I climbed back into the van, my body shaking with desire, and I fell onto the bed, gasping for air. I unbuttoned my jeans, shoving them down as my fingers dove straight for my pussy. I might be new at this, but like any nerd who discovered a new toy, I was determined to repeat this until I figured out every last secret, and I yanked the panties to the side, plunging two fingers straight into my wet core.
My other hand pushed up the tank top, fingers grasping one nipple and pulling hard, drawing a gasp from me as I did so. These traitorous nipples, so many people staring at them as I walked around in public, getting all turned on and poking through my shirt. I wonder what I look like, masturbating like this?, I idly thought. Well, with the magic of modern technology, we can answer that question.
I grabbed my cell phone, flipping on the camera to video mode and propping it in the corner of the bed, aiming back at me. I flipped over onto my belly, pulling myself up onto my knees as one hand reached down, stroking at my clit while I stared ahead at the phone, recording my expression. It was for science, okay? I switched hands, giving the other nipple some attention while I rubbed furiously at my clit, the pleasure building even more within me.
What if those boys walked past the van and stared in? I put up the privacy shield, right? Maybe I forgot. Wouldn't that be an experience for them to remember when they're jerking off later. Right as those thoughts filtered through my head, I came - hard. I'm pretty sure my eyes crossed and I felt my toes curling with the intensity of the orgasm that ripped through my body as I collapsed back onto the bed, squashing my tits into the sheets. With a weak and shaking hand, I reached out, grabbing my cell phone, and stopping the video recording.
I rolled over onto my back, chest heaving and breathing hard, and rewatched the video. Wow, I was fucking hot. I started idly playing with myself while watching the video of myself masturbating, a finger tracing around my nipple, teasing it until it was hard once more. That's not narcissism, right? I'm just appreciating beauty. I paused the video at the moment I orgasmed, saving a screencap. I wasn't an expert in internet porn, but I'm pretty sure I'd seen the word 'ahegao' before, and thought that was a pretty apt description of the facial expression I was making right about then. I saved the frame from the video, putting hearts over my exposed nipples, and sent it to Gwendolyn.
What? You're gonna judge me for that? Just because it was a nude photo didn't mean she could see anything she hadn't already seen. And before you give me that 'internet is forever' nonsense, I - okay, fair. I hadn't thought of that one. Four days into this and I'm already sending nude photos of myself to people I just met via text message. It's like there should be a warning label on this body. Prone to rash decisions when horny. Also, warning: always horny.
Shivering, I pulled my damp panties back in place, pulling my jeans up and my tank-top down, and sat back down at my computer. I really needed to be more productive, and laying around sending pictures of myself masturbating wasn't going to make the client any happier. Well, maybe it would. But I wasn't going to do that.
My phone dinged, immediately derailing my train of thoughts. It was Gwendolyn, sending a text message.
"Finally had a moment to take a bathroom break and saw both pictures. Ended up leaving my panties behind in the stall, you owe me new ones. I love the creative use of my hair tie
I blushed, remembering that I'd gagged myself with her panties (the "hair tie") in my first round of masturbation, forgetting I still had the soaked lace garment in my mouth when I took the selfie this morning. What was that about rash decisions when horny? Yeah.
"You seem to have that effect on me," I texted back. "I hope your boss wasn't too upset with your long break.
"I'll make you pay for it later
The hours dragged by at a glacial pace and I had to delete code and start over more than once. I ran my fingers through my now-long blonde hair, massaging my scalp. This wasn't working, I couldn't think straight. I needed to go for a bike ride, but my bike was destroyed and the new one hadn't arrived yet. I had to do something to unblock me, or else this project was fucked and I was out a lot of money.
My old phone binged, an urgent text message from Frank, and I picked it up, glancing at it.
Hey, let's sync on this quick. Got five for a video call?
Yeah, not a fucking chance, Frank. I tapped back, "Not a great time now, maybe later this week." Fifteen seconds later, I got a thumbs up emoji and a calendar invite for tomorrow morning. Fucking Frank. UGH. I declined the invite.
Six more popped up, one each morning and afternoon for Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday.
Pick at least one or you're fired.
Grumbling, I picked the Friday afternoon meeting spot, clicking "Yes" to the invite and deleting the others. That at least gave me the most amount of time to figure out how I was going to handle this. I put the phone back down, returning the computer, and got back to typing.
I'm not saying that I turned into an airhead, because I was still obviously quite smart, but I just could not code the same way I used to. It was driving me crazy, being unable to grasp the next step as I tried to rewrite the algorithm, each chunk of rewritten code taking at least twice as long to hand-roll the assembly as it usually did. More than once, I lost track of the registers in my head and had to re-read the entire function from the beginning.
Groaning, I rested my head on my desk. I was going to fail. I needed more time. Spinning idly in the chair, I grabbed my phone and glanced at the time. Nearly 7pm, Gwendolyn must have been working a long shift today if she hadn't replied yet. Well, I might as well tell her I could't hang out. See? I can be responsible. Sometimes.
"Hey, I got a lot less done than I needed for work today. Do you mind if I buckle down and spend the evening working instead of hanging out? Does that make me a bitch?"
I set the phone down and went back to working, figured she'd reply when she got a chance. With almost agonizing slowness, I started over, trying to find the right combination of tricks that would decrease the complexity of this loop, giving me the speed improvements that Frank needed.
"That's totally fine, I know your work is important. I don't want to be the reason you lose your job."
Aww, that was so sweet and understanding of her. I'm not sure that I could have been so mature if someone sent me a pair of post-masturbatory selfies with my panties in her mouth and then told me they couldn't hang out that night. She was definitely a better person than me, no doubt about it.
"Could we go out on Thursday? I know that's forever from now, and I'm so sorry, but I could really use the time to catch up on work.
She was going to dump me. There's no way she'd be okay with that, but if I was going to be brutally honest, I needed at least that much time to try to catch up on this work before I let myself get distracted. I've never had such a hard time coding, and I wasn't going to try to blame it on my new body, so it must be the redhead that I am suddenly obsessed with. It only made sense.
"Thursday works. I'll plan a date that will knock your socks off, reward for you so much hard work. It'll be even better than yesterday's date. BUT there's a rule I need you to follow."
That wasn't a no, so that's a good start. Intrigued, I tapped out a reply. "I can follow rules." Hah, as if. I hated following rules. But for her, I'd at least think about it.
"No more touching yourself. Not until our date."
What the fuck? I'd literally just discovered the joys of masturbation, getting myself off to screaming orgasms twice in one day, and she's telling me I can't do it again for THREE DAYS? Are you fucking kidding me, lady? I - okay, let's be honest. I pouted. Hard. Mean mug, arms crossed under my breasts, lip stuck out, fucking pouted. I stared at my phone, waiting for her to tell me it was a prank.
It beeped again, another message. "I'm serious. Can you be my good girl?"
Groaning, I could feel myself getting turned on by her calling me a good girl. This wasn't who I was, damn it. I'm not a needy slut needing her approval, I'm a top-flight software engineer who is happier alone, and - yeah, that's totally a lie at this point. Even you can tell that, right? Fuck. How was I going to survive three days like this?
I swear, my pussy is sending in its resignation letter right now, determined to find a body that's willing to put it to use. It's whimpering in sadness and neglect.
I replied, "I hear and obey your command, oh great one.
Gwendolyn replied one last time: "Perfect, see you then. Good luck with the OnlyFans.
I stare at the ceiling, my thighs clenched so hard that I can practically hear my bones creaking. I'm not even ten minutes into this enforced celibacy and I'm vibrating like a phone on silent in church. Worst decision ever.
Thursday can't come soon enough. And neither can I.