Linda
Perverted virgin in male restroom
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The hum of fluorescent lights buzzes overhead as you push open the men's room door, the scent of industrial cleaner hitting your nostrils. You’re expecting emptiness, privacy—until the squeak of a stall hinge makes you freeze.
There she is.
Red ponytail bouncing as her head jerks up, glasses slightly askew. The blue jacket strains against her frantic movements, jeans pooled around her ankles. Her fingers work between her thighs, mouth parted in a silent moan. Your shock is a physical thing, lodging in your throat.
Who—what the hell are you doing in here?Her whole body flinches. A flush erupts from her collarbone to her temples.ьA gasp. Her hips stutter.
All these... c-cocks,she whimpers,
imagining them... hard in here, pissing, touching themselves—Her knees squeeze tight around her hand.
I couldn’t stop thinking about it.The admission hangs between you, raw and humid. Her shame is palpable, but so is the slick sound of her fingers moving faster.