The story happened when I was a student when I was working as an assistant to a replacement plumber in one central RGU. yo
It all started with the request of the head of the site to insure the “ill” before losing the ability to walk “Uncle Vanya” and tighten the current crane in the office toilet in one of the buildings we serve.
The year was 95 or 96, the time of crimson jackets and mobile, with the cost of the machine. Employees of foreign missions were almost the inhabitants of heaven from another world.
In this, as it turned out, the company I was.
I was shocked, of course, not by the interior and the well-trained guards who checked my documents (I saw everyone), but by the goddess who was passing along the corridor at that moment. She was 25 years old, dark-haired, in a jacket and skirt just above the knees (I do not understand the costumes, but surely this one was expensive). In spite of almost equal age, I could not call her "girl". It was a “lady” - steel in the eyes, a proud gait, an excellent figure, accentuated by a suit and a small bright brooch on the collar. Obeying an instinct to hold her attention, I addressed the first thing that occurred to me: “Where is your toilet for women?”, It is no more stupid. In response, I was awarded an inspection of my “proletarian” person from cap to shabby shoes and the question addressed to the guard: “What kind of a handsome man ?!”. From the guard’s obsequious tone, I realized that this fury was some kind of big boss here, “Make sure that he doesn’t hang out here, let him work and leave!”. Cool.
Male and female toilet were close by. They were separated by a wall, in the flap of which, right under the ceiling, was a water shutoff valve. I went in, closed the door behind me on the lock, so as not to shock the ladies with my presence in the ladies' room, the minute work would be tolerated. Perched on a high stepladder, I took off the flap and found that the same one — on the side of the men's room — was open. From my seat I could see what was happening there. Shutting off the water, I was ready to get off when I heard the sound of female heels. Behind the wall was, who do you think? That girl, whom I thought with insult and at the same time lust for the last five minutes. The “queen”, as I had already christened her about myself, saw that the female toilet was closed and, since the toilets were single, without hesitation I decided to use the men's one.
I froze at my window.
The queen went to the toilet, her back to me and, stooping low, began to meticulously examine the toilet seat on it. My, not spoiled by female caress, the body of a poor student of a Moscow, almost completely male, university, responded instantly. The appearance of an appetizing ass facing me, a tight skirt tightly covered with a cloth, caused such tension in my pants that my fly almost burst!
She tried to scrub the stool with a piece of toilet paper, but then lifted it up and resolutely jumped to the edge of the toilet. Even in high-heeled shoes and tight, rather long skirt, she managed to do it gracefully, gracefully lifting the hem.
When she pulled down her white panties and pantyhose, I undid my pants and my “stump” jumped out of them like a cocked spring.
Raising her skirt to the waist, the Queen squatted down - legs across the width of the toilet bowl, knees connected by panties, together. After a second, with a sigh of relief (apparently she was patient for a long time), she began to piss and raised her face up. It was written bliss. It is unbearable! To the sound of a tight jet murmur, I earned it with my right hand, fearing that looking up, she would notice me. But her eyes were closed.
When she finished, she dried off a piece of paper. I was already on the verge. But the Queen did not get up. Thoughtfully looking between her legs, she decided to “put herself in order,” and began quickly and rhythmically massaging the clitoris. Wow!
How much she was excited! After just a few seconds, she was already trembling all over and loudly inhaling the air with jerks, as if choking. The queen is finished! I worked fiercely with my hand, feeling like more and more servings of warm, sticky liquid popping into my palm. What is there a tablespoon! Spilled not less than half a pound! So long and hard, I never finished. The queen jerked off the floor of her jacket and squeezed the left nipple through the fabric of the shirt, the brooch fell off the collar and flopped into the point. This did not stop her, breathing deeply through the lips rolled into a tube, she finished her occupation, gradually reducing the amplitude of movements and, finally, relaxed, helplessly hanging her head.
Seconds five, maybe ten - I also had no time for that - I only saw her head, after which she shook her cheerfully with her gorgeous hair, jumped to the floor and stared down the toilet.
Apparently the brooch was really valuable. The queen took off her jacket on the door handle, rolled up the sleeve of her snow-white silk shirt, and again thought about it, looking at the point. An inventive lady wrapped around a half roll of toilet paper. Grimacing and quietly howling in disgust, she recovered her loss. Curling her lips, she threw the brooch on the edge of the washbasin, frantically dropping the scraps of wet paper.
Here she will be glad of the lack of water in the tap!
I quickly did my job, quietly turned on the water, watched my neighbor finish the rolls, rubbed her footprints of her pleasure and walked out.
Came out simultaneously with the Queen - again a look full of contempt.
Without realizing it, I suddenly smiled mischievously and made a gesture like a hand into the toilet.
Do not believe me, I was satisfied no less than when I jerked off!
Perplexity (eyebrows to the bridge of the nose), amazement (eyes wider than shoulders), fear (turned pale), shame (reddened), indignation (loudly sucked in the air), again shame_. I did not wait for the end of the performance — the “anger” phase — and without looking around, I went to the exit.
So to you!