Two Female Roommates &
Their Open-Masturbation Policy
I never thought that I’d get so close to my college roommate, but now we do everything together, including each other!
One annoying thing that everyone experiences at college, but nobody ever acknowledges out loud, is trying to find time to get off. Memorizing your roomie’s schedule, nonchalantly asking where they are going and when they’ll be back, hoping they don’t show up early, etc. With many classes that went hybrid and various events being cancelled or restricted, my roomie and I had even less time to ourselves and were almost always in the room together.
It’s been almost three years since Leanne and I were in a dorm together; we both majored in Women’s Studies with minors in Lesbian Tap Dance Poetry along with Indigenous Basket Weaving & The Human Response.
We are still roommates to this day as we had both managed to get very prestigious jobs in Silicon Valley after graduating from a West coast college.
I’ll start by giving you all a bit of background.
I’m 24. I’m bisexual, not a full-blown lesbian. I’m 5’7, with long blonde hair and blue eyes which I’m told are large, deep and innocent-looking. Like the ocean, I can look beautiful but can be aggressive and dangerous. I’m relatively pale, despite my best efforts to tan. I guess have an hourglass figure. I’m only 130lbs but I have decently sized boobs with wide hips and a fit, round bubble butt with a side of thigh gap! My butt is my pride and joy,
Leanne is gorgeous. She is 23. Physically she is quite different from me. She is taller by a few inches, with short brown hair that she almost always keeps in a ponytail, hazel eyes and lightly tanned skin. She has a slightly more athletic frame, with large, natural breasts that form the perfect cleavage. Her butt isn’t quite as big as mine, but it still fills out her pants nicely, and she has long legs to go with it!
Leanne and I have a bit of history anyways. It’s a bit of a long story but we are much more comfortable with each other than the average girl roommate, which already says a lot. It didn’t take long after frosh week at college for us to realize that trying to be sneaky about female urges wasn’t going to work. We both had the initial awkward talk about having ‘guests’ in the room and the etiquette involved if one of us wanted to have a significant other over in order to have sex. Normally one of us would let the other know and then make arrangements to stay away from the room for a few hours, or stay the night in another friend’s dorm.
But when it came to masturbation, we initially didn’t address it…but there is usually the unspoken rule of “Do it when the other is out,” or “try to have a rub in the dorm showers,” but that isn’t always convenient. As most girls know, nighttime can be murder for having the urges and the hornies, or waking-up in the morning is usually the time I need to rub one out quick; or else my panties are just going to be a swamp in class all day long.
Adjusting to dorm life was a huge switch in terms of privacy, and after going almost a week without being able to get-off properly the frustrations were getting to me and I think Leanne was having the same issue because there were a few times where I think I caught her or heard her try to masturbate late at night.
I would try to do this too, not going to lie, thinking she would be asleep and do it as quiet as possible. Just simple light rubbing over the panties. It would take a bit but it would be enough to ‘get the job done’. Trying to hold in the moans and gasps was the hardest part though along with keeping movement to a minimum.
Eventually, we decided to just drop the act and agree: if we want to get off we’ll get off, no reason to be embarrassed! This came after Leanne woke up one of those nights and calling me out on it…to which I replied that I knew she was also doing it too some nights and I could hear those awkward friction sounds and her muffled breathing.
She was all like, “Yea…I’ve had a couple orgasms so far at night thinking you were sleeping.” And I told her, “ I know..the one night you tried to see if I was still awake by whispering my name a few times and I pretended I was asleep!” Leanne wasn’t mad but she was kinda flattered-shocked, “ Oh my god….you pretended so you could try to hear me do it to myself?” I told her, “Yea…so what…it’s not like you didn’t do the same... or was curious about how I was getting it done?”
So yeah, we both agreed it'd been frustrating trying to find time to get off and that it had been a serious struggle for the both of us. We talked for so long about it: How often we both do it back home; when we started; how we like to do it. Turns out Leanne has a couple toys as well but she learned how to do it by humping her pillow. I told her that was one of my favs, but the detachable shower head at home was the best invention.
We bonded so close after that.
Being a Women’s Studies major was hard enough as it was. For us, it was a four year degree. You may be asking yourself, “Wow, four years…why so many?”
Well, you see, it takes a lot of time to get that specific degree, as a woman.
The first week on campus is called Frosh week, and basically you spend every day getting drunk, partying, going to bars, meeting new people and trying to get your pussy smashed because we all hate our dads so much.
After that, because we are so oppressed, the college gives us the whole first year to figure out where our classes are it, which buildings they are held in, and how to get to them from our dorms. It can be very confusing, because a lot of the buildings are named after old cis males still. Just seeing the names can be a traumatic experience and then we needed to get to a ‘safe space’ (the campus bar that only serves IPA’s/night club or yoga class) quickly.
So, it takes a while to get comfortable going even near the buildings, let alone, having to get up for a 10 A.M. class. So, having said that, we get a full year to practice for the real deal the following year.
This is not even mentioning the hardest part: Women’s Studies classes.
Most of the four year degree involved us navel-gazing and looking down at what was between our legs. Most of the girls in class wore leggings so it was easy to see our camel-toes. I have a vagina!
Leanne has a really cute vagina by the way, and a nice camel-toe when she has her yoga pants on. Gosh, it’s so cute. Like, before going to college and taking these courses, I knew I had a vagina…but I mostly had been an expert on where my clit was at. After all, all through high school that was the only thing I cared about. Where my clit was at so I could make it give me good vibes and clear my head of all the stress of high school; learning about trannys, black people, diversity and how climate change is a bigger threat to the world than Hitler ever was.
To my surprise, most of the women in our classes (including myself and Leanne) had a very hard time locating where our vaginas were at on a medical diagram! It turns out that 45% of women don’t know where their own vagina is at on a diagram. Fascinating. I am so glad I took out a 100k loan and got my degree! If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t be where I am today and I wouldn’t have met Leanne.
Anyways…the first test fell to me.
A couple days after the agreement (m-bate policy) Leanne was at one of her two in-person classes, so I kicked back in bed to do the deed. I lost track of time and she returned to find me with my legs spread, Hitachi in one hand and my phone in the other. We both froze for a second, but then I smiled and dropped my phone to give her a funny little finger-wave.
She sighed and chuckled. She dropped her backpack, walked to the side of my bed and ran her nails along my inner thigh while playfully berating me for being so horny after only a couple weeks back at school—I’d been watching girl-on-girl tribbing porn. Her touch was all I needed; I couldn’t even think of a proper response because my head was rolling across my pillow while I orgasmed.
Since then scenes like this had become a regular thing. It wasn’t uncommon for one of us to return to the room and find the other sprawled out on the bed. Or to wake up and hear a faint buzz, rubbing friction, or heavy breathing from the other’s bed. We might be doing homework, or watching something, or I’ll be gaming, and we’ll just reach down our pants or lose them altogether. Sometimes we pretend it’s not happening, sometimes we’ll trade jokes or banter to lighten the mood, and sometimes we’ll hype each other up and offer compliments, or stare and enjoy the show. Oftentimes the sight or sound of one of us having to deal with a sudden horny flare-up/fiery clit will result in the second girl joining in too.
During one of our “Wellness Days” around “Suicide Prevention Month”, Leanne and I basically ended up in a masturbation marathon. After a much needed sleep-in from the one class we had that day, we both woke up with the same idea: Get off!
As the day crept on neither of us bothered to get dressed beyond sweatshirts; every half hour to an hour one of us would inevitably start playing with ourselves again.
Eventually we just found porn we both liked and put it up on the TV while using our vibrators in my bed together. We were drenched in sweat with our legs draped over each other, fucking ourselves and playing with our clits to draw out orgasm after orgasm. It wasn’t until the sun started setting that we finally decided to give our bodies a break, air out the room of that "just had sex with myself" pussy juice smell, shower, eat and re-hydrate with Arizona Tea.
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Fast-forward to after graduation; Leanne and I both were able to land six-figure jobs in L.A. at Silicon Valley Bank (SVB). Girl power!
It came as a bit of a shock to both of us because we both knew having a degree in Women’s Studies was important, but we didn’t expect it to be such a door-opener. I mean, being young and attractive has its upside, but we are both super positive that they hired me on as a “Head of Financial Risk Management & Model Risk” because they recognized the risk I took going to college as an oppressed minority in a patriarchal society; taking out that 100k loan at 13% interest. I am a 'risk taker' and badass!
Leanne is head of the bank's HR department, but like a bossbabe took on extra projects with me throughout the years: Setting-up emergency (priority) diversity/inclusion meetings, scheduling Zoom meetings in order to agree on when we should have the actual meeting and at which golf course…to then decide where to have a ‘sit down’ and at whose boardroom. Leanne also helped suggest which LGBHDTV shows we should do interviews on and where we should hold yoga retreats in order to foster and promote the lived queer experience.
The days were long and tough at SVB. Leanne and I would both get up; get off together. That sometimes could take 5 minutes depending on how long it had been since our last orgasms, or it could turn into a full-blown session in where your pussy won't let you go to work on time.
After, we will shower and do our hair and make-up in our underwear together.
By 11 AM, we usually make it to breakfast at one of the high-end café shops; catch-up on some personal emails, Tiktok trends, IG, all while eating hot croissant buns and having a perfectly brewed TAZO tea (Lemon Ginger is my fav!).
By noon we typrically make it to the office in order to wave and say “Hello” to everyone while eating a salad on the go. The good part about getting to the office by noon is that most of the staff are already on lunch…so you the amount of people you have to say “Hello” to is very minimal, which I liked.
After signing in to my work station/logging on and telling my secretary to hold all Investor/International calls for the day, Leanne and I would go and hit the gym for an hour or so. Exercise is important as it lowers stress and increases positive endorphins (just like orgasms), which we both needed! Adult-ing is hard so the less stress the better!
Leanne is a beast at the gym. When we were on campus I’d go to the gym once or twice a week, and I'd mainly just do cardio and basic stuff like that to keep myself healthy. At SVB, however, me and Leanne went four to five times a week, at least, and did the full rotation. We are bossbabes so we deserved too. She did cardio, weights, Pilates, endurance stuff. This kept her super fit (and also gave me plenty of chances to watch her change out of her sweaty workout clothes and to see her toned but slightly beefy camel-toe in her workout leggings) One day, though, she went a little bit too hard in a kick-boxing class the gym was offering.
When she came back that evening to our luxury apartment she was in pain, having over-extended something in her back and legs.
I consoled her and offered pain killers: Ketamine, Valium, ice packs or my vibrator on her clit over-top her panties; all the usual stuff.
However, she passed out from a combination of exhaustion and medication before too long.
The next day she was still in pain and incredibly stiff and sore. It was so bad that I carried her bag for her on the way to the office so she could let her body relax and loosen up a bit as she walked. I felt bad for her, and wished I could make her pain go away, but all I could do was commiserate with her and encourage her to make it through the day.
Once we’d both finished work for the day (spent all day scheduling the SVB Diversity Pride Parade) and were back in our apartment, I could tell Leanne was not looking forward to climbing up to her loft to try and lay down. I told her she could lay on my bed, which was at the bottom, to save herself some effort. She thanked me and laid down on her stomach.
She’d chosen comfy clothes, a sweatshirt and yoga shorts, which showed off her long, tan legs and her tight ass cheeks. I sat on the edge of the bed next to her and gently rubbed her back between her shoulder blades.
“I’m sorry you hurt so much. Maybe take a break from the gym this weekend…take the week off work. HR must be so tough on you, managing all those gays, beaners, spics and blacks?”
Leanne agreed.“Yeah, I know. I hope I didn’t strain something. It’s mainly just my back. But yea, it’s the black women that are really hard to manage, I don’t think they like me much. It’s probably because I am white and don’t understand what they are saying half the time. Like... I think one wants to kill me and go tribal because she keeps saying ‘Can I axe you, now? Is not a good time to axe you?’ This feels good though…” She sighed and I felt her body relax slightly as I continued to rub her back.
I turned so I had a better angle and began using both hands, rubbing with a bit more force along her spin and around her shoulders. Her sighs were longer and slower as she slowly let her body go and sink into the mattress. “Yeah…,” the word trailed off from her lips as I continued to rub and massage her over her sweater. I kept this up for a few minutes as I could tell it was helping, but her sweatshirt was preventing me from really working her muscles properly.
“Do you want to take your shirt off and I’ll use some oil?” I offered. She nodded lazily.
I got a towel to lay under her so any stray oil wouldn’t spill onto my sheets and got a bottle of baby oil from our bathroom. As I made the arrangements, I kept glancing at Leanne as she sat up and pulled her sweatshirt off over her head and dropped it onto the floor.
Her body is stunning. Light, caramel-tan, honeydew skin that is flawless and radiant.
Her back was toned, though I could tell she was keeping her shoulders tensed a bit.
Although I didn’t get a full view that moment, I knew her perfectly round and natural breasts were exposed and the thought of them sent a warm spike of excitement through my body. She laid back down and folded her arms above her to rest her head on.
I switched off our dim ceiling light and instead turned on our wax diffuser, which glowed fiery orange and begin sending a light, crispy autumn scent into the air.
The room was dim and intimate, and I took my place back at the bedside.
I drizzled some oil onto her back and began rubbing it in with my fingertips in slow, soft circles.
“Ohhh, this is nice….” Leanne muttered.
“Shhh, you just enjoy it.” I insisted. I’m not a masseuse or chiropractor or anything like that (I use to do this to some of my professors after class) but I was happy that I could take away her pain, even for just a little bit. I spent about fifteen or twenty minutes massaging her, doing everything from light taps, circles with the tips of my fingers, to stronger rubbing with my palms and knuckles. She said nothing else, just sighed with relief and occasionally winced or groaned if I hit a tender spot. I came to a pause as her back was now tinted red from all of my massaging, and asked if she wanted me to do her legs too since I knew they hurt.
“Yes please, if you don’t mind…” she said eagerly. I didn’t at all. The more time I had to touch and admire her perfect body, the happier I was! I shifted the towel down below her legs. I prepared to use some more oil, but stopped. I had a thought, both practical and conniving.
“Um, can I take off your shorts so they don’t get all oily?” This was a legitimate concern as I wanted to give her thighs a proper rubdown, but I also just wanted to have Leanne at the mercy of my hands while she was in nothing but her panties!
Fortunately my massage skills had left her relaxed and happy to comply. She wordlessly lifted her hips, allowing me to slide my fingers into the waistband and slide them off her.
I was rewarded with the sight of Leanne’s perky round butt in a white Calvin Klein thong. They are my favorite underwear of hers because the bright color contrasts with the light tan of her skin and really accentuates her incredible ass. It took all of my willpower not to clamp my hands down onto her cheeks then and there.
Instead, with my eyes still glued to her delectable buns, I oiled up my hands and went to work on her calves. Leanne was soon whimpering and shifting slightly on the bed, so we quickly realized her legs were way more sore than we thought. I proceeded cautiously, rubbing with as much pressure as I dared and letting my hands glide along her legs from the back of her knees down to her ankles. I did my best to alleviate the discomfort she was feeling, but I knew ultimately they would just need time to heal, so after a bit I moved on.
During this time, I heard an alert on my phone go off. Then like 10 in a row. I thought it was the usual 15 guys I have on rotation. I glanced over and it was about our bank’s stock trading significantly lower in ‘afterhours trading’. I didn’t know what that meant and that our bank even had a ticker on the stock exchange. I wouldn’t have cared anyways because Leanne was all I could focus on at the moment. Human beings are more important than billions of dollars; the financial system was making me feel anxiety and not good vibes at all. After all, Leanne is a woman for fucks sake! And women are amazing and need all the support.
I got off the bed and knelt on the rug beside it while I started working on Leanne’s feet. She has adorable feet. Her white toenail polish was starting to chip but still looked cute, and her soles were scrunched slightly as she tried to resist the tickling that accompanied the oily rubdown I was giving her. I’d given Leanne foot massages and shoulder rubs before, but always in a much more casual way while watching a movie or something.
This was the first time I’d had the chance to give her a proper full-body massage with oil, without any other distractions to me or her (aside from all the alerts going off on my phone). I was floating in the clouds, and was determined to make it last as long as possible for both my enjoyment and Leanne’s. Her soft sighs, faint smile, and noticeably relaxed posture had assured me she was content to let me keep working as long as I wanted.
I pressed my knuckles into her soles, digging them in a bit and really pressing on the balls of her feet. I slipped my fingers between her toes and rubbed each one individually, giving them all the attention that they deserved. As much as I loved her feet, I had an even more exciting area I wanted to get to.
I ran my hands up Leanne's legs again to her thighs. I prepared to get more oil, but before doing so had another idea. I climbed onto the bed again and straddled her calves, so that her thighs and booty were directly in front of me.
My heart was fluttering at such an incredible view, and I could tell she approved of the new arrangement as she softly rubbed her legs against the inside of my thighs as I settled into position. I greased up her thighs with more baby oil and began to massage once again.
Her thighs aren’t quite as big as mine, but they are taut and sexy. My hands were gliding up and down easily, and I made sure to stop just before reaching the curve of her butt cheeks. Apart from wanting to give her a properly good massage, I also wanted to build up to what I hoped would become an even more intimate encounter, and ensure that if it happened we were both as excited as possible. By this point over an hour had passed since the massage had begun, and Layne seemed to be hovering on the edge of sleep.
I kept at it, squeezing her thighs and doing circles with my thumbs, until I decided to make the next move. My phone battery finally died so I didn’t have to hear all those annoying dings and emails popping up! I mean, how rude is it to email and try to call someone after work? The work day was over…don’t people have lives and common decency?
So, I ran my thumbs up her thighs once again, but this time I kept going until they were pressed against her butt. I paused very briefly before tracing the beautiful curve of her cheeks with my thumbs, thus pulling her cheeks apart ever so slightly. Leanne made no audible response, but she scooted just a bit so that her butt was in better reach of my hands, and that was the only signal I needed. I resumed this maneuver, except each time I allowed my thumbs to press harder into the soft, warm flesh of her booty.
Soon I was spreading her cheeks wide enough with my motions to glimpse the thin strand of white fabric hiding between them. And I also noticed the faintest wet spot on the fabric directly over her mound.
I swallowed dryly, and my hands were trembling like my pussy. I could tell Leanne was legitimately turned on by my attention, and the revelation had me flustered, but excited. The next time my hands glided up her thighs, I fully cupped her ass cheeks and gave them a playful jiggle, watching her glowing skin, slick with oil, ripple and bounce in response. She giggled and shifted her weight below me. I let my hands slide up onto her ass properly. I began to knead her cheeks, giving them a proper rub with my knuckles and palms. She sighed and nodded to indicate it felt good, so I kept at it.
I squeezed and grabbed freely, using the opportunity to make Leanne feel good and explore the goddess-like beauty of her form. My breath was coming in spurts and my hands were still trembling as they played with her booty. I began massaging in large circles, letting my hands pull her cheeks apart again as I moved from the inside out.
This time I got an even better view, and I could see the hint of her pink balloon-like asshole hidden by her thong and just below, the swollen lips of her pussy straining against the miniscule scrap of fabric.
It was time for another move. I slipped one finger beneath her thong above her butt, pulling it away slightly so the warm air came into contact with her privates. “Off?” I asked innocently.
“Please…” the word came out as a breath, heavy and impatient. Once again Leanne obediently lifted her hips so I could work her panties off, rocking it back and forth over her hips and across her butt. I had to dismount from my position so I could pull them the rest of the way off. As I started to climb back onto the bed, she spoke again.
My heart seemed to stop and spiral out of control at the same time. “Are you sure?”
She nodded, and watched with a relaxed, contented expression as I pulled off my t-shirt and let my shorts drop to my ankles. I stepped out of them and reached to slip my panties off as well, but Leanne interrupted me. “Other way.”
“Huh?” I asked, confused. In response she indicated with a twirl of her finger that she wanted me to spin around. I blushed and complied, turning so my back was facing her. I hooked my thumbs into the waistband of my panties, and keeping my legs locked I bent at the waist and tugged them down, playfully teasing Leanne with the sight of my undies peeling off my big butt. Once they’d passed the curve of my cheeks I released them and let them fall. I straightened up and turned to look at Leanne over my shoulder.
Her eyes were fixated on my ass and her lips were parted just slightly. She silently extended a hand towards me and I knew what she wanted. Giggling, I kicked my panties away and backed up until my rump landed in Leanne’s grip. She sighed almost inaudibly as her hand slowly tightened around my ass, giving my left cheek a loving but firm squeeze. She did this for a few seconds before switching to the other side, jiggling my ass a little to watch it bounce at the slightest movement before she coyly withdrew her arm and finally looked up to meet my gaze.
I smiled back at her, blushing, then took my position astride her legs again. Her own bare butt was directly in front of me, looking like a perfect peach. I drizzled more oil onto the tops of her cheeks and let the drops run down before resuming the massage. I returned to my previous motion, moving my hands in circles across her cheeks. I applied a bit more pressure so as to properly work the oil into her skin and soothe her muscles.
Leanne’s perfectly bronzed butt was glowing with the dewy glint of the oil, and my breath continually got stuck in my throat as I struggled to slow my heart rate and keep myself from diving face first between her buns. Once again I began to pull her cheeks apart slightly while I rubbed her down. This time there was no fabric to hide anything.
The skin between her cheeks was paler, and her small, pink asshole was gleaming from the oil that had dripped down her crack. Just below, the lips of her pussy were even pinker and clearly swollen. They glistened now in the moonlight through our window as well, but I could tell it was more than just oil.
As the minutes crept by, I allowed my fingers to wander further inwards. They began to graze the inner curve of her cheeks, and then glide along the length of her crack, and finally I gently stroked her hole with my pointer finger, applying just enough pressure to communicate to her that I knew what I was doing. Her response was to strain her thighs against mine.
Getting the hint, I lifted myself up briefly so she could spread her legs wider. This motion caused her lips to pull apart slightly like rose petals unfurling, and in spite of myself a little whimper escaped my lips. Leanne heard, and murmured a giggle before jiggling her wet ass a bit to tease me. I needed no further invitation. Returning to my seat, I pried her cheeks apart and resumed my soft touches on her asshole with my left hand.
While this happened, I began running my right hand up and down her thigh, creeping closer and closer to her groin each time. Leanne's breath was getting heavier, and she began to shift now and then on the bed. I recognized the tell-tale signs of aroused desperation, and deciding not to be too mean I allowed my fingers to cup her pussy.
She was blazing like the sun, and I could feel the wetness that had seeped out onto her lips. A strong exhale from her and an immediate release of tension in her thighs and hips told me this was what she wanted.
I began to message her mound, rubbing and pressing in a rhythm with my left hand as well. I slipped my middle finger between her outer lips, letting them glide easily between her until I found her clit. I continued the synchronized massage, this time adding small circles on her clit. Leanne’s fingers were fluttering across the sheets, sometimes gripping them and sometimes clenching and unclenching repeatedly. She ground her hips in response to my touch, and her thighs squeezed shut and then relaxed over and over as I worked her body. After a few minutes, I put another dollop of oil directly on her asshole.
I placed my index finger on it and began to massage it with more force, pushing firmly against her but not penetrating. I adjusted my right hand and slid my first two fingers inside her pussy slowly. They entered with no resistance, and the wet, fiery heat of her pussy enveloped me. She felt like heaven, and I began to massage her from the inside while using my thumb to continue stimulating her clit.
Leanne was now audibly encouraging me with high, whiny “mhmm’s” and “yes’s”, and I focused on maintaining the rhythm between my busy fingers while increasing the pace and pressure. I began to steadily finger-fuck her, keeping my fingers against her G-spot as they moved in and out. I had to go slower, but Leanne did her best to relax.
Soon she wanted it harder, and I was working her pussy with quick pumps, my arm moving like a that basketball team from Detroit (Pistons?). I could feel her pussy starting to clench around my fingers, so I slide into her deep and began doing circles to match the motions on her clit. This change put Leanne up to another level. She moaned aloud and writhed as I worked her pussy deeply but tenderly.
Within a minute she reached back to tap my arm in a frenzy. “Oh I’m cumming, I’m cumming!” she said, her breath still strained and full of pleasure. Sure enough, her pussy locked my fingers in place and a new surge of wetness washed over them. All I could do was continue to rub her clit while the waves of pleasure rolled through her body.
Her orgasm came in several spurts over about forty-five seconds. When the last jolt faded, her body relaxed enough that I was able to withdraw my fingers from her creamy cunt.
I sat back, sweat coating my body from my efforts, and idly rubbed Leanne’s body.
I trailed my fingers over her legs and butt and back, and eventually laid down beside her and wrapped her up as the little spoon. Our oily, sweaty bodies stuck to each other, and in between the kisses I planted on her neck and cheek and the softly murmured “Wows” and “Thank yous”, we chuckled at the forthcoming pain of unstitching ourselves.
After several minutes laying together, we finally got up. As we shook out the stiffness in our limbs, Leanne genuinely thanked me for both the massage and happy ending.
She insisted she would return the favor; she just needed to shower first so she wasn’t so sticky. I told her I would join her, and giggling we squeezed ourselves into our walk-in shower (not that we minded the close proximity).
The next day we both learned about our bank going up in flames and fully collapsing (just like us the night before), almost causing a full-blown banking crisis.
It’s crazy how life just happens! To be honest, I am kinda glad I will be out of work for a while because that job seriously stressed me out! There was so much more diversity and inclusion training that needed to be done and I am only one person.
I had good policies in place at the bank. After all, in collge Leanne and I drafted our Dorm Room Open-Masturbation policy which was highly praised by all the other RA's(Resistant Assistant). I even put that on my resume!
Everyone though is so racist and sexist for letting our bank go into full receivership.
We were the most woke out of all the banks and obviously we were targeted by the patriarchy as they wanted to see us fail. They couldn’t handle or accept that it was almost an all female-run bank with ex-Lehman Brothers employees. Leanne and I worked so hard to get those jobs with our college degrees, staying fit and attractive and putting-off having a family, boyfriends and husbands in order to be the dads we never had or hated.
The good news though is since Leanne and I are both out of jobs we will be spending even more time together!
Yours Truly Horny,
Ms. Risky Business