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A Letter to L.

Sometimes a girl just can't wait until she gets home from work to cum.
The morning of Friday, Sept. 17

Dear L.
My knee hurts and you are to blame. Or rather that damn photo you took, the one that I can’t get out of my head. Even now, I am thinking of it, wondering if I should put it up on my screen as I write or just go ahead and print it out and tack it to my wall so I can stare at it. The thing is, if I did that, I’d never get anything done. Even thinking about you is distracting. It’s taking forever to type this up, the periods at the end of each sentence marking a moment when I can tease myself, my fingers already slick with my juices. Already, I wonder if I’ll regret admitting that I am masturbating right now, but there is a part of me that wants you and everyone else to know how naughty I am.

I should set up the scene. I’m relaxed in my bedroom, the shades drawn, perched at my desk. I’m wearing a sleeveless red and white vertically striped blouse that’s held together by only two buttons at present and a pair of white panties with little X’s and O’s decorating them. The waistband is crimson and they are already pulled to one side and soaked through. I have my little robin’s egg vibrator, my mouse, and the remote control just in reach. You remember teasing me with it the other night? How I came so loud I woke my roommate up? My cheeks are hot just remembering, and I’m finding it harder and harder to concentrate on my story. Just so you know, I want you, baby.

I should back up a little bit and start at the beginning. Most of this you already know, but I wanted to this to be a present to you, some way of thanking you for your inspiration. It began at work the other day. For those who don’t know, I wait tables at a sports pub. The dress code there is fairly casual. I was wearing a pair of low rise black denim jeans and a red capped sleeve cotton top with a V-neck. I find that the hint of cleavage makes for better tips. No bra, something I came to regret as the day wore on, but I was wearing a pair of black and red striped no frills panties.

I hadn’t planned on the evening turning out the way it did. As I said, it’s your fault. I was turning away from table 12 when I thought of you, and as always, it was your eyes that captured me first. I got so lost in the daydream that as I was going into the kitchen I misjudged and banged my shoulder painfully into the doorframe. Did I mention I am a clutz? After that, I was a little lost, your image etched into my brain, just like it is now. Thank god for spell check. I’m going to need it. I’m saving my vibrator for later, simply playing with the ball of my gold barbell and running my fingers between my labia as I spread my thighs wider. Any more and I would abandon this letter altogether and just fuck myself silly. My remote egg will be a guilty pleasure for later, an incentive you might say, to finish this…

I can only imagine the smile on my face as I worked my way through the night, something several people remarked on, mentioning how my face was lit up with joy, that I glowed. I found myself blushing, more then once, unable to tell them why, embarrassed by where they were leading me. I would take a moment here or there to close my eyes, to recall that subtle pout on your lips, the swell of your breasts, how your thighs were parted giving me a lovely view of your naked cunt. I wondered what I would do if I was to find you sitting at the next table, smiling demurely up at me, a playfulness in your gaze as I stuttered in surprise.

I wondered if I would be bold enough to take your hand and pull you across the room, squeezing your fingers as you laughed, my goal the ladies room. Would I push you against the counter and kiss you savagely or would it be a soft, tender kiss? Or perhaps I’d find myself at your mercy, sitting on the edge of the sink, your hands all over my breasts, unable to breathe as you slowly undressed me, not caring if anyone walked in on us…

That was when I made my first trip to the restroom. Thankfully, the only other occupant was just leaving and I had the place to myself. I locked myself into the stall farthest from the door and sat on the seat, trembling with anticipation, my pussy already damp with desire, soaking into my cotton panties. I wondered why no one else had noticed my wicked perfume yet? Perhaps the smells of the pub masked them. Taking a deep breath, I slowly undid my jeans, leaning back so I could push them from my hips and down around my legs. I began caressing the insides of my thighs, trembling a little with fear as I listened for the door to open, wondering if I would be able to stop my self if someone else entered, knowing I was too far gone to put a halt to this.

I closed my eyes, biting down softly on my lower lip and pulled my tee up so that the bottoms of my breasts were exposed. Then, slowly, imagining your hands upon me, I began stroking my belly, making small circles that drifted slowly downward until my fingers were brushing over the top of my black and red panties. Carefully, I tugged the crotch to one side, running a single finger tip between my puffy labia, not surprised to discover my slit full of my juices. Squeezing my eyes shut, I imagined the tip of your tongue, you kneeling on the tiles, your head between my thighs, my hands tangled in your hair as I breathed your name like a silent prayer.

I had an image of my pulling off my jeans and pumping my fingers in and out of my drenched cunt, my moans echoing off the bathroom walls or, even better, you pushing your entire hand into me while I screamed in ecstasy. Pushing my jeans down around my ankles, I lifted my feet off the floor, and set my heels on the edge the seat, my knees spread wide. Leaning back against the tank, I pushed my hand into my waist band and began to play with the little gold barbell that pierced my hood. I lost myself in pleasure, growing more bold as the minutes wore on, alone in my wicked little fantasy, the realization that I was going to cum locked away in the bathroom stall dawning upon me.

I would have too, only I heard the door open. I froze, my fingers poised halfway inside of me while my heart hammered so loudly that I was sure it would give me away. I heard the stall door next to me open and close, the sound of someone settling upon the seat. And then, the unmistakable sound of pee hitting the water. I did my best not to groan, a different image worming itself through my dirty little mind. I realized that I’d pulled my fingers free and was slowly stroking them through the lush valley of my cunt. They were drenched and the stall smelled of sex. I felt my cheeks blossom into shame as I waited for my unseen visitor to finish her business and leave, so that I too could flee and, hopefully, resume my responsibilities.

Finally, she flushed, and exited the stall. I waited, accompanied by the sound of water running in the sink and then, finally, the door opening and closing. That was my cue. I wasted no time in pulling my jeans back up over my soaked panties, fleeing the stall, and washing the stink from my fingers. I caught my reflection in the mirror as I did so, noting the flush of desire upon my fair skin, my lips parted sensuously as I tried to will my breathing into a semblance of normality. I turned off the water, my fingers shaking at the thought of re-entering the stall. Later, I promised myself, thinking that I needed an incentive to go back to work. It would be my reward. If I could somehow manage to keep my mind where it belonged, maybe at the end of the night, I could relieve this terrible itch.

As I write, remembering all of this, my eyes keep wandering to my egg, wondering how long I would last with it inside of me set to low. Would I be able to hold out and finish this before it drove me over the edge? I have my doubts, so I’m simply going to continue to write, fighting the urge push the panel of my panties aside and seal it within my sopping cunt. In fact, if I don’t turn it on I can just enjoy the feel of it nestled inside of me, knowing that I’m just a tap of the finger away from gentle pleasure…

The thought was too much, L. It’s inside me now, simply waiting my command to come to life. How I am going to get through the rest of this letter without turning it on, I have no idea. Perhaps I won’t…

My little session made things worse, of course. Not only couldn’t I shake your image from my head, but now it was whispering sweet little suggestions into my ears, teasing me with that mixture of naughty innocence which I’m come to suspect from my lover. Do you know how hard it is to take orders when all I can think about is how much I want you, baby? I pride myself on being attentive, and yet, I found myself having to ask people to repeat this or that. It was embarrassing, let me tell you. Finally, though, I got myself under control, at least for a while. Until I needed to pee.

This time, my journey into the ladies room was legitimate. I found myself in the same stall as before, blushing a little as I carefully tested the air, wondering if my aroma still lingered. I think it may have, although it’s just as likely I imagined it. Just pee, I told myself, as I pulled my pants and panties down together. I breathed in, trying to calm my nerves, recognizing the smell of the juices that had soaked into my underwear, re-igniting my need. I’m ashamed to admit that, after I did my business, I took a few moments to run my fingers through my glistening pussy, gathering up small pearls of golden liquid. Raising my hands to my face, I sucked them from my fingers, once again. My hands became yours, as you let me clean my own piss from your fingertips. I let out a soft whimper, forcing myself to concentrate and wiping myself dry before scurrying from the stall and scrubbing my hands carefully before leaving. The Health Board would be proud of me…

I already know where this is going, how much more I have to recall before I can finally cum while sitting here at the desk I love so much. Really, it wouldn’t hurt to turn my toy on low. I’ll just keep it at that setting, riding the gentle vibrations as I gaze at your photo for a time before continuing. Oh, I should mention that I have set a towel beneath me, not wanting to make too much of a mess, seeing as how I can already feel the trickle of warm nectar from my pulsing cunt. Also, I am taking a moment to unbutton my blouse completely so that I can wet my fingers in my own juices and smear them over my rock hard nipples. Did I mention that I had them pierced as well? Haven’t worn my rings for a while now, but I am considering putting them back in. If I do, maybe I should send you a picture or, even better yet, post one on lush. Now that the seed is planted, I wonder what will become of it?

I made it through to my dinner break without going mad. Don’t ask me how, but I did even with your image haunting me. I’m not sure when, but at some point, I gave up trying to push you from my thoughts and simply let you float around in my over active imagination, letting you come out to play at more opportune times. Not while serving order, and certainly not while taking them, but here and there, in and around and between, I let my stray thoughts linger on you, until shortly after 8.

"I am taking dinner", I told Rose, my back up for the evening. "Can you get my tables for half an hour?" I had waited, like I always do, for a break in the action. Rose and I had formed an easy partnership earlier, taking care of each other. Having a reliable back up was a necessity on most nights and I never took advantage of her, nor she me. Half an hour to eat dinner, if I so chose. Tonight, I was hungry for only one thing. I fled through the kitchen and out the back door to where the employees parked, hoping no one was out there having a cigarette. By luck and chance, I’d left my little silver Toyota in the back corner near a street lamp. There was enough light to make me feel safe and yet, it was perfectly out of the way for my needs and the passenger door was on the far side of the parking light, adjacent to the side of another building.

Should I admit how much my hands shook as I unlocked the door, or should I pretend I was cool and calm about the whole affair. I didn’t waste anytime, not knowing how long it would take me to cum. After all, that’s exactly what I planned on doing. I sat down, locking the door and double checking the windows, making sure they were closed tightly. Reaching to my side, I lowered the seat so that it was completely reclined, taking a moment to glance out the windows and make sure I didn’t have any unwanted observers before disappearing from site upon my makeshift bed.

It didn’t take me long to unbutton my jeans and push them over my hips, soft light illuminating my shaved pussy through my front windshield, the gold of my jewelry catching my eye. Nor did it take long to pull my tee up over my breasts, baring them brazenly. I no longer cared about modesty. I needed to cum. I didn’t even bother to tug my New Balances off, not caring if I looked ridiculous with my jeans bunched around my ankles.

Cupping my breasts, I teased my nipples with my thumbs, my breathing labored, and simply closed my eyes. You were my only scenery. I imagined you kneeling before me, gloriously naked, your back to me, smiling coyly over one shoulder, your hair cascading down. You had that look in your eyes, that one that said ‘take me, I’m yours’. How could I resist? I asked… no, I ordered you to get down on your hands and knees, and you obeyed, your beautiful round bottom teasing me, your legs spread so that I could see a hint of your most intimate treasure, your sweet tasting cunt. Oh, how I wanted to bury my face between your ass cheeks and feel you grinding against my lips, making you shake and shiver until you cried out in ecstasy, L. That was my only thought as I began to work my fingers in and out of my sopping wet cunt, forgoing all finesse, my urges savage and primal…

Perhaps it was a mistake, but I moved the switch to medium on my egg. The vibrations are more intense then I remembered, making me realize that I will either need to turn it back down soon or write faster. No longer am I teasing myself with my fingers, but merely putting words down as fast as I can manage while I can still think straight. I don’t think I am going to last very long, L., and I apologize if my writing becomes sloppier as I go. You deserve perfection, after all, something I can only hope to achieve just once in my life…

I imagined running my nails over your back, raking your flesh, leaving soft pink lines against your pale skin, then tracking each one with my tongue. By that time I was moaning softly, my hips pumping up and down, feeling a puddle forming on the car seat, knowing that it would smell of cunt for days in here. If only it was your cunt, I thought, gasping out loud as I pinched my nipple hard, my fingernail leaving its painful imprint. I was so close, I could feel it, but I did my best to hold on, wanting to enjoy the moment, make it last, wanting to wait until my face was buried in your sweet pussy before letting myself go…

Yes, medium was definitely a mistake, one I’ve rectified by turning it up to high… now it’s a race to see who comes first. The Rachel in the story, or the one telling it. Maybe, if I time it right, they will both cum together, L.…

I imagined your moans, baby, as I slid my fingers into your open cunt, finding you already wet enough to take all four. "Fuck yourself." I whispered, but you had already anticipated that, rolling back and forth on your hands and knees, driving my slender fingers deeper and deeper into your dirty little cunt, just like I was doing with mine in the car, our rhythm in sync.

"Cum for me." My growl was accompanied by a sharp slap on your ass, the sound filling my ears, your cries drowning it out. I felt a sharp jolt of pain, not in my ass, but my knees, as drove it into the dashboard, my hips bucking as we both climaxed together, your cries wordless, while I cried out your name…


I think I actually lost a few seconds of consciousness. Afterwards, I just lay there, breathing hard, my heart feeling like it might burst in my chest, the heat rising from my body making me perspire. Perhaps I should have left the windows cracked, but it was too late for that, and I had no energy to do anything about it for a while. Eventually, common sense took over, and I checked the time. The whole session had lasted perhaps 20 minutes, giving me enough time to gather my wits as best as I could, such as I am doing now. You did it again,baby. Made me cum. At least this time I didn’t bang my knee again. I still have the bruise to remind me of my little adventure. I had to take the time to clean my fingers, not wanting to get my cum all over my keyboard. As always, I used my mouth, imagining it was the taste of your sweet cum and not mine, just like I know you do each time you cum for me.

There’s really very little more to tell, L. Little things, like the catching my dreamy smile as I checked my make up in the rear view, my shirt tugged down, but my more intimate parts still exposed. The thrill that went through me as I thought of someone having witnessed my little escapade, perhaps standing just outside my window, looking in while I abused myself, eyes flying open just as I climaxed, a strangers face filling my vision… I thought about leaving my panties in the car so I could enjoy them on the way home, but thought better of it. After all, I was worried that I would start leaking through and leave a tell tale sign for everyone in the restaurant to see. That said, when my shift was over, I snuck into the bathroom one last time and took them off, secreting them away only after running my tongue over the crotch. I felt so dirty. I thought of you, of course, as I did it. Oh, and would you think less of me if I admitted to leaving my jeans unbuttoned in the ride home, and playing with myself each time I was lucky enough to come to a stop at a traffic light? By the time I was home, I wanted to make you cum so much but then, you already know that, don’t you, L? Thank you for letting me….

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

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©2010 Sprite. The stories linked to this online profile may not be reproduced in any manner, without the express permission of the author.

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