Girlfriend's coworker walks in on me masturbating.

In 2 parts, By rtyuuioyuih1. Listen to the ► Podcast at Connected.

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 Chapter 1

There was a knock at the door.

I chose to ignore it. It was probably just the delivery guy with some package my girlfriend Abby, had ordered. He could just leave it in the hall. I was, shall we say, indisposed at the moment: in bed, pants off, headphones on,  you get the picture. My Abby was at work and I had chosen to spend my evening with a little stress relief. We have a healthy and active sex life, don't get me wrong. But there's something different about doing it yourself every now and then.

"Ben, open up!"

God damn it. I recognized that voice. Although, I had never heard it here before. That was Abby’s coworker, Emily. They were waitresses together at the place a couple buildings over. The nice thing about living downtown is that everywhere we needed to go, including work, was walking distance. I had met Emily on several occasions when I'd come by the restaurant. We had even gone out for drinks as a group after my girlfriend got off work.

I always liked hanging out with Emily. She was genuinely sweet, funny, and enjoyable company. She was also, coincidentally, stacked. I can only guess of course, but I'd estimate she's 5'6", 110 pounds (10 of which were boobs), and maybe a 34E. She looked like a brunette Kate Upton. And clearly, I wasn't the only one who thought so. My girlfriend had raved about how nice Emily's boobs were, and would affectionately laugh at how her friend always seemed to show up to work with the back zipper pulled down, when rent was due. One night after drinks, I was feeling particularly brash, and on the walk home I confessed to my girlfriend that I found her friend difficult to look in the face. She playfully slapped my arm, but then conceded that she too struggled to make eye contact after a couple beers. That wasn't the only allusion my girlfriend made to her bi-curiosity, but that's a story for another time.

"Ben, hurry, I know you're in there! I only have a few minutes!"

Whoops. How long had I left Emily knocking at the door? I guess my reminiscing had melded into my fantasizing. God damn it, "Coming!" I yelled to her. I thought I heard a small giggle from the hallway. I opened the door from my apartment only wide enough to stick my head out. I didn't necessarily want her to see the rest of me like this. "Hey, Emily, what's up?"

"Finally!" Emily said. "Your girlfriend told me you'd be home to let me in. Look, while we were doing our side work, I accidentally spilled marinara sauce all over my bodice. I don't have time to run all the way home, and your place is so close to work, and your girlfriend said I could clean it here."

"Oh, um, sure. Of course. Um, come in, " I hoped my extra-long tee shirt would hide my dwindling erection. I wasn't sure how my girlfriend expected one of her shirts to fit Emily - my girlfriend is the hottest girl I know, but she's not as well-endowed as Emily; no one I'd ever met is as well-endowed as Emily.

Emily pushed past me into the apartment. She gave me a quick look up and down, smirked, and said, "Cute outfit. Where's your girlfriend's dresser?"

"In the bedroom, to the left there," I informed her. I was so pleased to be of assistance to this wildly attractive, platonic friend that I briefly forgot the state of the bedroom. A little too late, I clamored to follow Emily in, hoping to subtly straighten up.

Emily saw the sheets thrown back, the open laptop, the headphones. She looked back at me, starting with my boxers, and then flicking her eyes up to meet mine. She smirked, and said, "Don't worry. Your girlfriend warned me what I'd be interrupting."

Great, I thought. I know girls talk, but I'd prefer these sorts of habits were more of a private matter between me and my girlfriend.

"And don't be embarrassed," Emily continued. "I spend my days off the same way."

That shocked me. While my sex life had been pretty active since getting to college, and I had learned a lot about the world from the internet and my girlfriend, I had grown up in a very conservative household - the type where it was assumed girls didn't enjoy sex and that masturbation was an exclusively male past time. I was relieved to learn over the past couple years that those were all inaccurate assumptions.

While I was reeling from Emily's brazen confession (and trying not to picture her in action until after she'd left), she had apparently chosen a shirt: one my girlfriend would probably consider over-sized and comfy, but might look tight and sexy on Emily's frame. Emily had exited to the living room, and I distractedly followed. "Well, I'm glad I was able to help. Are you gonna make it back to the restaurant in time for-"

I froze mid-sentence. Emily had stripped off her one-piece right there in my living room - right there in front of me! Her boobs were as perfect as I had imagined. They didn't sag or droop an inch when released. Her nipples were tight and erect, right at the center of two perfect pink, quarter-sized areola.

"Ben? Ben. Ben!" Emily giggled and I became aware I'd missed the last several seconds of whatever she'd been saying. "Are you alright, Ben?" I nodded. "They're just tits, Ben. Although, I'm happy you like them." I nodded again. "Why don't you have a seat, Ben? You look like you're gonna fall over." Emily giggled again. I loved that giggle. She washed out the stain and grabbed a bath towel to pat the outfit dry. It was a black satin, so any wetness was not too noticeable.

"As I was saying," Emily continued, "I actually don't have to be back at work for a little while. It turns out they overscheduled us tonight. I just want to be back for the dinner rush. Seeing as we've got some time to kill, I thought maybe I'd hang out here for a little bit?"

I finally found my voice. "That sounds great!" Too eager. "That sounds great," I repeated more measuredly. I'm not sure when Emily had put on my girlfriend's shirt, but I was finding it easier to think now - even despite her nipples poking so prominently through the thin cotton. "What do you want to do?"

"Well," Emily stretched out the word as she stretched her arms up to the ceiling, stretching the tits up to expose more of her midriff temporarily. She giggled again as she couldn't help but notice me noticing her body. "Maybe we could finish what you started?"

"What?"

"You know. You could go get your laptop and we could finish whatever you were watching. I'm always curious what other people are into."

"I don't know, "

"Come on, Ben, it'll be fun!" She bounced in her chair as she said so. I was still hesitating, so Emily got up and went back to the bedroom herself. She talked as she walked, "Look, it'll be harmless. You touch yourself; I'll touch myself. No harm, no foul."

I finally gave up. This was too good an opportunity to miss. And she was right, if we both kept to ourselves, then we weren't doing anything too illicit, right? But then I remembered what I had been watching when Emily knocked.

"Oh," I heard from the doorway. "Busty college slut titty-fucks lucky guy," Emily read the title as she carried my laptop back to the living room. "I should have guessed. And she's a brunette too. Fantasizing about anyone in particular?" she teased me.

I was so embarrassed. I don't always masturbate thinking about Emily,  but I'd be lying if I didn't say she's a lead actress in my mental entourage. I didn't know how this was supposed to proceed (my girlfriend knew I watched porn, but we had never watched together), so I was glad Emily was taking the lead. She set my laptop on the coffee table, sat down next to me, and cuddled up next to me. Already, we were touching, but I guess it wasn't sexual touching.

"I usually watch girl on girl