The Fingerbang (rough)

This new job allowed for mingling with strapped, suited cuties who were really only cute because of their suits. After work parties allowed for these suited studs to come out and let loose a little and this was your favourite fantasy. A casual acting, well-dressed man with a loose libido and an eye for you. There were enough of them at the office job you'd landed so you had your pick, but the one who caught your attention was the middle-aged one who could've been classmates with your father. He wasn't a looker, but when he sported a little scruff and the lights were low, he was passable for a babe in your eyes. You knew he had eyes for you too as was obvious with the extended amount of time he spent around you and how he always followed you outside when you went for a smoke, even though he didn't smoke. You decided he would be the the one.

You didn't feel like a full fuck this night and part of it was because there was no comfortable place to do it, except the wheelchair accessible bathroom. You hate public fucking unless absolutely necessary and you loathed bathroom sex. Doing the dirty in a dirty place just did not appeal to you, so all you were really aiming for was a fingerbang that'd make you squirt those orgasmic juices and allow you a well-deserved good night's sleep.

You began your mission: you flirted with him and make those doe eyes that you knew the men tended to love and you used your linguistic talents to verbally seduce this old man. This old man with his greying scruff that you found endearing and his beady eyes which you did not. He was in the palm of your hand and it wasn't long before you were leading him to that wheelchair accessible bathroom that only the very private relievers used.

He didn't wait long before he pinned you to the door and stuck his tongue in your mouth. It was dry from the liquor, but you didn't  really care and you guided his hand under your skirt to touch the spot between your legs which was already soaking your panties through. It was the thrill of it that got you wet and the feel of greedy hands on you. The knowledge of being desired and the anticipation of getting what you craved. The men always thought it was them, of course, and you let them have their little fantasies.

He didn't have to be told twice to touch your soaking, throbbing cunt. He didn't have to be told twice to run his fingers across your impressive slickness. You saw the bulge in his pants and knew he was getting off on your wetness and you writhed your body to guide his fingers the way you wanted. You liked your clit played with a little first, gently, almost teased and you ground your hips against his fingers to teach him how you liked it. He was a fast learner, you were happy to discover, and massaged your clit with just the right amount of pressure. He didn't press it like it was a fucking doorbell as some guys did, nor did he ignore it in favour of touching every other part of your cunt. He brushed it with his fingertips, rubbing, rubbing, rubbing until you were close to coming and then stopping. Maybe his fingers got a cramp, maybe he was withholding your orgasm, whatever the reason it frustrated you. You grabbed his hand and guided his index finger to slide off your clit and into your warm, wet, waiting pussy. He didn't need any lessons in that, he knew just what to do. He slid that digit in and out, agonizingly slow despite how hard you would grind. He introduced another finger and you all but became limp at that glorious feeling of having your pussy full.

He sped up, to your delight, and slid both fingers in and out, in and out, faster and faster, harder and harder, deeper and deeper. You felt him tickle your cervix and that one sweet spot near it that was begging for attention. He had done this before, many times, the pussy wasn't foreign territory for him, you could tell. His hands knew what to do, his fingers knew the terrain of your cunt better than you probably did and he took him time to reach that treasured spot. And when he did he had his way with it: he fucked you with just those two fingers, he pounded you and it felt like he was punching in the secret code to your release. The tendon built, as it always did when you wondered whether or not he'd get it right and the closer he got the more you relaxed until every muscle in your cunt relaxed and you let it all go. That shower of liquid squirted out, soaking your thighs and panties and dampening your dress. That squishy sound of gushing liquid echoed in the hollow bathroom and you just kept releasing and releasing, unable to believe so much pleasure could gush out of you. You already knew that you'd be smelling yourself the rest of the night.

He pulled his fingers out, stuck them in your mouth and made you suck off your salty, smelly juices. You licked his fingers clean of your pleasure and moaned through his fingers, feeling as if you had been Atlas, carrying the entire world on your shoulders and were now suddenly free of the burden. He removed his fingers from your mouth and cupped your face, unzipping his pants with his free hand. His cock sprung out and before he could pull you down to take it whole, you freed yourself from his grasp.

"I really just wanted a fingerbang," you told him, pushing him away a little. "So, thanks for that."

You fixed up your dress and left the bathroom to enjoy the staff party.