Champ Otter
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Daily Free-Write June 7, 2022: Stressed at Work Pt. 3
🕑 Added 2022-06-08 06:22:36 +0000 UTCAuthor's note: I've changed the name of this story to Stressed at Work. Same story as before though! Enjoy!
Harry decided that he couldn't drive home in cum-soaked pads. He'd have to take them out in the bathroom. He walked inside, and stopped in front of the trashcan, looking around to see if anyone was inside. He nervously eyed the door to the restroom as he reached down the front of his pants, but he was frustrated by the front of his shirt, which went down too far to allow him access to his undies or the pad located therein. He'd have to unbuckled his pants...
He thought about it for a second, and shook his head.
"No, I can't risk it," Harry muttered to himself, and he made a beeline for hte bathroom stall. When he pulled down his pants he was hit by the overpowering smell of cum. He had really done a number on his pad. It was so soggy, he wondered if he peed himself too. He peeled the pad away, the sticky backing pulling on the material of his boxer briefs as he did so.
"Eww..."
Harry made a face as he held the soaked pad by his thumb and forefinger. "Well, so much for- eeeunnnhhhh!" He hunched over, his cock suddenly spasmed, spraying cum all over the side of the stall. He managed to turn and get the rest of it into the toilet, as he kept on spurting. It was watery and there was so much of it, it might as well be piss. For all he knew, it was piss, and his body was just too stupid to tell the difference.
"Damnit," he said to himself, gasping from the umpteenth orgasm. "I need to cancel my gym membership. This is a hecking workout!"
He wrinkled his nose at the horny scent of his seed. He could almost see the smell rising off of the stall walls and the pad he still held in his fingers. Harry awkwardly brought up his pants and underwear, fumbling with the belt buckle while he held the soggy pad at arm's length. Then he noticed that he had painted the front of his pants as well as the stall.
"Aw man. It looks like a friggin' jackson pollock painting!"
This was just great. How was he going to get out of here without anyone noticing?
The longer Harry waited, the more likely he was to get caught. He rushed to open the stall, but just as he did, the door opened.
"Shoot!" Harry quickly ducked back into the stall and sat down on the seat. He heard someone whistling and walking toward the other stall. He could hear the footsteps. Change jingling in the man's pocket. Then the footsteps stopped just past his stall.
"Huh. What's that smell?"
Harry gulped, not daring to move. Not daring to breathe. Then the footsteps continued. As soon as Harry heard the stall door cloths and the locking latch slide shut, he bolted, hurring over to the trashcan to toss the evidence. He hurried toward the door, not bothering to wash his hands, and he heard the latch sliding on the door, he jumped and ran.
"Hey!" he heard a voice call out behind him, but he was already out the door, his heart beating like a jackhammer.
Harry rushed out to the stairway, and down the stairs as fast as his legs would carry him. He nearly tripped over himself going down the ten flights on the outisde of the building. Then, he was on the ground, the concrete plaza that led to the parking garage. It was relatively empty, but is pants were a mess and he knew he was taking a risk going to the parking structure where everyone else's cars were parked. He peered around the building and the coast seemed to be clear, so he rushed toward the parking garage as fast as his legs would carry him. If only he'd brought his briefcase, he could have covered up his pants, but luckily he didn't encounter anyone. It wasn't until he reached his car that it hit him.
His briefcase.
"No... no, no." Harry frantically fumbled through his pockets for his car keys. He checked them once. Twice. Three times. "Damnit, they're not there!"
He knew where they were. They were in his briefcase. And his briefcase was in the building. A building that was locked up in... he checked his watch. Five minutes ago!
"Crap..."
He didn't have much choice... either he could try and get into the building, or he would have to call a Lyfter to pick him up. Either way, it would be hard to hide his messy situation. He shuddered as he was wracked by another orgasm, and a big wet spot appeared in his crotch.
"It's gotta be this... unhh... s-stress," he panted... this was so stressful, but yet it felt so good. This was so wrong...
He felt guilty that this was happening. Like he was some kind of pervert, but Harry couldn't help it. And the longer he waited, the worse the situation got. He had to be decisive. But what would he do?
