The Voice Pt. 02

I'm now shaking a little, the adrenaline fading, the encounter outside the hurriedly locked door still rattling around in my head. Did I just say that to her? Did I just have a woman a mere inch away from playing with herself down the phone to me? Did I really just command a complete stranger to take her knickers off and she actually did it???

I put my hands on the sink to steady myself. I look into the mirror and catch my own stare. My eyes are glowing, the pupils black as can be, large; even in the bright light inside the small room I'm stood in. The Blue in my eyes is sparkling, almost Neon like... Intense, deep, almost sparking with electric.

Self doubt suddenly fades, confidence comes forward and removes the vestiges of my shyness about what just happened.

The remnants so easily brushed aside by the coursing and life changing moment I've just experienced. Is this it, all that it takes to go from being the little cub scared of the dark to something that comes from the night, unafraid and to be feared instead? Seriously?

As this epiphany is tumbling through my head I also take the plunge and look down...

The damage isn't as bad as I'd feared or dreaded. My boxers are soaked where my cock has been hard pressed against them. The leakage though contained and not making it through to the outer layer of my trousers, thank fuck for that! I decide the boxers have to go, the cooling juices are not going to help my concentration and the fear that it may eventually pass through to be visible on my trousers just that nightmare scenario all over again. So I quickly flick my trainers off, slide the trousers down and step out of the soaked cotton boxers, picking them up, looking at them in disbelief and with mind blown at what I am about to do, I leave them on the side for a moment.

I'm still sporting an impressive hard on, and it is hard, full and throbbing. While not the biggest swinging dick on the planet, I'm comfortably in the Mr Average range, and happy to be so. It works when it's supposed to, does the task required of it, so I've never ever been one with penis envy or concerned about getting it out or having it seen by women. Not at this point has it been unleashed much or seen by that many. Those that have seen it or had hold of it or a go on it have all been genuinely complimentary about it. One of the few areas in regards sex and sexuality I wasn't shy about once it was clear it was "Get your cock out time".

It wasn't however giving any indication that it was fucking off of it's own accord any time soon. The thought I might have to walk out of the toilet and take a call and listen to a woman fuck herself, really wasn't helping... Nor the fact I was going to have to look at the Blonde lady at some point before the shift was over and she was well aware I'd no doubt gone into the toilet after she had turned around and left me alone and what might be going on or about too in here...

Bearing in mind at this tender young age and only really having fiddled with Teen-aged girls, the idea of an actual women masturbating, well shit; was something only seen in porn and not so far witnessed by my own eyes. Let alone did any of the "Women or girls I knew" admit they did. Still at that stage and era I guess when it was considered something never to be openly discussed or ever admitted, much to my utter disappointment. The thought of it drove me nuts when I thought about it, the very idea of how sexy it seemed and the driving lusty thought of how private it is; wrapped up with the taboo of it, oh yes. Deeply ingrained desires to see it, hear it, be close to it; yeah just not helping myself here am I?

Again, this train of thought, totally counterproductive. The trail of pre cum seeping from the little hole in my cock tip pumping out slowly with each pulse of my heart and the flush of blood each beat sent down through my body and eventually filling the shaft of my cock caused it to bob up, then slowly fall on the downbeat. A string of creamy sticky juice now trailing off the head of my cock, slowly stretching out and dangling. The subtle movement of the rise and fall of my pumped up meat causing it to swing gently too and fro while it slowly creates a string of crystal mirrors of my transparent lust.

Fuck this then, no choice really is there?

Looking in the mirror I can see this is pointless, the view is impressive, but it cannot continue, I'm stood in the toilet at work with pre cum dripping from my dick and quickly heading towards the floor at a rate even I'm struck by as impressive.

I quickly place my palm below the silvery and silky trail, and wrap the pre cum slicked palm around my shaft. I move my hips forward towards the small sink, and without taking my eyes off my hand wrapped around my meat in the mirror, start to slide the silky palm and fingers around the shaft and the head, pulling the remaining foreskin not pulled down by the weight and strain of the erection and ensure the ever so deliciously sensitive parts of my cock tip are also given the lubed up treatment.

Foreplay with myself over I start to slide my hand over my length, balls to tip, even steady slow strokes twisting my hand and wrist as I do so to ensure a nice even coating and feeling is offered. Just to reduce the sensitivity and bring the pleasure up quickly as this isn't going to take long, nor can it. I'm well aware of how long I probably have before my absence is really noticed or it is just too obvious I'm in the toilet knocking one out while on shift...

I'm well aware what's built up in my balls is more than likely no small ejaculation about to happen. Knowing myself as I do, I'm guessing this is going to be a heavy release. I might not have been "Blessed or cursed" With a "9 Inch Monster cock", or a "Thick as a tree branch" girth, all nicely in the normal range there. I have however been granted something I'd much rather in regards sexual equipment and abilities.

A decent ejaculation mechanism that can, fire out a heavy load, in volume and over distance. Not quite Peter North standards, but enough and with enough quantity and force to fuck up the back of a woman's throat or make them seriously double take and be left with a look of shock when I let a load go. Experts state the average velocity of male ejaculation is around 28 Miles Per Hour, not saying I have supersonic spunk, but I hit above average in this area and as I got older I've enjoyed this so much and the reactions it can get.

Not that I actually give a shit about this, as my personal pleasure about this is what matters most to me. Simply put, the feeling of a massive load blasting up my shaft and out the tip makes me feel really good. The internal tube that carries the load being stretched to accommodate the wads of hot semen, the pulse, throb, ache as it passes up my shaft then erupts out of the head. I can't state for sure as I don't know, but I imagine it as the mirror of a woman who likes to have her pussy filled, stretched, or fully stuffed till she feels filled completely? Same sensation or pleasure maybe? Fucking delicious to me regardless. I'd not ever trade my 7 Inches give or take depending on the day, weather, mood or who's working me or sucking me for another few Inches in length or girth, not a chance. Ever...

I'll happily stick with my personally pleasing powerful orgasms and the ball shaking, eye ball quaking orgasms and loads I can produce any day. They're my orgasms and I'm proud of them and why settle for less? They are for me to enjoy, anyone else part of them is a participant or spectator, much as I enjoy giving them over and letting a woman claim them and rightly so for her efforts or involvement, the feeling they leave me with, all mine, much as your orgasms are yours in this respect.

My balls have that familiar ache, they're pent up, under stress. I've been ramped up and randy now for a long time and the tension hasn't exactly calmed me down. Given the situation and where I am, I opt to try and keep the orgasm under control. I'll have to clean up after I'm done and the place really is stinking of male self pleasure as it is already, if I shoot everywhere it's just going to be all too obvious, certainly if I miss a big globule of spunk and someone finds it...

I'm working the uncut foreskin over the head now, working the other feature of my dick that seems to attract it's fair share of attention from the women who'd been close enough to inspect my meat, the well defined ridge hidden under my foreskin. That lusciously sensitive area for me and them apparently, used correctly and in the right position, a G-spot weapon of joy. For my needs right now however, it's being worked for my personal pleasure and I can feel the pull on my balls, I'm on the edge...

Glancing again at the mirror as I stand over the sink and now I'm full on masturbating. Yanking it, cranking it, working it and beating the meat. My other hand gripping the edge of the sink as I edge closer to the point of no return. The set of my jaw, teeth clenching, balls on fire and arse cheeks tightening as I draw closer to personal pleasure and closure. The pre cum slipping out of my cock just giving more lube to work with and it's fair trickling out now, the slick noise as my meat is pumped seems almost deafening, someone must be able to hear this??? Don't care, must release, feed the beast, let it flow, send up the boys, a billion soldiers in a row.

Toes now starting to curl and bite into the cheap carpet covering the floor. Not even really having to imagine anything to get myself this close, the ludicrous situation and previous events more than enough to have me blow my load. Deviant thoughts not required, just the thought of what's happened and possibly about too enough to tip the scales. Hand now a blur, meat slapping noises slightly muted by how wet my cock is as the coating of pre cum does it's job keeping the friction down. I'm still aware I've got to keep this under control somewhat, aiming my cock down into the sink, which is no easy feat considering how hard and pumped full of blood it is. Hot hard young virile cock doing it's best to point at the sky and shoot at the sun given half a chance.

I can feel it start, the chemical chain reaction, the moment thought and feeling turns into action. Bolt slid back from the stable door, hoof beats of massive powerful horses, sweaty and snarling thundering from down a long corridor. Muscles in my neck taut, oh there is the shiver down my spine caused by the muscles tensing up, every fibre of my being aligning and ready for the last moment, the rush, incoming pleasure overload. Much as I want to ride the wild horses thundering through my body and seeking release, I know I can't. Can't delay gratification, slide it back down from Defcon 1 to Defcon 4 to increase the pleasure and ramp up the orgasm. I had no idea about edge play at this point in my life, again naïve and something not actually discovered or talked about till many years later, but I knew how to do it and what it could cause...

I'm on that final rim, brinking on the edge; it's time to pick the final thought in my head what is going to make me spurt.

I honestly can't speak for other guys on this matter, but I tend to delight in the last mental image or thought that sends me over the edge and is the final button that sets my orgasm free. I might have spent hours edging myself as a much more experienced adult and much later after this incident. Or just decided to have a very quick stress relief wank. The final moment though, for me is a selective process. Something I take great pleasure in deciding because that is what got me off. Tribute or accolade, sometimes a final perverted thought to send me over. Or just a fond memory, a moment of lust for someone I once knew or loved, or that latest crush or person I am training myself to shoot over and for.

In this moment though, it's the description of Lynn's underwear that is the last thought. Hearing her describe her skimpy Black underwear, little White spots, see through mesh, soaked gusset silkier for her juices over it. Imagining her soft silky pubes, dark against the Black see through material, imagining stroking my fingers through them after slipping a finger or two inside the soft material to feel her little fur patch...

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuc kkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk...

Not even got to the point thinking about touching her moist slit after sliding fingers over her clit, or sliding fingers into her, no thought about putting my cock in her cunt as far as I can get it, already enough to make the first spurt arc out of the head of my dick.

Splat.

The White tiles underneath the mirror takes the first volley. I hear it hit, and I wait for the feeling to hit me.

The first spurt numbs my shaft, the power it was sent forth and the bulge caused for a moment desensitising my cock. I know when I cum this hard, it won't hit till the next spurt and load is heading up the tube. I prepare for the rush and grip my dick harder, firmer, tighter. Really hammering the flesh over the muscle now, the hand gripping the sink tightly now turning white with the effort to steady myself as I utterly rip into my meat and have my rush.

I fucking earned this I think to myself, looking at myself now slightly sweating with the effort and the first wave of pleasure hits me. Eye balls now starting to shake, vision blurring, tight wet Black gusset, silky and soaking, silky smooth dark pubes pressing through mesh material. Cunting fuckery whore...

Splat.

Second spurt out and same deal, splat against the tiles below the mirror. Close to the first shot, which is now starting it journey down the tiles. Gravity momentarily wondering what the fuck just happened but catching on quickly and ensuring it gets the job done of reclaiming items sent out into the world that are not allowed to fly forever without it having it's say.

"Take that you fucking dirty bitch" the voice in my head growls as I imagine the faceless woman I've been talking too for the last 2 hours lay with her legs spread offering me her underwear to cum over, to unload on and enjoy the visual contrast of my thick spurts of cream landing on. My White milkiness on her Black silky material. Staining her panties with hot wads of my man cream. Pearly orbs of delicious sluttish lusty manliness spurting for her and only her in this pure lust moment while thinking about her.

Splat.

Shot 3 out of the barrel and again, hitting the mark, but lower this time as the intensity of the orgasm is waning.

The pleasure though has only really started to wash over me. Thighs now starting to shake, calves taut and my neck stretching forward as the full orgasm rush hits my body. The waves of the rush hitting me from my hair down to my feet. The grunt from my mouth kept low for fear of being heard, as if the 3 loud splats of spunk hitting tiles didn't alert anyone? Low, rasped, guttural, "Unghh" and then the low menacing growl that follows often when I cum. Fading into a snarl as the primal element is set free like the orgasm that calls it out to play and I become my true animal self for a brief moment. With it my eyes open wide and I glare into the mirror and see my true self and it scares the living shit out of me... Yet suddenly seems like my best friend and something I need to get to know, and quickly...

The seconds pass as the pleasure and endorphins rush comes to it's all too brief end. I get left feeling extremely vulnerable at this point after a strong orgasm. My urge is to collapse and find a warm female naked body to curl around, be held by, protected by, soothed by. Held close and made to feel everything is all right, what just happened is O.K. Till the primal within is disgusted by this act and need, so fucks off and leaves me to be the Sensualist I am. Till next time at least...

I take a beat and survey the "Damage", the trail of cooling cum sliding down the tiles all neatly contained thankfully. Not a difficult task to clean up, a splash of water will erase the deed. I rinse my dick under the tap, the cold water causing me to flinch but in a pleasurable way as it courses over my now very sensitive meat and nerve endings. Drying myself off after washing my hands I quickly slip my trouser back up, fold my boxers up and put them in my pocket.

Checking the mirror to make sure I'm not sweating or looking like I just jerked myself off at work in the toilet. I'm good to go. Or at least as good as I can be considering that is exactly what I just did. Popped my wanking at work Cherry, what a fucking odd moment...

Trainers slipped back on, I nearly leave without having a piss, deciding against it or else face a quick return to the toilet which I can only imagine would raise deep suspicion. Takes a minute to get flowing, having to push my still semi hard penis down and do the mental urging to my bladder to release the urine. The stream when it comes, thick, fast, pungent.

I again, rinse my hands and double check the image looking back at me in the mirror, not a trace of shame on my face and after what I have just done...

I step out of the toilet, grab my coffee and head back into the main room. Heading for the desk I was sat at when I took the call from Lynn.

The Supervisor approaching me is wearing a Black Skirt, white Blouse and a small Black jacket. Gill is her name, nice woman, youngish and been with the company for a while. Started out as an Operator, worked both Chat and Tarot and was very good by all accounts. She still jumps on the lines every now and then if it's busy, or if it's quite and she feels like a change from prowling up and down the desks which must be dull. One of her other tasks is to listen in on the calls being taken on the big square machine against the wall in the middle of the room. The one that records all the calls for safety and security... Required by law.

You'd see the Supervisors sometimes stood around this machine, often several of them at a time if a really good call was in progress, or something was up and they'd have to monitor what was being said or what an Operator was saying... Big Brother. Yes, even the Supervisors would perv in on a good call.

Gill tells me that I've got a call waiting, she's set the timer on the phone running from when the call was taken so it's credited to me. I am a little upset as I was hoping Lynn would have rung back by now. Being new I don't say I'm waiting for a call back, guessing after the time I have been away she'd have rung back by now. Kind of gutted in fact, and my recently aroused and stroked ego a little dented. Gill tells me to sit down and take the call, she will bring my things over from where I was sat before. I take hold of the back of the plastic seat I'm to use at the new desk, she goes to fetch my cigarettes, lighter, Tarot cards and clipboard that I log the calls down on.

I look at the phone display and the counter is set at 10 minutes already...

What the fuck?

Why the hell has a random caller been left for 10 minutes without someone who wasn't on a call being assigned to them? I quickly look around and see at least 4 or 5 other Operators sat around talking, not on calls. One of them is Male, the rest are Female, so it can't be a specific request for a Male reader as one was free?

I pick up the phone and give the required greeting when taking a call, stating the name of the line, my name and asking whom I am talking too or how may I address them? Gill is walking towards me with my things and just before the person on the end speaks Gill says "Oh, it's Lynn from London, she rang back and has been waiting for you mate! She wouldn't speak to anyone else, so I told her you were just getting a coffee and using the loo so she said she'd wait for you..."

That little tinkle in the laughter now heard from the phone, I grin and settle in for the fun to begin...