The Lunch Break

A post for Masturbation Monday. Check out the other posts here

New tablets, a good night’s sleep for the first time in ages and I am feeling the love for my body. I fall asleep on the train to work and wake up mid-dream, with a beautiful woman at my feet. She is dressed in latex and runs her gloved hands up and down my newly waxed legs.

“You are gorgeous” she says. “let me worship you.”

She places her arms round my legs and begins to kiss my feet. I am turned on by this, I pull her gently, gently, to her feet. She is smiling. I say

“You are gorgeous too, Let me kiss you.”

And we kiss, there, in the bar area of the club, I drag her onto the dance floor and we shuffle slowly, pressed tight against each other, not in time to the music (as if that were important). We are beginning the first tentative explorations of each other’s bodies. .

I don’t even know her name but I want her, all of her and begin to grapple with her tight latex dress.

And then my train pulls in to my work station. I think I have to leave her behind. And I have to leave her behind. But she doesn’t go away. She is there on my screen, there in my mind, there on my notepad where I doodle and sketch her or write down odd phrases I might use I might later use in a story or blog post. She is not going to let me go. She wants me as much as I want her. .

My lunch break is usually half an hour. I go to the ladies, lock myself in a cubicle, put down the seat and sit to take off my skirt and tights which I hang up on the back of the door. I picture her, focus on her as she tugs off the latex for me. Then she stands before me, naked, and takes my hand, inviting me to kneel and tongue her clit.

I am on my knees in the cubicle, my face buried in my long skirt, I know that I can be seen through the gap below the door, I hear people come and go, snippets of conversation, I shut them off, focussed on my task. I work myself harder, harder and when the orgasm comes cannot quite suppress a low moan.

I look at my watch, half an hour has gone, Quickly I put on stockings and skirt, wait for a moment until I know there is no one else there, go to the bank of wash basins, touch up my lipstick in the mirror, run a brush through my hair as if I had just popped in in my way to the office. I go back to my desk smiling. My imaginary lover has gone, she will never return, I know as much, but I don’t care.

“Where have you been at lunchtime Eve? You’re looking really happy!”