Wet Panties At Work Novels & Stories

"Who else?" He drops to his knees. The CEO of a company worth nine figures – on his knees on his office floor between my stockinged thighs. He hooks one finger through the crotch of my thong and pulls it aside and I watch his face when he sees how wet I am – soaked, glistening, my pussy swollen and slick and aching. "Fuck," he breathes. Like he's seeing something sacred. "You're drenched." "Two years of wet underwear at my desk. Your fault."

I whispered under my breath, grabbing the counter for balance. I wiped myself with shaking hands, but it was useless. I was still wet. Still leaking. My inner thighs were glossy. My scent filled the room like heat. Damon. His name pulsed through my chest again. I bent quickly, grabbed the ruined panties from the floor, stared at the soaked fabric for a second, then shoved them into the trash like they were evidence. Another knock. Louder this time. “You dead in there or just drowning in your own cum?” one of the girls laughed from outside.

I am a suave, sophisticated sex goddess. I reach for a water bottle and the vibrator in my panties comes to life. I flail, and spill water all over my keyboard. “Fuck,” I hiss, grabbing my cardigan to swab the spillage. “Everything okay here?” My boss’s voice brings me back to reality. “Yes, fine, Mr. Johnson.” I flush. His eyes dip down to my chest, hugged tight by the polka dots. By the time they make the trip back up, he’s flushed too.

My mind stops for only a second when I realize I was wearing a pair of women’s silky lace panties. Heat rushes through me when I also realize Zack didn’t stop. He didn’t even hesitate or look disgusted by my sexy undies. At the same time, I wish the flimsy fabric wasn’t there. My heart races at the thought of his hot shaft pressing up against bare skin. Gulp. I move in my chair, but quickly realize it is the wrong thing to do as the wetness in my folds spreads along my panties, making them cling to me. I glance at the conference room door and then back down at my laptop and my work. Can I sneak away and back up to my room without Zack noticing?

Trembling, weak at the knees, I unzipped it and let it fall to the floor. "Remove those panties." Complying, I lowered them, noticing the wet spot in the narrow cotton lining that had soaked up my juices. "I'll take those. You won't be getting them back. By the way, start wearing sexier, thong-style panties from now on." I said, "Yes, sir" as I handed my panties to him across his desk. He inspected the wet spot, smelled it, then put my panties in his desk drawer. "You know what this is, don't you Miss Choi?" he said, glancing at the plug.

Leave your panties at home. I was in a deposition at 10 AM—some bullshit merger dispute—and I couldn't focus on a single word being said. All I could think about was sitting across from Ryan with my bare pussy exposed under the table. About his fingers sliding up my thigh. About him testing me to see if I'd actually obeyed. God, I'm such a slut. The thought made me wetter. By the time I got back to my office, my panties were soaked through. I took them off in the bathroom, shoved them in my purse, and put on the dress I'd brought—a simple black wrap dress that tied at the waist. Easy access.

By the time I left work that day, I had been fucked by my boss again, sucked off two of my induction tutors and flashed several workers as I practiced picking up items from the floor, one of whom had reached up and removed my panties and then left with them saying I could have them back tomorrow. I couldn’t wait to go back to work the next day to see what would be happening to me now I was officially the company slut.

The front of his pants was soaked from my orgasm. Without a word, he moved and disappeared into the adjoining washroom, which I knew also had a closet. I slowly scooted off the table, my legs unsteady, a delectable soreness making itself known. Bending down, I picked my panties up from the floor and slipped them on. They were completely soaked, but what could I do? I couldn't go around commando. God, I'd truly just had sex with my boss in his office, and I'd loved every minute of it.

The way my own body had looked on his screen—legs wide, fingers buried deep, squirting while he watched. I was wet constantly. My panties were ruined by noon each day. I started wearing skirts to work so I could press my thighs together and feel the pressure without anyone noticing. I edged myself in the bathroom stall twice on Wednesday—fingers circling my clit, stopping just before I came, then walking back to my desk with my pulse hammering and my underwear soaked. Thursday night I broke. I waited until 11 p.m. His house lights were off except for the faint blue glow of a television in the living room window. I knew he was awake. I knew he was watching.

“This is a very bad idea. I’m not even wearing panties.” His hand was already under my skirt, confirming that, yes, I was very much panty-less and soaking wet. “You came to work like this?” he growled. “Dripping and loud and desperate to be fucked?” “I didn’t plan this,” I said, but my thighs were already parting. He turned me fast, bent me over a low stack of boxes, and yanked my skirt up so high it practically ripped. I felt the head of his cock against me before I even heard him unzip.