Sex with the Whole Company

Sexual Emancipation in the workplace…or fucking your colleagues.

The idea of open sexuality has always struck me as being sensible.

I decided therefore to launch a project of my own in the workplace. I like to think of it as employee training and development. One day, I came into my office, composed of 24 employees, management and ownership - and set a goal for myself to have sex at least once with each and every one of them.

It does indeed sound bizarre, but as God exists in heaven, it is the honest truth. I had been with this company – I’ll call it, Goose’s Microbiology Clinic (GMC) for 10 years. My job was to work with our high-end clients – those who dealt in the millions.

GMC provided sperm of all types, for whatever the need…sperm for stud; sperm for impregnating women…we’ve even provided human sperm to an aftershave company. No guff. If sperm was the issue, we were on top of it.

You who are reading this might consider such a business, gross or nauseating. The truth be told it was a fascinating form of commerce. Every client we had would always engage us in questions, ask us tell them stories about our economic escapades, and tell us new sperm jokes. Every new client asked the same questions: a) Who jerks off the cows; b) what happens if sperm spills on someone. Who cleans it? C) Have you ever mistakenly sent horse sperm to a human family?

Not only was the social aspect of our work exciting, but also for some reason being around sperm made us all hornier. MGC was increasing our libido. I did some research about sperm-workers and their sexual urges, but could find nothing on it. I offer any sociology student who wishes, to be in touch with me and consider my theory for a thesis. .

I have always been of a very sexual nature. There is a sorority of women and men out there who are members of the Sexual Nature Club. Membership requires constant horniness, erect nipples and/or penis 24/7. Age is not a consideration as members are as young as 18 and as old as 90. (I’m not kidding. Our consideration of seniors is generally so pedestrian and stupid. There are old folk out there, and I mean 90, who can fuck until the crow clucks. Yes, they are anomalies, quirks, almost unnatural, however they exist).

I can fuck at anytime of the day or night, in almost any environment, under conditions that would scare a sailor. I have blown a priest while he was giving confession and I fucked a football team when I was in my first year of college. I fuck. I am, to some, a nymphomaniac. To those who subscribe to this description of my bold sexuality, I suggest therapy and a wild orgiastic session with a porno queen or king.

I am sexual. I love it, and like the musician who looks for venues to play, so too do I

look for sex to satisfy my instruments. Just as card players loves poker, and the womanizer loves woman, I love sex. Simply put, this is my strong suit.

In year 10 at GMC, I had accomplished everything I’d set out to do. I had risen from the mailroom right up to vice-president of client care. My salary was over $150,000 a year, and I was made a partner, albeit a small one (2000 tons of cow sperm can bring in quite a bit of money. The dividends have been good.

I could have left GMC but decided instead to stay, and use the time available because of my efficiency, to grow in other ways. I had paid my dues, and now was the time to enjoy them, while I still worked and made lots of doe.

I decided to begin my flirtatiousness with Radik, who had joined the company 2 months before and started out in maintenance. Radik was 6 feet tall, with a body of an Adonis – sleek, toned and bronze. Mmmmh. I loved that Polish boy, and knew in my heart of hearts, that once his pants came down he would have a cock that would be cause for celebration.

And I was right. He was uncircumcised – a thing I love, because it adds what I see is a kind of ‘bad boy component’ – and it sort of hung there semi-hard, always. I fell to my knees the moment he stripped his pants off, and settled back into an old office chair.

His cock jammed into my mouth, throbbed immediately with a youthful sexual prowess possessed by those too young to really know what they’ve got. I grabbed his balls with my left hand and massaged them with rhythmic strokes; my right hand fingered his asshole, as my head made love to Radik’s Polish dick.

His cum in my mouth was not the highlight our bouts together. The thing that truly rattled my pussy…. the grand slam of our lust was the intensity in which we fucked. Every muscle on his young body gleaned with sweat; the muscles in my legs stretched around his body with a mission to squeeze every ounce of love out of me and him – everysingletime we fucked. It was existential loving making, and Radik was only 19.

All it had taken to get Radik to agree to my sexual proposal was a nibble on his ear and an invitation. He was Polish. Hung like a horse and I couldn’t get enough of him.

Our affair continued throughout the entire week. We must have fucked 20 times one afternoon, so much so that sperm covered my face, hair, breasts and stomach. That was another thing about Radik – his quantity of sperm seemed to increase the more he came.

Man, once you’ve had Polish, there ain’t no going back-ish.

My next challenge was not quite as easy to win over, but she wasn’t the hardest to convince either. Her name was Sarah, and she was this sweet little thing working in accounting. Sarah personified the stereotypical image we have of an industrial bookkeeper…. she appeared Molly-Maidish and gaunt. But to those who took the time to really look closely, Sarah was beautiful. Her high cheekbones made her look so glamorous, even though her face was really hidden under mounds of disheveled hair.

One morning, 3 weeks into my sexual-agenda in the workplace, I sat down next to Sarah as she banged out some numbers on her Texas instrument. I moved closely to her, and with the sexiest Ginger (in Gilligan’s Island) look I could muster up, I asked,

“Could I ask you some advice?”. Startled she responded that if she could be of help, she would be more than happy to.

“Do you think that having sex, relaxes people?” Sarah paused a moment in what seemed like daytime apnea, rested her long fingers on her desk and said, “Well”. Her facial expression resembled that of ‘The Scream’.

“I do believe that would make sense, at least according to scientific principals. Yes. They would,” she announced.

I then set about morphing this question into a private sexual consultation hour. Once Sarah realized that she had quite literally partaken in a conversation of a sexual nature, the floodgates poured open. We discussed every single thought, fantasy, query this girl had ever had regarding sex.

And the more we talked about her masturbation techniques (a cucumber, a water-pic, and jets in the swimming pool etc. etc. etc.) and her fascination with strap-ons, the more horny we became.

As you can imagine, it took one more morning before our clothing started to come off as soon as we fell head forward into my office to partake in a great many sessions of cunnilingus.

Sarah was a chocolate-eyed Persian woman, 29, with a body that curvaceously eased its way into the psyche of all of us. Despite the fact that Sarah dressed in clothing reminiscent of peasantry, she projected a certain sexual confidence, which from time to time would express itself through an unmistakably dipping blouse, or a hem, which trespassed her knees.

I do believe that I spotted Sarah masturbating once in the bathroom, in the stall next to mine. I remember being so deeply touched by her moans and ever so beautiful stifled cries of ecstasy as she came. When I finally had her within tongues reach, I sucked, blew and licked this woman’s woman…. this Sophia Loren type.

Sarah responded the same way a private-school girl were to upon her first year in college.

She wanted to learn everything she had been denied by the nuns and priests. Sarah wanted to fuck everywhere, anytime without any hesitancy to grow and learn.

I am remembering now some of our first times together and it was magnificent. The image of Sarah peeling off her white blouse and sticking her 36c breasts in my face, still makes me wet. I fucked her with my entire fist on the second day of our fuck feast. It was she who grabbed my hand and forced it into her cunt, and began to hump my hand, wrist and arm with reckless abandon.

I was now fucking Radik and Sarah everyday. This consumed some of my spare time

But my mission had only just begun. I was intent upon fucking everyone in the company, at least once…. everyone including the old wobbly sort of fellow who strains the animal sperm we receive in huge steel milk vats. (Once I remember he lost his balance on the platform next to the vats and in order to get his balance back he had to grab for the lip of the vat. Unfortunately he missed and half of his body disappeared into gallons of horse semen. Poor guy. No amount of money in the world could have rescued him from his humiliation).

I stepped into the office of the Director of Human Resources. We were a small office but very well managed. Everyone had a directorship – even Radik. He was the director of Maintenance.

Marty leaned back in his chair, with a look of great desire on his face. His blue pin stripes were unzipped and I didn’t need Cole’s Notes to realize that I had been propositioned.

“You’re going to make love to me all night and then I’m going to fire you.”

I looked at Marty and couldn’t hold back a tear. The fun had come to an end, and was doing so in a most unimaginable way. I was being fired/imposed upon/and humiliated…. it was aweful.

As I walked out the door, I smiled and wiped the cum off my lips. Yes, Marty had fired me and I was going to have to get over that. He did fuck me on his own conditions, but it was something I could accept. The one thing I knew for sure, however, was that Marty was number 24.

I had accomplished my goal to fuck everyone in the company. I was certain that I had brought beauty into my colleague’s lives, and I knew I had done a lot for myself. Thanks. Bye.