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The below is a response to a writing prompt to a post in /r/dirtywritingprompts, is purely fiction, and represents only adults above the age of 18. Please enjoy!
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November 11, 2022.
A day like any other I suppose, though today was one to be extra sharp on; after years spent at the bottom, I was due to make Junior Partner today, and that meant…well, it meant things were finally looking up for yours truly. My dad would stop telling me I wasn’t going anywhere, that old relic Mr. Slader would finally give me the respect I deserve at the office, Jaimie’s mom would stop telling her that I was no good for her. Yeah. Yeah, today was a good one.
Going about my morning in the usual fashion, showering and brushing my teeth, scarfing down some toast and coffee, giving my roommate shit for leaving his bong in the sink again and asking whether he’d be chipping in for rent this month. Being a busy man about town, I forgot my good suit at the dry cleaner’s last night on the way home. Dumbass. No bother, I’ll chuck on the eighty dollarest one I have clean and head off. Dave asks me to let his cat in before I go. He’s a lazy jag, but I don’t mind. Scribbles is cute enough to make up for his owner’s degeneracy.
Holding the screen door open, I see Mrs. Watts over in her garden. Well, kinda close to her garden. She had the hose in her hand anyway. I waved, wanting to keep up the impression that she really did have two nice boys living next to her; the cookies she brought over were bomb. She waved back…and winked? I jerked back around to do a double take, and there she was, standing there, biting her bottom lip. I gave a small smile and turned away, thinking about how weird that was; she was nearly twice my age, and her kids were only a few years younger than I was. Maybe she was feeling cheeky? I don’t know, I had to get moving.
Stepping onto the 9a bus, I continued to think about the encounter. She was a fit lady, but the nerves about work and the length of time since I’d touched a woman convinced me that I might just be horny, or scared. Or both. I laughed to myself as I recalled Dave’s proclamation that he’s be doing No Nut November this year. Such an idiot; I’ve seen his garbage bin, and those tissues can not all be from blowing his nose.
More riders stepped on, and the bus became packed. Pressed in, cheek by jowl, we all swayed there like shrubs in the wind with each bump up and down the street. I tried to take up as little room as feasible to avoid crushing anyone, but it was unavoidable. A bump, and I bounced off the person in front of me. A turn, and I knocked the woman on my left. A sudden stop, and rocked off the pole next to me. A hand reached out to steady me.
Well, a hand reached out anyway, but only to take a meaty handful of my ass cheek. I turned to discover the offending party, who maintained their grip, finally spotting the diminutive woman in an oversized hoodie and little brown beanie staring up at me with her hand still firmly dominating my ass cheek. I muttered an “Umm”, hoping the feeble effort would shock her into action.
It did not. My eyes darted around the bus. Other men all around me looked furtively about, all sharing the same panicked expression. I caught sight of a balding fellow sitting nearby look at something in his lap, then to the woman next to him, then up at me. The animated twist of his features begged the question of What the Fuck, and my shrugging shoulders told him that I knew as much as he did. I looked back to the little woman holding onto me to discover she had started massaging her boob with her free hand, and gnawing on her lower lip.
20 male hands pulled the Next Stop bell at the same time.
The women snapped, as one, out of whatever reverie had gripped them, but all behaved as if nothing odd had just happened, like they hadn’t all grabbed any masculine body parts they could, in unison, with that same dead-eyed expression, as though they were all dreaming the same thing at once.
We were close enough to the financial district’s heart to walk the rest of the way, which was fortunate for those of us working down there, but I was several paces down the sidewalk before I realized that only the men had unloaded; the women had all remained on the bus. I turned to look and confirm, but what I found froze my heart. The women, lined up to face the same side of the bus now, stood there with hands in skirts, trousers, shorts, up dresses, and down pants, obviously rubbing furiously, and all staring intensely at the perplexed gaggle of us standing there. One of us exclaimed that that had been odd. Another thought aloud if this was a prank show. Another wise guy claimed to have that effect on women from time to time. The joke returned some vigor to the shaken lot of us, and we all muttered something vague to one another and moved off even as the bus pulled away with it’s horny load.
I walked the 3 blocks swiftly, wanting away from the scene and to just move on with my day like nothing had happened. Maybe nothing had. Maybe I was blowing things out of proportion – the sudden stop had forced us all to reach out to whatever we could hold, really. Yeah, that made more sense. It didn’t, but it had been so weird. I started to crane my neck around, hoping a stretch before I mounted the steps to PLR City Bank Ltd. where I’d be accepting my new position and making congratulatory handshakes within the hour. I stretched side to side, and something caught my eye through the window of the bagel shop on the first floor of the building.
A woman, garbed in the apron of a shop employee, sat behind the counter with her knees pulled close to her chest. The apron was all bunched up between her and her thighs, but her jeans were pulled down just far enough that her bare ass was on the cold tile floor. I stopped to look, and couldn’t believe my eyes; she appeared to be biting the forefinger of her right hand while her left hand reached underneath her to probe her pussy. She glanced around anxiously, but the contorted brow and desperate tremor of her masturbating hand made it plain that she was slightly less concerned about getting caught than she was about her desperate need to cum. Her hiding place was smart enough, but only for hiding from the customers in the shop.
Apart from my entirely unobstructed view through the window, which I lingered at dumbly, several of her coworkers milled about dangerously closely. She was clearly concerned in some way for maintaining enough professionalism to not furiously fuck herself in front of the patrons, but she seemed absolutely feral about her need to be getting off, and it was only another few moments before a male coworker spotted her there.
It was like watching a train wreck in slow motion. The metal cup of frothed milk dropped from his hand in a way that implied that the physics of the Looney Toons governed it, seeming to hang in the air fractionally too long as the look of recognition bloomed all over his face, and the desperate girl on the floor began a long, wordless yell. Not knowing why, I yelled too, and bolted.
I sprinted into the building, now sure that something had to be happening. Old women didn’t stare at me over fences, and two dozen women didn’t grope men in unison on busses, and baristas didn’t openly finger fuck themselves at work. I hammered the button at the bank of elevators, knowing full well that it wouldn’t make the car come down faster. The ding rang out its announcement of the arrived conveyance, and doors parted before me.
Janet, from HR stood there. I stood there too. She looked around as if to enquire as to whether I was feeling a little slow today; it was likely warranted, as I inspected her with the quizzical eye of a man defusing a live land mine. She seemed fine, so I tried to master myself and start to move and act like a human being. The doors slid closed.
I worked on the 65th floor, so the ride would be a minute. I held my breath, keeping half an eye on Janet the whole time. Almost immediately, she sighed. It was a huff, really. I tensed. She swallowed loudly, and looked down at a clipboard in her hand, adjusting her glasses. I tried to stand stock still. She cleared her through, too loudly, and hmm’d briefly. She was getting fidgety by the time the old elevator passed the 20th floor, though it had really only been a few seconds. She tugged at the hip area of her pencil skirt, and shimmied her hips as if to encourage the fabric to settle more comfortably, continuing to make little tutting noises with her mouth and throat. By the 40th floor, she was angrily fanning herself with the clipboard, and I let my focus slip for just long enough to glance over as she undid her top button, revealing the top of a black bra trying its best to contain her ample chest.
She saw me look, and I prepared to be berated, set upon, devoured alive, or generally dealt with. Imagine my brief relief when she said nothing for long seconds, staring me up and down instead, as a terrier might at a rat whose neck it might shortly snap. The hand that had popped her button lingered near her neckline as we stared at each other, me as a caged animal, and her as a ravenous carnivore. Abruptly, the hand grabbed a handful of blouse material and pulled, hard, as she tore her top wide open.
She was on me like a tropical storm, slamming me into the wall before I could avoid her, pawing at me with a seemingly unbridled neediness. The door of the elevator began to grind slowly open as the chime alerted me to my way out. I pushed past her with a shriek, abandoning my jacket and briefcase as I shed my affects in favor of speed.
I flew aimlessly across the floor, past rows of cubicles. Pandemonium rained; men held glass office doors closed against an onslaught of women forcing their way inch by inch into desperately defended rooms, high pitched screams came from the bathrooms at either end, papers flew inexplicably into the air as shoes and arms and legs twitched cartoonishly around corners of cubicles. A man with no pants and half a torn shirt ran past, checking behind him as he did so. He caught my eye and screamed for me to get out while I still could before a nude redhead took him out at the ankles and scrambled on top of him again.
I made for the janitorial closet, the one with a locking door that some of us juniors would sneak into with our flasks to pregame before 5oclock on Fridays. I leaped over a man laying spread eagled on the floor; a woman lay nearby scooping cum off her face with her fingers and into her mouth. The man had the thousand yard stare of one who has seen the beyond.
I exploded through the door and locked it behind me, thankful for the relative safe haven. I reached up for the string to the light, refusing to accept that any of this was remotely real.
A hand met mine. Another cupped over my mouth. A knee to the back of my legs drove me to the ground. The fire extinguisher cracked north of my temple, and I saw stars.
The world went dark. It wasn’t even there at all.
I stirred. I was aware of my own breathing. My head throbbed, but I dared to open a single eye. I was bound to an office chair, a wad of fabric in my mouth and packing tape holding me fast there. My pants, unsurprisingly, were gone and my shirt was torn open. I recognized that I was in a cubicle, even as the sounds of the room began to register. It looked and sounded as though every cubicle was occupied similarly, with a coworker bound and gagged with someone’s underwear in each small stall. Some were still, others stared wide-eyed into their own laps and fought at their bonds. Occasionally a woman would rise from one of those and wipe her lips off. In others, women rode the men, straddling them in the chairs that they were bound to, bouncing tits of every size, shade, and shape in the face of a defeated man. Row upon row upon row of cubicles depicted the same scenes many times over. Off to the right, some furniture had been rearranged; 5 women appeared to be each sucking the cock of 5 men sat there with hands bound behind their back. Other women cheered the spectacle. They were having a race.
“This one is awake!” called a voice nearby. Several squeals confirmed my error to be a critical one. The same voice got to my stall first and implored the others to form a line, while some responded that they weren’t gonna wait around for me to “be ready again after”. One voice overruled the rest and claimed she’d been here first.
Emma stepped into the stall. Emma, who had drunkenly told me that it was ridiculous that I was single at the Christmas party last year. Emma, with the ass that everyone in the office craned their necks to enjoy when she walked to the copier. Emma, with her teardrop titties already bared to the world stepped up to my chair, and shed the last garment she was wearing; a green lace full-coverage set of panties.
I tried to reason with her through my gag, but she shushed me softly, assuring me that she wouldn’t take long if I just gave her what she wanted. A handful of others leered on around the short walls of the cubicle. I shook my head desperately, but she sank to her knees in front of me anyway. An onlooker complained that I wasn’t hard yet. Emma told her to shut up, she was working on it. She planted soft kisses on the insides of my thighs, entirely more affectionately than I’d expect given the state of affairs around me. I wiggled and wriggled, half heartedly – the kisses felt nice. They felt really nice. It was hard to pretend they didn’t. My cock began to firm up, and I received a wet smooch right on the head to help things along. Her lips looked divine pressed there, and it almost made me forget the lump on my head.
A spectator remarked that I was nice and big, and that Emma should get what she needed from this one alone by the looks of things. Another asked if it would be enough to finish out the month though. Emma kept up with the soft kisses, diverting some to my shaft and even a small one for my balls. They’ll all have failed, said one woman, they won’t have a reason to finish the month anymore. Another still chimed in to opine that we might as well be kept this way regardless, and that the world would be better off. Some agreed with her.
I looked down and Emma was already staring straight into my eyes. She said I was so yummy, but the gag prevented me from offering any reply at all. She stroked me up and down, cock wet from the ministrations of her talented mouth. It did feel good. It felt so good. A bead of precum welled at the tip of my head, and her eyes lit up when she spotted it, slurping it up excitedly. An onlooked asked how it was, to which she replied that it was just right. A few of them moaned sympathetically. Cheers from elsewhere indicated that someone had won the blowjob race.
As Emma worked, I looked around the room more, noting with interest that a few men stood by the elevator, supervised by several times as many women, but the dudes clutched their belongings and appeared to be allowed to leave on the elevator once it arrived. The sucking stopped briefly, and I was told that I should focus; it would be my turn when I was finished. I could finish then, and they’d let me out. All I had to do was finish.
Emma grinned voraciously, maintaining perfect eye contact with me as she slid me all way, agonizing inch by inch, down her throat. The growing crowd Ooooh’d to a rising crescendo like a European soccer crowd, exploding to applause as she finally descended low enough to lick my balls with my entire cock buried in her throat. I tremored, on the very ragged edge as she pulled back, streamers of spit snapping off between my cock and her mouth to collect sloppily on her chin; she wiped it away with a forearm and accepted her applause.
She rose to her feet and straddled my hips. I was told to be a good boy and give her what she needed. Another called for her to take what was theirs. This was all too much, but the soft wet feel of her warm pussy sinking down onto me cleared all wondered from me like a feather duster might deal with an errant cobweb. She began to bounce, never looking to me, but excitedly peering around at the women who had gathered to cheer her on. They asked her how it was, how she felt, if it was as big as it looked, if she wondered I was getting close. She breathlessly answered them as best she could while sat along for the ride. I must have been one of the only cocks fit for service at the moment; the crowd seemed to continue to grow. Emma’s tits slapped my face repeatedly.
I was getting close, in truth. She finally spared a moment to regard me, asking if I was gonna give her what she wanted. I nodded, and she bounced on harder. She asked if I knew why this was happening; I wasn’t convinced yet that I did, but I nodded emphatically anyway. She told me that was good, and that maybe we’d be smarter next year. I mumbled into the cloth. It wasn’t fair to them, she informed me, to deprive them like that, and that their collective hormone levels weren’t meant to handle denial. I didn’t know enough to refute that, so I continued to nod and make weird noises into my gag. I was nearly there, and she was getting fired up; the cadence of her riding had increased dramatically, and I was sure I would cum if I could keep her mad, desperate, and grinding.
She knew I was nearly there, and grabbed either side of my head to force me to look at her; the pain was immense but the building orgasm made my head light. She squeezed still tighter, hands and pussy, gripping me hard and milking me closer even as she threatened to overwhelm my battered mind. Finally, ferociously, my orgasm screamed it’s way into being and I tremored hard while I blasted ropes and ropes of hot, sticky spurts of my cum into her. My vision faded, dark edges closing in as she howled a rebel yell to the office floor, a cry matched by a hundred keening wails. I continued to cum, hard, even as the darkness crept on, even as my hearing dulled to a low whine, even…even as my eyes…drifted shut.
I awoke. In my bed. I reached for my phone. November 11, 8am. I had slept in, on a day when I really should not have. I had a promotion to receive, and would need to be out the door in a few minutes. I stumbled out of the room, jerking my freshly pressed jacket on as my roommate similarly stumbled into the hall, rubbing his eyes. He asked if I’d let the cat in before I left. I would; it was a cute cat. I waved to the neighbor lady, watering her flowers – she waved back, with a warm smile. Such a nice woman. I turned to go, resolving to grab some Tylenol before I left. I had the worst headache.
NSFW: yes
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