Feb 282011
 

Hand in the pantiesThere’s something about being alone in Harold’s office that makes me want to masturbate. I’m not sure what it is. Maybe just having a few minutes by myself makes me feel self-indulgent. Maybe being in Harold’s space reminds me of our intimate amorous moments together. Maybe tools, computers, and big windows make me horny. I don’t know, but whatever it is totally got to me today.

Harold and Melanie are away for a few days, relaxing and spending some much needed time together. I walked over through the snow this morning to take care of their animals. I cleaned up puddles of pee from the old dog, fed the poor starving cats, visited with the dogs, then stepped into the office to check on the bird. Since the bird was fine, I sat in Harold’s chair and looked out the window.

I looked down and right in front of me were some pliers and a set of vice grips. Libido jerks into gear. (I feel like such a boi!) I can’t help thinking about what the tools would feel like on my nipples. There’s no one else around. Desire kicks up a notch. I’m wearing a low-cut shirt and bra so I can just pull my breasts out. I feel like such a deviant. Are other people like this? I’m really revved up now. I have to try the tools.

The tools are interesting, but not at all satisfying. I undo my jeans and slip my hand under my panties. I like being here with my fingers circling my clit. I feel safe and sexy. I think of Harold sitting here working. I text him, “I’m masturbating at your desk. Want pictures?” His response is enthusiastic, if brief, so I snap a few pictures with my phone.

By now I’m close to coming. I let my mind sink into that state where I simply feel sensation. Harold’s presence in the room is warm ambiance, non-intrusive. I breathe hard, my mouth fallen open, my eyes squeezed shut. The center of my world is now my clitoris. All energy rushes toward that center. I rock forward, all the muscles in my groin contract, and I’m coming. It feels like waves of golden light.

I sit back and stare out of the window at the snow for a few moments, not thinking about anything.

ComingThis has only been for my own benefit, but it feels like I ought to leave something. Like a gift in exchange for the hospitality of Harold’s office. Or a token of the love that I feel. Or just a message that says – I was here, and I came.

So I put a folder on Harold’s pristine computer desktop. It’s called, I Love You! When he opens it, he’ll find pictures of me throughout today’s masturbatory adventure. And that’s kind of nice too. I think it shows that I appreciate Harold even when he’s gone. That I’m happy that he and Melanie can get away for a while and I’ve got everything on the home front well in hand (including myself).

Of course, there’s a fine line between playful partner and scary stalker.