Scripted Passion

Andrew struggled to keep his eyes open. He'd been working for three hours already and there was no end in sight. Technically, it was the computer that was doing the work, he was just baby-sitting scripts. Two more hours of number-crunching and he'd be able to go home and enjoy his weekend. But until then he'd need something to keep his mind alive.

There was no-one around the office this weekend. Or if there was, they weren't on his floor. Andrew considered heading over to one of the other floors to take a look. Maybe he'd be able to find someone up for a chat. Or maybe his script would die the moment he left, and he'd wind up burning another five hours sitting in front of the screen.

Andrew sighed. It wasn't like anyone would talk with him anyways. He was a techie at a company full of techies. Most of them were guys, and the women were all on other floors. Like that new girl... the intern. What was her name again? Ophelia? Didn't matter much. She was hot, but he'd never have a chance with her. They barely saw each other, after all. And to her, he was just another face in the crowd. But to him, she was an occasional ray of colour in an otherwise gray world. She must have known the impact she had on the men of the company: always in revealing clothing, thin bras so her nipples would stand out, tight skirts so you could see she either wore a thong or nothing at all. How Andrew would have loved to split that ass with his cock. Just bend her over a desk and ram his rod home, again and again until his seed flooded her loins...

Andrew caught himself stroking his erection through his pants. He could smell his arousal, or at least he imagined he could. He chuckled to himself. No-one was around, might as well indulge himself a bit. Andrew undid his fly, and reached in to grasp his meat. Not an ideal position for masturbation, but he didn't want to get caught with his pants around his ankles in case someone did drop by.

He was well into an intense fantasy about Ophelia(?) in a sauna with three guys when he heard the door click. His erection collapsed, leaving his hand empty but for a few drops of pre-cum. He quickly zipped up and turned intently to his screen, tapping the mouse to chase off his screen-saver. He hoped whoever had just walked in wasn't headed his way, because the smell of his sin lingered in stale air of his cubicle.

Andrew was out of luck. In fact, his luck could scarce be worse. It was the pretty intern herself, her assets in full display. A low-cut stretchy top, that came down just past her navel, but left a half-inch of flesh above her panties, just peeking past the belt-line of her tight off-white pants. She smelled of cinnamon and she wore slight heels, even on a weekend... and she was looking for him.

"Andrew?"

"Ye... yes, that's me. Ophelia?"

"Ha, ha! Close... better luck next time," she said with a light chuckle, "My name's Olivia."

Andrew rushed to stand and reached out to shake her hand. Olivia seemed a bit taken-aback by his sudden move, but smoothed things over by taking his hand weakly and giving it a tepid shake.

As his hand closed over hers, Andrew recognized his error. He thought he'd wiped himself clean, but he felt the unmistakable chill of a drop of cum being pressed into his palm. If Olivia noticed, she showed no sign. If she noticed the smell, she showed no sign. If she noticed the swell of his penis, uncomfortably lodged under a fold in his underwear, she showed no sign. It was inconceivable to Andrew that this had all gone unperceived, but he could do nothing better than to pretend nothing was amiss.

"Do you know anything about the CID? We've got some problems in production at Id Corp. and we desperately need some debugging."

Andrew's heart sank and jumped at the same time. He knew the CID. He'd designed and written the CID, and even if it was maintained by someone else most of the seniors in the company knew that he knew it like the back of his hand. His slightly wet and cock-scented hand. It looked like his weekend was a loss. At least he'd be spending it with a hot intern. Who no doubt thought he was a creep. It was a Pyrrhic victory at best.

They crammed into an elevator. Olivia giggled nervously as they both reached for the button of her floor. Did she feel the stickiness of his semen again? As the elevator rose through the tower, Andrew tried to ignore the obvious odours in the air. Her dark hair smelled of spices, his groin smelled of lust. She stood close to him, at the limit of propriety, but slightly ahead of him. He had a wonderful view of her cleavage over her shoulder. His dick strained against the inside of his pants, longing for release, longing to plunge into her ripe young body.

Andrew tried to pull himself together. Mercifully, the elevator doors opened with a ding, and they stepped briskly into the hallway. Olivia led the way to her office.

She was an intern, with an office. He was a senior developer, with a cube. In fairness though, her office was smaller than his cube. Almost impractically small. It was also already occupied... by Olivia's boss.

If Olivia was everyone's favourite tease, Eleanor was anything but. Except possibly for a masochist. Eleanor was getting on in years, though one could hardly complain about her looks. She clearly kept in shape, even if she had added a few pounds to her waist. The extra pounds to her breasts and buttocks could almost be seen as a positive.

Andrew shook his head. He was in serious trouble if he carried on like this. His already obvious cock-swell was only getting more prominent as his mind (and eyes) navigated the body of yet another co-worker. If Eleanor kept up in the physical department though, she fell flat in the interpersonal. Her focus was work, success and excellence. She expected the maximum from herself, and even more from others. She rarely smiled, unless it was to woo a client.

Olivia gestured for Andrew to take her chair in front of the keyboard. Eleanor sat off to one side, and Olivia stood between them.

"You know the CID code?" opened Eleanor.

"Yeah, I wrote most of it." Andrew was uncomfortably aware of his swollen groin's odour filling the room, eclipsing Olivia's cinnamon and Eleanor's ... what the hell was that smell anyways? Perhaps a light dose of skunk.

"They reported a crash at around 3am last night, and sent us some logs. Can you tell what's going wrong?"

"Let's take a look." Andrew knew already that the answer was no, but sometimes even the sparse logs of a production system could provide the clue needed to get a real investigation rolling. "Where have you got the logs?"

Olivia reached forward to take the mouse and keyboard. As she leaned forward, a strand of her hair brushed Andrew's nose and his eyes found her breasts. For an agonizing few seconds, he watched her breathe, knowing her face was directly above his steaming loins. As she stepped back, his eyes followed the outline of her nipples pressing through the fabric of her shirt.

"I need you to focus," said Eleanor, with a scowl. "Olivia, could you go get Mr. Plock here a coffee?"

Olivia still showing no acknowledgment of the obvious awkwardness of Andrew's position left in a breeze of spice... leaving behind only the harsh smell of skunk and the dense scent of unsatisfied lust.

"Id Corp. is our most important client. We need a resolution as quickly as possible, Mr. Plock."

"I'll see what I can do," replied Andrew.

Minutes passed. Andrew scrolled through screens of arcane text, looking for some sign that would lead to his salvation. Eleanor fidgeted with her nails, and glared at Andrew. Once she shifted, uncrossing her legs and crossing them on the other side. Andrew's subconscious mind, ever alert, caught the motion and his eyes darted up her skirt. They saw nothing but darkness. Was she naked under there!? Maybe she wore dark panties? His fading erection roared back to life, crowding out his analytical mind.

Andrew kept scrolling, to keep up the appearance of focus, while his mind reeled. This was hardly professional. He stared at the characters on his screen, willing them to make sense to him once again. He tried desperately to ignore the thick smells in the unmoving air of the small office.

"Mr. Plock?"

"Ye...yes!" Andrew stammered and spun at the intern's voice. The back of his chair struck the hot cup of coffee out of Olivia's hand onto his shoulder.

"Fucking hell!" he yelped as the coffee burned his skin.

Self-preservation took over, and he tore off his shirt before the stunned gaze of his two co-workers. Eleanor's scowl deepened, and a flush mounted in her face. Olivia's reaction was more flattering: her eyes lingered on his modest pects for a second before she regained her composure.

Trying to restore decorum to the situation Andrew, shirtless with a poorly concealed raging boner, tried to bring everyone back to the technical problem at hand.

"Was there anything logged by the RaUM? Sometimes helpful info turns up in those logs because most of the objects pass through the RaUM before reaching the CID."

"Oh sure," bubbled Olivia, "here, let me dig up those logs too!"

Andrew ceded the chair to Olivia, and regretted it immediately. Now he was pinned up against the wall, his (no doubt fragrant) erection was less than three feet from Olivia's nose. He also now had an excellent view down her shirt.

But Andrew wasn't the only one with anxiety problems. In her rush to be helpful, the young intern had misplaced her heel... on the switch of her power supply. A collective groan was uttered as her drive spun down and the screen snapped to black. Eager to correct for her error, she dove under the desk, fumbling in the obscurity to find the switch that would bring her system back to life. Where seconds earlier, Andrew had been admiring her perk breasts, now he was presented with her luscious ass.

Olivia restored the hum of technology, under the frustrated glare of her supervisor and the (also frustrated) gaze of the senior developer. The intern then backed herself out from under the desk... directly into Andrew's crotch.

Andrew winced, in recognition of his compromising situation.

But the Gods were against him. As Olivia straightened up, dousing his nose with spiced hair, her phone rang.

In the cramped quarters, she leaned forward to reach for the phone on her desk, once again driving her ass against Andrew's turgid cock.

The programmer's hands failed him. The continuous onslaught of unintended sensuality drove him to the brink. He grasped Olivia's hips firmly, as if to steady himself, even as his penis strained to reach Olivia's warm furrow through a few thin layers of clothing.

The tension broke like a guitar string. Eleanor shot to her feet, flushed with anger, an accusing finger thrust towards Andrew. For an instant the trio seemed frozen in time: Andrew, mouth agape, guilty hands resting on Olivia's hips; Olivia, still bent at the waist, phone in hand, leaning into Andrew's erection; and the Fury, legs as far apart as her tight skirt would allow, ample breasts bouncing with the after-shocks of her sudden arising, finger pointing and lungs filling...

"What do you think this is? A whore house!? You think that just because you are a man, you can step in here and just take whatever you please, whenever you please!!?"

"No.. no ma'am," he stammered, withdrawing his hands from the Olivia's body, still firmly lodged against his groin. The smell of skunk was unmistakable now, though not yet so strong as to be suffocating.

"You! Out!" Eleanor grabbed her intern by the wrist and roughly pulled her past the chair and into the hallway. Then she turned on the stunned programmer and dragged him into the hallway as well. "You too!"

Eleanor reached for her blackberry and pounded away on a few keys, still livid with rage. Andrew stammered apology after apology, knowing that his career was probably already over. Eleanor had no doubt alerted security and was looking forward to destroying him verbally while she waited for their arrival.

The rant began:

"I'm tired of this shit! I'm tired of you ogling men always following us around, and laying your cheep moves on us like we were public property! Learn some fucking manners you prick!"

"Look really, I'm quite sorry, I don't know what..."

"Fuck you!" Eleanor cut him off, "You want some of this, you're going to have to work for it!" To Andrew's amazement, the older women tore open her shirt and thrust her amply supported bust towards him.

"Um..."

"Shut up, you clown! If you still want to have a job by Monday, you're going to have to do exactly as I say! Olivia, come here." The older woman gestured for her accomplice to come forward, "Take off your shirt."

Andrew's mind was in chaos. Olivia slowly, but without hesitation, lifted her tight top over her head and tossed it aside. What was going on here?

Eleanor stepped forward to undo Andrew's belt and pushed his trousers to the floor. In a state of pure confusion, he could not resist her aggression. The smell of his pent-up frustration soaked out through his damp underwear.

Olivia, meanwhile, was disposing of her simple bra, exposing a beautiful pair of firm young breasts. Her nipples were dark and erect, yet politely small.

Eleanor smiled wickedly at the stunned man.

"If you cum before we're done with you... if a drop of semen so much as dribbles off the end of your sexist prick, your career with this company is over. Olivia, make him suffer."

Smiling slyly, the young intern, now completely naked, sashayed towards him. Eleanor stepped back as Olivia reached up to kiss Andrew teasingly. The young vixen ran her hands down to his underwear, and kissed her way past his nipples, dragging her firm breasts down his body. Her hard nipples tugged on the band of his shorts, as her spicy aroma disarmed what shred of rationality Andrew had left. He thrust his hips into her chest as his mind groped for some purchase on reality.

His eyes found Eleanor's glaring sockets, just as Olivia's hands slipped into his shorts. He focused on the older woman, clinging to her hatred, taking up her challenge to hold in his seed. Olivia's moist lips found the tip of his glistening penis, just as he found the resolve which would keep his ardour in check.

The young woman's tongue worked magic on Andrew's erection, but his steely glare held firm and he kept the floodgates closed. Eleanor met his stare, smirking. Olivia sucked on his testicles slowly, each in turn, but somehow he maintained his focus. She wrapped her tongue around his shaft and licked him from base to tip, but all she got in return was a slight quiver. The intern sucked the head of his cock into her mouth, then released it. She took it in again, farther, and released it. Andrew struggled to keep his eyes on the mastermind of his torment, knowing he was on the ropes, but that the worst had passed. Olivia started bobbing on his erection, but it was no use. Eleanor's smirk turned to a frown, as she realized a stalemate had been reached.

"Mr. Plock, on the floor, on your back!" she barked.

Dutifully, he moved to the floor, his tower upright and inviting assault.

"Olivia, fuck him."

The intern turned to her boss hesitantly.

"But you know I can't do that," was Olivia's cryptic response.

The old battle-axe's frown deepened, but she did not dispute the claim.

"Sit on his face then, let's at least get some good pussy-eating out of him."

The obedient young woman knelt above the programmer's face, and lowered herself onto his waiting tongue. She might smell of cinnamon, but she tasted of liquorice. And she began to respond immediately to his mouth.

Andrew looked up in wonder at her tight young body as his tongue swirled about her labia. Olivia's breathing was fast, and a flush crept across her curving bust. She moaned softly as he found her clit and drew it past his lips into his mouth.

Suddenly, the tableau froze. There was a new player in the hall. Andrew nearly died when he saw who it was. This was absolutely not his day.

He was done. Eleanor was done. Olivia was done. They were all done.

For the man who had stepped into their little game was none other than Mark Thompson, owner and chief executive of the whole damn company. Though in his early fifties, he was the very picture of virile masculinity. He was tall, his jaw was square, his shoulders were broad. He gave orders, never advice. He walked with the confidence of one who knew that his every word and deed was just and righteous. He had balls of steel, he stared danger in the face. More than once he had bet the company, his whole life's work, on an impossible deal and had somehow wrung the required performance out of his traumatized employees.

As Andrew panicked, Mark dropped his pants. Without ceremony, he thrust his hairy ten-inch wonder-cock into the gaping mouth of the shocked intern... directly above Andrew's head. Andrew now had a front row seat watching Olivia's expert fellatio, which he had so recently tried so hard to ignore. The giant's semi-flaccid meat slowly gained solidity as the intern's tongue explored his great veined thickness. As his head rose, Olivia rose with it, her saliva dribbling down his shaft onto his hairy balls. Andrew tried to keep his mouth locked to her sex, but soon she was out of his reach. He glanced between her legs to see that Eleanor had found a perch at his knees and was hungrily sucking on his own (more modest) penis.

Patience was not one of Mark's virtues. After firmly face-fucking the beautiful young intern for a minute, he beckoned her to stand. She fairly lept into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist. She issued no complaint as his huge cock spread the folds of her pussy and eased itself into her dripping cunt. Andrew watched from the floor as Mark pinned the young woman against a nearby wall. She draped her arms around his great neck and moaned softly as he thrust his great shaft into her body. With one leg around his waist, and the other awkwardly dangling over his knee, she was held in place by Mark's muscled thighs, by the one hand he had splayed across her ass cheeks and by the glistening rod thrusting to her womb.

Andrew might have been under orders to keep his load in check, but the chief executive played by his own rules. While the young woman quivered in ecstasy, Andrew saw the tell-tale lifting of the older man's nutsack, the clenching of his urethra as he pored his sperm into her vagina, and the dribble of pearly white essence squeezing out around his pistoning cock.

Eleanor brought Andrew roughly back to his own situation by pinning his head to the floor with her kiss. Mingled with the scent of skunk was the taste of his own cock on her lips. The older woman dropped her sopping snatch onto Andrew's standard with a sodden splat. She might not be Olivia, but Andrew wasn't about to complain. After the events of the day, he wasn't going to let anything get in the way of a good fuck.

Eleanor might have been a bitch in conversation, but she clearly knew a thing or two about sex. Her hands were always busy, and she used her tongue, lips and teeth to tease Andrew to greater heights. Her pussy tightened around his cock whenever she moved, heightening the friction within her well-lubricated channel. Andrew tried to keep up as best he could, catching her wide brown nipples in his fingers, planting a kiss on her neck when the opportunity presented itself, but he was fighting a loosing battle. Before long, he knew he was going to cum.

Andrew felt his loins gathering for the final push, and he clenched his muscles as best he could. He pulled his head up to Eleanor's breasts and sucked one of her large nipples hard into his mouth. She gasped as the sensation overtook her. For an instant, they were locked in position. Every fiber of Andrew's body was taught, holding back his seed. Eleanor's back was arched away from him, her breast firmly planted in his mouth. Her vagina clenched hard around his shaft.