Thank god it's Friday.
It's always a rush to get out of the parking lot on the last day of the workweek. You sit in your car waiting for the traffic jam at the exit to thin out a bit as you soak up the warm spring sunshine. Your shorts have ridden up between your legs, pressing into you and you tug them down.
He's forbidden you panties this week so you've worn skirts until today. Today your short shorts drove the guys at work nuts. Not that you're a tease, well, not really. Still whenever you'd turned around today there was a line of guys trying oh so hard to look like they weren't following you. Whenever you'd bent over, well you could see every one of them, stiff, flushed, and panting.
Your left hand has drifted down between your legs,a finger presses into the seam of the shorts and you shudder.
The parking lot's empty now, you really should be heading home. He'll be home soon and you shouldn't keep him waiting.
Your eyes are nearly closed as you tilt your head back against the headrest. Your mouth is open a bit, and the tip of your tongue traces a moist line along your upper lip.
There had been a whole line of them, at least a dozen, maybe more, nearly tripping over each other. Each and every one of them long, hard and aching for you,... wanting you,... needing you. Yesterday they had to consult with you on Monday's presentation, today they could see only one use for you.
Your right hand loosens the button of your shorts. The zipper's pushed open as your hand reaches inside, you rock your hips as the shorts are forced slowly down toward your knees.
It was his own damn fault. Stupid arbitrary rules about what you can and can't wear, You're an adult for gods sake. You were lucky the men hadn't decided to just push you face down over your desk, pull down your shorts and plunge into you one right after the other. All the men in the place, a line of them going out the office door and down the hallway.
That would have been his fault too, sending you to work dressed like this without any panties.
Two fingers of your right hand are deep inside you now rapidly plunging, in and out as your palm brushes against your hairless mound and the stiffening nub of needy flesh, wanting more. You moan aloud, your breath coming in short gasps. You're almost there.

There's a tapping on the car window and your eyes fly open. A nightstick rapping against the glass. He's tall, bending over to see in the window, a military style crew cut, mirrored sunglasses, a badge.
The officer's grinning broadly as he asks " Do you need any help there mam." Behind those mirrored shades he must be staring at your naked lap and the shorts bunched up around your knees. Your face changes from a flushed pink to nearly purple as you sink down in the seat. Your hips slide along the damp vinyl seat slick with your sweat and more.
You start the car without a word, pull half way across the parking lot before you stop to pull your shorts back up. You look in the rear view mirror, He's still bent over laughing.
You take a deep breath and head for home.