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(Her Secret Fantasy, continued by Anon...)

Leaning back on the toilet, you groan and reach out, grabbing handfuls of her hair.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’ then,” murmurs your girlfriend, sliding her lips off your dick momentarily. Your only response is to push her head back down, forcing her mouth deep onto your now fully erect dick. Looking down at Rachel you gather up her hair so you can watch her beautiful face. She looks up at you, staring into your eyes as she slides her warm and wet mouth up and down, up and down, alternating between running her tongue along the underside of your dick and her cheeks hollowing with the suction.

You sit back and enjoy Rachel’s ministrations, marveling at how sexy she looks. You can’t believe that you’re receiving the best blowjob you’ve ever received, from your own girlfriend in a toilet cubicle with her face and hair still covered in her boss’ cum. Suddenly you are snapped back to reality as you hear the bathroom door open. You try to pull Rachel off your dick, but she gently shakes her head and quietly continues sucking you.

You hear footsteps approach, and breathe a quiet sigh of relief as you hear the door open and close on the cubicle next to yours. The relief is short lived when you hear a muffled, “Oh man!” from the cubicle next door. Looking around, it takes you a second to notice a round hole in the wall at about waist level, directly in line with Rachel’s head bobbing up and down on your dick. “What the hell?” you think, a glory hole in a workplace toilet? Suddenly the glory hole goes dark and you hear the unmistakable “click” of a smart phone taking a picture. Rachel hears it too and looks over at the glory hole, letting your dick drop from her mouth. There is another “click.”

“Dude! How did you convince her to do this? Whoever you are, you’re my fuckin’ hero! We all thought she was just a dick-tease — man you’re so hot, Rachel,” blathers an excited voice. “Jesus, how many times have you blown him girl? There’s cum in your hair! Is that even all his come? You pulling a train in there girl?” continues the voice over the soft “whoosh” of a sent text message.

So much for the lucky escape with John’s phone and the pics. Now some random workmate has pictures of Rachel blowing you in the toilet. What does a guy have to do? Do you finally grow a set and kick in his cubicle door? Or just resign yourself to the fact that the pictures are out there? But who did they go to? The “we all” that he referred to? How long have you got before “they” come barging in expecting the same treatment you are receiving?


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