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…


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: The Debates

It wasn’t so much that I was even attracted to that little twit at first; I’ll admit it was curiosity. This boy was relentless all those weeks – calling my office, demanding to speak to my boss, my superior. Senator Linda Blackwell was one of the most powerful women in her field. I was her aide and he was nothing but a half-bit “journalist” who probably wrote for Salon or HuffPo, or one of those degenerate liberal blog rags. His recidivist behavior was pathetic at best. It started out with a series of phone calls, and escalated into actual office visits. He managed to get in because he charmed the pants off those ladies up front and presented his fancy credentials that were probably printed at home and laminated at Staples. And after weeks of resistance from my boss, she finally agreed to an interview with “independent journalist” Evan Woodhouse.

And so it was on this Tuesday that he sat across from my desk, legs crossed, looking so self satisfied as he played with his smartphone. He was probably tweeting some inane BS about “infiltrating the system” or “occupying a financial institution”. What a tool. I pretended to ignore him when I felt his eyes burn a hole into my head. He wanted to ask me a question, I just knew it. Instead I acted like I was fascinated with the email I had just received from my friend Tracy. She had just forwarded me a story about a puppy that someone had found on the street with no legs and its amazing struggle for survival. Who fucking cares, I thought, that puppy was a waste of its own existence. I giggled for a bit and unfortunately Evan took that as an invitation to say something.

“Good news?”

“What?” I snapped, tossing an icy glare in his direction.

“You… you were smiling. Just now. I was wondering if you had good news. Hope you don’t mind me asking.”

“I was laughing at a handicapped puppy,” I deadpanned.

Evan furnished me with a snarky half-grin. So he thought I was joking? I was dead serious; I hate disabled puppies.

“It’s almost as if they think they deserve love more,” Evan piped up.

Wait, I actually agreed with him.

“What did you say?”

“Well, so you have a disabled puppy and an able bodied puppy,” Evan said. “They’re both cute. Why should the disabled one get the most attention?”

“Exactly.” He had me. I was intrigued. I leaned in closer to admire his lips moving as he continued.

“But that’s why I also get socialism. We all help each other out. Both puppies are worth something in society.”

He lost me.

“Personally, I’m more of a cat guy,” Evan continued, as if I gave a damn.

I cleared my throat and focused my attention back to the computer. Evan was still staring at me. I had to admit it; I found him objectively attractive if he wasn’t such a weirdo. He looked like someone I would normally date. Broad, strong shoulders, a nice head of hair, and when he walked in I guessed he might be a little over 6 feet tall. To be honest, he looked like one of those gorgeous corn-fed marines you’d see in a YouTube video where the soldiers re-create the video to a popular song. Yes, those soldiers were hot. And creative and funny and…

“Well, are you?” Evan interrupted my delicious train of thought.

“Am I what?”

“Watching the debate tonight. The presidential debates.”

What for,” I snapped. “You see where I work. I know how I’m voting.”

“Yeah, I’m not sure though who I’m voting for.”

I didn’t know what to say to that.

“Go on…” I motioned my hand towards him, encouraging him to lay on whatever BS he had for me.

“Well, I’m an Independent.”

“The FUCK does that mean?”

Evan chuckled. “While I think the party your senator votes with has some abhorrent views on women’s reproductive health, I am hesitant to support the other party which has questionable foreign policy techniques.”

I was so very, very confused, but I’ll admit, a touch curious. And to be fair, I agreed with him on both points.

We stared at each other inquisitively for what must have been a few seconds, but felt like hours, when my boss buzzed me.

“You can ring the young man in now,” Senator Blackwell chirped. She was always so friendly to any journalist that came to speak with her. And really, she didn’t have to see Evan Woodhouse. It’s not like he was with Fox or anything.

I stood up and brushed nonexistent wrinkles from my pencil skirt before addressing Evan.

“You can come with me now. The senator is ready for you.”

Evan stood up to grab his things. I was right about his physique. He was actually even a bit taller than I thought.

We walked together to the elevator and when the doors opened, Evan held it open for me. Interesting; most boys his age didn’t have the kind of manners my father taught me to expect from a man.

The doors closed and we stood, shoulder to shoulder, waiting to go the two flights up to the senator’s office when we felt a jolt. I instinctively grabbed Evan’s arm and he laughed.

“I’m sure it’s nothing.”

“I get a bit jumpy in elevators.”

Evan grinned at me with a comforting gaze. “I’ll ring the alarm, if it makes you feel any better.”


Two hours and several frantic calls with the building later, and Evan and I were still stuck in the small, stuffy elevator. I was sitting with my legs curled into my chest, and Evan was across from me, back to the wall, his long legs stretched out. His shoe was lazily grazing the edge of my left hip, as he checked his phone absentmindedly. I don’t think he realized even that little amount of contact was, for some strange reason, turning me on.

Evan looked up and said, “The building manager just texted me. Apparently the team that is on their way to help us out is stuck in traffic.”

“Damn lazy union government paid workers probably taking an extended lunch break,” I scoffed.

Evan laughed, then did something that both intimidated and excited me. He rolled onto his knees and leaned forward as he whispered in my ear, “Unions aren’t that bad. They’re the reason we have a 5 day work week, did you know that?”

I could barely breathe. I didn’t even care what nonsense he was spouting, I just wanted him to keep breathing hot into my ear.

“Go on,” I whispered.

Evan pulled his head away for a moment and shifted over slightly so he could place one arm against either side of my body. He leaned in again, closer, and said, “To be fair, I do understand how you want to eliminate inefficient spending and encourage lean government. But a lot of that can be done by decreasing military spending.”

He leaned in closer to my neck, and I involuntarily gasped as he traced his lips down to my shoulder.

“But,” I sputtered, trying to catch my breath as I felt his hands start to slowly unbutton my blouse, “If we cut military spending, how can we really be supportive of our troops?”

Evan was now caressing my bosom over my bra delicately as he lifted his lips back up to my ear.

“I served in the US Army for years. Became a First Lieutenant. And I can tell you, we don’t get nearly as much pay and respect as the contract workers, and don’t even get me started on Boeing and Halliburton’s share of the profits.” Evan’s hand was now trailing down to my skirt, underneath, over my panties…

Breathlessly I threw my head back and moaned, “No, do get started on all that…” Evan pulled his head from my ear and brushed his lips against my yielding mouth. His hand was now gently caressing my clit over my panties, and when I felt our lips touch, excitement rushed through my whole body.

Suddenly, we felt a quick jolt, and then the elevator began to move. I hastily brought my hands to my chest to fix my blouse while Evan jumped up and brushed his pants down.

We barely looked at each other a second later when the doors opened to a crowd of curious onlookers. A man in a greasy jumper holding a wrench smiled at us as we rushed out.

“All fixed,” he said, proudly.

I turned to face Evan.

“Well, here we are. Senator Blackwell’s office is right in there. I’ll… I’ll go check to see if she still has time to see you.”

As I turned, Evan placed his hand on my arm and drew me towards him.

“I know you said you weren’t interested, but… do you want to watch the debates with me tonight?”

I thought about it for a second. “Ok. But every time one of the candidate says ‘military’, you have to kiss my neck.”

“And every time one of them says Libya, Syria, Iran, Iraq or China, you kiss my neck.”

I smiled, and handed him my business card.

“There’s one more,” I said, taking on a serious tone, “Certainly there’s a word or phrase neither of them will say. But if they do, well, we may have to agree to go all the way…” I looked away dramatically.

“Let’s do two phrases,” Evan said, “Affordable contraception, and drone strikes.”


I have never been been more excited for a debate.

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.”


“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.”