Page 50 - Demo

50in there for at least twenty minutes. Enough time to do her buzzy thing that she did when she felt the impulse and the urge. Normally, she locked the door first, but then the thought of someone coming in while she was in the middle of it... well... it increased her excitement.She lifted her skirt and pulled her knickers down to her knees and realised she was wearing the wrong ones, not the very stretchy ones which enabled her to open her legs with ease.The minutes were ticking past and her sober mind was telling her to abandon her intention until the conditions were right. But her compulsion was doing the opposite, pushing her to take greater risks and break protocols and the straightjacket of civilised life. She stood up, and as quickly as she could, yanked her knickers down, stepping out of them before sitting back in her seat. She opened a drawer and stuffed the knickers inside.Now, she thought: here I am, all prim and proper behind my desk with my dress pulled up, no knickers on, and my vagina exposed to anyone who would, or could, peer over the desk. The thought made her wet. She opened her legs wider and stroked her soft clitoral area gently with her finger. She knew exactly how to do it, starting slow, and gradually increasing speed and pressure.Her breathing became shallow. She watched the people outside as they walked past the shop, each one completely unaware that she was in there, seemingly doing her job in a very sombre place but actually, she was wanking herself to know excitement, pleasure, joy, and to rebel against this fucking world and all its rules. She moved her hand faster and felt the cycle starting. It began as a mild sensitive pleasure at first, but each circle of her finger around that tiny pimple, increased the feeling like well timed waves. It was important to maintain their frequency so they could build in strength until that overwhelming explosion flooded her body with chemicals that took away all pain, all thought, all care. She was close. She knew it. She opened her legs wider, and throwing caution to the wind, pushed her wheeled office chair back and placed her high-heeled shoes up onto the edge of the desk. Anyone who thought to look through the glass dividing her from those in the street would see her, if they turned their The Undertaker