index


Message-ID: <48898asstr$1092859806@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: lpublic@hotmail.com (Lynn Public)
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit
NNTP-Posting-Date: Wed, 18 Aug 2004 16:04:00 +0000 (UTC)
Subject: {ASSM} Upskirt Masturbation  (F mast)
Lines: 80
Date: Wed, 18 Aug 2004 16:10:06 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

Upskirt Masturbation

I work as a model but spend a lot of my time working part-time mostly
as a hostess or receptionist for business meetings and conferences. 
Conferences don't give many opportunities for masturbation, but may
business meetings do.

Once the people go into the meeting, I'm generally left in an anteroom
to take phone messages.  Sitting there with nothing much to do gets
boring pretty quickly.

Monday I had one of these jobs.  I am a morning masturbator, liking to
linger a few minutes in bed with my hand between my legs.  Monday I
woke up with that tingle between my legs but I off satisfying myself. 
I even avoid doing it in the shower, which was hard because it was a
day where I shaved myself down there and was holding my lips taunt. 
It would have been so easy to apply my two fingers to my clitoris.

At the hotel where the meeting was taking place, I was sitting behind
a table with a modesty panel.  Ideal.  The corridor doors were closed
and so were the doors into the meeting.  The only thing I needed to
watch out for was the coffee delivery about 10:30 and the stray person
coming in and out from using the toilets.

Looking very professional in a business suit, I could lean my left arm
on the table and slip my right up my shirt so I could play with
myself.  My first problem was that I was wearing panties with a
pantiliner.  About halfway through my cycle I have a day or two where
I am mucusy.  I felt damp enough to have to worry about staining my
skirt.

Still I wanted to play with myself and not quickly but a slow
drawn-out teasing masturbation that would get me through the day.  I
solved my problem by scooting into the ladies room for a quick pee.  I
dried my self as deeply as I could and dumped my panties in my bag. 
On the way out I took a handful of paper towels.  I would sit on
these.

Now back at my spot with all the preparation done, I slipped my
fingertips into my moist slit.  I rubbed up to just under my clitoris
back to the opening of my vagina.  This finger wagging doesn't have a
lot of feeling but it was enough to let me start to relax and focus.

I like to pull on my inner lips.  The tugging tantalizes my clitoris. 
I turned my hand so that I could use my thumb to push up on my hood
and thrill myself.

Someone came out and went into the men's room.  I sat up and pictured
in my mind the guy standing at the urinal with his thing in his hand. 
I thought about it getting hard and of him having the overwhelming
need to come out and throw me on the floor and fill the longing
between my legs.  He came out, a pudgy middle age man and returned to
the meeting.

The guys with the coffee carts came next.  None of them looked good
enough to generate another fantasy.  I sat up straight and crossed my
legs and squeezed my thigh muscles.  I used to do this in High School.
 It is a poor substitute for direct stimulation.  One of my women
teachers caught on to what I was doing.  She was subtle but left no
doubt that she knew I was lamely trying to masturbate in her
classroom.

They were having sound problems after coffee so the maintenance guys
kept coming in and out.  I decided I had enough.  I scooped up the
towel from between my legs and retreated to the ladies room.

Now in the isolation of the stall I slipped my middle and fourth
fingers of my left hand deep into myself.  The in and out soon got me
to the point.  I took my clitoris between my fingers and rolled it
feeling thrill after thrill.  Then I pushed my feet forward, spread my
knees wide and leaned back.  My flying fingers took a mere ten or
fifteen seconds to bring about the crescendo.  The earth didn't move
but it was good.

When I left the stall, an older woman gave me that same understanding
look that my teacher had.  I smiled sheepishly and she smiled back
politely.

Love,
Lynn

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ------ send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com>|
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html> Moderators: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|ASSM Archive at <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org>   Hosted by <http://www.asstr-mirror.org> |
|Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d; look for subject {ASSD}|
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+