Business Trip Confessions: How Flirting with My Co-Worker Led to a Massive Squirting Orgasm in My Hotel Room
There’s something about hotel bars during work conferences that makes the air feel charged. Maybe it’s being away from home, or maybe it’s the way a certain co-worker kept looking at me over the rim of his whiskey glass last night. Whatever it was, by the time happy hour ended, my panties were soaked through—and that’s saying something, considering what happened next.
We were in some generic downtown hotel, the kind with overpriced cocktails and dim lighting that flatters everyone. I’d worn my favorite tight white top that hugs my small tits perfectly, nipples visible through the fabric since I’d skipped the bra. My grey skirt fell just above my knees, and with my eyeglasses perched on my nose, I’d perfected that “professional but secretly filthy” look. He noticed. He definitely noticed.
The flirting started innocent enough—a joke about the keynote speaker, a shared eye-roll during the networking portion. But then his hand brushed mine when he handed me my second martini, and his fingers lingered. His eyes dropped to my chest, then lower, and when he leaned in to tell me how good my bare legs looked in my open toed heels, my pussy clenched so hard it actually ached.
By the time we said goodnight in the lobby, my face was flushed and my thighs were pressed together under that skirt. Dinner reservations were in thirty minutes, but the moment my hotel room door clicked shut, my hands were already hiking that grey fabric up around my waist. No panties. Never wear them on business trips—it’s my little secret.
The need was urgent. Raw. Standing there with my thick ass exposed, bare legs trembling, those heels still strapped to my feet, bent over the desk chair with my hands braced on the seat, my pussy was dripping down my inner thighs. It was obscene. It was necessary. My fingers found my clit first, circling frantically, then plunging deep inside my tight hole, finger fucking myself with desperate, sloppy thrusts.
The sound of my wetness filled the room as my hips bucked against my hand. My small tits bounced under that white top, and every thrust made my thick ass jiggle. The image of him in the bar, his hungry gaze, played on loop in my mind as my fingers curled to hit that perfect spot. The pressure mounted fast, coiling tight in my belly until it exploded.
Standing up, bent over that chair with my heels digging into the carpet, my body convulsed as hot squirt gushed out of me in powerful streams, hitting the floor between my feet. It was messy. It was loud. It was exactly what my throbbing pussy needed before sitting through a three-course dinner pretending to be professional.
Want to see exactly how wet and wild it got? Watch me finger fuck myself to that explosive squirting finish on lonestarangel.com