Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
Another slow day left Em questioning her decision to work at the gym. The pay wasn’t bad, and the hours left her with a decent amount of free time in the afternoon to do whatever she wanted – mostly hanging out with friends in her case. But neither changed the fact that it was a, to put it simply, somewhat mind-numbing job.
That, and she was admittedly disappointed that her interactions with Faith had been reduced to the few words shared between shift trade-offs. She would occasionally stay past her shift end to work out, but gone were her hours spent watching the gym owner – now her boss – from afar.
She had no intentions of quitting, of course, but a little excitement would be nice. For now, most of her time was spent on her phone reading books – which Faith fortunately didn’t seem to mind – or cleaning, as she was doing now.
Overall, the locker room was a pain in the ass to clean, though the distraction of endless scrubbing did make the shift go faster. Not to say Em hated the process entirely. There were, in fact, some tasks she didn’t mind. Faith had purchased a tool that made scraping the grout in the showers a somewhat easy and satisfying process. However, by the third shower, her wrist would begin to cramp, and she often had to leave half-finished when people came in to use them.
What truly was her favorite part – and one of the reasons she cleaned the locker room so frequently – were the toilets. Which, assuming you didn’t share the same interests as Em, was perhaps a surprise. But for her, it was a proverbial goldmine – and a somewhat literal one in many cases. It was one of these toilets that she found herself in front of.
The first stall had been relatively clean, though it had some grime. The second, however, left Em with the very familiar feeling of leaking between her legs. The lid was unassuming, but the seat itself was splashed with unmistakable droplets of yellow. Most had dried, though there was one particularly large drop near the front that seemed to hold some of its moisture.
The bowl held similar evidence of a recent bathroom trip. Unsurprisingly, any pee had been washed away by the flush, but the front slope had managed to cling onto some significant smears of waste. Only upon lifting the seat did Em notice the small chunk of shit that was stuck to the rear lip of the bowl.
She had come into the stall to clean, obviously, but the site of the dirtied toilet did something to her. Her mouth became dry while her sex had very much the opposite effect. Once again, she felt moisture between her legs, an exploratory hand pressed against her crotch all but confirming it. There was the ethical question of it all, especially considering she was an employee, but the idea of it, the taboo nature, it was all too much.
Her bucket and sponge were left on the floor, and the stall door was quickly closed and locked tight. The last thing she needed was someone catching her. Em was glad, then, that the gaps under the stall and door – though present – were significantly smaller than most public washrooms. It would take someone crawling on their stomach to see into the stall.
Truthfully, however, her mind was running a mile a minute in that moment and was far too occupied to put much thought into the ramifications of what she was doing. Pulling down her yoga pants and seeing the milky shimmer of her arousal on the gusset of her panties only fueled the fire. Her shirt was tossed aside, and her left hand made its way to her breasts, groping violently at the soft flesh still stuffed into her sports bra.
It was a gross, depraved act. Em knew that it was gross. She knew that it would be considered disgusting by all save a few people, perhaps dangerous, even. It didn’t matter. When her tongue touched the outer lip of the toilet, the pure, unadulterated pleasure she felt in her body overpowered any doubts she might’ve had, any sense of clarity.
Her mind was fogged as her tongue slid along the cold porcelain. All water stains, dried, crusted-on urine, and residual waste were swept up in its path and brought into Em’s mouth. The taste was not strong, but the hint of saltiness and the slightly acrid flavor was enough to send a shiver through her body.
Again, she bent over and took another swipe, this time along the left side of the rim. It was equally dirty, so to say only somewhat, but she had intentionally started here, leaving the filthiest sections for later. It was part of her game, a self-inflicted teasing that would, with any luck, extend and ultimately enhance her orgasm. Once she allowed herself to cum, that is. For now, it was far too soon, so she finished the few sections on the rim that were missed and turned her attention to the toilet seat.
Common to most public toilets, the seat didn’t connect at the end, instead having a horseshoe shape. Em wasted no time taking the right protrusion and inserting it fully into her mouth. She knew from experience that the underside bursa escort bayan was the dirtiest and therefore spent most of her energy cleaning that part with her tongue as she had done the rim.
This, of course, meant she was cleaning blind. Which, in a way, had its own charm to it. Her hesitation was all but gone, the blindness meaning she couldn’t distinguish the dirty from the clean and therefore couldn’t intentionally avoid particularly bad areas. It was with great speed, then, and vigor, that she sucked and slobbered on the plastic.
When she removed her mouth, Em couldn’t help but admire the shine from her saliva and the foamy trail that ran down the seat. Again, her admiration was short-lived as her lips wrapped around the other side, giving it the same treatment as the first. It was this side that had the large droplet of still-wet urine, which she found without difficulty and sucked up greedily.
In the process, her left hand had slipped under her sports bra, tweaking her nipple and enjoying the occasional sharp pinch. Her right hand, meanwhile, was between her legs. The time for teasing had ended, meaning her rubbing had transitioned to a direct approach rather than over her pants.
She prayed, now, that no one had come – or would come – into the locker room in the interim. The sounds she was making with her mouth were bad enough, the languid, wet moans echoing off the tiled walls. The feverish rubbing of her sex, and the muffled, sloppy noises that brought was, for one, unmistakable, and two quite loud.
All the more reason to move things along, then.
The tip of the toilet seat left her mouth with a pop as she sucked selfishly on it during its removal. Returning it to its upright position, she decided it best to delay no further – someone could walk in at any time, after all – and went for the bowl itself.
Her hair, as it usually was while at work, was in a ponytail. Fortunate seeing how it was guaranteed to be soaked in toilet water otherwise. However much Em thought the idea sounded deliciously kinky, she knew that working with wet hair for the rest of her shift wouldn’t be ideal. Outside of the practicality, there would also be the difficulty of explaining why her hair was dripping. She, therefore, did her best to keep safely tied back as she lowered her face towards the water’s surface.
The water itself, of course, was clean. She had yet to be so lucky as to discover an unflushed toilet in her time working at the gym. There were, however, the smears she had noticed upon entering the stall. Thick brown skid marks coated the inner front of the bowl, a chunk of waste having slid down the porcelain before being washed away with a flush. The evidence it left behind was more than enough for Em.
Unfortunately, the angle wasn’t perfect, which meant a careful twisting and somewhat uncomfortable pose the young woman forced herself into to get a closer look. Her work did pay off, however, Em able to get her face only inches away from the fecal remains. Up close, she could appreciate its texture. There were a few gritty-looking bits, some remnants of food, maybe, but the majority was a soft, almost stringy texture. Based on the dark, brown color and slightly dried surface, she guessed it had been there for a decent amount of time already.
The smell confirmed it, a weak aroma, almost undetectable if not inches from the source as Em was. Unsurprisingly, the result was a lot of long, loud sniffs. The blonde did her best to inhale the scent completely, reveling in the fact that she was smelling another woman’s shit. A stranger’s shit, she had to remind herself.
Public play was always a gamble. Em’s love of smells had its pros and cons. Overall; it was a relatively harmless and – assuming she kept the more extreme side to herself – an easily accepted fetish to have. Not everyone was interested, of course, and many people found it difficult to understand why or how someone would be turned on by odor, but there were far worse and far more extreme fetishes out there.
Although, like any fetish, the struggle came down to finding someone interested in the same thing. For Em, she had yet to find such a person. Past partners had humored some parts of it – maybe a sniff of their armpit or feet after work – but none had been into it themselves and, none had truly let her indulge. It was part of the reason why she enjoyed the gym so much, why she found herself indulging when she likely shouldn’t.
Public bathrooms posed far too many risks to make them anywhere near a viable option. The stranger element added a sense of taboo that she enjoyed desperately, but age was an issue, and she couldn’t be sure what the person looked like – though physical attractiveness wasn’t high on her list of priorities.
At Haoma Health and Fitness, this was less of an issue. To get a membership, you had to be over the age of twenty which solved the age problem bursa escort sitesi and, given it was a gym, most of the members were in decent shape. Not all, of course, but most. Outside of Faith, Em had a few regulars whom she had more than a little crush on.
Occasionally she would picture these women, often she would picture Faith. Whether it was at home or work, she found herself daydreaming, fantasizing about cleaning another woman with just her tongue, maybe after they had used the toilet. Still, the stranger element had something to it that she couldn’t quite shake.
So, as she took another deep whiff of the dried waste, she wasn’t picturing anyone in particular. Rather, she was picturing all the possibilities, running through her memory of all the women who came and went in the past couple of days. It truthfully could’ve been any of them, and not knowing made a tingle run up her spine. Though, maybe that was just a cramp brought on by her hunched position.
Do I taste it?
The thought suddenly formed in her head, a bold idea that sent her heart racing. It was a hurdle she had yet to cross; the concept was always a little too extreme for her. And yet, part of her was seriously considering it. The idea of tasting, of indulging in that forbidden pleasure, felt like a rush of adrenaline.
Em hesitated; her neck awkwardly bent in the toilet bowl. The muffled sounds of the gym through the bathroom door – weights clanking and the dull thrum of music – echoed off the walls, a reminder of where she was. The chances of being caught felt slim, but there was always the safety aspect, the risk of getting sick or something worse. And yet, despite all this, she found her tongue advancing.
It inched from her lips, a slow, careful approach towards the unknown. She could feel her heart in her chest, the rhythmic thumping ringing in her ears. Her hand quickened, her arousal practically pouring from her body, the front of her panties hopelessly soaked and her yoga pants likely in a similar state. Her mind raced with images of the women she admired, the way they moved, their confidence, and the scents that clung to them. Any one of them could’ve used this toilet, left this behind for her to find.
The sound of the bathroom door creaking open jolted her back to reality. Panic surged through her, and she quickly froze. Unfortunately, it was too little too late, her climax arriving all the same despite the stop in action. Her hand snapped from her breast to her mouth, desperately clamping it closed in an attempt to hold back her escaping cry.
It was the worst kind of orgasm, too. The lack of direct stimulation meant no real pleasure for the blonde, her muscles contracting around a missing intruder, and her clit desperate to be touched. Em considered it, briefly – putting her hand back in her pants, reigniting the fire before it faded entirely. But the unmistakable sound of the woman entering the stall to her right made the idea far too risky to pursue.
The next five or so minutes were agony, Em was afraid to move but equally afraid the stranger would be confused as to why she wasn’t moving. Her breaths were still deep and ragged, which also worried her. If this woman could hear her, she might think several things, but none of them flattering. What would she think? Did she know what Em had been doing before she walked in? The thought made her shiver, both with fear and an inexplicable thrill.
The flush of the toilet broke the tension, and Em took a deep breath, trying to regain control. She listened intently as the stranger moved about, the rustling of clothing followed by the slow creak of the stall opening. She watched, eyes affixed to the tiny gap between the door, as the unidentified woman walked to the sink and turned on the faucet.
As the stranger began to wash her hands, Em felt the pull of her earlier desire tugging at her again, more insistent this time. Perhaps it was the thrill of nearly being caught, or the fact that she could now see the woman – albeit only slightly – or maybe it was the lingering taste of adrenaline from her earlier thoughts. Whatever it was, it urged her to continue, to risk everything for an ounce of true release.
With a sudden rush of boldness, Em took a deep breath and let her hand drift back toward her body. The fabric of her yoga pants felt cold, now, and damp, but it also had an alluring quality. As she pressed her palm against herself, she felt a wave of pleasure wash over her, a reminder of what she had almost indulged in moments before.
Just a little more.
The thought was a dangerous one, her lust feeding off the risk and growing as a result. Em’s heart raced as she leaned back against the cool metal of the stall, her breath quickening with each passing second. She continued watching through the crack in the door, her hand slipping back beneath her waistband and back inside herself.
Em’s fingers moved with purpose now, guided by instinct rather than thought. She relaxed her body, surrendering to the sensations, the pure pleasure she felt in the moment. A soft sigh escaped her lips, barely audible – she hoped, anyway – as her fingers continued their assault. Her thumb, too, joined, gentle strokes against her clit causing her to squirm, desperate to let out her held moans, but far too afraid of the consequences.
Suddenly, the stranger turned away from the sink. Em’s heart stopped at the sight; the woman’s gaze fixed on the door. Did she hear me? Shit, can she see me? With a start, Em realized that she was sprawled out on the floor, legs outstretched in front of her. The gap below the door was small, but at that angle, it was more than possible her lower half was visible.
She bolted – perhaps too quickly – to the toilet, sitting on its spit-coated seat, her pants still up. With the weight of the moment pressing down on her, Em forced herself to breathe slowly, allowing the tension to lessen just a little. She was still hidden, for now, and the stranger hadn’t moved from where she stood. Em’s mind raced–a part of her wanted to stay, to witness what might unfold, while another part urged her to escape this situation entirely.
The former won out, largely in part due to her hand still down the front of her pants, still wet. Even her fingers, she realized, were still moving. Slower, now, but sliding in and out, nonetheless. Her other hand stayed pressed to her mouth. It felt impossible to believe that she was – or at least almost was – caught, and yet she continued. The risk of it all had become akin to a drug, Em desperate for climax but unwilling to let the fun end, almost wishing she would get caught.
From the toilet, Em could no longer see through the gap and therefore had no idea where the woman was. Her breath hitched as she strained to listen, the sound of the tap running having long since stopped. Tension hung in the air as silence filled the room. Then, the sound of paper towels being dispensed, and receding footsteps not long after.
Alone once again and feeling a sense of invigoration, only one thing was on her mind – she needed to cum. She needed it desperately and knew full well that another person could walk into the bathroom at any second. The game was fun, but she couldn’t play it all day. There was work to do, after all, and it hardly seemed smart to push her luck twice.
Her fingers moved with urgency, the familiar pressure building inside her. Em was so close, so frustratingly close. The pounding of her heart had grown louder, a constant drum fighting with the sound of her sloshing pussy in her ears as she unabashedly fucked herself. If someone else could come in, it meant she was on a time limit, and she was not willing to delay the inevitable any longer.
So, with a final, desperate flick of her thumb, Em felt the wave crash over her, the final release of her orgasm after so much denial. The climax washed over her, a mix of relief and exhilaration as she bit down on her hand to keep from crying out. Still, she made more sound than she likely should have, and couldn’t stop her body from flailing.
As she came down from her high, Em’s lungs burned and her chest heaved, her breath coming in shaky gasps. Her pants had gotten wetter, as had her hand. Between her three fingers were cloudy strings, her arousal coating them thoroughly. Using her tongue, she licked them clean, savoring the salty taste of her body.
Perhaps in a different scenario, she would have enjoyed the moment more, maybe even going for a second round. But even Em’s libido couldn’t convince her to do that now. So, with some disappointment that it had to come to an end, she gathered herself and began the painstaking process of making herself not look like she had just cum her brains out in the bathroom stall. To play it safe, she flushed the toilet on her way out, making sure to grab the cleaning supplies that had been knocked over and nearly kicked into the adjacent stall.
The benefit of masturbating in a gym bathroom was having a decent excuse as to why you were sweaty and disheveled. However, that could only get you so far. She did her best with the limited resources to clean the worst of the grime from her face and used a paper towel to dry up afterward. Her pants were, unfortunately, pretty soaked, so she just had to hope that their dark color would hide most of the damage while she hid behind the desk as they dried.
Accepting that she wasn’t going to look any better – outside of hopping in the shower and changing her clothes, that is – she steeled her resolve and gathered the remainder of her cleaning supplies. The third stall still needed to be cleaned, as did the counter, but that could come later. At the very least, it would give her something to do tomorrow.
Exiting the locker room, Em kept her eyes glued to the floor as she crossed the gym, hopeful that it meant no one would look too close at her. Worst case, she couldn’t see if someone was looking at her, which both helped and made her more nervous. Fortunately, no one said anything, and she was able to return to the janitor slash security office without issue.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32