Dear Reader,
Oh, how I've grown tired of being used by guys and then having my feelings ignored. Even after I left Roger's office and tried to text Dr. Jane, she never wrote me back. Why is it that when I always need help from a therapist, they are suddenly never available? That dyke bitch just used me too. I'm trying so hard to just make it through another day, and to get to my boyfriend's house with his pearl panty surprise. Knowing my luck, he'll break up with me or I'll walk in on him fucking some younger girl. On top of all that, I'm stuck at the office on a Friday. I'm extremely frustrated, but writing about my feelings and emotions seems to be the only positive thing I have left. Honestly, I just wanted to be left alone.
With Roger's enormous cum load now gelating inside my hot exit hole, I was clinching my anus as tightly as possible to not drip all over the office floor. Luckily, Roger had a fairly regular penis, and I wasn't left with a total gaper. I made my way to my little "sanctuary" in the powder room in the back, next to the storeroom that led to the shipping and receiving area for several of the offices in the building. It was a nice, modern unisex bathroom with an art deco theater-style vanity, and it was the one place that I could be alone by myself. In the corner was a large velvet tufted footstool, and some random vintage looking magazines and items next to an amenity table full of high end toiletries and colognes. There was one medium-sized handicap stall, and two standing urinals for the guys.
As I entered the stall and closed the door, I pulled down my pantyhose and pearl underwear to give my over-stimulated pussy a break. Sitting down on the toilet, I started trying to force Roger's cum out of my rectum as I scrolled through my phone. After a few minutes, I decided to take off my blazer and hang it on the little chrome hook behind the metal stall door, and I noticed another sport coat already hanging there. Curious, I waddled my way over to the jacket and fished around inside the pockets. In the inner pocket, I discovered a brown leather wallet.
Sure enough, the driver's license had a pic of the young kid from the client meeting, and the name "Ethan" matched the name that Roger mentioned in his office was the client's son. The rest of the wallet contained a couple of credit cards, a student ID, a business card for a massage parlor called "Enchanted Jade," a condom, and much to my surprise, a little over $2,200 cash.
The door to the bathroom suddenly burst open.
"I'm pretty sure I must have left my coat in here..." I heard Ethan saying aloud as the voice approached.
"You're just lucky you had your phone with you," Bruce said, following Ethan in.
I pulled my legs up to conceal being in the stall and noticed like an idiot, that I forgot to latch the metal door.
"God, I gotta take a fucking piss," Bruce said.
"Me too bro," I heard Ethan reply.
After hearing their zippers go down I could hear both of the guys let out a slow "ughhh" as their urinating began the heavy trickle against the rubber pads at the bottoms of the urinals.
"Bro, how about that chick in the meeting earlier?" Ethan began.
"Oh bro, bro, bro, you don't even know the half of it," Bruce replied, "Talk about a huge fucking cock slut. She's so fucking hot though. This one time, I fucked her good up the ass for like an hour."
"Oh man, her ass is so fucking hot," Ethan said, "I'd love to hit that shit."
"Man, she was so drunk," Bruce went on, "Another time, it was late and I fucked her again in that conference room right on the table. She fucking squirts like crazy too, man."
"Damn bro!" Ethan said. "Yeah man, I totally just fingered that bitch in the meeting! Did you see her piss herself in front of the room??"
Both voices let out a hearty "hahahahahahahahahahaha" as the toilet flushing sounds drowned them out.
"Yep," Bruce said. "Un. Fucking. Real."
"I'll tell you what, I'd give anything to fuck that girl," Ethan went on, running the sink.
"Doesn't take much!" Bruce said, laughing. "She'd probably do it for some blow."
The door to the stall opened with a quick squeak, with Ethan looking for his jacket.
"Whoa?!" he let out, suddenly seeing me sitting on the toilet, clutching my knees to my chest.
My full slit was creased into a long vertical line and was totally exposed. I quickly put my legs down and bent my knees awkwardly inward.
"Well, well, well..." Bruce said, pushing past Ethan and entering the stall. "Funny running into you here."
"I'm not in the mood Bruce," I retorted defensively, "Just taking his fucking coat and leave me alone. I heard what you said."
"Well, was I lying?" Bruce said cooly.
"Fuck you," I shot back.
