself warming up as I moan in pleasure. My phone on my desk starts ringing and I ignore it, I’m almost there.

Masturbation is interesting because one always focuses on a person to get off. My focus is on a young man we featured in the last issue. He’s from the wrong side of the tracks and trying to make his way in the world. He can barely speak English and doesn’t have two dimes to rub together.

He’s the last person I’d ever be involved with, but in this moment, his face and body is what I focus on, and it produces one of the strongest orgasms I’ve ever experienced. Well, well. What do you know?