I'm Not Getting Clean at All

Here's something new. I have no idea if this will turn anyone on or even get accepted by the editors. But I HAVE to write about it!

I have a mad crush on someone at work. I was told by a friend who got me the job that I'd like him, before I met him. So as not to "dip my pen in the company ink" so-to-speak, I made a concerted effort to avoid getting too close too soon when my job began. I was doing a fantastic job, if I do say so myself. But then one day, I was in my office and he picked up a call in the waiting room just outside. I do accounting so my focus was well established, until I heard him talking all nerdy. The way he streamlined terms such as, 'aspect ratio', and 'key frame' into his phrases caught my attention. I had to stop and recompose my focus. He kept talking. A few moments passed and my focus began to wane again. What a marvelous voice...no! I must focus. There will be no mixing business with pleasure. Nosirree!

Then it happened. His deep, creamy, rich and resonant voice enveloped me like the warmth of the steam room I had enjoyed the night before. I tried to resist, but failed. I looked up from my desk and whispered, "uh-oh," as the moist dew of my uncontrollable arousal absorbed into my garments. I closed my eyes and uttered a little prayer for myself, "Please help me through this."

Since then I have managed to bring my feelings to a relatively containable level. And we're quite convivial with one another. I don't have much fear or concern that I'll make a wrong move or a regrettable romantic decision anymore. Or, in the converse, completely put him off in some spastic effort to scare him away so that I don't have to deal with my emotions. Maybe we'll even be able to be good and longtime friends. But I am left with the physical evidence of my desire to an almost alarming degree. Such that, where once I did not, now I must invest in the daily consumption of panty liners in my Feminine Products budget.

I have also learned to allow myself simple and harmless pleasures. One of which is proving quite valuable. Rather than resist by trying to talk too much so as to avoid getting damp, I am starting to simply listen to him. He seems to like to tell me stuff. So I listen, appreciate and enjoy that which I can for the time-being. Since I love the sound of his voice so much, I am learning to be quiet and listen more in my life in general. The things people reveal is very interesting when I offer my attention without speaking. I suppose the panty liner expenditure is a fair tradeoff. I imagine that listening more will be an excellent writer's tool in days to come.

Other pleasures in which I indulge are fantasies. Fantasies galore. This man has sparked a wealth of filthy inspirations in me that certainly do not help to lower the panty liner budget whatsoever.

There's the warehouse fantasy. That was the first one. We're working after-hours in the warehouse. One thing leads to another and next thing you know he has me restrained with packing tape to the shipping table. I'm bent forward with my skirt pulled up and my underpants pulled down. Perhaps a UPS label taped to my mouth? And of course he's telling me what a slutty whore I am in those deep and warm vocal tones, his hot breath close to my ear and neck.

Then, of course, all of the office fantasies. But you've read plenty of those.

There was this one time that he came into my office after lunch with a mint in his mouth and a little wet spot on the crotch of his pants. I instantly thought he was out getting a blowjob for lunch. I realized that it was I who wanted to give him a lunchtime blowjob. Perhaps even every day. I could not stop thinking about it for the rest of the afternoon. I was spending way too much time imaging what sort of codes we'd have worked out: "I just heard Afternoon Delight on the radio," "It's blowjob-thirty," "Got an itch?", "My pussy hurts...".

Unfortunately, it also made me a little cranky because I was not focusing on my work. All I could think about was stealing away for a few moments to his car, a dark alley, a back corner of the warehouse, somewhere, ANYwhere just to hear him call me his dirty little cocksucking whore. That's the first day I decided to wear panty liners every day.

Sometimes I wish that he gets a job someplace else so that I can crawl across the floor and lick him from the boots up. And maybe come take a long hot bath with him and a Lush(tm) bath bomb in that giant tub he keeps telling me about. I'd show him a Dirty Picnic at the cemeteries and Hacienda del Pinto. I'd take him to all my favorite places while wearing a skirt for each trip. And he can even keep me gagged so that I can listen to him speak the whole time.