So a few years ago I was summoned for jury duty. Being a true crime fan, I kind of always wanted it to happen, so I was super happy to finally be called up. And hey, it was a couple of weeks off work, so who can complain!

I can’t discuss the details of the case (obviously) but during one of the deliberations, the conversation turned to the morality of voyeurism and public sex.

Now, like any good jury, our group had the entire spectrum of life: the chatty retiree who knew everyone’s business, the quiet college student buried in their phone, the mom of three who could organize anything, the grumpy guy who hated being there, and, of course, the hot stranger–Jururor 4–whose eyes met mine when I said “Well, it’s all up to personal preference, I guess. I kinda find that stuff…kinda hot.”

“Oh honey,” the old lady said with a little smirk. “You are a wild one, aren't you?” I smiled back and shrugged, and the conversation moved on. I tried very hard to pretend not to notice the Juror 4’s eyes lingering on me for a little while afterwards. I tried very hard to pretend to myself that it wasn’t making me a little wet.

Back in the courtroom, we returned to our assigned seats. To my right, the old lady. To my left, Juror 4.

As we sat down, he leaned in close and whispered in my ear. “Do you want me to make your afternoon a little difficult for you?”

I smiled, staring ahead of me as the courtroom filled up again, contemplating what I had just heard.

“Depends on how difficult you’re thinking,” I whispered back without looking at him, keeping my eyes on the judge’s bench. My pulse quickened, and I could feel the heat rising in my chest.

He didn’t respond right away, but I felt the slightest brush of his hand against my thigh under the table. Just a quick, subtle graze that sent a jolt of electricity through me. My body tensed with the realization that this wasn’t just flirting anymore—this was about to get real.

I shifted in my seat, trying to focus as the judge began speaking, outlining more boring legal details about the case. My heart was pounding in my ears, and I couldn't stop thinking about Juror 4 beside me, close enough that I could feel the heat from his body.

A few minutes passed, and then, when everyone’s attention was elsewhere, I felt his fingers trail softly against my knee. It was so subtle, so hidden beneath the table, that no one else would have noticed. But it was enough to make my breath hitch.

I knew I should have pulled away, acted like nothing was happening. But instead, I leaned in just a fraction closer to him. My body was betraying me—no, I was betraying myself—and with each second, my desire to be touched…there…grew stronger. His fingers trailed lightly up and down my thighs.

By the time the court adjourned for lunch, my pussy was drenched. As everyone filed out of the jury box, I lingered, waiting for the others to leave ahead of me.

Juror 4 stayed back too. I turned to look at him and noticed the huge bulge in the front of his pants. Fuck. I needed it.

Maintaining eye contact with him, I opened my legs and licked my lips.

Within seconds his fingers were up my skirt and inside my panties, slowly rubbing my clit. I gripped the back of the seat ahead of me and started to shake, the orgasm building instantly after being teased for so long. The few remaining people in the courtroom turned my way as my body started to convulse, my nipples hardening, my breath heavy. It was so fucking obvious at this point, and that only made me cum harder, a small audience of men and women watching as I rode Juroror 4’s fingers.

It was all over in minutes, the shame hitting me instantly. I readjusted my panties and headed out to lunch without looking back, leaving a few mouths agape in the courtroom.