He uploads once a week, sometimes more, with this deep, sexy voice. He’s a dominant type and one of the few who can add a growl to his tone without making me cackle with laughter from the cringe. I’ve been following his account for long enough that even just the opening words of each audio can get me going, and more than once I’ve caught myself daydreaming about him at work.
Nobody knows his name, so we just call him Sir in the comments. He’s got a British accent, like me, but we don’t know if he even lives in the UK, with his tendency to upload at totally random hours of the day.
I’m at home one Sunday afternoon when I suddenly feel the urge – frisky, you could call it. If I was in a relationship this would be the time where I went to find my boyfriend and jump his bones. When single (which is often, these days. I’m busy, cut me some slack)? I turn to Sir.
And I was busy. Occasional day dreams aside, things were going so well at work that I’d started staying later to get ahead of things, jumping at the chance of big projects and taking every task incredibly seriously. Even my manager, a usually severe woman, had gently reminded me to take breaks.
I had the weekend to do that though. And even though I wasn’t quite at the stage of ‘I’ll sleep when I’m dead’, I wasn’t far off. So a little tension release was called for.
I close the curtains, take off all my clothes and lie down on my back on my bed. After a bit of touching and stroking my thighs and chest, I reach into my bedside drawer for my nipple clamps – a new purchase, but very, very worth it – and secure a firm pinch on each nipple. Then I grab my vibrator and lube.
I only share this flat with one other person. His name’s Tom, he’s a graphic designer and around five years older than me. We met through one of those ‘find a roommate’ websites when I first moved here and didn’t have the patience to shop around. He’s single, polite, keeps himself to himself and that’s all I really know about him. As he works freelance and I work 9-5, our schedules only occasionally sync up, and that’s just fine with me. Tom is tidy, pays his share of the rent on time and as far as I know, isn’t an axe-wielding homicidal maniac.
And today he’s out. Which means I can listen to Sir without headphones, turn my vibe up to the highest setting and not have to worry about disturbing anyone.
I hit play and start teasing the vibe around my lower lips on the beginning setting. I close my eyes and imagine my favourite Literotica creator here with me.
This new audio is a roleplay one – Sir is playing a CEO-figure and the listener is his sexy secretary. We’re both working late, tensions are running high, and the boss needs to take the edge off…
I just know from the sound of his voice that Sir is good in bed. He seems to know intimately what women want, how to please them. I’d risk it all for a night with the man behind the voice, but for now, this will have to do.
I turn the vibe up to the next setting as Sir starts to unbutton his secretary’s shirt. He talks about her figure, how he admires her, how he’d imagined what she looks like under her clothes.
I graze my fingers over my clamped nipples, now flushed dark pink. My breasts are one of my best features, full and round. When I go out I like to wear tight, low cut tops to show them off, and in bed I can come solely from a man playing with them, touching them, licking and biting…
Things progress. Sir is bending his secretary over the desk, rucking up her skirt, stroking her thighs. I press the button on the vibe again and gasp at the heightened sensation. My breathing deepens, my tits rising and falling as I press against the device between my legs. It slips against me – I’m so fucking wet already, the lube won’t be needed today.
I lean over to my laptop and press the volume up a couple more times, contending with the buzz of the vibe. Oh god, this feels good…I bite my lip and close my eyes, tugging lightly on the clamp and enjoying the pinch. I press the vibe button again – ohh, yes…
“Oh!”
My eyes snap open and a jolt of panic rips through me. My bedroom door is open and Tom is standing in the doorway, staring at me, taking in the sight of me totally naked, legs flung open, nipples flushed in the clamps and vibe pressed against my throbbing clit.
My jaw drops. “Tom! Oh my god-” I start, but at that second – maybe the vibe hits just the right spot, or maybe it’s the sudden adrenaline spike of someone watching, but I come, HARD before him. I screw my eyes shut, hips bucking as my thighs clamp together around the vibe. I can’t help but cry out in pleasure as my orgasm crashes over me, more powerful than ever before and for a second I don’t care that Tom is seeing this – fuck it, let him watch, let him see, let him get a kick out of seeing me like this, naked and wanton…
When I open my eyes again, the door’s closed and Tom has gone. I know two things for sure. The first is that my flatmate has just seen me fully naked and masturbating. The second is that I have just had the most mind blowing orgasm of my life.
The reality of what’s just happened sinks in. I lie there for a second, trembling from a mix of nerves and the aftershocks, before getting up and pulling off the nipple clamps (ow). I quickly throw on some leggings and a hoodie, not wasting time with underwear. I know I have to talk to Tom at some point and decide that sooner is better than later.
I step out into the hallway and hear someone moving around in the kitchen.
“Tom?” I call out tentatively, “Can we talk?”
“Steph,” He replies quickly, but sounding a lot calmer than I expected, “Listen, I am so sorry…”
I edge into the kitchen. Tom’s standing at the fridge with a beer (probably to recover from the shock). He quickly looks me up and down and almost looks disappointed at seeing me clothed.
Hot embarrassment spikes through me. “You’re sorry??” I snap. “What were you thinking? My door was closed!”
He ducks his head and shrugs non-commitently “I was trying to work out where that sound was coming from.”
My stomach drops. Oh god – he’d heard that? Heard Sir describing in graphic detail how he’d fuck his secretary?
He still looks away, but I can see his face redden from here. “I thought…it might be my computer.”
Wait, what? I blink in confusion, “Your computer?”
“My files.” He takes a deep breath, “That voice.”
“What about that voice?” I march over and make him look at me. “That’s private okay, I thought you were out, so what I do in my own room is none of your business!”
I see a glimpse of white as his tongue moves across his teeth, “It’s my voice. I’m Sir.”
For a second I’m stunned into silence. “Fuck off,” I retort, torn between a good dozen different feelings. “No way.”
He sighs and rakes a hand through his dark messy hair. “Want me to prove it?” he clears his throat and the next words out of his mouth shock me to my core “You’ve been a good fucking girl this week babydoll, and I know how much you need this. Good girls get rewards.”