I know we’ve been dancing around it forever and he’s the logical guy to bang and it makes a lot of sense.
BUT. I’ve met his fiancee. Hell, I made out with her. I didn’t want to break up a marriage, that’s what horny dumb bimbos do. I know I keep setting standards for myself and then immediately falling below them but I really thought I could do this. There’s other guys, you know? I’m more than just another horny bimbo who needs cock.
On the other hand I’ve gotten off to Peter-based imagery a hundred times, he listens to me cum, I think I can detect him just by scent, I’ve SORT OF fucked him through his fiancee… I felt like HIS in a dumb way. I dressed the way I thought he liked, I made him coffee. Lord knows I fantasized about us being a couple. And despite everything he’s just sort of left me alone. Like its not like he’s hanging by my office chatting me up. He’s just WORKING. Probably to make up for what a bad job I’m doing. :( :(
So today I had to do something I’ve been avoiding. I had to go down to the floor with all the engineers. They’re like 90% male. It’s an entire floor of them. As much as I like men the sheer volume of them intimated. So many men! And I knew from experience they were PURE assholes. I tried to dress demurely -- which lately means a khaki skirt only four-five inches up from the knees, only three-inch heels, pink lipstick instead of red. You know. Like a nun. I clutched a binder to my boobs and went down there.
It was sort of… quiet. Just another cubicle farm. I could see all the men’s heads but they were busy watching computer screens. I was relieved. I walked as quickly as I could to where, thank god, the guy I had to deliver the stuff to was gone. Left the binders on his chair. Turned around.
Walked past their break room.
90% men means 10% girl, right? Something like that? And there were two girls in there. One was in full secretarial fetish gear. Tartan skirt, white nylons, black glasses, blonde hair. She was deepthroating a guy who was nonchalantly sipping coffee. Just had his khakis unbuttoned. Making deep, guttural noises in her throat.
SHE wasn’t even the main show. THAT was her friend in pigtails, somehow balanced between two other boys, getting downright spitroasted. She wasn’t wearing many clothes, but I’m guessing it was some sort of anime-fetish bullshit, judging by the bright pink plastic choker and matching skirt around her midsection. The boys again -- serene, unbothered.
But what really got me hot. SO hot and SO scared. Was the sign-up sheet the boys had up on the wall for four different girls. With stickers for various times. 9-5.
And the girls wore collars and leashes that were bolted to the wall.
I’ve never been so hot, so horny. Was that my future, as a cum dump for men? Just a receptacle? Why was it such a turnon? That much cum, that much sperm… just getting hosed down? My name on the rota? Leather around my neck. I wasn’t thinking clearly.
I ended up in Peter’s cubicle. He was just the guy there. I would’ve fucked anyone. I sat in his lap and kind of choked out the story. I clung to him. My ass ground into his cock. I wasn’t wearing panties. At some point we started making out. Maybe there is something to the pheromone stuff. I must’ve been a chemical factory. He ended up fucking me right there, me bouncing feverishly on his dick. I came harder then ever. Simply blacked out. When I came to it was after six.
