Office Slut Stress Relief
Kristen is so excited when she figures out a hot story. Mr. Holiday needs some relief. Thanks to Kristen's writing, her fantasy world is coming true. Though the naughty writer doesn't know she's making her wicked desires come true, they are.
Mr. Holiday has a pregnant wife, and Kristen knows he's getting no relief. That's how she's written the story so far. Mrs. Holiday and her twin daughters are too busy sneaking off to be fucked by Kristen's father. He's knocked them both up and giving those pregnant whores all the dick they need.
Which leaves Mr. Holiday getting no pussy.
Kristen wants him to have his fun, too. He needs relief. He's a hard worker. The sort of high-stress environment where the men need to have their dick sucked by sluts. By girls who knew to take care of their men. In Kristen's world, women are either good girls faithful to their men or complete sluts that have to be fucked all the time.
And as she pens her stories, she's making that fantasy a reality.
Hiding out during the lunch break, she sits down to pen her new story about office sluts relieving the men at Mr. Holiday's work. A new policy that Kristen is eager to create. She opens her special diary, never wondering why she hasn't filled it up yet.
Little things no longer bother Kristen. She's focusing all her attention on the diary. On creating her fantasy. She's too busy writing to live herself.
* * *
Russel Holiday
I was bushed. I had been getting all the overtime I could. My wife and both our twin daughters were pregnant. They all had gotten pregnant at nearly the same time. My vasectomy didn't hold. My doctor said it could happen. My daughters, though...
They were both sexually active, it turned out. I didn't want to know the details. Their mother was taking care of it, but it meant my daughters were now teenage single mothers. Part of the epidemic spreading in the country.
So I had to make more.
Take overtime.
Volunteer for extra shifts.
I had barely seen my family because of it. I hadn't had sex with my wife since she told me she was pregnant, and that was... what, six months ago. She was round and had no interest in sex the few times I tried. She was content with having another baby.
So I was frustrated. Jacking off to porn in the bathroom late at night before crawling exhausted into bed wasn't the life I should be having. It sucked, but there just didn't seem to be anything I could do about it. I just had to work.
My wife was happy. She was decorating the nursery where all three babies would be sleeping. She was spending more money to get ready for the coming kids. I mean, I was excited to be a father again and a grandfather, but...
I needed a break.
The alarm on my phone went off. I groaned. It was time for
another
meeting. My boss, Mr. Trevors, liked to call them often then he expected us to get the same amount of work done even after he wasted an hour of our time.
Oh, some of the meeting was important, but most of the time they were just Mr. Trevors pontificating about how great he was at golf or the latest video game he was playing. He could just strut up and down before us, knowing that we had to sit here and take it.
It sucked.
I slumped into the room and groaned. It was a
quarterly
goal meeting. They were the absolute worst. I wasn't the only one groaning. The men and women on my floor were all sinking into their seats. We were a mix of accountants and software guys who worked on our accounting software.
Mr. Trevor stood before us, a tall and handsome man, and slapped at the whiteboard. "That's right, we need to get those billable hours up, guys." He surveyed us with that cocky smile. The Black man used to play football in college and still believed that was his greatest achievement. "There are corporate books to fix, vendor payments to categorize, and payrolls to manage. You need to be working harder. We're down 3% this quarter. We have got to make it up! I need you all to work hard like my man, Russel."
I just nodded, wanting to take a nap.
These meetings were the worst.
* * *
Ms. Holiday thinks it's another boring meeting, but when he walks in, he realizes it's not. His boss, Mr. Charleston, has a plan to help with productivity by introducing a new way to reduce stress. Mr. Holiday is perked right up.
* * *
Russel Holiday
Mr. Charleston clapped his hands together. He had a big smile, his thick glasses magnifying his eyes. His sandy-brown hair was badly combed over his bald spot. He was the palest guy in the office. I didn't think he ever left it.
"Productivity is down because morale is down," said Mr. Charleston. "I know Russel has been working himself to the bone. He's a cool dude that needs a break. You all do."
I nodded. God, I did need a break.
"That's why the company is taking steps to make sure that you're all taken care of." Mr. Charleston surveyed the room. It was all men. He wore the most lurid of grins. It was a tad uncomfortable. "You cool dudes eager to find out? Huh?"
"Sure," I said. This was so different from the meeting I thought we would have. And so far he hadn't launched into a story of the glory days of his WoW guild and the raid bosses they took down. It was all gibberish to me.
"Then let me welcome our newest additions," he said, motioning to the door. "Here are the girls who are going to take care of you all."
The door opened and, to my utter delight, a group of young women, barely eighteen, sauntered in wearing
very
short tartan skirts and white blouses tied beneath their breasts. The skirts swished about delicious thighs and boobs bounced in the thin material. Their flat stomachs were delicious, all with cute navels. Some had their bellybuttons pierced with gold charms. Their hairs were all different styles. Pigtails. Ponytails. French braids. Some had knee-high socks, others thigh-high socks. All white. They wore saddle-buckles shoes, looking at once innocent and whorish.
