Oh, god…I can’t believe I woke up feeling this way! I can’t believe I’ve suffered this incessant need ALL day! I tried everything this morning to ease this need in my panties. Rubbing, stroking, scratching–I took a shower and rubbed the soapy, slippery scrubby between my thighs for what felt like half an hour, trying to relieve this burning need. Trying to scratch this desperate itch deep inside!
How many different settings did I try on the shower massager? Geez…I don’t know; spray, slow pulse, then fast and hard, and back again, all trying to get some sort of deep, intense relief. But it wasn’t enough. It was never enough.
All I did was take the edge off for a little while, leveled the top, but within ten minutes of drying off, it was there again, mocking me, taunting me, climbing right back up to an unsurmountable peak.
Because of it, I debated, dress slacks for today, or nylons and a skirt? I chose the skirt, in the hopes that the lighter material covering my crotch would air out the dampness, maybe even dry up the need…but I wasn’t that lucky. I squirmed in my car, shifting gears, changing lanes. I squirmed in my office chair, reading emails, typing reports.
I bit my lip through a meeting, then hurried off–no, I *escaped* to the ladies’ room, as soon as it was through, and I did things with my fingers in there that shouldn’t be done in an office bathroom stall. I touched myself over and over, each time I visited the loo, prodding and poking and seeking a finger-based relief, but it still wasn’t enough. It was hard to stifle my moans and present a polished, professional façade, and I was hungry for something that my lunch of chicken salad and a soda simply could not satisfy.
I know my co-workers looked at me askance a few times through the; they knew there was something going on with me, something I was trying to hide. But not one of them had a clue as to the throbbing itch I desperately needed to satisfy.
About an hour before the end of work, I knew I was defeated. There was no way I could focus, not with IT, between my legs, ruling supreme over body and mind. It was all I could do to pretend to work; the client I spoke with on the phone no doubt thought I was insane, breathing a little too heavily, pausing between replies as I gnawed on my lip, holding back the urge to shove my hand up under my skirt and go at it for all I was worth. With only ten minutes to go, I nearly did just that, then Thompson came in and wanted to go over the Hong-Wu file for some last minute changes, and I had to pretend my hand wasn’t already up at the top of my thighs, trying to dig a convenient hole through my pantyhose.
Do you think you have what it takes to scratch my itch?
Call me! I quiver with anticipation….
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