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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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Archive name: corpus.txt (MF, cons, work)
Authors name: The Foxbat (the_foxbat@hotmail.com)
Story title : Corporate Corpus
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This work is copyrighted to the author © 2002. Please
feel free to distribute this, on the condition that the
disclaimer and author's name remains intact and unaltered.
Feedback is appreciated: the_foxbat@hotmail.com
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Corporate Corpus (MF, cons, work)
By The Foxbat (the_foxbat@hotmail.com)
***
Disclaimer: The characters in this story are completely
fictional, and bear no intended resemblance to
characters in real life. This story contains graphic
sex, in some cases non-consensual, and should not be
read if such stories are illegal in your state, or if
you are a minor.
There are endless movies about end of the year parties,
summer loving, and the like. The problem has always been
though, for me at least, that they were movies. I don't
give a damn if the protagonist, who I'm sure is a really
nice guy on the inside, gets a piece of the hot chick or
not because its not me. Summer has always been
associated with frustration in my mind, not with
wonderful romances.
I'd basically given up on my social life during the
summer, and had gotten a job, which occupied most of my
time working in a IT department of a large corporation.
It's the kind of place where entire departments exist
for the sole purpose of "supporting" other departments,
and if the external customers dropped off the face of
the planet tomorrow, it would probably take a month for
the realization to penetrate the depths of the company,
so busy are the departments making money off each other
and supporting each other. I sometimes wondered if any
product was in fact being made.
At any rate, my job mostly consisted of following my
boss (who was referred to behind his back as "asshole")
around and doing a small portion of the Herculean tasks
he assigned to me without thought as to how I would
accomplish them or if they were even possible. Asshole
was utterly oblivious to any results I produced, largely
because having results meant I had to tell him, and if I
was telling him, he couldn't be telling me, which is
what he seemed to thrive on.
Under normal circumstances, I would follow Asshole
around, wish I was somewhere else, retire to my small
office which had doubtlessly started its life as a
broom-closet, do a little work to appease my conscience,
and then wish I was somewhere else for the rest of the
day.
The only break from this hell was lunch, where I got the
wonderful respite of sitting by myself and choking down
nasty cafeteria food, wishing I was back at my desk so I
could wish I were back in the cafeteria again.
It was only the pay I was earning, probably the result
of some accounting snafu deep in the bowels of the
company that kept me around. That and the fact I really
had nothing better to do.
This all changed however, and it started in the least
likely of places.
I think Asshole believed that the more documents he had
copied, the more important he must be. A good chunk of
my time was thus spent at the copy machine, watching it
turn out reams of black and white versions of the shit
that Asshole periodically excreted. At first, my luck
seemed to have gone to hell like everything else, when
the copy machine nearest my office mysteriously died.
Now, instead of giving me nice neat copies to hate, it
gave me shredded bits of paper, and complained endlessly
of paper jams. Needless to say Asshole wasn't pleased,
and nor was I since it meant I had to go to the copy
room on the other side of the building.
This however, wasn't a bad thing entirely. You see, on
my first trek over to the other copier, I entered
nirvana when I had to stand behind a nice blond and wait
for her to finish copying. Coming from the land of fat
forty something management, any female was a windfall
but this one was really something.
As she finished her stack of papers, she turned and made
eye contact and smiled for a second before dropping it
and leaving with eyes downcast to return to her cage
doubtlessly.
Since no one but me apparently used the copier in the
close room, and no one including me knew how to get it
fixed, it just stayed broken. Which was fine. Very fine.
Almost as fine as Sam's ass, in fact. Sam was the blond
who inhabited the other room and we rather quickly
became friends. She was in much the same position as me,
basically an ego receptacle for her boss. We had started
talking the next day when I was again waiting for the
machine and checking out her ass.
"Hey," she said.
"Hey," I said.
There was a pause as I enviously watched the copier
ejaculating white copies.
"Are you new?" she said, shifting her attention back to
me.
"No.... I've been here since the start of the summer. I
actually work on the
other side of the building, but our copier just crapped
out, so I have to use this one." As if it were such a
burden.
"That's a bummer," she said, smiling again. "I hate it
when the copiers die."
I eventually found out that she'd poured a 2 pounds of
sand into the inker and put an entire roll of aluminum
foil through the paper feed to ensure it would be
broken. Apparently unbeknownst to me, she'd decided that
I'd make a good copy companion after following me back
from lunch one day.
Despite her knack for sabotage, Sam was an awesome
person to talk to. She had a great sense of humor, a
sparkle in her eyes, and near-constantly hard nipples,
which poked, through her blouses in the air-conditioned
offices. She was on the petit side, but always dressed
to kill in spite of the corporate code. We spent hours
together in the little room, sitting on the floor
talking while the machine did its job.
Despite all this, it never occurred to me that something
more was in the works. The office was still so closely
associated with hell in my mind that it had never
occurred to me that she might be hot to trot.
I was proved wrong on this score as well.
"Hey," she said one day, "I've never actually seen your
office."
"I don't know why you'd want to but we can go check it
out." I responded.
We navigated through the halls and corridors until we
reached my closet.
"Its not much," I said, opening the door and sitting
down in my chair and admiring my walls. The walls were a
true work of art - one was tiled entirely with tear-off
pages from my off-the-wall Dilbert calendar. The other
was dominated by a large poster of Kevin Spacey from
American Beauty, and the immortal lines, "Mostly my job
consists of masking my contempt for the assholes in
charge and retiring to bathroom once a day to jerk off
while fantasizing about a life which less closely
resembles hell." The other wall was Brad Pitt as Tyler
Durden from Fight Club. I was rather proud of it myself.
We had just set foot back in the copy room and sat down
in the office type chair and I was going to ask her what
she thought of it when I was rudely interrupted.
"What do yoaaahhhrrrggggg!"
Somehow a tongue not my own had managed to work its way
down my throat. After some quick mental accounting to
verify that the tongue wasn't mine, and that the hands
running over my face and through my own were not mine
either, I arrived at the startling conclusion that they
weren't mine.
As you might now be suspecting, they belonged to Sam,
who had managed to straddle me and was in the process of
sucking my face off.
It's about at this time that I fully realized just what
was going on. I reached up and began to respond about
the time my chair flipped over backwards from the stress
and dumped us on the floor.
Not deterred for a second, we continued our deep kiss,
as I began to work Sam's shirt off, which was hard
considering our position. I eventually managed just in
time for her to sit up and grasp my oxford by the
pockets and rip it open, sending buttons everywhere. Not
that I cared anymore.
She leaned back down, and I slipped the straps on her
bra and just yanked it down. Her breasts were wonderful,
and her nipples were standing at attention now as
always, begging me to play with them. So I obliged and
began tweaking and twisting them. I had to stop however,
when I felt her moving down and freeing my dick from the
confines of my pants. She had it out in no time was
pumping away with both hands and her mouth before the
first pleasure impulses reached my brain. I let her go
for a while before I decided it was her turn.
Reaching down, I pinched her nipples and drew her off my
cock and up until we were standing. At this point, her
skirt and panties teleported to the floor, and I grabbed
her by the ass and plunked her on the copy machine for
the cunnilingus experience of a lifetime.
Somehow, between us, we managed to get it started. The
machine began to faithfully churn out copies of the
lower portion of my face embedded in her crotch.
I decided to start with the unexpected, so I danced
teasingly around the outside of her well-trimmed patch,
and then grabbed her clit between my teeth and let her
buck of surprise do the rest. Each time she bucked, her
clit would move between my teeth, triggering the next
buck and so forth. I finally let go, only to stuff a few
fingers into her hot box. I could tell she was enjoying
this by the way she was knocking her head against the
wall and moaning loudly. I wondered if this might
eventually become problem.
She was now wet and ready, and the surface of the copier
was getting hot, so I stood up and ran the tip of my
cock through her folds a few times before entering her.
This was heaven. This was also work, and I was getting
paid. What more could you ask for.
I started socking it to her, using my hands to hold her
hips up against mine and her legs open as she was
perched on the edge of my desk. After a few good
strokes, I leaned in to kiss her, and enjoyed feeling
her ragged breathes being drawn in time with my
thrusting.
The machine was still going under us, making black and
white records of our little escapade. I thought this was
pretty exciting, but she managed to tell me through the
moan that the heat was burning her ass.
I could feel us approaching the peak, so I reached down
and cupped her ass and picked her off the desk. With her
still mounted on my cock facing me, she wrapped her legs
around my back, and I leaned her up against the door to
the office, and began nailing her like a mad carpenter.
With each thrust, my pelvis would smack wetly into hers,
and her ass would smack loudly against the door, which
would smack into the doorframe, which took it like a
man. This cacophony was further enhanced by my low
gutteral noises and her distinct sharp cries of "fuck me
harder!"
I could feel myself beginning to come, so I plowed into
her as far as I could and held, feeling her cunt spasm
around my dick which was erupting like Mt. St. Helen at
the moment. As I felt my sperm enter her, I felt my
energy dwindle, and so I let go of her ass and slowly
let her to her feet. I had not yet removed my dick
though, so she was still effectively skewered between
the stoic door and me. I took this opportunity to give
her a nice wet sloppy kiss.
Quite regretfully, she had to leave shortly there after.
I had gone back to the office and was in the process of
relieving myself out my third story window when it
dawned on my that this would happen again tomorrow. I
looked down at the sheaf of photocopies showing the
intimate path between my dick and her cunt and ass.
Asshole probably wouldn't even notice the difference, or
know what they were even if he did.
The rest of that summer was amazing. After a near miss
when Asshole decided to interrupt a marathon fellatio
session and Sam had to spend two hours under my desk
servicing me while Asshole ranted, I decided to fix the
problem. I sent Asshole an email informing him that HR
had transferred me, and left him fictitious contact
information for one Heinrich Scheisskopf, HR director,
along with an 1-800 phone sex number under the heading
"Customer Service."
I knew it would take Asshole at least until the end of
the summer to figure out what had gone awry, and in the
mean time, I had some copying to do.
The End
- - -
Hopefully I now will have time to write more often, so
stay tuned for more. And let me know what you think, or
if you have any nice ideas you'd like storified. More
stories to come, and perhaps an ftp site. Once again,
write me if you have questions, comments, suggestions,
etc. - the_foxbat@hotmail.com
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. You only have one body per lifetime,
so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 19