Archive for office sex

Return on Integrity

“New media continues to change the way companies approach the consumer,” Josh went on, walking across the room.

It’s 8:00AM and I’m slouching through the second strategy meeting of the week. Social media is the new it thing, even though it’s not really that new. You can’t have a decent conversation nowadays without slamming into things like “viral,” “tribe,” “transparency,” “return on integrity,” “influencer”–it’s incredibly annoying.

“The trend is shifting from the importance of branding to creating conversation, putting faces and names to companies, working with and through influencers…”

Of course, it’s also made it perfectly acceptable to be glued to your iPhone during strategy meetings–you have to keep up with the conversation, after all.

Even if the conversation has nothing to do with the industry.

“What would you do if you were here?” Alistair asked me.

We’d been messaging back and forth all morning. Alistair lives in New York, which essentially means he’s texting me by 3:00AM Honolulu time, and possibly explains my improved timeliness, as well as my dire need for caffeine all day long.

I met him while he was here on business, as part of a think tank to embrace web 2.0.

I looked up at Josh, still speaking, and panned the room. Half of the team was looking down at their mobile devices. I launched PocketTweets and tweeted something about the importance of social media in terms of awareness and conversion. You know, to make sure they knew I was paying attention.

Then I replied to Alistair: “I’d fuck you somewhere public.”

His response was immediate: “I like that. The park. A restaurant. Against the lamppost, your skirt pulled up.”

ME: A street corner.

HIM: I want them to see your face while I fuck you, your pussy spread open on my cock. I will have to spank you for a bit.

ME: As cars slow down to stop for a light, my tits exposed and my hands tied to the post, over my head. You gonna spank me mercilessly? I hope so. And alternate between slapping me and kissing me while you fuck me.

“You know that’s what I will do,” he responded a few minutes later. “And I am going to spit into your pretty face when I drive into you.”

Oh, spit. I’d forgotten about that. I knew I would fuck him from the moment I saw him. It’s true what they say about women. We do know if we’re going to fuck someone within seconds of meeting them.

With Alistair, it was instantaneous. Almost minutes after the handshake and the boring meeting that followed, we were at his hotel, making out violently against the wall. He picked me up and threw me on the bed, crawled over me and before kissing me again, he spit into my face.

“You want to be my whore?” he asked me. “You know you do. Tell me you do.”

“I want to be your whore,” I said. “Make me your whore.”

He did.

I thought about him doing that again, uncrossed my legs and responded to his message: “My cunt is pulsating thinking about it.”

HIM: When I am all the way inside you, I am going to choke you.

ME: I am so, so wet thinking about you chocking me as you fuck me, my face stained with tears and your spit.

HIM: I want you wet and dripping. That’s how I want you. Messy and crying. Remember: this is after you’ve been gagging on my cock for a full hour. Taking it deep in your throat, yes? How far?

“All the fucking way. I am going to impale my face on your…” I paused and looked up at Josh, who was presenting some data from a study by RazorFish.

“Impale my face on your ridiculous cock.” I finished.

If you were with him, you wouldn’t think Alistair had ridiculous cock. He has a cock that’s quite decent, actually. Unless you love giant cocks, as I do.

“The growing focus on social media will continue in 2009 as companies generate quantifiable results through engagement, open communication, responsiveness and crowd-sourcing,” Josh kept speaking in the background. “We’re currently working to improve our existing social media measurement tools, including comparability to other marketing media and tracking trending…”

“Wait, what do you mean ridiculous?” Alistair asked.

ME: Not a monster cock.

HIM: It won’t even be a challenge for you, will it?

ME: I hope you ask me in person and slap me hard across the face when I pull your dick out of my mouth and tell you no. Not even a challenge.

HIM: You love monster cocks, don’t you? What are we going to do about that?

ME: Give me them. But first you. Then hunting.

HIM: First me. Always me first. I am greedy for you.

ME: Yes, that’s how I want you.

HIM: When you take my cock out of your mouth, you will be laughing. And I will ask you why.

ME: And I will say it’s your cock, your ridiculous little cock. One of the smallest dicks I’ve ever seen.

HIM: And then I will slap your face, stinging. And if you don’t stop, I will slap it harder. I am even going to slap it while my cock is in your mouth.

Josh asked someone a question. I stopped to pay attention, I had to inform those present about some expansion we were working on with the microblogging platform Twitter.

When I didn’t respond for a few minutes, Alistair messaged me again, “Is that true about my cock?”

ME: Mmm, yes, it’s true. Slap me, slap me hard, baby, until I cry and then I will laugh again.

HIM: You little slut, I will slap you hard, over and over until you admit it’s your favorite cock ever. That you need it every day.

ME: I dare you. I dare you to slap me until I admit that yours is my favorite cock ever.

“Alice,” Josh motioned to me, letting me know it was my turn to start.

I rose slowly, walked to the front and began discussing the revolution in communication that had been brought on by Twitter.

“The power and speed of the microblogging platform is impossible to deny,” I heard myself saying. “Example: when the earthquake of July 29th shook Los Angeles, the news broke on Twitter in seconds. The AP took a full ten minutes.”

I went on to discuss the speed of information, the community on Twitter, the manner that these could be harnessed to convert and bring awareness to a product. The slides moved fluidly with examples like Zappos, Dell, Starbucks, brands that were using Twitter to build loyal followings.

When I returned to my seat some time later, I had a message from Alistair waiting: “Do you like my ass?”

“I love your tight little pink pucker, I can’t wait to put my giant cock in it,” I responded.

HIM: Don’t promise something you can’t deliver. I doubt a girl like you would have a big cock.

ME: I will show you after you have your way with me. Once you know what it’s like to have a monster cock inside you, you’ll never go back.

HIM: Oh my… do you think you can make me your little bitch?

ME: You are my little bitch. I’m gonna make you beg for my cock, squirm those little ass cheeks around it and squeal like a piglet.

HIM: When you saw my cock did you decide you should be the one fucking me?

ME: Look at you, my little bitch, such prompt replies. I knew I would be fucking you—remember how fast I got on you after I realized how easy you were, you dirty little cockslut? You love being my little cockslut, don’t you?

HIM: Yes, I love worshiping your cock, Alice. I love being used by you. I love kneeling down before you, trying to please you.

ME: Now leave me a message telling me how much you love my cock and kneel while you do it.

HIM: On your voicemail? But you haven’t let me touch your cock yet.

ME: Yes, right now. Beg for my cock and I might let you have it.

My phone lit up with a phone call call a few minutes later. I let it go to voicemail. It was shortly followed by another message from Alistair.

“My ass is twitching for you…” he said. “Alice, I want to unzip your pants…”

ME: I may let you have it, see what you can do with it. You’ve done it before, yes? Worship cock? Don’t lie to me, you little cockslut.

HIM: I don’t know, have I? I just want yours. Will I like it?

ME: I’m sitting back, pants unzipped, half-hard cock in my hand… tell me about the cocks you’ve had. Tell me how you worshiped them.

HIM: That’s difficult to type. Better for conversation. But there haven’t been that many.

ME: Don’t lie to me, cockslut. I know you love the cock, sucking them, being fucked by them. Yes, you do.

HIM: I’ve tried to be good, licking them all the way up and down… I don’t know. Yours I might love. I want you to sit back while I suck the head of your cock. While I spit on it to get you hard.

ME: Oh, yes, my dirty little cockslut, suck the head and lick the cumslit and apply pressure on the prepuce with your tongue.

HIM: My hand will be jerking you at the base. I will try not to let my teeth get you. Pull my hair.

ME: I will use your hair to guide you, pulling on that gorgeous cockslut mane of yours when I see fit.

HIM: I like my throat fucked. Can you do that? A lot of girls don’t know how.

ME: My dick will thrill you. I will fuck your throat. I know how.

HIM: Can we talk?

ME: I’m busy, sweet pet. What can’t you type about these marvelous cocks?

HIM: Just that I want yours. The others were nice, I try to go as deep as I can on them–it can be very wet–but I want to see your huge cock on your amazing body, that will be a memorable sight.

ME: You like that, don’t you? The perfect shape of a woman and the force of a mighty prick.

HIM: I think you’d like that, too, wouldn’t you?

ME: I’m asking the questions now. Tell me how you love it, cockslut.

HIM: Oh, please, everyone thinks they have a huge dick, but only a lucky few like me really do.

ME: My dick owns your dick.

HIM: What do you mean owns my dick?

ME: I mean my dick owns your dick.

The meeting was over, there was a general sense of purpose about everyone. People were invigorated by the data, ready to get to work, to change the world.

Alistair messaged me as I was walking back to my office.

HIM: I like someone with a monster cock who will tell me how to take it and make me beg for it and whisper to me as she fucks me.

ME: Humor me, baby, tell me the kinds of things you like to hear when you have a cock inside you.

As I walked, I could feel how wet I was. I stopped in the hall and veered into a supply closet, closing the door behind me. Then, I texted him: “We have to do this on the phone. Call me.”

I answered the call as soon as the call came.

“You’re eager for my cock, aren’t you?” I asked him as soon as I heard his voice. “You want me to fuck you hard, don’t you? Tell me you do.”

“I want you to fuck me, Alice.”

“Oh, my little cockslut,” I said, leaning against an inactive copier, spreading my legs and reaching under my skirt to feel my hot, wet cunt.

“Tell me about the other dicks you’ve had. Tell me your first.”

“It was in sixth grade,” he said. “A boy who lived down the street.”

“Did you suck it?”

“No, I was too innocent.”

I slipped a finger inside me. “Did you want to?”

“Yes.”

“Did he fuck you?”

“No, but he put it against my ass.”

“How did it feel, you dirty cockslut?” I slid another finger inside me and rubbed my clit with my thumb.

“It felt good.”

I moaned. “Tell me about the first time you had some dick.”

“I was older. In high school. A girl invited me over. I knew she had a dick.”

“She had a dick?” I asked, in a considerably quieter tone, followed by another moan. “How?”

“You know how,” he responded. I didn’t exactly, but I could imagine.

“She invited me over and fucked me.”

“Did you know she would?”

“Yes.”

“Is that why you went?”

“Yes.”

The door opened and suddenly, Josh was standing before me, with only a shelf of supplies between us. I knew he could see me and what I was doing. I didn’t stop. He didn’t move for a moment.

“Tell me what she did to you,” I said, making eye contact with Josh.

He closed the door behind him and walked slowly toward me. I looked at him and then reached out, taking hold of his belt and pulling him to me.

As Alistair told me his story, I kissed Josh, feeling his dick hardening in his pants. I unbuttoned and unzipped them, taking his cock in my hands. Another ridiculous cock, though perhaps less ridiculous. I couldn’t quite recall Alistair’s.

I turned around and bent over the copier, still listening to Alistair. Josh lifted my skirt. His cock was hot when it made contact with my slit, wet and throbbing, ready to take him. I resumed playing with myself with my other hand.

Suddenly, without any warm-up, Josh was fucking me, his hands on my hips, giving me his cock in long, hard strokes as I listened to Alistair’s voice weave his story.

“Are you playing with yourself?” I asked him, moaning.

“Yes, and I’m thinking about your lovely face looking up at me while you swallow my cock.”

“Tears streaking down my cheeks?”

“Yes. And your spit dripping off my balls,” he responded. “Take just the head in. Cup my balls in your hand. I want you to slowly inch down my cock with your throat.”

Josh plunged into me and I moaned again into the phone before asking Alistair, “Can you feel my hot mouth on your cock?”

“Yes… look up at me. I want to see your eyes. How deep can you go, darling? I want you to slowly take me to the base, Can you do that?”

“Yes.”

Josh thrust harder and deeper. I was slamming into the copier. One of his hands found and unbuttoned my blouse, pulling one of my tits out of my bra as he continued to pound me.

“I will be slapping your face while you do it. Not so hard,” Alistair went on. “Do you take all the men deep like that?”

“No,” I whispered. “My cunt is too greedy.”

Josh slammed into me.

Can you take all your men deep like that?”

“Of course not,” I choked out.

“What do you mean of course not?”

“They’re too big for my mouth.”

“But I know you love that,” Alistair said. “Don’t you?”

Josh was fucking me faster and faster, his face close to my ear, near the phone, and his moans stilled by his desire to hear what we were saying.

“I have a rather small mouth,” I said.

“But you saw my cock and you know you can take it all the way down, yes? I demand that. Your mouth is sexy and small. I am guessing most guys are too big for it. Am I right?”

“Yes,” I responded, turning my head a little so Josh could see my mouth, imagine what it would be like to stick his cock, covered in my cunt juice, into it.

“I will be the first guy you’ve been able to go deep on?” Alistair asked.

“No.”

“What percentage of your men have bigger dicks than mine? Tell me the truth, you little slut.”

“I hate math,” I lied. Then after a fast tabulation, I added, “85.”

“I love the irony,” Alistair said. “My little size queen is going to be worshiping my cock for some time. And practicing her deep throat skills on it. Tell me, Alice, do you go looking for bigger cocks?”

“They find me. And I can just tell how big a guy is going to be, looking at him.”

“You knew I wasn’t to be as hung as you like but you let me take you home anyway. Is that true?”

“Yes,” I responded. “Because you said you get what you want in that quiet way of a man who always does.”

Josh slowed down for a moment, and I knew he was close.

“The most important question remains,” Alistair went on. “Is your dick bigger than mine, I wonder?”

“Of course it is, baby.”

Josh plunged inside me again.

“Much bigger?”

“Don’t be scared, darling. I will be gentle.”

“Please be gentle. Go slow.” Then he asked, “Are you longer than me or thicker than me?”

“Both,” I responded. “I will make you crave every inch of me deep inside you.”

Josh sped up, fucking me hard again.

“Are you going to show me what a monster cock feels like?”

“I am going to show you how to love a monster cock.” I said, as Josh began biting my neck. “I am going to fill you with so much cock, you will cum harder than you ever have in your life.”

“Oh my god,” Alistair responded, moaning. “Be sweet to me when you fuck me. At first.”

I moaned, feeling my orgasm begin to creep up. Alistair added, “I want you to slap your cock against mine.”

“You will. After you suck me off.”

“How do you like it?”

“Fast, with pressure around the head and along the frenulum.”

“Are you going to say sweet things to me while I do it?”

“If you please me.”

“I want to rub my cock against yours but I’m afraid yours will be stronger.”

“It is stronger. But you love it.”

“And I’m afraid mine will look small in comparison,” Alistair said, and moaned, too. He was getting close as well.

“Say you love it. Say you love my cock.”

“I do love it…” he said with a grunt.

“Say, Alice, I love your cock. Your big monster cock.”

“Alice,” he said breathing hard. “I love your beautiful cock. Your big monster cock.”

His moans in my ear sent me over the edge.

“Alice, I want it. Give me your cock, Alice.”

I came. I came hard. Josh pulled out quickly; shortly, I heard a grunt behind me. I wondered whether he’d cum into his hand or a stray pencil-holder, but didn’t turn around.

“I have to go now, my darling,” I said sweetly to Alistair. “I’ll talk to you later.”

I ended the call and turned around. Josh was standing breathlessly behind me.

“Coffee?” I asked, buttoning my blouse and straightening my skirt.

“Yes,” he said buttoning his pants. “With cream.”

“Is that the cream?” I asked, pointing to the box of paper clips in his hand.

He laughed and threw it into a garbage can before we left the room.

Artist Management

It seemed liked he was always behind her. Looking over her shoulder, talking to someone else, reading something. He’d come into the office and always be in Juliet’s periphery. When he was in plain sight, though, she swooned.

Those hands, those eyes, that voice. His beautiful Italian suits and his dark hair brushed just so, occasionally a strand falling into his eyes. Then there was his accent. Spanish, she knew, but there was a way he paused when he didn’t know an English word and he would drag out the word before and she would hang on that syllable like it was a finger going up her thigh.

His name was Xavier. Juliet had seen him play, once. First violin, of course. Every note was so strong, so distinct, so intentional. It was like he was playing a completely different instrument than the violin she’d picked up.

He was a client of the agency she worked for. He’d stop by whenever he was in New York and the other girls in the office would fawn over him. He’d even went out with one of them once, though nothing came of it. Juliet has been jealous, she admitted as much to herself. She didn’t even know him, but she found herself thinking about him, his olive skin, his honey brown eyes, wondering what his chest looked like under his expensive shirt.

When he came in that Wednesday she was happy she’d worn a pretty summer dress. A little low cut, not that she wanted to show off that much, but she did have something to show off under her dress.

He made small talk with one of the agents, he was going to have a big tour and they were putting together a press release. He was picky, he wanted to make sure it was perfect. The agent led him right to Juliet’s desk and she looked down hoping she wasn’t blushing as he took her hand and and kissed her cheek.

“Nice to see you again, Julietta? No… Juliet, si? I remember now, like the play.”

She nodded. She almost wished it was Julietta, on his lips it sounded better, more poetic, more worldly. He stood behind her as she pulled up the press release file on the computer. It was already late in the day and they had to finish it so it could be printed in the morning. He went over all the information and suggested a few changes. As they worked the others in the office left one by one. It was already six thirty and Juliet realized soon they would be the only ones in the office.

As she worked she felt the warmth of him standing over her, behind her. Juliet looked up just in time to catch him looking down at her, his eyes hungry on her cleavage. Her dress wasn’t that low cut, but she was very buxom and from his angle he was getting a view of the top of her tits, the lace of the fringe of her bra. Her face flushed immediately, but she didn’t move, in fact she just looked back at the computer, not wanting his eyes off of her.

He moved closer to her, pointing at the screen. His cologne was strong, usually she didn’t like that much cologne, but somehow the richness and exotic smell of it suited him. He was close; as he pointed to one of the pictures, his arm brushed her shoulder.

“Can you… how do you say? Make this one bigger and make the other smaller?” when he put his arm down it stayed pressed against her shoulder. She tried to fix the file with him in contact, but she was getting more and more turned on. When she finished the change and looked up his eyes were on her again.

There were times when it would have made her mad, she didn’t like men staring, but this was different. She straightened her back, pretending to stretch a little. She was showing off, but when she stretched her elbow brushed against him, he pressed into her a little more.

“It looks better this way. Can you move the phone numbers and make them bigger?” he asked, his other arm coming up and his hand resting on her shoulder, his thumb on the naked skin of her nape.

His hand was almost shockingly hot against her. His dark olive skin on her pale skin made her almost unable to move the mouse. His hot bloodedness was making her wet. His proximity, his hand, his eyes. It was like he was on top of her.

He leaned down, his mouth near her ear. “It looks good, don’t you think?”

Juliet nodded, breathing harder, wanting him so much it ached.

Then his lips were brushing against her ear out of nowhere. “I’m sorry Juliet, I can’t leave tonight without touching you at least once. Should I not?”

She didn’t say anything. She sat still and waited, her mouth half open. His hand came up and cupped her breast, his touch was strong, his fingers long and precise. His mouth was still next to her ear just barely brushing the lobe when he spoke. His voice was like a liqueur, potent and intoxicating.

“Your body is amazing, I’ve wanted to touch you since the first time I saw you.”

Her head turned and her mouth strained for his lips but he only kissed her cheek. Then he was kissing down her jaw to her neck. His hands now pulling at her dress. His lips and teeth on her neck making her dizzy, making her crazy. Then suddenly he was pulling her dress up and off, her arms in the air and then she was sitting there, in her office in only her shoes, bra and panties.

The cold of the air conditioning tickled her skin and her thighs felt wet. She felt absurdly naked with him in his suit next her and the fact that they were in the office. His hands were on her again, so hot on her cool body. He was obsessed with her breasts, kneading and and cradling them, tracing the hardening nipples through the fabric of her bra.

She turned her head again and finally caught his mouth with hers. His lips were soft, but his kiss was aggressive, hungry. His fingers were in her hair, pressing her to him and pulling her hair. Then his hands we moving down her spine, opening her bra.

“I need to see you. So fucking beautiful,” he growled as his hands went back to her body.

Her arm brushed against his hardness as he moved and she paused, moved back, felt it through his pants. He pushed against her hand. Then, as his fingers circled her sensitive nipple she started opening his pants. Past a zipper and buttons and silk boxers she found his cock. She held it as she slipped off the chair and got on her knees in front of him.

Looking over to her right she saw their reflection in a window. She was suddenly aware of how someone could walk in now and they would see her almost naked on her knees pulling out this client’s cock. She looked like a call girl, sucking the dick of a wealthy European. She looked like a slut.

His cock was long and smooth, like his body. Not as thick as she imagined, but hard and wet tipped. She licked it and he groaned. She sucked the tip into her mouth and his knees almost gave. She was good at it, she knew it. She had him. She sucked him, wet and hard, hand working him as she pressed her tongue against the bottom of his cock. He was loud, she liked that. He couldn’t control the sounds. Little pleading grunts and murmurs. Sucking cock made her wet.

She looked up at him and his eyes were dark and wide. She liked how he watched her, how he watched his cock disappear into her pretty mouth. She was putting on a show for him, stroking it and licking the tip.

Then his hands were roughly on her shoulder, then her arms, he pulled her up and turned her around and bent her over her desk. He pulled at her panties, pulling them to the side, too eager to even take them off. He was wet with her saliva, but that was nothing compared to the wetness he slid against as he pushed forward. They both gasped.

“Fuck that pussy.” she said through gritted teeth, the words making her face even redder as she said them.

His fingers on her hips, he fucked her, her fingers spread out on the table as she took every thrust.

“You like that tight pussy. Fuck me. Come on.” she goaded and he grunted a “Yes, fuck!” followed by a string of harsh Spanish whispers.

One of her hands flew back and she pulled her panties further to the side, rubbing herself in rhythm with him. He felt the movement on his balls as they slapped against her and the sensation made him wince. He was pounding into her in slow hard thrusts, nearly picking her up each time. The friction was excruciatingly good.

She rubbed faster and faster and as she felt her orgasm rushing in, she yelled, “Fuck me! Fuck me fast! Come on!”

She tightened around him and grew wetter as he started pounding her fast and hard until he felt every inch of him in her and the hot familiar rush build inside of him. He let out loud groans and she quickly pulled away from him and turned around, letting him cum all over the tits he was so obsessed with. Shot after shot as she held them up for him to rub against. The head of his cock hard against her pink nipples.

Then he was standing there gasping, pants around his ankles and hair sticking to his face. Juliet got off her knees and kissed him once on the lips. Then she walked on shaky legs to the bathroom to clean herself up, knowing he would be gone when she got back.

Originally published in Jack Wites Dirty. Used with permission.