You must have seen them. Unlike lions, who tend to lounge about when not actually eating or mating, tigers tend to pace. No matter how natural their enclosure may be, they rarely rest for long. To watch a tiger pacing in its enclosure is to watch pure power, pure predation, the sinuous movements of a pure hunter.
And that, my lovelies, is how I feel on ‘the’ day. The day that falls smack between one period starting and the next one due. I have no proof, but I suspect this is ovulation day. No, scratch that….this is, I suspect, ovulation moment! The urge to have sex sweeps over me suddenly, and it’s raw, consuming, almost desperate.
My body can be fooled of course. A good orgasm will pacify it into thinking I’ve had sex…well….at least for half an hour or maybe an hour. Once ‘the feeling’ hits me, I am like this for six to eight hours.
And today, it hit me in one of my coffee shops. I visit them all regularly. I’m not a micro-manager by any means, but neither am I a distant owner. This is my business family, and my visits are about staff presenting ideas to me. I get all the financial information I need daily, but even with the likes of Zoom, there’s nothing like the personal touch.
Today was the store where the coffee machine broke down and a new one has just been installed…and fuck me…they are expensive! We didn’t open until 11:00, just in time for the lunchtime rush which has become a tidal wave in all the stores, as has breakfast, and the 5:00pm - 6:30 ‘tea’/after work time. Each period of the day has been carefully analysed, and the interim slacker periods have almost trebled their trade because we vary what’s on offer throughout the day.
I was talking to a girl called Alice when ‘it’ happened. Have you seen the bit in Harry Potter when Professor Lupin sees the moon and the blood starts thumping and his eyes immediately change? Well, it was like that. A mini hot flush (jeez…menopause is going to be a bitch) followed by me mentally stripping Alice to her bra and panties. (Honestly Anna….what a thing to do.)
Alice is 18 and this is her first job from school. She’s bright though, really bright, and never presents an idea to me that she hasn’t fully costed and researched. Today, she was telling me of a nearby office that had closed down it’s canteen, much to the annoyance of the workers, since their head office had just refurbished theirs.
Alice had, at her own expense, prepared a ‘lunch basket’ of a range of our products, including toasted sandwiches, and asked if she could go and sell them at lunchtime. She’s been doing that for a week, and completely selling out. She presented me with her takings, which I refused, adding the same again from my own pocket. Initiative like this needs rewarding. She wants to use my branding, my recipes, my products, and run the lunches there to which the manager agreed. I suspect as much to quell the discord as much as anything.
And half way through…IT happened again. Suddenly Alice was in her bra and panties. I simply knew she still wore a trainer bra. I simply knew she had blue panties on, and I simply knew the state of her crotch. Alice isn’t the sort of girl who shaves I don’t think, and so I had not only an image of her pubic hair, but also the smell of it….captured talcum powder mingled with that essentially feminine scent that wicks up from her slit. A few moments later and it felt like my sense of smell, highly acute at the best of times, had multiplied itself a thousand times, and each time she moved, I could smell her.
Miss Brain leapt happily onto the bandwagon, supplying images of Alice masturbating quietly in the bath or in her bed at home. (She still lives with her parents, and doesn’t have a boyfriend). More than that, Miss Brain seemed to make a direct connection with her brain and I felt I knew what Alice fantasises about. Alice, lying in her warm bed, legs spread, knees bent and her hand in her panties. Biting the first finger knuckle of her left hand, and imagining a boy wanking. His hand moving on his cock, and the anticipation of him spurting. This, I felt certain, is something Alice has actually seen! Seen, I was sure, but not done. Somehow, I was also certain that Alice doesn’t use anything inside herself when she masturbates. Secret, quiet, hidden wanks are they way she takes care of business, and oh, how sweet that is!
The flood in my panties was embarrassing, even for me. Although Alice became the centre of my world at that moment, I could never have made a move. I’m not like that, and this feeling doesn’t take me like that. I become highly sexually aware, but I don’t feel the need to seduce or make anyone uncomfortable. What might happen if someone picked up on how I was feeling and made a move on me, I have no idea.
Yes I do. If someone ‘read’ me, and made a pass at me, they could fuck me nine ways to Sunday! I saw Alice sniff. Once, twice, three…four times. I realised I had crossed and uncrossed my legs several times….and boy, was I wet. A last image of Alice flitted through my mind. She and a nameless girl had experimented with kissing. Just that. Just a kiss or two. Just as, in my mind, their lips touched, I had a spontaneous orgasm in my panties. I know I have these and have become very adept at covering them up with coughing fits.
Alice went back to work glowing with pride, and with my blessing to run the concession for as long as it lasts….and on 50% of the profits. Initiative needs rewarding. As a result, she will be on the lookout for more opportunities now, whereas if I hadn’t rewarded her, she would wonder what the point of going the extra mile was. Firms that close their workers’ restaurants down while keeping their own at head office, don’t like to let things run for long. They are mealy-mouthed when it comes to their employees and like the pigs in Animal Farm, they think that they ‘need’ better facilities than anyone else, because they have to make the ‘difficult decisions’.
As for me, I knew what I had to do. Into the rest room, and into one of the stalls there. Panties down, knees spread wide, knuckle of first finger left hand in my mouth and a ‘secret’ wank. My mental image was of Alice, under her duvet, doing exactly the same thing. All I allowed myself to see was the subtle movements of the duvet, and her face. Her brow furrowing and relaxing as she got close and closer, the whispered, “Fuck!” Or maybe, if she knew she had the house to herself, the still whispered, “Do it on me. Cum on me,” and the mental image of him shooting his load onto her flat tummy causing her to cum into her panties. Her head jerking to one side, obvious to the casual observer, (me) that she had just cum.
This time, it was no touchless orgasm. It tore through me forcing a trickle of something to hit the water below me. When I cum this hard, especially sitting on the lavatory, I have no idea if it’s squirt or pee, but then, it hardly matters, does it?
Pacified, at least for now, the tiger returned to her pacing around her cage. In eight to twelve hours time, this raw, sexual feeling will dissipate, and settle back to my normal level of sexual feelings. Even so, images continued, and will continue to flit through my mind. The Lovely Chris shooting ‘live’ semen inside me. Me getting pregnant - God, how much I want that when I feel like this! I crave sex, in all its forms. Men. Women. Both. It is now, during this eight to twelve hours when I would relish being gang banged. I crave being covered in semen from head to toe. I even consider phoning The Lovely Chris and asking him to meet me here. We could do it in my car….and there is none of the birth control I used when I’m with him. No condoms - although we rarely use them, no cup, no spermicide. I stopped taking the pill three months ago, and feel worlds better for it. Spermicide isn’t as safe as the pill, and condoms? Oh please! If I wanted to be fucked like that I’d make a balloon animal! (I can, you know. My balloon sausage dogs are legendary!)
I leave the cubicle, and rejoin my staff. The place is rammed with people, and I know the other shops are too. “Quality doesn’t cost, it pays.” My dad’s phrase runs through my mind.
As I drive home, still horny as fuck, I distract myself by thinking about the village pub which is up for sale. I’ve toyed with the idea of buying it, and even went for a look around. As I see it, it has three problems. 1)It’s tied to one particular brewery…that won’t do at all. 2) It doesn’t serve food. Whoever heard of a village pub not serving good, well-cooked food, most of which is supplied from local farms? 3) It has suffered from decades of zero investment. A canal runs right past it and there used to be moorings for passing boat trade. A mental image flicks on in my head. Four narrowboats tied up, the beer garden, now immaculate, with happy families enjoying a pub lunch. Christmas ‘specials’, a chef, maybe a newly qualified one eager to run his or her own kitchen, a selection of wines and beers……I make the decision, and phone the agent from the car. I make an offer (well below the asking price) and by the time I get home, it’s accepted.
Is this it, then? Is this my calling in life? Turning round failing food and drink outlets? Why not? I seem to have a flair for it, and my first venture into it made me a very pleasing return on my investment. I recently had my chain of 12 coffee shops valued, and the prospective return over and above my investment to buy them was massive. So, I called into the pub on the way home to tell the bar staff their jobs would be secure, if the sale goes through - I know breweries selling pubs try to put all kinds of restrictions on new owners, but I have a fabulous commercial legal firm who does all dad’s work, and now mine. I’m told they will try it on to begin with but it won’t be a problem. Although I would want changes made. The pub is tired, and so are they. Revitalisation for both is required.
When I got home, the first person I saw was Dani, and my clit leaped in response. Emily is out for the day and Dani made me a quick lunch which we ate together. Every inch of her screamed sex….but I know that’s just me at this time of the month. Every curve, the flatness of her tummy, the way her dress fell over her bum, and seemed to be sucked into the V between her legs. Her scent….yes, I know it was mainly soap, but somewhere in there was the scent of her….maybe a wisp or two…maybe the thinnest strands. Mmmmmm.
As these 12 hours progress, so does my hunger for sex. I’m at the raunchy, perverted stage now. From nowhere, Miss Brain showed me a still photograph of Dani squatting over my face in her panties. Like the photographs in Harry Potter, this one had magical properties. For a start, I could feel her warmth and smell her intimate scent. Fuck! My clit is on fucking fire!
Another photograph, created just for me by Miss Brain, who can be my greatest ally or my greatest torturer. This time, of The Lovely Chris, balls deep inside……Dani. And me, tied to a chair being forced to watch. He fucks her, cums inside her and she stands up and talks to me. I don’t hear what she says. All my attention is focused on the semen running uselessly down her thigh. I don’t want to lick it from her. I want it in ME! I want it doing it’s work inside my belly.
I can’t use the multi gym to work any of this off. That room is closed off to us since there is now a fucking great big hole in it where the pool will be. “Health & Safety” demand that only contractors are allowed in, complete with their hard hats. And…well thank you Miss Brain, now I’m being gang banged by the builders.
I stomp upstairs to our bedroom and take a hot shower. My panties are wrecked anyway, and I need to change them…although what’s the point? A clean pair will be soaked again very soon. A wank in the shower? Of course! I’ll cum many times today. Miss Brain has free reign, and she will show me all kinds of dirty things today.
Well, I have to stop typing now. It’s hard to type while holding a vibrator up one’s vagina, and a dildo up one’s bum!
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