Story of the Week: Love As Deep As The OSHA

Many thanks to Director of Public Relations at Compliance and Safety  for the inspiration for this story by sending me this link! If you have a story suggestion, or would like to write your own, contact us here. See the nice email – click to enlarge!

Love As Deep As The OSHA

Love As Deep As The OSHA

James Fackler let out a deep sigh, shook his head, and looked back at the computer screen. He was reading a blog piece emailed to him about the Occupational Safety and Health Administration, or “OSHA”, as it was known in political circles.

“President Obama is often framed as a big spender, but does this narrative hold true for OSHA? It does indeed, with OSHA spending hitting record levels immediately after Obamas inauguration.  OSHA is bigger than ever before, both in terms of funding and in terms of revenue generated from fining businesses. This is great news for working class citizens but not quite as exciting for business owners.”

By God, this article was good, even though there was a grammatical error in it, which was a little disconcerting. Really, James pondered, if someone is going to write an entire page on an important issue, hit “post” and then email it around to thousands of people, it might do some good to run it through a spell and grammar check. And the error involved the misuse of the possessive form of a singular noun – the President’s name no less. No matter. James was completely on board with what this article was saying. OSHA was killing him and business owners like him with these fines. And the more frequent random inspections? Too much.

James shook his head and sipped on a paper cup of overheated coffee. He was about to ask Cassie to make him a lunch reservation with his old Harvard pal Philip when he heard a knock at the door.

“Come in,” he huffed, barely glancing at the door as it opened.

“I hope it’s ok that I’m here without an appointment,” a soft voice murmured.

James spun around to find a young woman leaning up against the doorway, a huge, ratty trench coat wrapped around her body. She wasn’t exceptional looking – her messy brown hair was tied up in a loose bun; dark glasses adorned her face. Probably just one of those stragglers he’d seen outside his plant looking for work.

“Oh, hello,” James offered, standing up. “How may I help you?”

“May I sit?” The Woman queried, motioning towards the seat in front of James’ desk.

“Of course,” James replied as he strolled along to the front of the desk and leaned back. “What can I help you with?”

“Well, this is hard for me…”

“Please, go on.”

“My brother died a few months ago from a workplace injury at one of your plants.” The Woman bent her head down before speaking again. “Tommy Figgs, do you remember him?

James shook his head as he spoke, “Can’t say I do. I mean, there are so many employees at my plant I can’t really remember them all.”

“But… you’d remember a dead one.”

“No offense but I’m a busy man…” James was cut off by The Woman.

“Fuck..me..,” The Woman said as she jumped up.

“I… I’m sorry that came out wrong.” James jumped up and turned to grab a tissue from his desk when he felt a hand press hard on his lower back.

“I said, fuck me,” a hot voice whispered in his ear. The Woman was directly behind him. James stood, hands atop his desk, slightly bent over. Surely she was crazy! James had always considered himself to be an attractive man, but it wasn’t like women were throwing themselves at him…

Two hands grabbed his shoulders firmly and swung him around. He looked at her, this Woman, who now stood before him naked. She had released her hair from the restrictive bun, taken off the trench coat and removed her glasses. My God she was… beautiful! How could he not have noticed before?

“You can stare all you want but you have to fuck me.”

“But… what’s the…”

“I want you to know what it’s like to put a hard day’s work in under insecure working conditions. So tonight, when your factory closes, I want you to meet me in your plant. Be prepared to work overtime.”

“This is absurd! It’s the holiday season and I have a family!”

“I don’t care,” The Woman snapped. “Besides, if you don’t, I’ll take this photo straight to the media.” The Woman held her iPhone up to James’s flushed face. On the screen was a photo of him bent over his desk with The Woman naked, making a lewd gesture with a phallice she had somehow whipped out for the picture.

“You’ll never get away with this,” James hissed.

“Oh, I think I just did.” The Woman grinned mischievously and wrapped the trench coat back on, pulled her hair up and threw on the glasses. Why, she was homely again! James thought, as he curiously studied this little chameleon.

“I’ll meet you at your plant down the street at 8:00 tonight. No need for a hard hat. I hear you skimped on those this year for most of your staff. I’d hate it if we had to have something large fall on your head.”

She shut the door behind her.

James walked aimlessly through the now empty plant littered with forklifts and boxes. It was night, and he had made sure everyone went home on time. The employees were all so… grateful. One woman even gave him a hug. How odd, James thought. If that’s all it took to make his employees happy…

Suddenly, he heard a whoosh followed by a crack and before he knew it, James fell to the floor in excruciating pain. He saw blood seeping out of his pant leg. James looked up suddenly when he heard the footsteps of The Woman walking towards him. Her hair was down, her glasses off, and instead of a trench coat she wore a tight latex top and bottom. She looked hot again. But James was in pain…

“What the hell was that for,” he yelled.

“Get up,” The Woman demanded.

“But I’m bleeding!”

The Woman knelt down, whip in hand. She placed a finger under James’s chin and tilted his head up to meet hers.

“Two years ago you made Rick Hardworth work with a cut on his leg. If he had gotten medical attention, even a band-aid, they’d have to write it up in a report and it would bring down your impeccable safety record. He had to work all day with a cut leg and you will too.”

Before he knew it, The Woman wrapped the whip around his back and under his armpits, pulling him up.

“See that room over there in the corner where those steel drums are piled up in a hazardous manner that goes against several safety codes?”

“Yes,” James said. He knew exactly which room she was talking about.

“That’s where you’ll fuck me. Except I get to wear this.” The Woman whipped out a very large hard hat.

“But they’ll fall on top of me!”

“That’s how my brother got injured… the first time. You can leave once you get me off.”

James hated to admit it, but he was damn excited. He immediately shed his clothes and practically ran into the cold room, The Woman walking behind him. She sat herself up on a drum, pulled off her latex bottom and looked down at him.

“You’re hard.”

“I want to do a good job.”

“I like that work ethic.”

With that The Woman grabbed James’s waist and shoved his torso in between her legs. He gasped with exquisite pleasure as he felt the tip of his manhood touch her welcoming, warm moist lips. She thrust him towards her, harder and harder, until he felt her come on his cock. She screamed so hard with every shuddering climax that The Woman threw her head back, causing the already shaky pile of steel drums to rattle. James looked up and before he could say anything, The Woman leapt off of him as a lone drum crashed down on his torso.

“Ow!”

“Are you okay?” The Woman was standing over his naked body, sprawled on the ground, pinned by the heavy steel.

“I’m ok, I just can’t… quite get up…”

“Shhhh. Someone will be here to help you tomorrow.”

“What?” James struggled to push the drum off but it was too heavy. “I need your help!”

The Woman pulled her pants back on, and grabbed her trench coat from behind a box and slipped it on. She spoke to James as she pulled her hair back and placed glasses on her face. Dammit she wasn’t hot again. How did she do that?

“Listen, James, do you know how many workers at your plant end up in your same exact position just because your plants don’t meet OSHA guidelines?”

“I won’t complain about OSHA again, I swear!”

“Shhh…” The Woman placed a finger on James’s lips. “You’ll be fine. Someone will be here around 8am I think, and they’ll help you. That’s twelve hours from now – I told you you’d have to work overtime.”

“But… I didn’t even get to climax with you.”

The Woman turned towards the door.

“Work isn’t always fun, James.”

“Stop!”

The Woman turned back curiously.

“Can I see you again sometime?”

The Woman grinned, pivoted, and strode out of the plant.

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Story of the Week: The Fiscal Cliffs

Sophia Whitcomb dashed hastily into the old barn, her tarnished petticoat falling out of the rucksack she held firmly to her chest. Cautiously she looked around the huge stables that once housed magnificent horses on this grand island. The stable was black save for the orange specs of dusk peeking in from the wooden slots. Sophia threw off the large black cape, slumped down and let out a heavy sigh. She did it, she thought. And she had actually gotten away with it.

“And, pray tell, what are you doing here young lady?”

A deep voice startled Sophia. After a few seconds she peered around the room cautiously. Sophia held her breath and hoped that whoever it was would go away. There was no way she could explain her cover, and knew she would surely risk death if she was found out.

The figure of a man emerged from the shadows and Sophia could barely make out a face. His hair was long and stringy, his torso broad and strong. From the silhouette she could see a pitchfork and what looked like a bucket.

“It’s not safe here, to be alone by yourself,” the voice brusquely hissed. The figure came closer… Sophia let out a sigh of relief. It was just Adelphi, the young stable boy.

“Adelphi, why didn’t you say it was you,” Sophia got up from the cold floor and brushed herself off.

“Miss Whitcomb?”

“Yes, yes it’s me,” Sophie blushed slightly. She realized that she was wearing nothing but a hastily tied corset and a pair of pink bloomers. Sophia reached for the cape when Adelphi stopped her with a wave of his hand.

“I understand. It helps you with the escape.”

“Escape?”

Adelphi took one more step closer and smiled.

“The soldiers they’re… everywhere. They already took your father and your beloved.”

“Trust me, Adelphi, this place is far better off without the likes of them…” Sophie bit her lip before continuing. “I mean, I will very much miss my father and… Stepen.”

“Your fiancee?”

Sophia shuddered at the word.

“Yes, fiancee, whatever you like. And yes, I’m escaping.”

“Escaping what?” Adelphi placed his hand on a shovel and furnished her with a sly smile. “You don’t think it’s better that this government is controlled by the people instead of a king?”

“No, I most certainly do not,” Sophia spat with a ceremonious toss of her head. “That is why I took all of my most prized possessions and am headed towards the Fiscal Cliffs. There’s a boat there with my people. I escaped the tower where I was being held dressed as a commoner. And now, I’m… I’m here.”

“I see.”

The fierceness in Sophia’s countenance began to wane.

“You won’t tell anyone, will you Adelphi,” Sophia begged.

Adelphi smiled and sauntered towards her. She was so beautiful; so innocent. Her noticed that chest glistened with perspiration and her bosoms heaved up and down with every harsh, nervous breath she took.

It is true that Sophia had no idea what was waiting for her over the Fiscal Cliffs. She imagined a diamond and jewel encrusted ship; her adoring maids tending to her every need. But Adelphi seemed to know something… What could he know? He was just a stable boy.

“Sophia, I’m not going to tell you not to go to the Cliffs.”

“You’re not?”

“No,” Adelphi smiled. “But you do know there is no boat. Or at least, that’s what I hear around the town.”

“There IS a boat!” Sophia cried defiantly, trying to hide the flicker of doubt that was rushing through her body as Adelphi studied her carefully. “There… has to be.”

“Listen, I can’t force you to stay.” Adelphi walked closer to her, brushing her soft bosom with his hand before gently cupping her left breast. “All I’m saying I let me give you a proper goodbye.”

He leaned in towards Sophia’s yielding lips, and the two kissed. Sophia had always fantasized about this… how had he known?

“Wait Adelphi, stop… I can’t do this. I’m still a lady. I have never before been with a man.”

“I know,” said Adelphi, now trailing a line of kisses down Sophia’s neck. “That is why I will only pleasure you with my mouth.”

Sophia gasped as Adelphi picked her up swiftly and sat her next to a soft bed of hay. He draped the cape over the pile and placed her delicately on it.

“Adelphi I…”

“Sh… no talking. And try not to make any noise at all. We wouldn’t want anyone finding us.”

“But if I don’t talk what other noise would I ma… AAAAA!”

Sophia arched her back and let out a wild cry when she felt Adelphi’s calloused thumb beneath her undergarments trail the base of her clit lightly.

“Those kinds of noises.” Adelphi whispered in her ear, and continued to rub her mound. Sophia squirmed with aching, but knew she musn’t make a noise.

Adelphi kissed her mouth, her neck and down to her bosom as he effortlessly released the restrictive lace on the front of her corset. He took turns suckling on each nipple as he continued the exploration with his hands on Sophia’s lower lady-flower. He soon pulled her bloomers down and moved his head below.

All Sophia wanted to do was cry out, groan, anything! Adelphi masterfully drank her in with a mix of enthusiasm and delicate passion. Sophia couldn’t take anymore – she was about to explode.

When Adelphi felt her body convulse under him in rolling spasms of thunder, he pulled himself on top of her and clasped his hand on her mouth as she continued her gyrations under him.

“Mgrphrmph!” Sohia groaned under his coarse hand, and then went limp. Adelphi rolled her over so she could rest on his torso.

After a few minutes, Sophia lifted her dizzy head from his chest. “If you were trying to keep me from going over to the Fiscal Cliffs, it didn’t work.”

“Please Sophia, you know you are free to go.”

“Oh I will!” she said stubbornly before nuzzling her face back in his chest. “Let’s just stay here for a couple of days. You have a lot more work to do before I leave.”

“Well technically, I don’t work for you anymore,” Adelphi whispered into her golden hair which he was stroking his free hand. “But as a favor, I’ll let you stay here. If you do some work for me.”

“It’s a deal,” Sophia smiled and lay her head back on Adelphi’s chest. There was no need to go over the Fiscal Cliffs. Not today.

Story of the Week: No Labels

This week we are delighted to present a story from an anonymous guest blogger! This was written a few months ago for the awesome political erotica mash-up site, Hail to the Slash.  If you have a story suggestion or want to submit your own, contact us here.

No Labels

By: Anonymous

Just a joyless campaign. It was way too early for this shit, and it wasn’t even 5:30 a.m. Joe was spent; Geist was out today doing God knows. Did these candidates even like politics? Obama, trying to be so above it all. Romney, just, like, odd. No interest in the game. No desire to do the back-and-forth scrapping Joe craved. Where was a third party to re-energize this race? Sometimes he felt like he was talking to no one, the loneliest man at the roundtable leading the morning news of the world.

The world put a little more slump in his shoulders this 7:45 break.

As “Up the Junction” played over the tag, Joe felt a little tug at his trousers from under the desk.

“Hello.”

“Wha — ?” Years before he’d become a little reluctant to look down at what was up at his Deep South.There had always been rumors about Olbermann wearing nothing under the waist, and just… nasty. Plus this one time Katrina tried to initiate footsie with him, which he tried to play off by saying he wanted something a little more middle-of-the-spectrum, but —total kink-fest, let’s just say, so weird. And he wasn’t into it, not at all.

“You have a surprise visitor for the 8:00 hour.” It was Mike Bloomberg, Mayor Mike, Bloomberg Bloomberg, who had crawled under and made a little compact box of himself on all fours.

“Mr. Mayor?” Joe whispered.

“Yes, Joe. I wanted to get back to you about your key to the city.” He unzipped the fly.

“Freeball economy,” he observed.

“Boxer label was chafing.” Mike’s finger curled around his mushroom head, which already had precum. With a push of the finger up his nose Joe was able to cover up his surprise. Glasses adjustment. No big.

Damn. Diana, dirty Diana had taught Mike this move in the town car from the townhouse, he once told Joe. In the time it took to drive him from the stoop to the 6 she could get her mouth around him just long enough to give him a semi, a semi with which he would watch the show at City Hall. It was a little awkward for him to take care of at the office, what with the no walls, and he liked to come over to the set every once in a while to take care of business. He might be brusque, might have a lil harassment suit here or there, but it didn’t mean he didn’t have needs, needs a no-strings relationship with Joe filled in him. All issue politics, no labels.

“Just relax,” Mike said. “Join the conversation.” The piano riff on “Oliver’s Army” swirled over Joe and he let pure sensation take him to the top of the Freedom Tower. Those first few times he had tried to fantasize about others: Goth girls he’d run into at the D.I.Y. shows in college, back in ‘Bama. Ones he could talk the Smiths with. Hardbodies educated at small liberal arts colleges in Western Mass. International superstar, redhead, Matthews’ chick, before the Citibank guy. The blonde, the one everybody thought he was fucking — if they only knew about how their relaish got destroyed by somebody’s fixation with Daddy. Always felt like she was trying to rebel being with him. Made him act the bad boy. And that wasn’t a label he could live up to, not him, anyway. He needed something with no labels.

As if reading his mind, Mike elongated his tongue to hit a little more on the shaft.

“Stunningly superficial,” Mike muttered, sucking a little harder and adding a little teeth onto Joe’s cock that cut through like the voice of that other Boston Mike, Barnicle. Mike was never able to get rid of that old Boston accent, even with all his time in New York and Baltimore, and so he was unable to mimic Daddy’s Polack growl. Even so, it got Joe hot, and for the first and maybe only time in his life he wished he could replace his drawl with one of those long Bal’more “O”s.

“I mean, my God!” he yelled. He hoped to God Bill Kerins couldn’t hear him in the other room. Ever onto Joe, though, Mike just swallowed and smiled.

“Business before the bell. I’ll have my staff analyze this data set later this morning.” Man, Mike just got him. Like union contracts, collective bargaining, hello? Fiscal discipline? I mean, Friedman and Meacham were kind of with him on this one, but Mike had something else, ambition or something, no pretenses. No labels. All chemistry. Mike was street, from poor folk, just like Joe, and they shared something deep down no pundit could divine.

“Mika, tell us what’s in the morning papers,” he said, diverting his thoughts onto a ring from the Gold Coast vent. Look anywhere but under the table, Joe. Look at the tabletop. Look at the ring. It condensed; Joe’s spirits evaporated.

When Joe looked back down under the table, Mike was gone.

Big Papa

I’d like to take a second to mention another political erotica story site, Hail to the Slash! It was conceived and written by the very funny Josh Fruhlinger. Please do enjoy. And now for this week’s story…

Big Papa

“Ridiculous, just ridiculous!” James Smallwood spat under his breath as he hastily hoisted his left wrist into one of the two cold metal cuffs above his head affixed to the brick wall. With a quick snap Alyssa locked the restraint shut and did the same with James’s right hand, which he had already willingly placed in the other.

As Alyssa turned to search through her bag of tools, James, bound to the wall, spoke furiously.

“I mean, can you imagine?!? Insurance for ALL my employees working more than 30 hours a week? I know, I’ll just make them work 29 ½ hours a week, that’s what I’ll do.”

Alyssa nodded absentmindedly while fastening a pair of nipple clamps to James’s pert crimson chest buttons.

James groaned at the cold sensation of metal on his chest and continued, “The only other option is to fire a bunch of employees, and then what will they do? If their only skill is to m….” James shuddered as Alyssa tightened the leather strap that was now tied tightly around the base of his ball sack. His turgid shaft became harder at every tug of the material.

“M…mmmm….. make pizza!” he exclaimed eagerly, finishing his original thought.

Alyssa knelt down to observe her handiwork on the slave. James could hear the squeak squeak of her tight latex body suit as she shifted positions, studying him.

“Looks like you’ve got a bit of precum right down there,” she said pointing to his cock, scolding him. Alyssa put her finger on the tip of James’s swell and rubbed a healthy amount of jizz onto her finger before standing up. She faced him and placed the finger onto his trembling lip.

“What did I tell you about getting excited too soon?

“Y… you said to wait Mistress.”

“Then what’s this?”

James held his breath and before he could manage a response, Alyssa shoved her finger into his welcoming mouth.

“I want you to suck your fucking jizz right off my finger you piece of shit Pizzaboy. Go on… suck it all.”

James closed his eyes and took Alyssa’s whole finger in his mouth, tightening his suction as she pushed it further and further into his face hole.

Alyssa smiled. “Good job, Pizzaboy. Now that finger is nice and clean for your ass.”

“Thank you Mistress.”

Alyssa knelt down, picked up a soft rag, and began to methodically shine the stiletto heel of her knee length boots.

“But you see, Pizzaboy, I have another idea. It seems like you enjoy busting people’s balls, right?”

“Yes, Mistress…” James wasn’t quite sure where she was going with this.

“So I thought we’d do something a little different today. I could give Mr. Garlic Stick a break,” she said, nodding to the large white butt plug that James had so endearingly named. “Or…” Alyssa smiled coyly. “We could let him work alone today.”

Alyssa quickly whipped James’s body around and before he could steady himself, James felt the familiar wide object being shoved hard into his anus. He whimpered at the initial shock of it, and then yelped when he heard the rip of duct tape coming from behind. Alyssa placed the thick tape on his ass cheeks, fastening Mr. Garlic Stick firmly in place. She then spun him back around to face her.

“So, ball busting. I charge extra and I haven’t done it in a while.”

“I’ll pay whatever you want.”

“Anything?”

“Anything, Mistress.”

Alyssa thought for a second and then ripped another large piece of duct tape from the roll. She placed it over James’s mouth and he groaned in approval.

“Oh, ok. Looks like now we can properly negotiate.”

“Mmph mphrrr.”

“My son needs to go to the doctor tomorrow and that’s going to just going to hit me hard. Real hard.”

Alyssa grabbed a long leather whip from her bag and adroitly snapped it with expert precision, catching one hair from James’s chest.

“So I was thinking you can double my session price today. How about $4,000?”

She snapped her wrist again, causing the whip to lick an inch long cut on his chest. James howled beneath the duct tape.

“What? Too low? Let’s call it at $5,000 then. Sound fair?”

James, tears of pain in his eyes, grunted as he nodded.

“Excellent.” Alyssa flicked her wrist effortlessly one last time, landing a sharp blow from the tail of the whip across James’s thighs. He cried out ecstatically. This was his favorite thing… the teasing.

Alyssa placed the whip down and lifted her knee onto his chest.

“So now I’m going to shove my heels into your balls. What do you think about that? I’m going to do that, and I won’t stop until you come for me. Are you going to come for me?”

James nodded exuberantly.

Alyssa smiled and traced a red nail across his chest.

“Then you’re going to eat it all for me, swallow it like a hungry little Pizzaboy, aren’t you?”

James could barely hold his excitement any longer; he did his best not to finish right there, his aching shaft begging for release.

“Well ok then, let’s begin.”

James readied himself for his delightful punishment. Now this was money well spent.

Story Of The Week: Voter Fraud

“Hello, this is Melissa with the Voter Fraud Hotline, how may I help you?”

“Oh…” The voice on the other end of the line stuttered. “I… I’m sorry, this appears to be a wrong number. Are you sure this isn’t Pizza Palace?”

Melissa sighed and rubbed her temple with her free hand.

“No. No, this isn’t Pizza Palace. But while I have you, do you happen to know of any voter fraud…” the buzz on the other end of the line was deafening. Only two calls in the past 5 hours and both had been wrong numbers. Melissa put the receiver back into its cradle and leaned back. It was 1:00 pm on election day.

When Melissa had signed up last month, she was positive the phones would be ringing off their hooks. Even her supervisor Kristy had taken on extra volunteers, all of whom were now on a very extended lunch break. Melissa had chosen not to join the others at the Olive Garden as she was sure the calls would start rolling in any minute. She was proud to be from the great state of Ohio, and imagined that today was going to be the most exciting in her 23 years of life.

But as another hour ticked by, Melissa sat alone in the large conference room filled with tables upon tables of quiet phones. The walls were plastered with the red, white and blue signs for their candidate.

“This is the right number you know,” a deep voice startled her from around the corner. “We double checked this morning.”

It was Josh, one of the other volunteers. Melissa had just met him that morning and she liked him very much. He was about her age, and his strong physique suggested that had played sports in college. He was neatly dressed in dark pressed jeans, a blue button up shirt and a red tie. Melissa smiled at him and twirled a finger through her flaxen ringlets.

“How was the Olive Garden?” Melissa asked.

“You know, the usual,” Josh said as he leaned against the table and furnished a sly smile on Melissa. “I sure do miss the never ending basket of bread sticks, though.”

“Those are gone?”

“The current first lady changed that with her health initiative last year. The Darden corporation rolled over to her whim. Apparently people can’t control themselves so the government needs to tell them how to eat.”

Josh leaned into Melissa’s ear and whispered, “That’s why we’re trying to get the other guy in. I want to eat as many bread sticks as I can get my mouth on.”

There was something about the way he said that last part that made Melissa squirm in her crisp pantsuit. She could have sworn that Josh had been flirting with her earlier that morning. At one point she noticed him staring at her from across the room before making a mock ringing noise, picking up the phone and saying loudly, “Oh, what, this is Heaven? Yes? Yes, I hear you’re missing an angel,” before winking at Melissa and furnishing a finger gun in her direction. Sure it was cheesy, but she giggled. She liked cheesy.

“So,” Melissa said, taking a sharp breath. “I guess there is no voter fraud being reported yet.”

“That’s right, not yet,” Josh nodded. “I’m expecting to be here well into the night. I mean, most of the calls will come in after polls close, I’m assuming. Hope you have enough energy.”

Josh leaned into Melissa and touched her rosy cheek tenderly. Melissa leaned into Josh’s warm hand and bit her crimson lip.

A voice boomed out from across the room, causing Josh and Melissa to both jump back.

“Did I hear you guys just volunteer for the late shift?”

They turned around to find their supervisor Kristy striding towards them, arms folded. Her flaming red hair was in a messy bun at the top of her head, harnessed in place with a blue pen.

“Well,” she said, placing a keen eye on Melissa before shifting her curious gaze towards Josh. “I mean, we could all be here awhile.”

Melissa piped up. “Of course. Where are the others?”

“I sent them home,” Kristy said as she opened up a drawer and pulled out a box and a bottle of tequila. “It’s gonna be a long night. Anyone up for Twister?”

Three hours later, Josh, Kristy and Melissa lay laughing on the plastic Twister mat in their underwear, the partially drunk bottle of tequila between them. Somehow the game had devolved into strip Twister, and Melissa was thankful that she had the chance to admire Josh’s tight abdominals. For some reason he was still wearing his tie – a sexy touch.

“Now what?” Melissa gasped in between a giggle fit as Josh playfully tossed the Twister spinner across the room. “We should be ready in case the phone calls start coming in.”

“True,” Kristy said, her long legs draped across Josh’s chest. Josh, in turn, was stroking Kristy’s milky white thighs. Melissa wasn’t jealous… exactly. She was tipsy, and yet during the last few hours she couldn’t help but think that both Kristy and Josh had been flirting with her. It sounded crazy, but there was a point during the game when Melissa had her right hand on green and left foot on blue, she could have sworn she felt Kristy’s lips graze her right nipple while Josh’s manhood got hard against her thigh. Or maybe it was just the tequila that was making her imagination run wild.

“I have an idea,” Josh piped up.

An hour later the three were on the couch in the corner, the TV on full blast. The polls had already closed in several states and they were playing along with Josh’s creation, ‘Lamestream Media Drinking Game’.

“He said ‘swing state!” Josh howled as each of them took a swig from the bottle. Melissa was seated on Josh’s lap, his hand draped on her lady mound over her panties. Kristy was seated next to them, one hand on Josh’s thigh, the other caressing the base of Melissa’s neck. Melissa wasn’t quite sure what was happening but for some reason this felt so right…

RRING!

The three jumped at the sound of the phone lines screeching. They scrambled up from the couch, each trying to be the first to get their hands on one of the lines. Josh beat them to it and grabbed the nearest receiver as Melissa and Kristy crowded behind him.

“Voter Fraud Hotline, this is Josh. Yes. Yes, I see,” Josh nodded soberly. “Uh huh. Of course.” Josh gently put the receiver down.

“Wh… what is is?” asked Melissa breathlessly.

“It’s serious,” said Josh as he slowly started to clear papers from the desk next to him, and pushed two phones aside. “Melissa, it’s about you.”

“M… me?” Melissa stammered. “What about me?”

“Well, it turns out there’s been some voter fraud,” Josh could barely hold back a smile. “In your PANTS.”

The three of them giggled uproariously.

“Kidding guys, it was someone for Pizza Palace again,” Josh snorted. “But actually…” Josh lent a knowing gaze towards Kristy, who, in turn, had a mischievous grin on her face.

“Actually, what,” asked Melissa, cautiously eyeing the two.

“Well,” Kristy cleared her throat. “Remember when we came up with the rules for the Lamestream Media Drinking Game? We said take a shot when we heard Swing State, Poll, Election, Ohio and every time the vein on Chris Matthew’s head starts twitching… BUT if the phones ring, that means…” Kristy glanced at Josh who happily took over her thought.

“Yes, if the phone rings, we do a body shot.”

Melissa giggled nervously. “I don’t remember that rule.”

“You were in the bathroom,” Kristy quickly sputtered out.

“The… in bbbathroom…” Josh followed hastily, overlapping Kristy.

“Oh, ok,” Melissa blushed. “But… I don’t know what a body shot is.”

“It’s fine,” said Josh as he took Melissa’s hand and led her to the partially cleared desk. “Just lay down. We’ll do all the work.”

“But you’ll need to take your bra and panties off,” affirmed Kristy with a sharp nod.

Melissa shuddered with nervous excitement as Josh gently lay her body along the desk. He unclasped her bra with ease, releasing her supple bosoms. She blushed upon noticing that her flushed, pink nipples were already erect. Josh effortlessly pulled her underwear off, exposing her downy mound. Kristy stepped back towards the sofa to retrieve some lime wedges and the salt shaker as Josh poured two hearty shots of tequila into Dixie cups next to Melissa’s slim waist.

Kristy leaned into Melissa’s ear. “First, we get some juice on these,” she said referring to Melissa’s rose-tipped nipples as she gently rubbed a wedge of lime on each one. “That helps the salt stick.” Melissa gasped. Kristy then drizzled an ample amount of salt over her chest. She was right – the lime juice made the salt stay on her areolas, like glitter to glue on an arts and crafts project.

Melissa bit her lip and threw her head back when she felt Josh place one of the wedges of lime on the petal smooth center between her legs. She hoped he hadn’t noticed just how wet she was between her tender love fold. The other lime was placed in her mouth by Kristy.

“So,” began Kristy as she traced a delicate finger up and down Melissa’s belly. “This is how it works. Josh and I are going to lick the salt off of you.”

“All of it,” Josh said.

“Then,” Kristy continued. “We each do a shot of tequila, and finish by sucking the lime out of you.”

Melissa squirmed, careful to hide her excitement. “You mean frm mm…” she mumbled.

“Yes,” Josh whispered, his face in between her thighs. His hot breath on her nether-region made her shiver with delight.

Kristy and Josh looked at each other excitedly before taking each one of Melissa’s nipples in their mouths. She could taste the bitter lime rind clutched between her teeth.

They took their time gently suckling the hard tips of her bosoms until every last grain of salt had been licked from Melissa’s heaving chest. Melissa opened her eyes and watched as Josh and Kristy quickly downed their shots of tequila before turning their eyes back on her. Kristy gently pushed Melissa’s golden curls back from her sweaty face, leaned in, and squeezed on the lime in her mouth, before tossing it aside like a dog tired with its chew toy. She placed her warm lips on Melissa’s and softly plunged her tongue into her mouth.

On the other end of the table, Josh nibbled delightedly at the lime before brushing it off with his nose. His tongue then began flicking softly at Melissa’s love button, and she began to groan wildly. Kristy moved her mouth from Melissa’s and nuzzled the nape of her neck. Melissa threw her head back in reckless surrender when Kristy licked her neck up from the base of her ear down to her shoulder. Josh continued to work his tongue down below, slowly at first, then faster and faster…

Melissa squirmed and just as she opened her mouth to take a big breath, Kristy straddled her torso, pinned her arms down and covered her mouth with her lips, smothering her. Unable to breathe or move, she finally surrendered to the blinding climax that had been rising within her since she first felt their tongues on her flesh. She threw her head back and cried out as her body shuddered with each ecstatic, clenching spasm that erupted from her belly. Josh eased the rhythmic motions with his tongue until Melissa body gave out beneath them, limp, exhilarated.

The three of them lay there on the table, sweating, touching, breathing for a few minutes until they were interrupted by-

RRING!

Kristy hastily slid herself off the table and reached for the phone beside her.

“Voter Fraud Hotline, this is Kristy. Yes…”

Melissa and Josh lay still, their eyes fixed on Kristy.

“Yes, yes. Ok. Wow, ok. Thank you.” Kristy softly placed the phone back into the receiver.

“What is it,” Josh asked. “Did they catch someone voting twice? Someone without the proper ID? I’ll bet it was some liberal college kid with two addresses!”

Melissa couldn’t imagine how she could be aroused again after climaxing so hard, but something about the way Josh reacted to this potential voter fraud made her want to kiss him all over his hot, sweaty body, grab his tie and bind him to a…

Kristy’s voice cut off Melissa’s thoughts.

“That was Sandra from headquarters and we… we won’t be needed anymore tonight,” she said as she slowly turned to face them.

“The results are in.”

Story of the Week: The Would-Be-Senator and the Intern

This week we are delighted to present a story from our first guest blogger, the incredible Bitchy Waiter! You can follow his adventures in the service industry on his site, The Bitchy Waiter, and he’s kind of a big deal so we’re very excited to have him. If you have a story suggestion or want to submit your own, contact us here.

The Would-Be-Senator and the Intern

By: The Bitchy Waiter

“Hello, dear. I’m afraid I’m going to have another long night at the office. I’ll eat something on my way home but don’t wait up for me.”

“But sweetheart, this is your fourth night in a row to work late. I miss you, darling.”

“Well, running for the U.S. Senate takes a lot of hard work, Marilyn. I’m sorry.”

“Alright, sweetheart, I understand. I know it’s hard. See you in the morning. Kiss, kiss.”

“Uh huh.”

The senate hopeful turned off his cell phone and laid it on his desk. Before him, he saw a mountain of paperwork to sort through; all of it dealing with his current job as treasurer of state, but it was going to have to wait. The election was only days away and according to polls, he was not doing well. His unfortunate choice of words earlier in the week had not helped matters. He placed his head in his hands and closed his eyes.

“This is hard,” he muttered to himself. “Maybe too hard.”

“What’s too hard?” a deep voice asked from the adjoining office.

The politician looked up in surprise having forgotten that the office intern was still doing some filing. This particular intern came from Crossroads Bible College just across town. His name was Derrick and he was a sophomore majoring in Biblical Counseling. He was a diligent worker and wanted to work at the state capitol for a semester to see if a future in politics could be an option for him. At the very least, he thought he could eventually get a letter of recommendation from a U.S. Senator if the election went the right way. Derrick popped his head into the office.

“What’s too hard, sir? Is everything all right? Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Derrick. No everything is fine, I’m just stressed out, that’s all.” The politician rolled his head around listening to his neck crack and pop. “It hasn’t been a great week for me.”

“Don’t worry about that, sir. We’ve all said things that we regret,” said Derrick. His dark wavy hair was hanging just above his green eyes and thick brows.

“Yes, but have we all said them during a political debate where thousands of people are watching?”

“Well, no, but…” Derrick’s words drifted off and he shrugged his broad shoulders. “Everything will be okay. You just have to have faith.”

“I suppose so. I guess I just need to figure out a way to relieve the stress. You got any suggestions, Derrick? You must get kind of stressed out at college, what with all those exams and everything. What would you do?”

The intern licked his lips and wished he hadn’t left his Chapstick in his dorm room. “Well, you could always try meditating. Or maybe get a massage. I hear those help.”

“Hmmm, a massage might do the trick.” The politician shifted in his chair a bit and uncrossed his legs. “I hate to impose, but would you mind just giving my shoulders a light squeeze? And then maybe I could do something for you in return. Hey, didn’t you want a letter of recommendation from me?”

“Aww, gee, sir, I dunno. I have a lot of homework to do tonight,” said Derrick.

The treasurer stood up from his desk and walked towards the young man. Derrick couldn’t help but notice that his boss’s shirt was untucked and hanging in front of his pants.

“Alright then, Derrick. What if I do something for you first and then if you feel like it you can give me a massage afterwards?”

Derrick walked backwards while the would-be senator pressed forward pinning him against the oak bookcase that was full of financial binders and law books. He could feel his boss’s erection making him again think of the Chapstick he had left in his dorm room. Thirty seconds later, the middle-aged man was on his knees and unzipping the J. Crew khakis of his young intern.

“I dunno if this is a good idea, Mr. Mour-”

“Shhhh,” interrupted the now desperate man. “The only sounds I want to hear are your groans of pleasure.”

He reached into Derrick’s white Calvin Klein’s and pulled out his cock. He cupped his testicles, which were full and heavy. “You know, I went to grad school at Ball State and I can say with authority that you’ve got a great pair of low-hangers.”

Derrick, being the twenty-year old boy that he was, instantly felt his dick grow hard.

“And I’ve got a degree in geology so I know all about rock hard shafts,” continued the treasurer.

With that, he easily swallowed all eight inches of Derrick’s weighty, veiny, mushroom head dick. Derrick closed his eyes and imagined that the mouth was that of his pretty blond professor from his Building a Biblical Lifestyle class. He pushed his pelvis forward and felt his balls slapping against the stubbled chin of his submissive boss who only moments before had been talking to his wife of so many years. His pants and underwear were now in a pile around his ankles and he felt his buttocks being separated slightly by the short stubby fingers of the man he hoped would soon be writing him a letter of recommendation. Derrick forcefully pumped the eager mouth and heard the muffled moans of his boss. Letting go of all inhibitions now, Derrick pounded with reckless abandon as he felt a finger slide into the rosebud of his ass. He was completely enjoying what was happening.

“Take that big dick, bitch. You take that fucking cock until I come all down your throat. You like that? You like it that way? Yeah, you do. Suck that dick,” said Derrick.

The only response that Derrick got was a gagging sound as air tried to escape from the over-stretched mouth of his boss who had a face full of Bible College cock. Derrick could take it no more. His balls tightened up as his load prepared to force its way out. Derrick grabbed the greying head of hair that was wrapped around his manhood and pushed his body even deeper into the mouth, ready to shoot. He came with so much force that he expected to see his man juice seeping out of the corners of the mouth of this cum dumpster, but instead he watched as every last drop was savored and swallowed by his host. It was gulped down until Derrick was quivering with exhaustion. The taste sent the man back to his days on the swim team at Wynford High School when he had overnight trips with the rest of the team.

The state treasurer fell back on the floor and grabbed his own dick and pulled at it three or four times until it released its load with a dribble that was reminiscent of toothpaste coming out of its tube.

Fatigued, and a little bit ashamed, Derrick stepped aside and pulled his underwear back up, covering his still impressive meat. He looked down at his boss who was breathing heavily and trying to decide whether he should wipe his own jizz on his shirt or simply eat it. He went with the latter.

Derrick, now dressed, began to say something. “Mr. Mour-”

“Get out,” interrupted the messy pile of a man. “Get out right now.”

“But what about my letter of recommendation?”

“Oh, don’t you worry about that. But Derrick, this was a mistake. All of life is a gift from God and sometimes even horrible situations like this can be something that God intended to happen. But that doesn’t mean we can’t forget that it ever occurred.”

The sad pathetic excuse for a human being stood up and began tucking in his shirt and buttoning his pants.

“You will forget about this and you will tell no one. In return for your silence, I will write you a glowing letter of recommendation that will ensure you a job anywhere you want, is that understood?”

Derrick nodded his head. “Thank you, sir. And sir? You still have a little bit of my cum on your chin.”

Instantly, the elected official’s tongue darted out of his mouth and slurped up the last remaining bit of semen.

“Now go home, Derrick. You will have your letter tomorrow morning.”

Derrick left the office leaving the oily politician alone at his desk where he picked up his cell phone and dialed a number.

“Hello, dear. I’ve decided to come home after all.”

“Oh, Dick, that’s wonderful. I’ll get your dinner ready,” replied his wife.

“It’s alright, dear. I already grabbed something and I’m completely full. I’ll be home in an hour.”

“Okay, sweetheart. See you soon. I love you.”

“Uh huh,” said Dick.

He put his phone down and raised his index finger to that area between his top lip and his nose. It held the scent of Derrick’s slightly musky, yet somehow sweet, asshole. He traced his finger over his lips before licking it clean. Dick put on his jacket, turned off the desk lamp and left the office. Tomorrow he would check the polls again and see if he was any closer to becoming a United States Senator.

Story of the Week: Binders Full of Love

Many thanks to Brooklyn Turtle for the inspiration for this story! If you have a story suggestion, or would like to write your own, contact us here.

Binders Full of Love: The Return of Rick and Annabelle

Rick Belson popped the cork on the bottle of 18 year old Macallan scotch and took a hearty whiff. It smelled magnificent. Like fine oak, lanolin and musk. A real man’s drink, Rick thought to himself, as he took a swig straight from the bottle. It was nearly 1am and surely he needed his rest, but he was just too damn excited to go home. His network had gone in for the kill that night after the final presidential debate, and as lead anchor he knew his coverage had been fair, critical, and most of all, right.

Technically the candidates had “tied” according to the other major news outlets. The big guns at the liberal networks were feebly sniffing out weak spots from his party’s candidate like a desperate hound searching for a scrap of meat in a vegan compound. But he knew who the clear winner was. It was…

“Rick.”

An all too familiar voice crooned from behind him and a pang of nerves gripped his chest. Startled by his own response, Rick composed his stature before turning around.

“Hello, Annabelle.”

It had been at least 3 weeks since their last tryst, and they had spoken not a word to each other, save for the occasional “good morning” in the hallway on his part, or a knowing nod of affirmation from her. Once, he could have sworn she grazed her hand across his crotch as they passed each other in the hallway, but he couldn’t be sure. His unique insecurity around the female kind was known only to him and his shrink, and it would certainly be inappropriate to suggest otherwise if that hadn’t indeed been the case. Human Resources already had given him a big talking to after he jokingly referred to his co-anchor’s bosom as “the real stimulus package”. That had been a bad day.

But there Annabelle was again, this time conservatively clothed in a snappy pencil skirt and crisp white buttoned up top; a Ferragamo hanging lazily from the crook of her elbow. The light from the hallway reflected the flaxen highlights in her rich auburn hair.

Annabelle strode in and shut the door behind her. Dammit with the door, Rick thought. He knew there was no way out when closed it. Metaphorically, that is. Surely he knew how to work a knob. But something happened to him when Annabelle was in that room.

“Good debate,” she purred as she stopped her walk towards him and dropped her bag on the floor. “Our guy did pretty great.”

“P…pretty great,” Rick sputtered.

“Now, the town hall one last week was intense. I hate single moms. I think all their bastard children should be held accountable for their violent use of guns.” Annabelle lifted her hand to Rick’s face and delicately stroked his finely shaven baby smooth cheek.

He exhaled as if he had been holding his breath the entire time she had been in the room. My God, did she arouse him. Both physically and intellectually. Rick was especially moved by that remark during last week’s debates as well; if his father hadn’t left their home at such a young age, perhaps he wouldn’t have been so obsessed with playing war games on the computer by himself when he was a teenager.

“Annabelle, I… I am very happy you are here but…”

“But what?” Annabelle cooed, running a delicate finger along the base of his strong jaw before continuing. “I’m in a good mood and I’d like to celebrate. Except,” Annabelle looked away, her brow furrowing deep, almost theatrically.

“Except what?”

“Well, there’s that one thing.”

Before Rick knew it, a hand flew up to his face and slapped the tender skin hard against his cheek.

“Ow! Annabelle what the…”

Annabelle stepped back and tried her best to feign mock-concern.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did that hurt? To be slapped in the face like that? Imagine what I would do to you if I had you all tied up.”

The tingling that Rick had just felt coursing through his cheek moved down to his loins as his manhood begin to swell. It was happening again.

Truth be told, Rick was hoping that after their first encounter Annabelle might be interested in seeing him again, but there was a part of him that was frightened. Frightened of her, and frightened of the feelings that were growing not just in his trousers, but in his heart.

“Annabelle, why in Zeus’s balls did you just slap me?”

“Why don’t you keep Zeus’s balls out of this and worry about your own.”

With one quick motion, Annabelle swung her hand out and grabbed Rick’s nutsack tight between her fingers. Rick gasped in pleasure and pain as Annabelle leaned in towards him and whispered, “Last week you let our guy off the hook with his ‘binders full of women’ comment.”

“Oh, that?” Rick smiled weakly, hoping to mask the excruciating pain he was in from Annabelle’s grip. Yes, he loved that moment in the second debate, and let everyone on the panel know it.

Rick gasped as he felt the hold on his balls tighten. He could barely speak.

“Y…you didn’t think that was a positive move towards w…women’s rights?”

“No, I didn’t ” Annabelle breathed harshly into his ear. “What you failed to realize is that live, on the air, you agreed with affirmative action.”

Affirmative action – how could he not have seen that? No matter; the country had a short attention span. No one cared about that anymore. It was all about foreign policy this time around.

Her hand still firmly pressed against his love spuds, Annabelle didn’t let up.

“Now, you know and I know that tonight, neither of the candidates won. I felt like I was watching a goddamn mirror game in an improv class. Pathetic.”

Rick did so hate the ‘mirroring games’ that he was forced to play in those tedious corporate team building sessions years ago when he worked in private finance. And trust falls? He shuddered at the memory.

Before he knew it, Annabelle released her grip and Rick fell to the floor. She meant business and this time, Rick wasn’t sure he could keep up. But he couldn’t deny that everything Annabelle said made him very, very aroused. She wasn’t just hot; she was smart.

Annabelle turned her back and sauntered across the room.

“So I guess you’re wondering why I’m here,” Annabelle cooed as she  seductively draped her soft, milky hands up and down the curtain in his office. Rick wished his cock was that curtain.

“To celebrate?” He offered innocently.

“Get up,” Annabelle demanded.

Rick hadn’t realized that he was still on the floor in the fetal position, hands around his groin. He struggled to get to his knees, when he saw a soft hand reach out to help him. He took it.

Annabelle gently eased Rick up, and carefully walked him to the pillar on the side of his office wall. Rick was under her spell. He would let her do just about anything so long as he could make love to her the way they did that first night.

“Annabelle, you’re so beautiful.”

“I know,” she shot back cavalierly before reaching into her bag. Rick leaned against the pillar and curiously riveted his eyes on what she was doing.

With cunning calculation, Annabelle slowly pulled out a long piece of fabric and grinned mischievously at Rick.

“I thought since you didn’t really pay attention to your little gaffe about the binders last week, I’d have to teach you a lesson. About binding.”

She pushed Rick back onto the column and with one quick motion, placed his hands over his head and deftly wrapped the soft fabric around his wrists before securing them to the post. She then leaned forward and bit Rick’s lip lightly before plunging her tongue deep into his welcoming mouth.

Rick could barely contain himself as he felt his ramrod swell hard in his pants. He was now tied up and captivated in every sense of the word.

Annabelle stepped back and surveyed her prey. She grinned and trailed her fingers to the top button of her blouse, never once losing eye contact with Rick as she began to release her supple bosoms with every pop of the fasteners.

Rick watched with delightful anticipation as she threw her top to the floor, revealing a beautiful candy apple bustier. Annabelle then slowly unzipped her skirt and pushed it down. Apparently, she had neglected to put on panties that day.

He took a deep, quick breath as Annabelle knelt before him and swiftly released his hard man-child from his khakis.

Her mouth moved slowly on his virility at first, and then faster, and Rick began grinding rhythmically with every plunge, deeper and deeper. He knew he was about to burst at any moment.

Annabelle stopped suddenly, jumped up and spun his torso around so Rick’s face was now pressed into the alabaster. Before he could protest, he felt something cold and hard slap against his tight buttocks.

He struggled to turn around, but Annabelle had one hand pressed firmly between his shoulder blades, the other spanking him with some object…

“Dear God, Annabelle, is that my Peabody?”

“You’re… goddamn… right…it… is,” she uttered harshly between blows.

“But I won that in 2009 for my groundbreaking story about wounded veterans!”

Annabelle stopped the beating, grabbed a chunk of hair from the back of Rick’s head and leaned into his ear. “That’s when you actually reported the fucking news.”

She hit him hard with the metal. Again. And again. And soon the tingling pain on his butt cheeks became blisteringly numb. Then prickling hot. Then…

“Oh my God! Annabelle!” Rick howled as he came, his crotch thrusting against the pillar with each fervent spasm.

Annabelle calmly stepped back, took a letter opener from Rick’s desk and sliced the fabric from his hands. Rick slumped against the wall, sweaty and shaking while she demurely put her clothes back on. Rick struggled to get up but Annabelle pushed him back down.

“I’m going home now.”

“Can’t I… make love to you?”

“Maybe another time. I have to run, it’s late.”

Annabelle walked towards the door and turned around one last time.

“You really need to think about what you say on the air. But in reality,” Annabelle looked away for a moment in somber reflection before turning back to Rick. “If it weren’t for affirmative action, I wouldn’t be here.”

“I thought your dad got you this job.”

“I know, I’m just kidding. I love nepotism.”

Annabelle shut the door.

Who was this woman, Rick thought, as his eyes shifted up to the Peabody now sitting innocently on his desk. It was a good thing he was such a damn good journalist. Yes, he’d eventually break this story. He just had to figure out how.

Story of the Week: Lunch Break

I’d been working at the giant global financial services firm for whatever the definition of “too long” is when I finally found something to help me pass the time. The Thing’s name was Tyler and I neither knew nor cared about what his last name was. He worked in the mail room which wasn’t really a far cry from my menial desk job, except his job had the added benefits of being able to walk around. I was chained to my desk, and while in any other circumstances that sounds exciting, these were chains were figurative. I was miserable, and I knew it. The one shiny beacon of my day was my lunch break.

Most low-level employees at a large corporation look forward to their lunch break for reasons other than mine. It’s the one hour that they get to actually walk around, maybe go sit in the sun for a quick second and pretend that they are at their asinine soul-crushing jobs of their own volition. Maybe they could accept their lamentable station in life when they compared themselves to someone else, say, that homeless person searching through the trash, or the pathetically dressed German tourist families that frequent the Financial District. I used to think like that until I came to the conclusion, after a heated altercation with my own stapler, that I was completely fucking over this job. I was doing everything I could to get fired, save for stealing – I’d leave that desirable task to the CEO’s. I was just hoping to be let go, get a severance and then I’d figure my life out. Until then, at least I had my lunch hour.

It started one day when Tyler strolled by my desk and furnished me with a wink. What an asshole. No one winks at me, even if I’m not at work. So I called him an asshole, right there, in the middle of the office. Not a single one of my co-workers noticed because everyone there is partially dead inside. But that stopped Tyler in his tracks.

“What did you say to me?”

“I called you an asshole.”

“Bitch.”

“What?” I was irate. Did he really just call me that?

“You heard me. You’re a fucking bitch.”

And then something happened that surprised both of us. We started to laugh.

Ten minutes later, there we were, on my lunch break, in the supply room, fucking.

This went on for months. Whenever either of us felt like a quickie, we would give each other the signal. His was to wink at me. Mine was to slowly mouth the word, “Asshole”. Original, it was not, but it did the trick.

We’d meet in the same cramped, stuffy supply cabinet right at 12:30. I wanted to have an extra few minutes to spare after our time to get something from the vending machine. Most days I didn’t wear underwear to work because I delighted in Tyler knowing that I was keeping my pussy available to him at a moment’s notice. He had to do things for me too, don’t get me wrong. He was my little bitch as much as I was his. I made him shave his pubic hair after our first encounter. If he liked mine bald as a badger, he’d have to do the same for me. Plus, it made his dick look even bigger than it was, which was already rather exceptional. He liked that I wanted to suck his cock until he came in my mouth, and I kept challenging myself to see how deep I could shove it down my throat. This is also why I preferred that he have no hair there; I didn’t like the scratching in my nose.

We’d alternate between who would take charge, punishing each other for things that neither of us did wrong, but were somehow so, so bad. One time he bound my hands to the bar on the shelving over my head with tape while I was fully naked, and I wasn’t allowed to move or make a sound while he sucked and teased my clit for what must have been 20 minutes until I broke down and begged him to fuck me, which he eventually did, roughly, bent over a chair. That day he wouldn’t let me suck his cock, so during the next encounter I tied him to the same chair he had fucked me on, and spent a good half hour just lightly stroking his cock and licking the tip until finally burying it deep in my mouth. He came in two seconds. Then I shoved my pussy in his face until I came. That was a good day.

I finally got laid off from the firm which later turned out to be a major player in the financial collapse of 2008. No matter, it was a contemptible place full of gluttonous behavior, much like my relationship with Tyler. In the end, we all got fucked. I just like to think I got the better end of the deal.

Story of the Week: Door to Door

Kayla pressed her head on Thomas’s stomach and listened to him breathe as he slept. It had been at least a month since they made love – he had been too busy at work to focus his energies on her, and even when he was home on a rare early night, his concentration was always on his job on the Senate floor. Kayla tried to be understanding of her husband’s stressful career. He was, after all, fighting for what she had been brought up to believe in: family, faith and economic justice. Oh, how important he made it all sound, she thought, as she wished she could see him as his constituents did. A brave fighter. A service man. And she was proud. But even wives had needs, and while understanding, Kayla wanted to show him how much she admired him by making him feel like a man. It would certainly make her feel more like a woman.

They had been married for 20 years, and, aside from one oversight in high school, she was basically a virgin when she married him. They were both enraptured with each other, two young teenagers in love, and after four months of dating, he asked her to be his bride. She always felt guilty for not being completely honest with him about her not being chaste, but that one night with motorcycle Billy had meant nothing. She felt lucky to finally meet a man who wasn’t only “after one thing”, as her mother so aptly put it. And on their wedding night, Kayla knew she had made the right decision. When they consummated their union, it wasn’t just sex in a bike garage, it was love making. They had never had any serious problems in the bedroom, and produced beautiful twin boys who were now away at college.

However, as Kayla felt his soft chest hair against her cheek while Thomas’s torso rose up and down in restful slumber, she started to think about how things changed. Oh, she knew they would – she had been privy to the whisperings of other married friends and had consulted many a magazine. But as her mind drifted to thoughts about how long it had been since he had taken her – really taken her – Kayla started to worry. She decided at that moment to be the aggressor – be like him 20 years ago! And so on that crisp October morning in their marriage bed, Kayla started stroking Thomas’s nipple softly and kissed him below his cheek, hoping to pleasantly awake him.

The arousal she had been expecting moved to a different kind of rousing as Thomas swatted at her head.

“Umsleepngrh,” he grunted, and pushed her head away before rolling over on his side.

Kayla tried not to take it to heart. He was sleeping, and she instantly felt bad about attempting to wake him. What was she thinking? Was she planning on going below the sheets and stroking his cock to make it hard? Was she going to put her mouth on his member and take him in with wanton passion? Straddle him like a cowgirl and ride him to ecstasy? No. That only happened in silly novels she had thumbed through, or movies about desperate hookers. No. Her husband had the right to sleep. He was too busy these days to be worrying himself about tending to her. No. Maybe when they went on their vacation in a few weeks he’d find her desirable again. Maybe when he realized how sexy she looked in the new lingerie she had just ordered online. She’d let him sleep, so he could arise rested to fight for the good people. “My little Superman,” she chuckled to herself, and rolled over on her back and waited for the alarm to ring.

“Well if it’s gonna be another day of listening to hot air, I should start bringing some mylar balloons to work,” Thomas said, laughing at his own joke, as Kayla went over his suit shoulders with a lint brush.

“You’ll be great today.” Kalya patted him on his arm and leaned in for a kiss. Thomas moved his head to the side so she caught his cheek.

In the hallway Thomas finished putting his coat on and picked up his briefcase before turning back to Kayla who was pouring herself a cup of coffee in the kitchen.

“Baby, I’ll be late coming home today. So eat without me.”

Kayla smiled weakly. She was the wife of an important figure, and this was part of the job. But as she heard the door slam and the car ignition start to rev up, Kayla felt her lips curl excitedly for another reason… it was Tuesday, the day that nice young man from Greenpeace always stopped by to canvas her neighborhood for donations.

This relationship started innocently enough – she had let him in several weeks ago after watching her neighbors shun him curtly, even rudely sometimes, slamming the door in his face when they did deign to answer. She had felt bad for him, as she watched go from house to house from her window, admiring his dedication. Yes, she did not agree with his politics. She firmly believed everyone should take care of their own communities, so why give to a charity that probably just spent it all on “saving whales”? Kayla has once seen a whale at the aquarium with her boys, and it certainly didn’t seem to be suffering. But she admired this young man’s commitment. At least he wasn’t lazy like all those other scrappy liberals on the nightly news.

So when the well dressed young man approached her door that first day, she let him in.

“Hello, I’m David,” the young man stated politely. “I’d appreciate a moment of your time to talk about the environment.”

“It’s hot outside. Would you like some water?” she offered innocently.

Since then, she had looked forward to his Tuesday afternoon visits, but always asked that he leave at five lest her husband came early. She never gave him any money and there certainly was no funny business about him being there, but she knew her husband wouldn’t approve of him being in their house. Beggars! He had often grunted when the topic of those “clipboard people” came up at parties.

But David was different. He was clean cut, smart, and if she were in her 20’s like him, she might even say that he was handsome. His tall, fit physique reminded her of those baseball players she observed whenever her husband watched sports on television. His soft brown hair was neatly trimmed, and his fair skin magnified the brilliant blue of his eyes. When David smiled, which was often, his mouth was humorous and kindly. And every time he spoke, his confidence exuded a curious masculinity.

Kayla was rather confident in her own looks. She certainly took better care of herself than the other housewives and mothers in the neighborhood. She attended spin classes thrice weekly and practiced yoga, which complemented the dancer’s body she had maintained from years of ballet as a girl. She had only recently found some grey hairs, but overall her thick, dark hair hung in graceful curves over her shoulders. Kayla took pains to be beautiful for her husband, but often felt that he never really noticed. David, however, always made a point of telling her how lovely she looked, even when she was barely wearing any makeup.

She looked at the clock – it was just past 10. My, she had a lot of work to do to get the house ready for her visit, and maybe today she’d give David just a little bit of her money from the petty cash her husband gave her. After all, whales were glorious creatures. What could a little donation hurt?

The large pendulum swing on the grandfather clock struck four o’clock and, sure enough, there was a polite rap on the door. David had learned early that the loud doorbell set off her two corgis into a hysterical barking fit.

Kayla straightened herself up in front of the hallway mirror, and smiled at her reflection. She had taken a few extra pains that day to look nice. As it was warm out, the short halter dress she had thrown on was certainly weather appropriate. Kayla walked to the door.

“Hello, David.” She smiled as she extended her arm towards the living room. “Come on in!”

“Hello Mrs. Callaway,” David said, an easy grin playing at the corners of his mouth.

“Please, call me Kalya.”

“Ok, Kayla.

A shiver of delight danced down her spine whenever he said her name. The kind timbre of his voice always made her feel at ease.

They sat at their usual spot in the living room on the large sofa, and David opened his notebook.

“Kayla, I know you aren’t interested in giving money, but I thought today we could talk about the endangered bonobos.”

“What?” Kayla giggled like a student who had not studied for a test. “I don’t know what those are…”

David chuckled. “I’m sorry. Bonobos are chimpanzees. They’re actually fascinating creatures.” David scooted closer to Kalya pointing to the literature he had brought, an excited tone in his voice. “Did you know that bonobo society is female dominant? It’s really interesting.” He pointed to a picture of a very large ape. “That’s the head of the group, and it’s a female. See how she’s sitting on the tree, while the males look up to her?”

Kayla stared at the picture incredulously. There was the female bonobo, but it looked as if she was straddling a large pink protrusion above the tree trunk.

“What is that?!?”

“Oh,” David blushed a bit. “Those are her… genitals. Um, sexual intercourse plays a major role in bonobo society.”

“Well, it looks like it has to!”

David laughed, then cocked his head with a titillating gaze. “Bonobos use sex as a way to greet, communicate, and even resolve conflict. Can you imagine if we did that?”

“It would be a whole different world!”

David turned a page. “See, look, here they are engaging in oral sex. It’s not very common in the animal kingdom to see that. I’ll bet they’re just getting to know each other!”

Kayla could feel the hot blood rushing up her face as she patted her hot cheek. Why, he was basically showing her pornography, she thought, as her eyes trailed the photo of a bonobo standing tall as it received oral sex.

David leaned over and whispered, “That’s a female getting head.”

Kayla gasped, not just at the graphic language that this young man had used, but at the hot, prickling sensation that had started to consume her lower womanhood.

“It’s… just so…”

“Sensual?” David offered before closing the notebook and leaning into her flushed face.

Kayla was frozen, but she could not take her eyes off this young man’s cerulean eyes, piercing her from inside. What was happening?

A soft finger came up to Kayla’s cherry lips, and David tenderly rubbed along the base of her mouth.

“Is this okay?” he whispered, his eyes locked on her.

“Yes,” Kayla exhaled, shocked by her own submission. She hadn’t felt this desirable since that night in the motorcycle garage with her high school lover. Suddenly, she wanted to do everything those chimps were doing in the pictures. Everything.

David leaned in, and for a brief second, all she could feel was his hot breath on her mouth before he closed his lips onto hers. He drank her in, kissing her softly, then harder, pressing his hand up against the nape of her neck into him. His warm tongue traced the soft fullness of her lips, before parting them with a thrust of his warm tongue. She moaned, her body aching for everything he was doing to her. She wanted him everywhere, and guided his hand to her soft, yielding breast. He pulled his head back and smiled, his face flushed.

“I want to go down on you.”

Kayla had not had “that” since her husband’s feeble attempts many years ago. She knew it was wrong, but her body ached so much for his touch, she couldn’t control herself.

Taking her silence as consent, David tenderly pushed Kayla down on the couch, and pulled her dress up, all the way over her head, and threw it on the floor. Now he was on top of her, and she could feel his excited member growing against her thigh.

“David,” the word barely escaped her lips. “Take me.”

He smiled, and pulled his shirt off. His sculpted torso was hairless and toned. He looked just like he had imagined all those times she had curiously traced his form fitting shirts with her eyes. He leaned down and slowly began kissing the nape of her neck, down to her soft breast, and within seconds her bra was unbuckled. David took his time to carefully nuzzle each bosom tenderly yet confidently, suckling on her nipples, causing her to moan uncontrollably.

He then moved his body down towards her throbbing nether-region. Never before had Kayla felt so wet down there. David put his mouth on her soft cotton panties and wrapped his lips over her mound. Kayla gasped. He slowly removed her underwear, and ran a soft tongue over her clit. She began to rock with him as he seamlessly sucked on her pleasure nub while stroking the inside of her wetness with his fingers.

At the brink of climax, David stopped.

“I want to fuck you until you come. And then I am going to come, deep and hard inside you. Will that be ok?”

Kayla could barely breathe. As she nodded enthusiastically, she didn’t care at all about what was about to happen, so long that it happened. Now.

David unbuckled his khakis and pulled down his boxers. She took a peek at his long, thick member and moaned again when he drew himself on top of her.

“Now?” David asked, teasingly, before gently kissing her neck.

Kayla knew she was about to come at any moment, and she wanted nothing more than to be filled by him. She wrapped his legs tightly around him, and surprised the both of them when she grabbed his hips and pulled him closer. His large cock thrust easily into her, and she cried out from the intensity of its size. Never before had she felt so much man inside her. He began thrusting slowly, and she rocked her hips welcoming him, until neither of them could bear it anymore. She felt hot waves of pleasure explode as she let out a guttural moan. David held her as she came again, harder this time, wanting nothing more than his cock to somehow get even deeper, as she clasped him tightly with her thighs. Then he started moving again, thrusting harder, grunting with every plunge, until he groaned and she felt him climax. He groaned again, and pressed harder into her, sweat dripping from his flushed face. Then, he collapsed on top of her, both of them breathless.

It seemed like they lay like that forever when David lifted up his head from her shoulder. He smiled.

“I didn’t really expect that. I hope I didn’t come on too strong”

“Trust me, you came strong enough.” Kayla grinned at him, and swept a sweaty lick of hair from his forehead.

“I really do believe in saving the environment.”

“I can see you are very dedicated to your cause.”

David suddenly looked worried. “Would it be okay if I came back next week? I can understand if…”

Kalya put her hand on his mouth. She had never felt more in control of her life than she did at that moment. She furnished David with a coy smile.

“I’d love to hear about the rain forest next time.”

Story of the Week: Prime Time

“Say it.”

The voice came out of the shadows as Rick Belson slowly opened the door to his dark office.

“Who’s in there?” He demanded loudly.

“Say it,” the voice repeated. It was a woman. Rick couldn’t quite place who it belonged to as he felt along the wall for the light switch.

The room was lit with harsh fluorescence, and he could see her clearly, standing beside the ficus tree next to his desk. Before him was a beautiful young woman wearing a sheer camisole top and no bra, her perky nipples peeking out beneath the shimmering fabric. He trailed his eyes down to admire her short skirt, and shapely legs. He knew exactly who she was…

“It’s me, Annabelle,” the woman said. “Now say it.”

“Annabelle.”

“No, not my name!” She shot back sharply. “That word you couldn’t say on your show just now. I want you to fucking say it.”

Annabelle was an intern at the cable station where Rick Belson hosted his nightly political news show. She was the daughter of a prominent Republican senator, and she and Rick in the past had flirtatious discussions in the break room about Obama’s “birth certificate” and those ungrateful Occupy Wall Street deadbeats. But now, here was this brazen girl demanding something of him, a twisted smile on her lips. No one spoke to Rick Belson in this way. Even though he was the youngest anchor on the line-up, his show was the highest rated and, as such, he demanded veneration.

“Listen Annabelle, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I have to go to a doctor’s appointment.” Rick brusquely grabbed his briefcase and started for the door.

“Is it a penis doctor?” Annabelle questioned, coolly.

“What?” Rick swung around, taken aback by this young woman’s behavior. She couldn’t be more than a few years younger than him, but still, she was just an intern.

Annabelle strode towards Rick, her fingers delicately grazing the bottom of her camisole. Damn her, Rick thought, why did her delicate nipples have to be so erect? It made it hard to focus on the fact that he was being verbally attacked.

“Your doctor,” Annabelle said, easing her stroll as she reached Rick. “Does he specialize in your penis? Because I have a doctor, but for lady parts. Tell me what I have, Rick. Say it.”

Ah! Finally Rick knew what this siren was up to. This whole exploit had to do with his coverage of legislation on the house floor that had taken place the previous week. He had spent the entire news hour dedicated to covering a particular senate representative who refused to use the “V” word on the floor when discussing a reproductive health care bill, stirring a lot of hullabaloo among the feminist types. Rick had argued that evening on-air that there was no place in politics for “private part” words, and if the representative didn’t want to say it, he shouldn’t have to. And no, the “V” didn’t stand for victory, it stood for…

“Vagina, Rick. I have a vagina.”

“Annabelle, I defend my position that the word is not for polite conversation.”

Rick watched as she took a few steps back, and leaned on his desk, provocatively. Annabelle took her right hand and began to softly rub her love mound with a delicately manicured finger. My God was she… masturbating? Rick had only seen this happen in the many pornographic videos he watched before bedtime.

Annabelle purred, “Would you prefer to call it a pussy? Because that’s slang, you know.”

“I… I don’t think you can say that on TV…”

“But you can say vagina.”

“Annabelle, I…”

“Don’t you want to fuck it? How can you fuck it if you can’t say it?” Annabelle slid her hand under her skirt and moaned. “Because if you learn how to say it, maybe I’ll let you fuck my wet ‘V’ word.”

Rick was dumbfounded. What did this girl want? And more importantly, what did he want? Oh, he knew what he wanted. He was only 29 for chrissakes, and still had the drive of a tiger. Granted the ‘tiger’ hadn’t really had a chance to ‘roam the zoo’ lately, as it were. He was single, but so focused on his work that he barely had time to date. A girl as sexually assertive as Annabelle was completely new to him.

“You’re staring at it,” Annabelle cooed. “You’re staring at it with my finger inside, rubbing it around, getting it all nice and wet for your cock. But I need to know that you’ll say the word.”

My God, Rick was aroused. He wanted nothing more than to push her back on the desk, pull that skirt down and bury his cock deep inside her. But there she was, toying with him. He would not relent. He stood by his ground, and no vixen was going to make him change his values.

“Annabelle, I… you should go…”

“Lock the door.” Annabelle demanded.

Rick was exasperated. “And why should I?”

“Because you’re a fucking hypocrite. A sexy, fucking hypocrite.” She smiled, hopped off the desk, and sauntered past him. His heart skipped a beat when he heard the CLICK on the door, and felt Annabelle’s body behind him. She wrapped her arms around his front and began to move her hand down to his trousers. He could barely breathe as she spoke, his dick getting harder and harder.

“I know about you,” cooed Annabelle as she slid her hand inside his khakis. “I know about the affair you had with your boss’s wife. So that means that you like to fuck. And guess what? I like to fuck…” Annabelle wrapped her soft hand around his thick, growing flesh. “And there’s nothing worse than a guy who likes to fuck but who can’t please a woman. Do you know how to please a woman?”

She was now stroking him, from the base of the shaft to the soft top, circling the tip lightly before plunging back down. She had him. He couldn’t move. He was willing to do anything… anything.

He took her hand out of his drawers and turned around to face her.

“I want you,” he whispered before leaning into her neck and planting light kiss.

Annabelle gently pushed him back, and slowly led him to his giant mahogany desk. She turned around to face him and pulled her camisole up, revealing her soft bosoms. As Rick put a hand up to caress one, she smacked it down.

“Not yet,” she whispered.

Annabelle then removed her skirt and panties in one motion. Now she was standing naked in front of Rick, her body tight and toned.

He traced every inch of her young, supple figure with his eyes and felt the swelling in his trousers. Rick walked over to Annabelle, effortlessly picked her up and sat her on the desk. Leaning in, he wrapped his arms around the small of her naked back and began consuming her neck with his lips. Annabelle pushed his head down and he obediently began nestling his head between her nipples. With a shocking pain, he felt her hand grasp the top of his head.

“No. I want you to fucking lick my pussy.”

She pushed down harshly and pressed his head into her moist opening. Rick wanted to drink every bit of her as he lightly flicked his tongue up and down her clit slowly, feeling Annabelle squirm pleasantly from his masterwork. He loved feeling her body rise and fall blissfully between his face, his hands gently caressing her buttocks. My God, was it an incredible sensation.

After a few moments, Annabelle’s breathing heightened and she groaned with delighted relief. Rick lifted himself on top of Annabelle, about to burst with ecstasy. He wanted to make love to this woman more than he had wanted anything in his life.

“Get inside me,” Annabelle whispered harshly into his ear. He could smell the sweet lavender perfume on her neck that was now permeated with sweat. Rick unzipped his trousers, and hastily pulled down his boxers to release his stiff member. He halted for a second.

“Are you on…”

“Whore pills?” Annabelle queried with a sly grin. “It’s called birth control. And yes, yes I take it regularly for my polycystic ovary syndrome.”

Rick had no idea what that even meant, but he didn’t care. He gently brought his hands to her face before plunging his manhood deep inside her.

And there, on Rick Belson’s desk, the two made love.

Minutes later they lay naked, draped in each other’s arms. This was so beautiful, so erotic, Rick thought, as he stroked the small of Annabelle’s smooth back. It certainly was the most passionate coitus he ever had with a woman lady.

Annabelle smiled into Rick’s shoulder before she gently pushed him off, and knelt down to grab her clothes.

“Can… can I see you again?” Rick queried softly, leaning against his desk as he watched Annabelle dress.

“Maybe. But only if you say it.”

Annabelle reached for the doorknob, released the lock, and opened the door slightly before turning around.

“So you better.” Annabelle said.

Rick heard the heavy noise of typing on keyboards and cell phones ringing from the office outside. He pulled his pants up and swept a shaking hand across his sweaty brow.

Rick took a deep breath before surrendering to the word. “Vagina.”

Annabelle tossed her head triumphantly, and turned to him one more time before she exited.

“You’re goddamn right it is.”