The confusing, awkward interactions with female co-workers had contributed to his decision to quit his job at Sony twelve years previously. Every aspect of office work had been agony for Henry: the forced camaraderie, the group projects, the open-door policy. His boss had repeatedly passed him over for promotion, ignoring his twelve-hour workdays and choosing employees who were "team players." Finally putting enough in savings to quit had been one of the greatest achievements of Henry's life. It was a pleasant surprise to find that he had inadvertently built a reputation as a brilliant, creative programmer, and Digitech, Sony's key competitor, was more than willing to offer him a high-paying position complete with a private office and a work environment free from... other people. The one exception was his personal assistant, a position that for the last twelve years had been filled by a series of driven, ambitious young men, who were willing to match Henry's punishing work schedule for a year or two in exchange for being placed on the fast track to success at Digitech. He had never gotten along with his assistants. Even the friendliest had reminded him of the arrogant jocks and frat guys he had known in college. He was sure they all judged him, mocked him. He made a habit of maintaining a coldly civil professional relationship with them all.
And this girl would be no different, Henry decided. Why should she be? It wasn't as if he was frightened of women... he was no virgin! His sexual history was different than that of most men his age, perhaps, but it was certainly as extensive. He felt a tension building in his groin as he remembered. His first bedroom experience had come when he was a sophomore in college, courtesy of the kindhearted class slut. She had taken pity on him—or perhaps lost a bet, he would never know—and invited him into her dorm room one evening for a few hours. He had been shocked when she came on to him, but not too shocked to respond. She had sucked his cock with enthusiasm and expertise, and then patiently taught him how to reciprocate. At the time, he had been ashamed of the loveless, superficial encounter, but compared to his subsequent experience, it now seemed sweet, innocent, almost pure.
As a recent college graduate, Henry had found the work world unbearably stressful and boring. When a college acquaintance invited him to a frat party, he jumped at the chance to leave his adult life behind for an evening, conveniently forgetting all the reasons he had avoided such parties throughout his college career. His supposed buddy never showed up, however, and Henry was left wandering through the loud, overcrowded rooms of the frat house, pounding beers and speaking to no one. Eventually, he wandered upstairs in search of a bathroom. Having successfully completed his business, he decided to stay upstairs, where it was quiet, and he drifted drunkenly down the hallway, checking out the various rooms. He opened one door and was startled to see a beautiful, unconscious coed, lying on her back across the bed.
The room was a standard frat room, obviously belonging to a college male, but the girl was alone. Her auburn hair fanned out behind her head, and her skirt was flipped up around her waist. Her black panties were down around her ankles, and her slightly splayed knees gave him a perfect view of her glistening cunt. It was obvious that she had very recently been fucked; whether she had been awake and aware of the encounter was less clear. It occurred to Henry that he should try to wake her, perhaps call an ambulance, or the police. But her exposed, helpless state, not to mention her traffic-stopping body had aroused him to a degree he had never before felt. In a drunken, lustful daze, he stepped into the room, locked the door behind him, and stumbled around the bed, to stand by her head. He shook her gently, then more forcefully. She didn't stir. He lightly slapped her across the face, and her head lolled to one side.
Blood pounded painfully through Henry's dick as he unbuttoned his pants. He pulled it out and slid his pants and boxers to the floor. Gripped the shaft tightly, he knelt on the bed and began rubbing the swollen purple head against the unconscious girl's face. The sensation of her soft, sticky lips limply stroking his cock was intoxicating, as was the knowledge that she would never have submitted to this degradation, had she been given a choice. With his free hand, he reached down and unfastened the two buttons that were keeping her tight, white blouse closed. Her creamy tits filled the lacy black cups of her bra. Henry knew nothing about cup sizes, but she seemed almost as busty as the porn stars he so frequently jerked off to. Bra clasps were an impenetrable mystery to him, so he simply shoved the cloth of her bra cups down as far as they would go, freeing her soft, full breasts. Her mauve nipples were already semi-erect. Continuing to assault her face with his cock, Henry began kneading her tits, pinching and twisting her nipples. He tweaked them viciously, indulging a thirst for cruelty he had not known that he possessed.
He was close to blowing his load right there on her face, but in the back of his mind, he knew he would never have another chance like this. He stood up, realizing that he had already made up his mind. He walked back to the other side of the bed. On the nightstand, he spotted several condoms. Henry dimly acknowledged that he'd rather avoid whatever diseases this slut—or the guy who'd fucked her first—might have, so he grabbed one and clumsily rolled it on. He stumbled, collapsed on the bed. He clumsily positioned himself on top of her, and paused. Now or never... but his decision was made.
