4 comments/ 39512 views/ 20 favorites Night at the Clinic By: SevenSquared Hello, my name is Jill and I am boring. Everything about me is boring. I am 28 years old and I am average height, have boring brown eyes and boring shoulder length brown hair. I have average 36C breasts to go on my average, slightly overweight body, with my entirely unstriking facial features. As a result I don't usually get that much attention from men and, because I am also quite shy, I haven't had many boyfriends. Don't get me wrong I'm not a virgin, or a social recluse, and in my college days I did a fair amount of partying with a bit of casual sex thrown in. But since then I have prioritised other things in life, which has left me rapidly approaching 30 and single, with a rather pedestrian social life. My job is also boring. And it's the worst kind of boring, because it's... well, kind of embarrassing too. I work as a junior doctor in a fertility clinic analysing sperm samples to diagnose fertility problems in men. My friends all think this is hilarious, telling everyone who will listen that 'Jill works in a sperm bank!' Many times I tried to explain to them the difference between a sperm bank and a fertility clinic, but to no avail and in the end I accepted the misrepresentation. I even started referring to work myself as 'the sperm bank'. It was just easier that way. It is a reasonably well paid and stress-free job, but it is also pretty dull. I have little contact with any of the patients, as I work out back in the lab. The majority of our work consists of testing and analysing the sperm samples that are brought to us by the nurses and then sending back the results. My co-workers are my boss Dr Huntley, who is a kindly gentleman in his late sixties and Ralph, a fellow junior doctor about my age, who moved here from Germany several years ago. He is nice enough, but is a fairly private person and we never socialise outside of work. I know he has a wife and a baby at home, but he doesn't talk about them much. Obviously no chance of finding a boyfriend at work with only these two for company! But anyway this is a story about something that happened a while back. I am not much of a writer, but I feel I have to put this down in words because it was an event of great significance to me. I'm sure it's not the craziest story you've ever heard, but for a boring person like me it qualifies as absolutely barmy! I have never done anything so... Well, you'll have to read on and find out. ----- It was a Thursday, and for the most part a fairly average and mundane day in the office. Dr Huntley was away at a conference and so Ralph and I were left to run the lab by ourselves. This was a regular occurrence and was hardly a big deal, it's not like anything wild or unpredictable ever really happens in a fertility clinic. However, it did mean that when Ralph went on his lunch break I was completely alone for an hour and it just so happened that during this hour I received an unexpected visitor. There was a knock on the back door. This was a largely redundant door that led out into the staff car park, which even the staff barely used as it couldn't be opened or (due to a defect) properly closed from the outside. In fact, it was only there as a legal requirement in case of a fire. I knew immediately what had happened, as a knock on this door always meant the same thing. A patient at the clinic had got a bit lost trying to find the incredibly badly signposted reception and thought this door was the way into the building. I sighed, put down the paperwork I was doing and went to the door. As predicted, there stood a lost-looking guy. He was a bit younger than me with short black hair and the first thing I noticed was that he was gripping a sperm sample pot so tightly it was as if he was worried it would try to escape. He looked at me and instantly blushed bright red and tried to subtly manoeuvre the pot behind his back. "Are you looking for reception?" I said, in my most friendly voice, trying to put him at ease. "It's on the other side of the building. Just follow it around from here until you find a glass door just past the speed restriction sign." That is what I said, calmly, as I had said several times before, but inside I was anything but calm. The guy was gorgeous! Well, okay not gorgeous by any usual objective measure. He wasn't chiselled or tanned or muscular or dangerous looking or like any of the men that I saw in women's magazines that were supposed to be considered good looking. But he was sweet and shy and had lovely eyes. Just the kind of guy I was always attracted to. There was a short silence while he processed the information I had just given him. The silence was slightly longer than it really needed to be, I assumed because he was trying to hide his embarrassment. What is it with men never wanting to show their emotions? "Oh, great, er... thanks," he said. "Silly me I've got no sense of direction, um... well good bye then." "Yes see you around." I blurted out in reply. "Well okay I might not see you but I'll see your... uh..." my sentence tailed off. The man looked at the sperm sample in his hand and blushed an even brighter shade of red. "Um yes, er... I hope you um... like it," he said and scurried off as fast as he could. Stupid! Why did I always say the dumbest things when I was talking to a guy that I liked? "Oh yes, hi there my name's Jill, I can't wait to analyse your sperm sample." Idiot! I sat down at my lab station and put my head in my hands. Why could I not talk to men like normal women could? All my friends seemed to do it without any problem at all, if anything it was guys that had trouble talking to them! Not that it really mattered in this case I suppose. Obviously men that came to fertility clinics were typically trying for a baby and so were usually married, or at least in a long-term relationship. So no matter what I said I probably had no chance with this guy anyway, but it didn't bode well for my future that men couldn't get near me for all the rubbish I talked. Plus I would have to hide away in the lab all afternoon, not risking going out in case I ran into him again. I'm not sure I would be able to look him in the eyes. Those lovely, dark eyes... It would be nice if, just once, a guy like that would notice me and ask me out. And we would go out for dinner or something and he would not be sleazy or pushy and we would just have fun together. Then maybe at the end of the night he would give me a lift home and we would kiss at the door, but he would not ask for anything more. And then after a few more dates he would invite me back to his place for dinner. And over an intimate dinner, we would open up and really get to know each other. Then we would move to the couch and kiss, gently at first, but slowly becoming firmer and more confident. Our hands would start to explore each other's bodies. He would start to caress my ass and I would put my hands up his shirt and feel all over his back and chest. Then he would move his hands up and start rubbing my breasts, first outside my clothes, then sliding his hands inside, and unhooking my bra. As he massaged my tits, my hands would unzip his pants and start exploring down below. I would feel his manhood getting harder and he would start to pull at my nipples with his fingers and... I snapped out of my daydream. I was suddenly conscious that my right hand had ventured inside my lab coat and was groping my left breast. I released it quickly and retracted my hand, wondering how I apparently had so little control over my own body when I was daydreaming. I also became aware that I was getting a little bit wet down below. I reached my hand inside my pants to adjust my underwear. As I did so the cotton fabric of my panties brushed against my clitoris and sent a jolt of sexual excitement up my spine. Wow! I froze for a moment as the feeling subsided. For about ten seconds I just sat there, breathing heavily. Then I ventured my hand back across my pubic mound. I stopped at the elastic of my panties and pulled slightly. Once again the cotton rubbed against my clitoris sending a wave of pleasure running through my body. I pulled again, this time harder, generating an even more intense feeling. Slowly I slipped my hand inside my panties. I ran my fingers through the curls of pubic hair before slowly parting my pussy lips with my middle finger and touching my clitoris. "Neaaaahourgh" I said. Or something like that anyway. My own voice jolted me back into consciousness. Here I was, sitting at my lab station and... well, there's no nicer way of putting it, masturbating. What on earth would have happened if Ralph had come back from lunch while I was sitting there with my hand inside my panties playing with my clit, totally oblivious to my surroundings? That would have taken some explaining. I quickly adjusted my clothing and tried to get back to work. Sample 57228 (patients were always anonymous in the lab), 43 year old male, sperm count lower than average (lower 30th percentile) but well within what would qualify as 'normal'. Lucky Mr 57228 should have no problem conceiving with a healthy fertile female. Let's hope he has a healthy fertile female to conceive with, because at 43 years old he isn't getting any younger. I stared at the page blankly for a while. I assumed that sometime soon a nurse would deliver my mystery visitor's sperm sample to me. After all, sperm could only live for a few hours outside the body, so we usually insisted that all samples were delivered to us within an hour of production. Production. What a silly word to describe the process of generating a sperm sample, as if it involved some kind of heavy machinery or assembly line. Why don't we just call it what it is -- masturbating, jerking off, flying solo. I had a British friend once and he used to call it wanking. I loved that word. I wheeled my chair over to my computer and opened a new email. "Please could nurses be made aware that all samples must be delivered to us within an hour of wanking." I looked at it for a few seconds, then deleted 'samples' and wrote 'cum' instead. I chuckled to myself, then deleted the unsent email. What was the matter with me this afternoon? I had worked in a fertility clinic surrounded by sperm samples for several years to the point where I considered it completely mundane, but now I was sitting there giggling like a silly schoolgirl at the word 'cum'. There was nothing sexy about semen, it was just the delivery mechanism for the male genetic sample to get to the woman's ovaries or, for those having sex on a more casual basis, an annoying sticky stain left on the bed sheets that someone would have to sleep in. Day in, day out, I spent my time analysing sperm samples and it didn't get me remotely turned on. Well, except for one time. A couple of years ago, just like today, I ran into a cute guy at work and I couldn't stop thinking about him all afternoon. Every sample I looked at that afternoon I imagined shooting out of that guy's cock and into my face or tits. I was so unbelievably horny that I waited until everybody had gone home, then I went into the ladies restroom, stripped off my panties, sat on the toilet seat and had one of the most frantic ten minutes of masturbation of my life. For some reason the fact that I was at work intensified the pleasure and lead to a huge orgasm that made me cry out loud and then instantly panic that somebody might have heard me. At the time it felt like the wildest thing I had ever done in my life and, to be honest, it probably was. I was embarrassed for days afterwards and could barely look any of my colleagues in the eye, even though they had no idea of course. Focus! Sample 57228! I filled in the time and date at the bottom of the report and signed it off. I then filed it away and tried to remember what I was supposed to do next. I had the attention span of a small child at the moment and all because of my chance encounter with the guy at the door. Maybe my restroom masturbation that time wasn't so crazy after all, at least it got it out of my system. Maybe tonight I could do the same and wait until everyone had gone home. How nice it would be to gently rub my clit while I... "Hi" It was Ralph coming back from lunch. I noticed with much relief that this time my hand hadn't ventured onto an intimate body part while I was fantasising. "Oh hey Ralph, have a good lunch?" "It was okay, I just grabbed a sandwich and ate it in the park." "Really? I like eating lunch in the park, it's so peaceful." "Yeah sure. Do you want a coffee?" "Yes please." That was Ralph all over. He was a nice guy but never really discussed anything beyond the mundane and I could never draw him into a discussion about how he actually felt about anything. I'm not sure a word like peaceful was even in his vocabulary. I decided that spending the afternoon with Ralph would be the perfect antidote to my incessant daydreaming and the now exceedingly large wet patch in my panties. If he couldn't keep me focussed on work, or at least something other than sex, then nothing could. I managed to zone back in on my work until about five minutes later, when Ralph brought me my coffee. "Here you go Jill," he said in his slight German accent "Thanks," I said and smiled at him. "No problem. By the way I'm going to work late tonight so I can take tomorrow afternoon off. I've cleared it all with Dr Huntley." "Okay, fine" "To be honest I'm not that busy at the moment, so if you want me to do any of your work while I'm here, just let me know before you go home." "Thanks. I'm not that busy either, but if something comes up I'll let you know." Well okay, that put an end to the vague notion I had of repeating my late night restroom adventure. It would look extremely odd to Ralph if I also stuck around an hour after work for no real reason. Maybe I would go home, have a bath and then masturbate leisurely at home in my own comfortable bed. Yes, that sounded like a better plan. That decided, I almost managed to forget about sex for a while, until a nurse walked in to deliver another sample - Sample 57263. My heart immediately skipped a beat. Was it his? Was this the gorgeous dark-haired guy's love juice? "So what if it is?" asserted the other more rational part of my brain. It's just boring old semen, you see gallons of the stuff every day. I looked at the paperwork accompanying the sample. Sample 57263 26 year old male 26 year old male, it could be him, I thought to myself. The average age of patients in the clinic was significantly older. Most often it was couples in their 30s or even 40s, who had settled down to have a family and were having problems. Of course, it's also quite common for people in their mid-20's to be trying for a baby, but it was quite unlikely that another guy so young would be submitting a sample around the same time. It must be his. I found this quite exciting for some reason. Half an hour ago I was talking to this guy, this gorgeous, perfect guy and now here I was holding a pot of his semen. Time of production - 13:35 That's about an hour ago. Only half an hour before we had our conversation he was stroking his hard cock to 'produce' a sample. I tried to picture it in my head. I wondered if he used porn or if he just fantasised in his mind. And if he did use porn, what type? He was fairly young and looked like he could be a geek, so maybe he used internet porn. Yes, that seemed quite likely, I could imagine it easily. He was sitting at his PC watching whatever hardcore porn he could find quickly. He would have to be fairly quick of course, as he had to be on time for his appointment at the clinic. I hadn't really watched much porn and so I wasn't totally sure what was readily available on the net, but I imagined him watching some fairly mainstream guy-on-girl sex, while he stroked his cock faster and faster trying to get off. Then suddenly my imagination took a leap and the image on the screen changed. It wasn't a standard porn film any more, it was me on a web cam! I was sitting on the bed with my knees up and my legs apart. With one hand I rubbed my clit while the other pumped two fingers in and out of my pussy. I must have been enjoying myself as my pussy juices were dripping slowly down my slit and onto the bed. As he watched me on his computer screen I could see his muscles tense. He quickly reached for the sample pot and brought it to the tip of his penis just in time. A thick stream of semen fired into the pot and, at the same time, my on-screen self had a big orgasm of her own. Snap out of it! I dragged myself out of my daydream. I was back in the lab at my desk, holding the sample jar. The sample jar that my over-active imagination had just watched being filled. "Is everything okay?" said Ralph "Huh? What?" I said, suddenly aware of my surroundings "You've been sitting there looking at that sample for the last two minutes, is there a problem?" he said, genuinely concerned. "Um... no not really," I replied as my mind worked overtime. "It's just this sample is an hour old and I was wondering if I should analyse it now or freeze it and do it tomorrow." There, not a bad save. Ralph shrugged his shoulders with a sort of 'whatever' look on his face and went back to work, peering through the microscope at what I assumed was another sample. Although the excuse I had given to Ralph was obviously improvised, it was true that I did have to make a decision what to do with the sample. I decided to freeze it, firstly because I had other samples to look at and paperwork to do, but secondly because I wanted to get this sample that was contributing to my ridiculous horniness as far away from me as possible! I walked over to the storage unit on the other side of the lab. "Well, goodbye Mr 57263," I said under my breath. "I'll have to get to know you better another time". I hesitated before putting the container into storage. I peered over my shoulder at Ralph who was still sitting at his bench with his back to me peering through the microscope. Keeping a careful eye on him I slowly unscrewed the top of the sample. Then I brought it to my nose and took a deep sniff. Heaven! Obviously I was completely used to the smell of semen. It was familiar to me, even comforting in its familiarity. But smelling this guy's cum as I pictured him rubbing his hard cock was simply amazing. I had never in my life tasted semen, nor had much of a desire to, but at that moment I think if Ralph wasn't in the room I would probably have drunk the sample down in one go. I quickly screwed the top back on and put the container into storage before hurrying back to my desk. ----- I came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around me. I lived alone and so the towel wasn't really necessary, but I had always been very shy about my body. I guess that's what you get as the result of a conservative upbringing and an easily embarrassed disposition. I walked into my bedroom and turned the stereo on. I played with the CD player for a bit and adjusted the volume until I had it just right - soft, but still audible from the other side of the room. Then I went into the living room and retrieved my cell phone, which I switched off and I also took my regular phone off the hook. I sat on the bed and spent five minutes drying my hair, before carefully packing the hairdryer away. I didn't masturbate very often, only when I was extremely horny, but when I did I liked to make sure everything was just right. It would be half an hour or so of the ultimate 'me time', free from any distractions and with the ambiance exactly how I wanted it. I slowly took the towel from around my chest, leaving myself completely naked in the bedroom. As usual when I did this, I suddenly panicked that I hadn't closed the curtains properly, but I looked round and saw that I had. I took the towel back to the bathroom then returned and lay down on the bed. It had been a crazy day; well, by my standards anyway. Meeting that guy then playing with my clit at my lab station, then sniffing his sperm sample... Totally out of character! Then I spent all afternoon horny as hell, wanting to orgasm so badly that even Ralph was starting to look attractive. I have no idea how I made it to the end of the day, but I did and this was my reward. Night at the Clinic My right hand moved slowly down towards my pussy. I started running my fingers gently through my pubic hair - fairly thick as I never really did a lot of landscaping down there. After a while I ran my fingers down my leg and started gently scraping my nails up my inner thigh. Slowly and rhythmically I ran my fingers up and down, deliberately ignoring my clit and pussy until I was in exactly the right frame of mind. I started to think about the guy I had met earlier, imagining what he would look like in just his underwear, then naked. I imagined him stroking his cock, as it slowly grew from flaccid to rock hard. I moved my hand up to my pussy and started gently rubbing my pussy lips. Not hard enough that I could feel anything on my clitoris, but hard enough so that eventually the lips started to part slightly. I slowly increased the force I was applying until my fingers were slipping inside my pussy lips and were touching the entrance to my vagina. Already it was starting to get moist. I started to circle my entrance with my fingers with each circle moving slowly closer towards my clit. Eventually, I allowed one finger to lightly brush against it, which sent a shiver up my spine. Not as intense, and definitely not as thrilling as when I did it in the lab earlier, but it felt good all the same. I started gently stroking my clit, trying to savour each wave of pleasure as it went through my body. I turned my mind back to the guy and tried to imagine a situation where we might make love. I always liked to be imagining a plausible scenario when I was masturbating; it made the whole thing seem a lot more real. And when you haven't had sex for over a year, you have to take what realism you can get. I imagined I had bumped into him in the clinic later that day and we had got talking. Then I had offered him a lift home and... no wait, he obviously had his own car that wouldn't have worked. Maybe I was about to leave work and my car wouldn't start so he offered me a lift home. No, that wouldn't work either, why would he have stayed at the clinic all afternoon when his appointment was at lunchtime? (My fingers started to work themselves faster over my clit.) I skipped the whole 'setup' and shifted my imaginary world straight to the point where we were in the bedroom. I imagined him, overcome by lust, stripping his clothes off, while I did the same. He ripped his boxer shorts off and his erect cock sprang to attention. I was taken over by animal lust and I knelt in front of him and took the entire length into my mouth. He was taken by surprise and froze for a second, before relaxing as he felt the pleasant sensation of my warm mouth running up and down his shaft. With one hand I started playing with his balls as my head bobbed back and forth. He started to give out little moans of pleasure. (Back in the real world I gently slipped a finger into my pussy) I imagined myself working my head and tongue over his shaft giving him an amazing blowjob (I noted with irony that I was terrible at oral sex in real life on the few occasions I had tried it, which I guess is the reason I had never tasted semen). I felt he was close to coming so I stopped as I wanted to feel him come inside my pussy. I got to my feet and walked over the bed, before lying down and inviting him to join me. He seemed nervous at first, I assume he felt guilty about cheating on his wife, but he lay down next to me on the bed. We shared a long kiss before I felt his hand move between my legs. (I slipped a second finger into my pussy and started pumping them gently) He slowly rubbed my clit, feeling my moistness before eventually he rolled over on top of me and aimed his love muscle at my wet entrance. Now it was my turn to be nervous. I had never slept with anybody on the first date before, I felt like a bit of a slut. Especially as it was a married man. In fact the thought of having sex with a married man did not sit well with me. I didn't want to be the other woman, the home wrecker. I wanted him to be mine and mine only. I tried to change the scenario in my mind into one where he wasn't married and was at the fertility clinic for... some reason. It wasn't really working. My fingers slowed down on my clit as my level of arousal suddenly dropped. This wasn't really working too well. I had come home from work as horny as hell, but for some reason I was having trouble getting myself off. Something wasn't quite right. I desperately needed to come, but couldn't quite get myself into the right frame of mind. I cleared my mind and started to rub my clit slowly again. I tried to think of the most sexual things I could. Naked men, celebrities I had a crush on, remembering sex I had experienced in the past, nothing really seemed to be working. Eventually my mind turned to the time I had masturbated in the office restroom. How vulnerable and dirty I had felt while sitting on the toilet seat with my legs spread, yet how excited and horny I had felt at the same time. Terrified that I could be caught and yet thrilled by the prospect that it could happen. My sexual excitement began to rise again and I began to remember the experience in as much detail as possible. I used my hands to mirror the exact motions I had used to get myself off that night. Nothing gentle, relaxed, or 'sensual', just frantic rubbing of my palm over my clit while I finger-fucked myself with the other hand. In my mind I could recall every sensation in great detail. I remembered the orgasm, which seemed to last forever. My hips had bucked on the toilet seat so hard that I nearly fell off and I cried out in ecstasy... Back in the real world felt my orgasm approaching. I started to pinch and twist my nipples as I rubbed my clit. I thought back to earlier in the lab. When I had taken the lid of the sample and smelled the semen inside, it smelled like... pure sex! Suddenly my orgasm hit hard. My pelvis rose up off the bed as I stopped rubbing my clit and pinched it hard instead, which intensified the orgasm even further and caused me to scream out. Some five seconds later the orgasm subsided and I collapsed in a quivering heap on the bed. The quiet playing of the stereo in the background mixed with the echo in my head of the orgasmic scream I had just let out. ----- Masturbation was not known for its powers of long-term problem solving, I mused as I drove into work the following day. It was something you did because you were horny and there was no immediate prospect of sex, or at least none that you cared to take up. It was about short-term physical pleasure, nothing more. But my 'session' the previous night had actually helped me get a few things straight in my head. For one I was totally over the guy who had visited the lab. I wasn't really thinking about him anymore and when I did it was no longer making me drift off into daydreams that resulted in wet panties. He was a guy I met, he was cute, he was probably married, just one of a zillion guys I would never sleep with. End of chapter. More interestingly it had given me a strong insight into my own sexuality -- and a not entirely welcome one. I had 'fantasised' about the time I masturbated in the office restroom and that got me extremely sexually excited. Superficially this was quite depressing. "Hi, my name's Jill and my sex life is so bad that when I masturbate I fantasise about masturbating somewhere else." I chuckled a bit at this, it sounded like the kind of thing a stand-up comic would say. More worrying is that it was thinking about the smell of semen that had sent me over the edge into such a terrific orgasm. I worked with semen all day and the smell had never turned me on before. Was I going to start creaming myself every time I opened a pot for analysis? Okay, maybe I should look beyond the superficial and dig a little deeper. Maybe it wasn't the restroom or the cum that aroused me per se, maybe it was the buzz of doing something 'naughty' that turned me on -- the thrill of 'forbidden fruit'. I knew that masturbating at work was forbidden. Well, okay, I had never actually seen it in the staff handbook, but I was pretty sure it would be at least frowned upon. And the idea of being sexually aroused by the sperm samples I was supposed to be medically analysing was also naughty. An abuse of power you might say, a bit like a gynaecologist getting aroused when giving an examination. I was a good girl, who had been raised well and had always lived life by the rules, but now I was starting to fantasise about 'naughty things'. I was no psychologist, but I was pretty sure that if I ever went to see one about this they would probably give a knowing nod and tell me it was about exploring my repressed animal self or something. Still engrossed in my introspection I pulled into the staff car park. Was I turning into a crazy lust-filled slut with a fetish for public masturbation and cum? Or, as I suspected and hoped, was I just an ordinary woman who was maybe a bit lonely and sex-deprived, fantasising about freaky stuff for a couple of days due to a hormone imbalance or something. Maybe in the next few days I would find out one way or the other. I spent the morning working hard. Dr Huntley had me writing the lab's quarterly report, so I spent several hours on the computer looking at graphs and spreadsheets and trying to translate scientific jargon into language that a layman could understand. If there was ever a perfect remedy to keep my mind off of sex then this was probably it. Just words and numbers and not a single sperm sample in sight. Ralph teased me that I was turning into a Powerpoint Drone -- a derogatory term he often used for people who sit in offices all day reading and writing reports and attending meetings. Being scientists we obviously felt we were way above all that lowbrow stuff. In my first half day under the microscope as a potential wanton slut I was scoring extremely well. Horniness -- 3%, Panty Wetness -- 1%, number of times hand ventured down panties - 0. Overall grade -- A. I was so involved with what I was doing that I didn't take a proper lunch break, I just popped out to grab a quick sandwich, which I ate at my desk while finishing off the report. I eventually finished and was just emailing it to Dr Huntley when Ralph announced that he was heading home. Wow, had it really taken that long? I looked at my watch and it was only two o clock. Ah yes, that's right, he was leaving early today. That's the reason he worked late yesterday and probably the reason that I didn't end up in the clinic restroom with my legs akimbo shoving some kind of miscellaneous lab equipment up my vagina. But that wasn't really me, that was yesterday Jill. Some crazy women apparently affected by a perfect storm of hormones. I wasn't about to become that person again, not if I could help it. In fact I considered the very idea of masturbating in the restroom a bit gross now to be honest - very unhygienic, risky and desperate. I bet that if I went to the restroom now and tried to get myself off I wouldn't even be able to do it. I smiled to myself at the idea of doing this one day when I wasn't at all horny as a kind of lab experiment. My mind wandered, thinking about boring scientific stuff such as how you would make this a fair trial, what you would use as a control sample and what, if anything, you might learn at the end of it. With Ralph gone and the report finished my thoughts were free to wander indefinitely. There was virtual silence in the lab, broken only by the tap, tap, tap coming from Dr Huntley's office as he typed in his usual clumsy two-fingered way like a lot of older scientists do. I tried to catch up on some of the samples that I had fallen behind on after my morning's report writing. I was slightly scared when I opened the first one that the smell would somehow trigger my arousal again. I must admit, the smell was more alluring than it had ever seemed before yesterday, but I didn't dwell on it and managed to keep focussed on the tasks in hand. I even got around to analysing the semen from my visitor yesterday without giving it much more than a second thought (for the record his sperm count and mobility levels were completely fine). Three o'clock passed, then four, then five and I started to think about going home. I congratulated myself on a day's hard work well done and putting yesterday's 'issues' well and truly behind me. I had just started packing away my lab station when Dr Huntley came over to my desk. He assured me that what I had written in the report was fine, but that there was another section that needed to be added and unfortunately it would need to be completed and checked by the senior staff meeting on Monday. He reluctantly (for he was generally a sympathetic boss) asked me if I wouldn't mind staying late to finish the report and he would check and rubber-stamp it first thing Monday morning. He promised to make it up to me somehow, perhaps with an extra day's holiday. It annoyed me that this was being dumped on me at the eleventh hour, but I reluctantly admitted that I wasn't really doing anything that night and could stay and finish the report. Dr Huntley went home and left me alone in the lab writing a rather boring summary of the usage and utility of the new cytopathology equipment. Working once everyone else had gone home was always a bit depressing, but even more so on a Friday night when you know that most people were probably out having fun celebrating the start of the weekend. Not that I had any big plans. I was going to invite a couple of friends over for a glass of wine and general girl chat, not exactly a fun-packed Friday night by the standards of most people in their 20s. But still, it would have been better than work. It was made doubly frustrating by the fact that I was already in 'weekend mode' and so I couldn't really focus on the report and my mind kept wandering onto all sorts of irrelevant topics. After spending an hour not really getting much done, I eventually decided to take a walk and grab a drink. It would give me a break from the dreariness of the report and allow me to get a much needed injection of caffeine to fuel my late-night work. Unfortunately the only vending machine was all the way across the other side of the building, so I had to leave the lab and go into the main clinic. There didn't seem to be anybody around and most of the lights had been switched off. I always thought it was weird going into the clinic after hours. It was a hub of activity and fairly noisy during the daytime, which made the contrasting silence eerie in comparison. I walked down the corridor, my shoes making a loud 'click' on the floor with every step, which echoed around the empty halls. I turned the corner and walked down another corridor, where the lights had all been turned out making it darker still. The only light ahead came from a door that had been left slightly ajar. As I got closer I saw that it was Production Room B. I have already told you about my amusement with the term 'production', used in this context. The 'production rooms' were places where men could go to masturbate in order to generate a sperm sample. Most patients elected to do this in the comfort of their own home and then bring the results along in a sample pot, but for whatever reason some used the facilities at the clinic. I guess it made sense if they lived a long drive away because, as previously mentioned, all samples had to be sent to the lab within an hour. As I approached the door I realised that I actually had no idea what it looked like inside the production rooms. The doors were usually shut and I had never really given it much thought, but I guess my mental image was a sterile room with a chair, an empty sample pot on a table and a sign on the wall that said 'Now Wash Your Hands'. As there was nobody around and the door was already ajar, I decided I would take a peek. I gently opened the door and I must admit, the inside was nothing like I expected. There was a bed for starters, which I must admit looked reasonably comfortable. Then there was a smart-looking black sofa, I guess to give the man some choice in how he wanted to get comfortable. There was also a chest of drawers, which I had no idea as to the purpose of. Was that for over-neat men who wanted to take off all their clothes, fold them up and put them in a drawer before getting down to the act? I'm not really sure why, but I was suddenly deeply curious about this room. It was sort of like a paradox. Masturbation is not as 'taboo' as it used to be, but it's not something you really spoke about in polite conversation. Yet this room sort of thrust it into the mainstream -- it was like an office suite for masturbation! I gingerly stepped into the room and closed the door behind me. Two things immediately struck me. The first thing was that the room had obviously been recently used. The bed sheets were creased and unmade and I could make out a head indentation on the pillow. The second thing that hit me was the smell - there was still the aroma of semen in the air. I wasn't sure if this was left over from the room's recent occupant or if the room always smelt vaguely of semen. I assumed that somebody had used the facilities late in the day, just before closing time and the cleaning staff hadn't had a chance to tidy the room up yet. I suddenly panicked that they would come in and find me here. I had no logical reason for being in the room, so it would be a difficult one to explain. I opened the door again and the corridor was as quiet as ever, no sign of any cleaning staff. I decided to chance going back in and having a further look around. I wandered over to the chest and opened the top drawer. Porn! About a dozen dirty magazines were in the draw, mostly stacked neatly on top of each other, but one was loose as if it had just been tossed back in. I had little interest in pornography (I had no moral objections, it just never seemed that realistic to me) but I was curious as to what kind of porn the clinic offered. After a cursory glance at the covers, I was relieved (although for some reason slightly disappointed) to find that all the magazines were rather mainstream. No 'glamorous grannies' or 'Asian wives' or anything like that, just a mundane collection of silicone enhanced, impossibly thin, peroxide blondes. The loose magazine, probably used by the previous occupant, was pretty similar to all the others. I opened a couple of random pages and saw a variety of women in various stages of undress in an assortment of seductive poses. I could only imagine the conflict of emotions that took place in this room. Anybody who saw you go in would know exactly what you were about to do and anyone who saw you come out... well, I'm sure you would get a few knowing smiles and winks. In fact I bet a lot of men would get off on that. Jerking off knowing that there were female nurses and visitors only a few metres away who knew exactly what they were doing. In fact, in a twisted way I could see the appeal. Of course, there was no need for female 'production rooms', so it's not a situation I would ever find myself in. But I could imagine lying on that bed fingering myself knowing that on the other side of the door were male doctors, nurses and patients who had watched me go in and were now picturing me committing the act in their head. It was like being watched without being watched; the thrill of sex in public without actually committing public indecency. I imagined that could be a massive turn-on. Almost subconsciously my fingers started turning the pages of the magazine I had left on the chest, revealing breasts, asses, a few vaginas, nothing too hardcore of course. There was also a distinct lack of men in any of the pictures - no need for them I guess. The picture that eventually caught my eye was one where you couldn't see much erotic flesh at all. There was a young blonde woman wearing glasses and cliché office clothing sitting at a desk in front of her PC. From the side view you could see she was wearing a plain white blouse with a very short skirt and stockings and a suspender belt. Some men are turned on by that I guess. I moved along to the next picture in the set, where she was looking lustfully at the camera, with the blouse pulled up around her chest revealing her breasts. Then the third picture... Night at the Clinic It took me a little while to register what I was actually seeing, but I eventually figured it out. The picture was taken from underneath her desk showing the entirety of her stocking clad legs, her skirt and the bottom of her blouse. At the top of her legs you could see that she wasn't wearing any panties and you could make out the contours of her cleanly shaven vagina. Although the images were obviously a set-up, I imagined what it would be like to sit at work wearing no panties like that. It seemed risky for sure, but if you were smart about it, nobody else would ever know. You would need your own desk of course, preferably in your own office. If you had those things then you could get away with all kinds of depravity. Masturbation at your desk would be possible, even sex toys would be fine providing they didn't make too much noise. If someone came into your office then it was no big deal, they would have no idea what was happening a few feet away, hidden from their gaze only by a few inches of wood. This thought made me incredibly horny. I moved onto the remaining pictures, where the woman was in further stages of undress, showing more of her body. The last one was a view from behind of her bending over the desk, blouse still on, with a tantalising view of her ass and her pussy lips fully on display below. But my eyes kept going back to that third picture, the up-skirt shot of her sitting at the desk. I have no lesbian tendencies, and wasn't sexually attracted to the woman herself, but the scenario was driving my imagination wild. I could imagine gently pleasuring myself with a biro or just my fingers, while pretending to be reading my email or something. I started slowly rubbing my pussy outside my clothes. I really needed to get off! I looked at the bed just sitting there waiting to be used. I picked up the porn magazine and was about to lay on the bed and get knuckle deep into my pussy right there and then, but I heard a faint noise coming from outside. I panicked and quickly shoved the porn back into the draw. I walked over to the door (I hadn't even locked it!) and listened. I could hear the faint hum of a vacuum cleaner but nothing else. I slowly opened the door and there was nobody to be seen. I breathed a sigh of relief and my heart rate began to slow. I quickly walked along the corridor towards the lab, forgetting my intentions to buy a soda. I'm not sure if the prospect of getting caught had added to the excitement or if I was still just aroused from looking at the porn, but my pussy felt like it was about to catch fire! It was warm, dripping wet and just demanding to be rubbed! I turned around and headed straight for the restroom, locking myself in the furthest cubical -- the same one, I noted, that I had used for the act on that night two years ago. I stood with my back to the door and caught my breath, while listening out for anybody else in the vicinity. When I was satisfied everything was quiet, I quickly removed my pants and my simple cotton panties, threw them on the floor and sat on the toilet seat. I opened my legs and immediately moved my hand down in between them, slipped my middle finger into my vagina and began to finger-fuck myself. Ahhh the sweet release! I reached up my other hand to squeeze my breast, still trapped behind two layers of sensible work clothing. Screw it; if I was going to do this, I was going to do it properly. I took my finger out of my pussy and sucked it clean. I hadn't often tasted my own pussy juices and it felt naughty, but tasted good! I then took off my sweater and the thin cotton t-shirt I was wearing underneath and threw them down with the rest of my clothes, so I was now sitting on the toilet seat wearing only a bra. I paused for a few seconds, then unclipped the bra and dropped that onto the floor too (which fortunately looked like it had just been cleaned). Suddenly I was as naked as the day I was born. I looked down at my breasts and at my nipples, which were larger than I had ever seen them before, red and puffy wanting to be sucked. My eyes then wandered down to my pussy that was so wet that my pubic hair was becoming matted and there were already several drops on the porcelain. Only one thought was in my mind -- giving myself the best orgasm of my life. I used the fingers on both hands to pinch and twist my nipples, which at the same time both delighted and frustrated me. Delighted because my nipples were super-sensitive and gave me intense pleasure, but frustrated that this left me nothing with which to stimulate my pussy and clit that were gagging for attention. How I wish I had three hands! I reluctantly left one nipple alone while I returned my finger into the warm depths of my vagina. But I soon realised that my pussy was so wet that I could barely feel it any more so I added a second finger. Ahhh that felt better. I used my two fingers to pump in and out of my pussy while my thumb did the best job it could of rubbing my clit and my other hand continued to work on my breasts and nipples. I found that the wider I spread my legs, and the further I pushed my hips forward, the deeper I could thrust my fingers and the more intense pleasure it gave, so before long I was virtually lying on the toilet seat with my legs in the air and knees spread wide apart. "Fuck me, fuck me" I whispered as loudly as I dared as I thrust three fingers now in and out of my sopping wet love tunnel. I was imagining being ravaged by a big hard cock. No details, as I usually invented when I masturbated, just a big hard love muscle skilfully thrust by an anonymous man, filling me up and hitting every sensitive spot. "Fuck me, fuck me harder!" I suddenly thought about the woman in the magazine picture, bent over the desk giving easy access to her gorgeous pussy. I had never been entered from behind before (to be honest I had never ventured much beyond the missionary position) and it was something that suddenly seemed extremely appealing and I wanted to pretend it was happening. I got up from the seat and bent myself over the cistern. Then with one hand I reached around and started finger-fucking myself again, while the other hand started rubbing my clit in earnest. Before long I felt an orgasm start to build. "Yes, yes, fuck me, fuck me from behind!" I whispered, louder and louder. My knees started to weaken, forcing me to remove my fingers from my pussy and support myself on the cistern to prevent me from falling over. But my other hand moved faster and faster over my clit to compensate. "Give me all of your big fat cock!" I called out. It was no longer a whisper. If there was anybody in the restroom, or even maybe just outside they would probably not only have heard me, but heard exactly what I said. "Yes! Yes!" I cried out as my orgasm hit, starting off as a mini-explosion in my crotch by quickly spreading. "Yes!" I gasped for breath as the orgasm took control of me, filling every part of my body with a sensation of pure ecstasy. I panted for breath and my hand slowed down on my clitoris before eventually coming to a stop. Eventually I regained control of my body and stood up straight. The familiar feeling of terror came over me that someone may have heard me. I unlocked the cubicle and rushed to the door of the restroom, partly forgetting and partly not caring I was still stark naked. There was no sound coming from the other side. I opened the door a small amount and peeked out, but there was nobody in the vicinity. Phew! I returned to the cubicle and quickly calmed down now I knew I had gotten away with my sordid escapade. I was still giddy with excitement both from the orgasm and from the thrill of what I was doing, but part of me was disappointed. It was a terrific orgasm but I felt I wanted more. More of a thrill, more excitement, more risk. A bigger orgasm! My hand returned to my clitoris, but found it was too sensitive to the touch at present. It always was immediately after I climaxed. I looked down at my clothes, still in a heap on the floor of the cubicle and I had an idea. I still had to finish the report for Dr Huntley, but maybe I could make it a little more fun. A little more naughty. I put on my pants, sweater and shoes but nothing else. I stuffed my bra and panties in my pocket and folded up my cotton t-shirt and carried it under my arm. I gingerly made my way out of the cubicle and then out of the restroom door. I started to walk down the corridor back to the lab, experiencing a number of new and interesting sensations. I had never gone without underwear before. The way the fabric of my pants rubbed slightly against my pussy every time I took a step was quite pleasurable and the way my tits bounced up and down without a bra was exciting and sexy. I turned the corner and nearly froze when I saw a janitor mopping the floor in reception. Get it together Jill! I told myself. You're just a member of staff working late returning from the restroom, nothing strange about that! I walked past the janitor, smiled and politely said "good evening", all the time making an effort to stop my breasts bouncing too much by slowing down my walk and minimising the vertical motion. Okay, now I'm just a member of staff with a strange walk and slightly bouncy tits returning from the restroom, still not too bad. I scurried back to the lab and shut the door behind me. I walked over to my lab station, shoved my t-shirt on the adjacent bench and sat down. Okay, what now? I hadn't really thought about what I would do next in too much detail. I really wanted to be like the girl in the porn mag, working at her desk with no underwear on and her pussy on display. Unfortunately I was wearing pants and not a skirt, so it wouldn't really be quite so titillating. Still, it felt a bit slutty to be sitting here working with no underwear on and in the frame of mind I was in, slutty was good! I tried my best to concentrate on the report, but I only managed to write a couple of paragraphs before my work slowed to a crawl. There were several reasons for this, firstly it was boring as hell and I didn't really want to do it. Secondly my mind was still full of incredibly naughty thoughts, which made concentrating on anything difficult. Thirdly I discovered through trial and error that due to my lack of underwear I could give myself little waves of pleasure by twisting my body in certain ways. If I moved my arm like that it would cause the fabric of my sweater to brush over my erect nipple. If I lifted my leg like that it would cause the crotch of my pants to ride up slightly into the slit of my pussy and maybe even brush against my clitoris. Before long, I had stopped typing completely and was just sitting in my chair twisting this way and that, giving myself cheap thrills. I decided to crank it up a notch. I went and grabbed my lab coat, which was hanging on the hook near the door, put it on and buttoned it up. It was a long, unflattering, white lab coat that came down to my knees and fastened all the way down the front. I returned to my desk and then slowly removed my pants, folded them up and put them on the bench with my t-shirt. This was now a totally different level of naughty. I was sitting in the lab wearing literally just a sweater, shoes and a lab coat. But if anybody came in they would just assume I had a short skirt on under my lab coat wouldn't they? In fact, maybe I could even remove my sweater? This felt ten times more daring because I couldn't remove my sweater while my lab coat was on. So I had to quickly remove the lab coat and then take off the sweater, briefly revealing my naked body to the world, before putting my lab coat back on. Once the operation was completed, my heart was once again beating fast with excitement. I was now sitting at my desk wearing nothing but a lab coat. This was no longer a bit naughty, this was brazenly pornographic! I took a moment to run a mental risk assessment. The lab couldn't be locked from inside, but it was quite unlikely that anybody would come here at this time of night. The lab was not cleaned by the regular cleaning staff but by a specialist cleaning contractor that came a couple of times a week. I guess there was a small chance that another member of staff working late might pop by to ask something. Or that the security guard would notice the light on and poke their head around the door to see if everything was okay. But as long as I was wearing the lab coat and shoes and they didn't stick around too long, they probably wouldn't notice anything out of the ordinary right? It was that word 'probably' that excited me. Everything would probably be okay. Nobody would probably come round here at this time of night. If they did, they probably wouldn't notice I was naked under my lab coat. In most areas of my life I didn't like leaving things to chance and taking risks, but right now it was the risk that was making me wetter than you could possibly imagine. I slipped my hand under the hem of my lab coat and rubbed my sopping wet pussy slowly. My clit was still slightly too sensitive to give it serious attention, but the feeling of my fingers running over my swollen, moist pussy lips was good enough for now. After a while I brought my fingers to my lips to taste my sweet pussy juice. Liking the taste, I licked them clean before plunging them deep into my pussy and then licking them clean again. At that moment it felt like it was the greatest taste in the world. Slightly sweet, slightly salty, just like I had heard semen tasted. My mind started racing. At that moment I really wanted to taste a man's love juice for the first time. Of course, under most circumstances that would be difficult without an actual man, but I was in a fertility clinic! Unfortunately it wasn't going to be that easy. All samples that weren't tested immediately were frozen to keep the sperm alive, so it's not like there were any pots of it just lying around. I got up and walked over to the cold-storage unit which hummed gently in the otherwise silent room. I opened the door to see several rows of sample pots, all clearly labelled with a wealth of information. I pulled one out at random and opened the lid, which was quite stiff due to being frozen. I took a deep sniff of the contents. Unfortunately, being frozen, it was almost odourless. Obviously there was no way I could taste it as it was just a lump at the bottom of the pot. I screwed the lid back on and returned it to its spot on the shelf. It was so frustrating! All this lovely sperm here, but none of it in its natural state. None that I could inhale the deep aroma of, and swirl around in the bottom of the pot. None that I could taste... Well, maybe that wasn't true. Maybe there was one pot in here that was different from the others - one that wasn't frozen solid as it had only been here a couple of hours. A sample had arrived late in the afternoon and I put it straight into storage as I was due to go home very shortly and didn't have time to analyse it there and then. Maybe it would still be in a liquid state, even if a little cold. What was the sample number again? I quickly checked the paperwork to find out, before returning to the storage unit and finding the relevant sample. I pulled it out, but found to my immense disappointment that it was already frozen. This deflated me a little. In fact, I almost returned to my desk and started putting my clothes back on. But there was no way I could stop now. The burning in my loins was just too much to bear, I needed at least one more orgasm first. I started to explore my body once more. My hands were cold from handling all the frozen pots, which gave me new and delightful sensations as I touched myself. I stood there with my back to the refrigeration unit, leaning against it for support, as I used my hands to massage my pussy and clit. Somewhere in the back of my mind it occurred to me that if anybody came into the lab now it was game (and career) over, but I was now so horny and in need of another orgasm that I no longer cared. As I continued to pleasure myself, my knees began to weaken. My back started to slowly slide down the storage unit until I was more sort of squatting in front of it. This, in turn, caused my lab coat to ride up my thighs and my legs to open, which gave me better access to my pussy and also displayed my open, wet snatch to anybody that happened to open the door of the lab. But I was way too lost in my own pleasure to care about that now, in fact it turned me on even more! I felt the beginnings of another orgasm start to build, but suddenly I stopped. A thought had struck me. I stood up and, without bothering to put any of my clothes back on, quickly made my way out of the lab. If anyone sees me I'll just... ah screw it, who cares! I quickly made my way a short distance down the corridor to a room marked 'disposal' and let myself in. Why hadn't I thought of this before? Once samples had been analysed they were sent here for sanitary disposal. I had worked on several this afternoon and had then sent the whole lot here. If I was really lucky... Yes! Five sample pots were sitting on a tray on the counter. I could see that they still contained semen; lovely unfrozen semen. Five different samples from five different men. I quickly gathered up the pots and half walked, half ran back to the lab. I put the samples down on my desk and stopped to catch a breath. I stood and looked at the five pots in front of me, selected one at random and tipped it back and forth, watching the contents swirl around in the bottom. Again my mind wandered and I imagined a man jerking off to produce this sample. Maybe it was even the man who had used Production Room B earlier. Maybe he jerked off looking at the same pictures that I had looked at -- the woman sitting at her desk with no underwear on. Almost on cue, I felt a drop of my pussy juices glide down my upper leg. I unscrewed the lid of the pot and paused for a few seconds before taking a deep breath through my nose, inhaling as much of the semen aroma as I possibly could. Involuntarily my hand returned to my pussy and I started rubbing it gently. Slowly I exhaled, before taking another deep sniff of the sample pot. The strong scent filled my senses. I felt like I could almost taste the semen in the back of my throat. I reached down and touched the pool of cum with the tip of my index finger before slowly retracting it. A small blob of the gooey substance stuck to my finger and wobbled slightly as I lifted it to my lips. I rubbed my pussy harder as I slowly licked the semen from my finger, taking my first ever taste of the milky nectar. The taste was slightly salty, and certainly not unpleasant, reminding me a bit of my own pussy juices. But it was the texture that excited me most. It was somewhere between a liquid and a solid, sticking to the top of my mouth. I licked it from there with my tongue and swallowed. As it hit the taste buds at the back of my tongue, I got another salty hit, which lingered a while. I dipped my finger back into the pot, retrieving a much larger blob of semen and bringing it to my lips. This time I played with it a little, rubbing it across my top lip with my tongue before taking it into my mouth. I swilled the semen all around my mouth, mixing it thoroughly with my saliva before swallowing. This was so much fun! My hand continued to stroke, massage and rub my pussy under my lab coat. I wanted more! I wanted to know what it felt like to take in and swallow a whole ejaculation of cum. I drank the remaining contents of the pot in one go, holding it in my mouth for a few seconds before swallowing the whole lot. It felt amazing! The taste of cum remained in the back of my throat long after I had swallowed. I gulped a few more times and each time I felt a little more of the salty goodness run down the back of my throat. Why on earth do some women refuse to swallow? They have no idea what they're missing! Night at the Clinic I picked up the next pot and removed the lid (which reluctantly required both hands for a few seconds). I contemplated just chugging the second pot straight away, but I decided to try something different instead. I sat down, closed my eyes and fantasised about jerking a guy off while he stood in front of me. At the point where he ejaculated in my fantasy, I tipped my head back slightly and emptied the contents of the pot onto my face. "Take that you little cumslut!" said the man in my fantasy. I felt the semen roll down my cheeks and nose. A large dollop collected on my upper lip and I lapped it up greedily, before using my finger to collect the rest and bring it to my eager mouth. I felt an orgasm build once more and knew it was going to be a huge one, but I stopped. I didn't want to come yet, I still had three more pots of sticky goodness to play with. I picked up the third one, which was much fuller, containing probably twice as much semen as the others. What would it be like to take so much semen into my mouth at once? But I had a better idea. I knew exactly where I wanted this mega-load of semen to go. I unbuttoned my lab coat and let it fall open revealing my tits and pussy to the world. My nipples were rock hard, like little pink bullets jutting out from my chest. I used both hands to pinch and twist them as my mind slowly played out another fantasy. "Yes baby, do it, cum all over my big firm tits!" I said out loud. I unscrewed the lid and poured the big payload all across the top of my chest. I sat there motionless for ten seconds or more, just watching the cum slowly slide down my chest and onto my tits. Not only was it an amazing sight, but the scent drove me crazy. With my index finger I gently rubbed some of the semen onto my nipple, then some more around the small, dark areola. Mesmerised by the sight, I did the same with the other nipple, while the remaining cum dribbled between my tits and down my stomach. I slowly rubbed my nipples, while I twisted my lower body back and forth, even the light touch of my labia onto my clitoris being nearly enough to send me over the edge at this stage. After a bit of experimentation I discovered, to my delight, that I was able to lick my own nipples. Not only did this send my hard buds into sensory overload, but it also let me taste the cum that I had just rubbed onto them. It tasted a little different to the previous two pots - a slightly less intense flavour and slightly less sticky. I took my time licking all the semen from both nipples, savouring the new taste and sensations. I looked down at the remaining semen, last seen running down my slightly chubby tummy. It had now reached the top of my pubic hair and had formed a little pool there. Fascinated, I opened the fourth pot and poured that onto my stomach. It followed the same path, slowly dribbling past my belly button down to my bush, merging with the previous ejaculate to form a larger blob. I tilted my pelvis forward slightly and watched as the pool of cum started to ooze into my secret garden. My pubic hair was already damp from my exploring fingers distributing the wetness of my pussy. I helped it along, rubbing the cum into my curls, enjoying the sticky and matted look that it created. I saw a drop of cum had made its way to the top of my slit and I opened my legs slightly wider to allow it to continue its journey. I felt the droplet slide delightfully slowly down my snatch, but agonisingly it missed my clitoris. Instead I scooped up some of the remaining cum from my bush and slowly rubbed that into my clit instead. I almost climaxed on the spot when I did this and it took all the willpower I had to hold back. Not yet, not quite yet. I opened the last pot, already knowing exactly what I wanted to do with it. I poured the contents onto the fingers of my right hand, taking care not to spill any. I paused to open my legs as wide as I could before ramming my entire hand up my pussy, cum and all. My orgasm, which had been not-so-patiently waiting for the last several minutes hit almost immediately. I fucked myself furiously with my hand, the cum lubricating my already wet pussy enough for all four fingers to slide easily in and out while my other hand rubbed my clit. The orgasm became more and more intense, my back arched out of my seat and I screamed out at the top of my voice. "Yes! Yes! Oh my God yes, fuck me! Fuck your little cumslut, I'm cumiiiiiiiiinnnnnngggggg!" In the heat of the moment I did something I had never done before. I took my hand from out of my pussy, thrust my hips forward right to the edge of the seat and then slid my index finger, still lubricated by the cum, up my asshole. This caused my body to spasm violently as the orgasm intensified. Was it still the same orgasm? Or was it a second one coming straight on top of the first? I didn't care! My fingers rubbed my clit as fast as I could as I felt my virgin sphincter spasm around its new invader. "Arggghhhh fuck me! Fuck my pussy! Fuck my ass!" The orgasm finally subsided and I was left as a quivering mass, technically still sitting on my chair, although now practically on the floor. I removed my finger from my brown hole, which even now sent little waves of pleasure up my body. As I came down from the biggest orgasm I had ever experienced in my life, I started to become aware of myself and my surroundings once again. Oh God, look at me! I was sitting at my desk clad only in an open lab coat. My right hand was coated in cum (plus now a small trace of excrement) while my left hand was soaking wet with the juices from my pussy. My pubic hair was a matted mess of cum, sweat and pussy juices and there was cum all over my tits, chest and stomach. I still had the strong taste of semen in my mouth and could still feel some of it in the back of my throat. I stood up and saw that the chair I had been sitting on was also covered in cum, plus a generous decoration of pubic hairs. The five, now empty, sample pots sat innocently on my desk. I was momentarily overcome with remorse, shock, embarrassment, guilt, panic and probably a dozen other emotions too. Had anybody seen or heard me?! I quickly put on my bra and panties, feeling a sense of helplessness as I saw the cum on my tits and pussy seep through the material and form incriminating wet patches on my undergarments. I sobbed ever so slightly as I put on the rest of my clothes, disgusted at the depraved slut that I had become in the last hour. Oh my God, I had rubbed a man's cum all over my pussy, I could get pregnant! It was an outside chance as most of the sperm were almost certainly dead after that length of time, but I would need to go to the chemist immediately and get some 'morning after' contraception just in case. I packed up my things and cleaned up as best I could before hurrying home via the chemist. Dr Huntley's long-forgotten report remained unfinished, but right now that was the least of my problems. Two days ago I was just boring old Jill, now I was sexually depraved cumslut Jill. That was going to take some coming to terms with. ----- Over the weekend I went through the full range of emotions as I came to terms with my Friday night in the office. The events started to seem more and more like a dream, sometimes a fantastic and amazing dream, while other times seeming more like a nightmare. The mind-blowing orgasms balanced against the horror of what I did and the indignity I would experience returning to work on Monday morning. One thing was clear, I would never look at myself in the same way again. I knew that deep inside my sensible, logical and 'boring' exterior, there was a wanton sexuality just bursting to get out. Has it ever got out since? Well, that would be telling now wouldn't it. One story at a time.