Wet Panties At Work Novels & Stories

“Stop ogling your boss's ass.” I pushed upright, wincing at the ache pulsing through my lower back and thighs due to being pressed against the table for so long. My dress was wrinkled, my panties were somewhere on the floor, and my dignity questionable at best. I adjusted myself as quickly as I could, heat crawling up my neck at the realization: I’d just fucked my boss. In his office. During work hours.

It's summer now, and I've somehow become the stinkiest person in the entire company. Everyone says that I smell terrible. The doctors say that there is nothing wrong with my body, but my colleagues still avoid me like the plague at work. Even the intern secretly puts deodorant on my desk. I can't take it anymore and hand in my resignation. But on the day I'm processing the paperwork, my manager, Joel Winters, chases me to the elevators and stops me. His voice shakes as he says, "I'll give you 50 thousand dollars to continue sitting at your desk." I don't agree to it and call the police instead. When the police cut open the huge eight-foot teddy bear next to me, the entire office falls s

I could bet that by the time I would be done with her today, when I came back, her pussy would be dripping wet. "But this is an office. You don't expect me to walk around the place with no panties on. What if someone notices and they start talking? This is not fair." She said to me, "Are you going to be walking around opening your clothes for anyone who cares to watch? Hell, Abby, I'm giving you a really fair offer and you are forcing my hand. You know what, delay some more and I would make certain that I get your bra too. You have five seconds. One..." I started counting.

“You know what? Pull down your pants. Let's do this together.” “What? No. I'm at work. What if someone sees me?” “You don't need me to remind you that the only reason you're still working there is that I allow you to. Right?” I swallowed the rest of my protest and slowly pulled down my pants. And then my panties. “Lower the camera. I wanna see how wet you are.” I did as he asked. He let out a breathy grunt. “God you're so fucking wet. Go ahead. Touch it.”

For a long moment we stayed locked together, breathing hard, trembling. Adrian pulled out slowly, watching his cum trickle from me with a possessive and satisfied look. “Rule two,” he murmured against my hair. “No panties when you’re in this office. I want easy access to what’s mine.” I nodded, still dazed, still dripping. He retrieved my ruined panties from his pocket, brought them to his nose once more, and smiled. “Now get to work, Ms. Morgan. We have a company to run.” I turned to leave on shaky legs, his cum already sliding down my inner thigh. At the door, I paused and looked back.

My name was Chandler Poe. I worked at a small company run by a married couple. The boss's wife, Irene Peters, sat right next to me. Every day, she showed up in tight pencil skirts, her long legs impossible to ignore. The worst part was that she loved slipping off her heels. She would just stretch out her soft, stockinged feet and sway them in front of me. I was a young guy. There was only so much I could take. Today, I finally cracked and rushed into the restroom to deal with it.

She spent her work hours in the bathroom slacking off! I smiled. "Does the plaintiff's company policy of fining employees 500 dollars for every minute spent in the restroom comply with labor regulations? And more to the point, the security footage from last month shows a grand total of 40 minutes. "Are we really going to argue that 40 minutes over the course of an entire month isn't a basic human need?" By this point, the internet was already losing its mind. Whether it was because so many people knew what it felt like to be ground down by their own companies, or just plain sympathy, the tide was turning in my favor.

"I had just hung up and was back in my fantasy when my boss returned. Now I had two problems. My pussy was begging for me to finish and my panties were soaked. My boss wanted to go over the calendar. I reluctantly turned off the clit vibrator and sat there squirming in my seat as we reviewed his schedule. "It was lunchtime when we finished. My boss had a business lunch and would be gone for at least two hours. I decided to leave the office and look for someone to fuck. I had plenty of time. I went to the bathroom and removed my panties and bra, then lubed my ass before heading out.

A distinct—and horrifying—lack of fabric where fabric should definitely be. Slowly, dread creeping up my spine, I reach back and press a hand against my skirt. Against my bare ass. Oh God. No. My underwear. I left my panties in Mr. Macaulay's office. Fucking hell. How could I be so unfathomably careless? What the fuck am I going to do now? I can't just spend the rest of the day at the office completely commando. What if someone notices? A cold sweat breaks out on the back of my neck as the reality settles in.

Ass only this time. Morning dawned routine kisses to husband over coffee ("Have a great day, dear"), pancakes for kids, blouse buttoned to chin for work. Spreadsheets blurred under fluorescent hum, colleagues complimenting her glow ("You look radiant, Helen!"). She smiled demure, thighs pressing under desk, panties crotchless today secret purchase, easy access for lunchtime stall-fingering in office restroom. Locked door, skirt up, mirror propped phone capturing her face as fingers plunged, biting lip bloody to muffle cries, squirting into toilet with shuddering release.