Erica’s First Time Sans – Part 1

Erica had been working at this same desk for five years, which was four and a half years longer than she had been married to Kevin. She rather liked her work routine. She didn’t have a corner office, but her corner cubicle was shifted back from the walkway and situated beside a window. She didn’t make six figures, but she had regular raises that more than kept up with inflation. And she had steady work, except for Friday afternoons. If you did your work like you were supposed to the rest of the week, by Friday at noon you had nothing left to do, and four hours to wait until quitting time.

Before she got married, Erica had filled this time by scrolling Facebook and playing games on her phone. Now she had something to do that made the time fly by.

Some of her more promiscuous friends from school told her that after marriage, sex died, but she found for her virgin self that when her husband popped her cherry, he had unlocked all that sexual potential her friends had wasted before marriage. She and Kevin had sex every other day at least, sometimes more, but she still found herself thinking about it often in her free time.

So on Friday afternoons, she’d take her phone off the building’s wi-fi and go into incognito mode before opening one of the erotic library websites she had found.

Today’s stories seemed a little meta: she found herself pulled to stories about girls who worked in offices like her. But unlike her, they didn’t wear panties. Some of them kept it a secret, others flashed, some masturbated, others found someone to do that for them, but all of them felt such power in ditching that little scrap of cloth. Just the thought made Erica wet down there.

Then a notion occurred to her. A tingling sensation ran up from her warm pussy to the top of her head, then washed over her back in a cascade of chill bumps.

She’d do it too.

The “how?” now became the question. As quickly as she asked herself, she had a solution. She got up and started walking to the bathroom. Shortly after reaching the aisle, she slowed down. Was she walking too fast? How fast did people normally walk to the bathroom, or just around the office? She worked to calm her mind and steady her pace. She realized she didn’t have an answer to that, which meant that her co-worker didn’t either. She steadied her pace and finished her trek to the bathroom.

Inside, she found both stalls in use. She almost turned around and left, but she figured that would be more suspicious than her weird walking on the way here. Why did there always seem to be a line in the women’s room? All you had to do was sit down, do your business, wipe off, wash your hands, and leave. Unless everyone else was also changing their panty situation. The idea was ridiculous; nevertheless, she listened to see if the woman in the stall was shedding her panties. She heard nothing out of the ordinary.

When the woman came out of the stall, she scowled at Erica. Had she known Erica was listening? No, it was Marsha from accounting, and that was her normal face. Erica realized she was standing around too long and entered the stall, making sure to lock it behind her.

Once within the tiny space, she made quick work of her plan. She pulled her pants and underwear down, having a bit of difficulty as usual getting them over her sizable tush. Next, she sat down to work on the more technical part. She slipped the left leg of her panties down past her ankle and over her foot, then pulled it back up through the hole. With only one leg still held by her panties, she reached up her right pant leg and pulled it all off over her foot. Her heart was racing with the thrill of actually doing this.

Erica stood up and pulled up her pants. As soon as she got the waistline past her large backside, she felt the coarse material in places she never had before. It tickled across her bush as it rubbed against the hairs. The back cupped her butt and made her hyper aware that only one piece of cloth separated her private parts from the world. It was daring, bold, exhilarating, and just a touch scary. Her mind raced over all the possible ways she could lose her pants and be exposed. But in her five years working here, none of those had ever happened even once, so she pushed the worries aside and focused on the new sensation.

A cool breeze played across her waistline. When she looked down, she found her pants held out from her body a good half inch at the top. The gap was quickly swallowed up where her hips swelled to meet the fabric. Did it always have this gap, and she just never noticed it? Did her underwear keep her that protected and desensitized? She let her shirt drop down, and it easily covered the waistline gap. She also felt it sweeping across the middle of her butt—something else her underwear had kept her from feeling.

Her underwear… that was the next issue: how to transport a pair of Granny panties back to her purse at her desk without them being seen. She tried stuffing them in her pocket, but it bulged awkwardly, and almost half of the wad stuck out. She tried tucking them in her waistband, but when she moved, they threatened to fall out. The last thing she needed was to drop her panties halfway back to her cubicle. She contemplated just tossing them in the trash, but they were relatively new. Erica wasn’t sure how she would explain to her husband why she didn’t have any on when she got home, though she left the house wearing them that morning.

Then she was struck by what she thought was a brilliant idea. She pulled up her shirt and began stuffing her panties’ waistline under her bra strap. The bra was tight enough to hold it in place, and when she put her shirt back down, not even the outline of her panties showed.

Satisfied, she exited the stall and washed her hands. She hadn’t done anything that required her to wash them, but it was a habit, and she had to keep up the illusion that this was just a normal bathroom trip. She checked herself in the mirror. Her shirt hung out loosely in front of her and gave no indication of the underwear hiding below. She felt the hem of her shirt rising in the back. It felt good sliding up her cheeks and remained well below her waistline. She dried her hands and left the bathroom.

A wave of fear rushed over her. Everyone would know. She was committing a huge taboo. She calmed herself and started walking to her desk. She crossed her arms, feigning a chill, to add extra cover to her oddly placed panties. With every step, she felt her pants shifting back and forth. The butt seam jumped from side to side on her crack. The crotch continued to tousle her pussy hair. None of it was terribly distracting or hypersensitive, but it made her completely aware of every feeling in her body. She was especially aware of the fact that underneath her clothes, she was always naked. Other everyday sensations, normally ignored, became prominent. Every step brought the cuff of her pants against her ankle. Her shirt took turns touching her tummy and her back. The sleeves caressed her arms as they swung by her sides.

She was a little bit sad when she reached her desk. She wished she could keep walking to continue the awareness of her clothes against her skin, but she couldn’t think of anywhere else to go that wouldn’t require social interactions. As much as she tried to convince herself that no one knew she was going sans, she just wasn’t ready for that.

So she sat down at her desk and was greeted by the unexpected sensation of the fly of her pants bunching up and trying to push into her. She had to keep herself from crying out in surprise and a bit of arousal. After she regained her composure and checked to make sure no one was watching, she pulled her underwear from beneath her shirt and leaned forward to put it in her purse. The fly continued to play with her lips. As she leaned forward, the seat of her pants cupped her buttocks, running its seam across her gluteal cleft. It gave her a small shiver of delight.

She tried putting the undies in the main opening of her purse, but they were far too obvious there. A solution quickly presented itself when she spotted her tampon case. It was large enough to hold her granny panties, and if she had to go to the bathroom to put them back on, the tampon case wouldn’t be questioned. Heck, even if someone looked through her purse, they wouldn’t find it odd for her to have a spare pair in there. Not that she was too concerned with the opinion of someone who was invading her purse.

The rest of the day passed quickly. She skipped the naughty stories, fearing they might make an obvious wet spot in her pants when combined with her current state of dress. She got caught up on her phone games and with her friends on Facebook.

After about an hour, she went to the water fountain to refill her bottle. After it was filled, she put the lid on it and set it aside. Then she gathered her hair back—in a way that felt unusually seductive—and leaned over to get a drink. Given the height of the fountain, she had to bend over almost ninety degrees at her waist. She felt her pants pull tight against her rear, and her shirt rose above her waist. She took greedy rhythmic slurps from the cascading fountain. She was certain anyone looking would see her hips swaying as she fought to prevent them from moving in an active grinding motion. At this point, she wasn’t awfully worried about what an onlooker might think, but she did try to maintain at least a little office decorum.

When she was satisfied with her drink, she stood up. A bit of water ran around her lips and dripped onto her shirt. She smiled. Now, both sets of her lips were wet. She then noticed a man in line behind her for the fountain. From his position, he wouldn’t have seen her hip motions too much, and his neutral expression said he hadn’t just enjoyed a show. He must’ve stepped up just a moment ago. She left her smile on as she made eye contact with him by way of greeting, and grabbed her water bottle before walking off confidently.

Near the end of the day, Kevin texted her to say he was getting off work early and would be making quesadillas. She liked it when he made dinner, but that also meant she wouldn’t have any time to put her underwear on at home, so right before she left work, she took her tampon case to the bathroom. She didn’t even bother sitting down this time, just dropped her pants to the floor, stepped out of them, and stood half naked in the stall for a moment before begrudgingly putting her granny panties back on. They felt so constraining. After she put her pants back on, they just felt wrong. There was so much material covering her womanhood.

On her way back to her desk to pick up her purse, she felt the underwear grabbing onto her pants as they tried to shift, bunching up the fabric in weird spots. When she leaned over to get her purse, the only sensation that met her was her soft cotton panties beginning to absorb the moisture from inside her. As she walked out of the building, this created a bit of a puddle in her underwear that made her feel like she had wet herself, which was not as sexy as she had hoped it would be. When she sat down in her car, the crotch of her pants bunched up as it had at her desk, but her panties stopped her fly from playing with her hair. It just felt like too much material down there.

The ride home was uneventful, but she spent the ride planning out what she was going to do with Kevin, and that kept her wet.

To be continued next week in Part 2.