collection of stories you shouldn't read at work
My canny cousin (Part 3)
Previously I went through a series of experiences, between risky and comfortable, I managed to go through a series of obstacles and in a way you can say that I managed to conquer. After talking with Estefania the night before. I had felt more than excited, a little anxious and also horny (I know that’s a strong way to describe how I feel), but how would you feel if the most morbid fantasy suddenly becomes reality and it’s offered to you on a silver platter?
Mara bursts into her room, ‘God today was hell!’ Her husband Connor follows closely behind, ’It certainly could’ve gone better.’ She unbuckles her sword belt and flops on the bed. All her limbs, even her long thin devil’s tail gone limp, ‘Like who needs that many skeleton minions?! It’s mad!’ ‘It was definitely a lot but we got through them.’ Connor reassures her, taking off his furred cloak then sitting next to her.
Mara sits up next to him, ‘Hrmph, I’m so fucking wired right now it’s not even funny.’ Connor throws his arm around her, pulling her close and kissing her cheek. He brings his mouth up face, whispering into her long, elf-like ear, ‘I’m sure I’ve got ways to fix that.’ His voice shivers down Mara’s body as she gets a devious grin on her face, ‘Oh yeah?’ She excitedly laughs as she runs her hand gently down his thigh, ‘What do you have in mind for me?’ She grips his cock through his pants. His impressive girth fills her palm and her tail flicks in anticipation. Connor caresses her collar bone gently, ‘Well I don’t know if you’ll be up for it.’ ‘Tell me what ya want to do to me, big boy.’ She strokes his shaft gently, his cock throbs in excitement. Connor grabs her tit. Squeezing lightly with his strong hand. ‘Well, I was thinking that I could take out my big cock.’
Self Caught CEO: First Rule of Fuck Club (M45M40+F30, hypnosis, mind control male dominant)
My name is Jan Ardwater, CEO of Boudicca Athletic Wear, plus sized athletic wear for women serious about their workouts. I am one of those women, 48G-40-46. Let me tell you, before I came to the market, no one was making clothes for us. I began my company mostly with other women as part of my creative and production team, but when I needed sales, IT, and purchasing departments to handle expansion I took Tony and his crew on board.
They were, how shall we say, good old boys. Locker room minded ex jocks turned into businessmen. I worried about Tony’s misogyny or at least his open sexual evaluation of all the female executives and staff so I kept a close watch on him. That is how I found all his hidden hypnosis files.
That was a mistake. Not totally a bad one, as they really did relax me and make me more productive when I wasn’t listening to them. It wasn’t enough he caught me using them, it wasn’t enough he spanked me in front of all his people and half of mine, he sent me back to my office to watch the rest of the files and figure out how to serve men best.
Corey was always a book nerd. But after meeting an infamous new barber, he becomes muscular, hairy, and begins to love sports.
Corey had never truly cared about appearances. He was what he was, and that seemed ok to him. Sure, others might see him as too thin, too gawky, perpetually lost in a book, but it was simply who he was.
He had never known any different, after all.
Ever since he was a kid, he had been too sickly to participate in sports like the other boys in his class, and even as he grew, Corey didn’t develop muscles easily either. He remained rangy all through high school, pale from spending too much of his time in the library.
Today, though, he had decided to finally listen to his mom and go to the barber shop. His hair had gotten a bit long for comfort, and usually that meant going over to his mother’s house for a trim, but the older woman sighed at the idea.
Chapter one: The succubus and the sleeping beauty.
Hi! This will be a strange tale of otherworldly influence, mind control, corruption, bdsm, voyeurism and exhibitionism and much, much more. Every character engaging in sexual activities will, of course, be over 18. I am writing this mostly for my own sake, but I sincerely hope you enjoy it, and would appreciate constructive critiscism. It will be off to a slowish start, and increase in pace as the story goes on.
Please, enjoy!
The inky, smoky shape traverses the dark ceiling without sound nor scent. It nestles in the corner of the ceiling, right above the bed. It almost seems to purr as its smoky tendrils vibrate, coiling up around its shape. It has no name, or if it has one, it is long forgotten by both man and itself. That fact does not bother it.
It cares little about names, only about pleasure. Sinful pleasure, some might call it, pleasures of the flesh, but it has no morals. It has been drawn here tonight by one thing, and one thing only: unfulfilled, repressed depravity, waiting for a trigger to unleash it.
Here’s my latest… it definitely got me going this morning. Hope you enjoy!
[As always you can hear me here!](https://open.spotify.com/episode/0fmjaWVpOVi8btL6nSMNdz?si=nhxmmVnFTbWPijoJ8Nbvfw)
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I read your text, “How do you want me to take you?” It’s the early hours of the morning and I see that you sent this message from the other side of the world at 3am. The time difference between us makes this flirtation even more fun. It’s hot to wake up from sexy messages you’ve left me in the middle of the night. I lay my head back onto my pillow and begin to conjure up a fantasy of what it will feel like when we do meet in person. What it will feel like to see you in the flesh.
Between the stresses of work, the non-stop job of being a mother and a wife, and having to always fill some role for other people, you have decided to finally use your benefits to see a therapist. You’re not depressed per se, but you do feel worn down and anxious. And let’s be honest, everyone could benefit from some therapy, so you schedule an appointment and take off a little early from work.
When you meet Dr. Zellner for your first session, you find him to be a pleasant and somewhat handsome man in his lower forties. You sit on a chase lounge that feels a bit too on the nose for a psychologist, but soon he describes how his background and expertise is in hypnosis. You almost laugh thinking it’s a joke.
**I know, I get that a lot. Most people have only seen hypnosis at talent show or in movies, but I assure you, it can be quite effective. I find I can cut straight to the core of what’s affecting someone without wading through the patient’s own defenses which often get in the way. If you’re open to it, I’d like to try today.**
I watched him from afar.
The way he smiles, the way he laughs, the way he looks – *the way he looks at me.*
I notice. And I notice him.
My father in law has never been the man that seemed to be missing something. In fact, most would say he’s very fulfilled and content in his life right now. He walks with the world over his shoulders, really – everywhere he goes, it seems as though the world is his. And if you were to ask him, he’d tell you, with his deep intoning voice “I have everything I absolutely need and want”.
Happy marriage. Beautiful wife. Nice expensive car. Lovely home. This man has it all..
Yet, I catch him staring. And at this point he either doesn’t seem to notice that **I** notice. Or he simply doesn’t care that I do.
So, we take turns. Observing one another when we think the other doesn’t notice.
Tempting him with clothing that invites his greedy eyes to look.
Wearing tiny little swim suits around him.
Bending over when he’s near..
Pt 1
The birds chirped wildly in the tree next to me. I sat down on the back steps of the art store, organizing my purchases into my beat up leather bag: a thick, absorbent book of watercolor paper, a long metal ruler, guache tubs, and a new metal palete. As I violently shook my new supplies into place, the sun beamed into my eyes and I began to overheat. I had overdressed – I didn’t get out much. Peeling my knitted yellow sweater over my head, I started to feel like I was being watched. I quickly ripped off the mass of yarn and pulled my purple t-shirt down with anxious force. My head flitted around, cheeks flushed, underarms damp. My smooth, androgynous chest heaved with stress from being so exposed. As I caught my breath, I noticed someone looking at me curiously from the patio across the street.
I can’t stop staring at Jonah from accounting’s fingers.
I mean, they’re just fingers, right? Attached to a perfectly normal hand and an unremarkable arm and a man who by all measures of attractiveness is just … well … ordinary.
I’ve been working at this company for almost two years and I’ve never even met Jonah from accounting (and yes, that’s what I’m calling him because I don’t know his last name) before today. Sure, we’ve been in some of the same email chains and I’m sure I’ve seen him filling up his water bottle at the fountain or eating his lunch in the breakroom, but I’ve never actually met him. I’m not sure I would have even recognized him if it wasn’t for the ID badge he wears on his pocket.
And now that I have?
I can’t stop staring at his fingers. They’re enormous. His entire hands are, really. They’re huge and calloused and rugged and … I want those fingers in my pussy.
I feel a throb between my legs, inner muscles clenching on nothing, like my cunt is already imagining what it would be like to be impaled on two, maybe three of those thick digits. Good lord, they’re huge, even one would give me the friction I need to …