Temping

Ok, so when it comes down to it, temping really pretty much sucks.  BUT, it’s decent money, and there’s at least one fringe benefit: a fresh set (there’s always at least one!) of cute guys in each different office.

My latest gig was a two-week stint in the accounting office of some investment bank.  It was a fairly horrible office: flickering fluorescents, soul-killing cubicles, vacuous corporate drones from Queens with scary fingernails; and a bunch of bankers who were gratuitously self-important fat rich golf-playing Republicans.

There was -exactly- one cute boy in that office: Mitch, the tech guy.  He was a beanpole of a man: twenty-something, ridiculously tall and pale and skinny, with an angular face and a high forehead.  He was quiet and totally wired, and walked with this super-cute slouch.  And he had a really cute little ass.

I checked out his personnel file.  One bonus to working in accounting is that you get to snoop, and I take regular advantage of that ability.  He lived in Brooklyn.  Interesting… I wrote down his cell phone number.

On Friday afternoon, as I got ready to leave work, I dropped by the tech closet.  Mitch was in there still, hunched over his laptop, clicking away at the keyboard.

“Hey you,” I said, “A bunch of us are going out for an after-work drink” A blatant lie, I wouldn’t go out with those troglodytes on a dare. “You wanna come along?”

He looked up from his computer, brow furrowed, slightly annoyed at the interruption.  “No thanks, I’ve got to work late.”

On Saturday night, buzzed from two beers and WAY too much internet porn, I sent a text to his cell phone:  ‘U wanna hang out?’  There was no response.

Back at the office, on Monday or Tuesday, he caught me staring at him.  I fought down the urge to look modestly away, and blushing furiously, I forced myself to smile and licked my lips (hopefully) seductively.

The next day, after work, I called him at home.

“We should get together some time.”

“Look,” he said, “I already have a girlfriend.”

I got drunk and masturbated.  Called him back a couple hours later: “Where’s you girlfriend now?  What is she doing?  I’ve got a vibrator up my pussy and it feels great!  It’d feel better if it was your cock… Does she suck your dick good?  I’d do it better…”

Slunk into work the next day, wallowing in self pity and social awkwardness.  I figured he’d at least avoid me, but we ran into each other like three times that day.  The last time, he favored me with a wry little smile.

Next day, went to a bar in Brooklyn that just happened to be near his home address.  I was kind of hoping to get picked up on, but no-one was biting.  I was a little drunk and a whole lot horny by the time I left the place.

Called him up again.

“Hey, I’m in your neighborhood, if you want to hang out…”

“Where are you now?”

“Driggs Avenue, near the corner of 6th.  We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want, just talk…”

“I’ll be right down.”

He met me on his stoop.  “Let’s go for a walk.”  He took my arm and pulled me along beside him as he slouched down the street at a surprisingly fast speed.  “I already told you I’ve got a girlfriend.”  I nodded mutely.  “Her name’s Lauren, she’s upstairs.  She wants me to take a picture of you.  I told her I’d come back with a six-pack.”

We entered McCarren Park.  It was pretty dark; the streetlights were on, but they were widely spaced, and there were long stretches of darkness between the pools of sodium-vapor light.  The hipsters were out, strolling by in ones and twos and little posses of five or six, with their single-speed bikes and their skateboards, and there was the occasional little old Polish babushka, out walking her rat-dog or dottering home with groceries.  I was drunk enough that I was relying on Mitch’s arm to keep me walking straight.

We stepped off the main path, and stopped at a park bench under a bare old oak tree whose naked branches creaked in the night wind.

I stumbled over a loose cobblestone and laughed nervously.

“Bend over” Mitch told me, and there was a harsh edge to his voice that was new to me.  I kind of liked it.  I leaned over, resting my arms on the back of the bench.  Mitch was already tugging my pants down.  “Cute panties” he sneered.  I was wearing the yellow ones with the Garfield print.  I felt him pulling them out of the way, felt the cold night air on my wet pussy.  “God your wet!” It was true, I was drooling, utterly out-of-control horny.  He ran his fingers up and down my crack, spreading my labia, tormenting my eager swollen clit.

He spread my butt cheeks wide, and without ceremony,  he penetrated my asshole with one slick finger.  I squirmed and wiggled, the shock of unexpected penetration combined with my lustful desire to get more of him inside.  He twisted the finger inside me, and I moaned out loud.

A group of hipsters in skinny jeans and ironic t-shirts ambled by, laughing among themselves.  They stopped in front of the bench.  Though I was facing away, I could feel their eyes on me.  “Full moon’s out tonight” I heard one of them crack.  A girl giggled outrageously loudly, a high-pitched titter.  “I’m gonna have to tweet this” another one said.  And they moved on.

“You are such a horny little slut.”  Mitch slapped my pale ass hard.  SMACK!  It stung.  SMACK!  SMACK! SMACK! The flat of his hand beat my ass cheeks, leaving red fingerprints that would leave bruises and be there for days.  It really hurt.  Each SMACK! spiked my lust until I was sobbing, begging incoherently for him to touch my cunt. “You love this, don’t you?”

Yes!

After about a million years, he finally stopped spanking my bare bottom.  He came around to the other side of the bench, unbuttoning his black jeans, fishing his cock out.  He was very much erect.

It was a beautiful dick, long and thick and circumcised, with a perfect purple head and a nice tight ball sac.  The whole package was shaved bare, and his erection curved slightly upward, like the catenary of a suspension bridge.

He started jerking himself off, right into my panting, tear-streaked face.  “Yes, yes, yes…” I urged him.  Faster and faster he went, his dick swelling and going from purple to livid red, oozing clear fluid from the winking pee hole.  “Yes, yes, yes” I chanted.

He growled like a cave-bear as he came, squirting salty bitter hot semen into my mouth, on my tongue, and splashing onto my cheek, my nose, my neck, my shirt.  I greedily swallowed all the spunk that had gone inside my mouth as he buttoned up.  He pulled out his cell phone, pointed it in my direction, and I was temporarily blinded by the flash.  “See you back at the office” Mitch said, and walked off into the dark night.

When I got home that night, I stripped naked, turned on the overhead light in my bedroom, and pulled the curtains wide open.  I sat on the edge of my bed and opened up a beer, listening to Tom Waits cranked up really loud on the stereo.

The bottle empty, I grabbed my trusty purple vibe, set it humming, and lay back on the bed, legs spread wide apart, toes pointed at the ceiling, wet crotch pointed right at the blackness of the window.  I could come faster by concentrating the vibrating tip on my clit; instead I slid the toy up my slippery pussy-hole, savoring the sensation of every inch of the silicone toy filling my juicy cunt.

I pumped the buzzing toy in and out, in and out, fucking myself, feeling the thousand eyes of the cold cold city on my naked body, watching as I furiously masturbated.  I felt myself slipping over the edge, raising my hips up off the bed, plunging the purple cock deep deep into my cunt as my body shook and I came and came and came again.

I would wake up stiff and sore and hung over.  I would take a shower and go to work.  Another week, another office, another cute boy, another crush.

I am going to die of loneliness.

END

(Author note: this story owes a lot to somebody else’s worka story out there on the interweb that I read the other week, and that inspired me to retell it from a different point of view, and expand and change around a lot of details and crap.  I can’t remember where I saw it, but it was good, well-written, and hot.  If you’re the author, send me a note, and I’ll happily give you credit!  -Elsie)

5 Comments »

  1. Elsie Fan(ny) said

    This is so sad (but well-written).

  2. It looks like you are a true specialist. Did you study about the topic? hrhr

    • elsiewrites said

      I’m not sure what to make of this comment… is it a compliment or an insult?

  3. […] Temping […]

  4. Grendel said

    So hot and so sad … what she needs is a good Dom 😉

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