My adventure began when a coworker was on vacation. James seemed like a nice enough guy. He was married with a kid. Good looking, well built. The kind of guy I would probably make out with if drunk at a Christmas party – if he wasn't married, of course.
As it turned out, he had an aunt pass away and was granted three days leave to travel for the memorial. It was a very busy time of year within our organization, but as another coworker put it, “you cant control when old people will die”.
The second day he was away, the full-blown crisis hit and a rather significant financial report became corrupt. We came to the consensus that the original must be on James’ computer. Thinking nothing of it, I made my way to his work area to begin my search for the original and was surprised to find the PC protected by a password. I wasn’t aware of any others in the office with passwords but given the responsibilities James had, I guessed it seemed appropriate.
The password delayed things further but within an hour we had tracked him down and I called him.
It seemed strange that he was so reluctant to provide me his password, instead trying for at least fifteen minutes to repair the corrupted file while on the phone. Eventually, he began to understand his original was the only option and I sensed he knew not providing the password would raise more questions. Finally, I gave him my word I wouldn’t ‘screw up his PC’ and it would be just me that would retrieve it. He finally spelled out the obscure series of numbers and letters I needed and I was looking at his well-organized desktop.
By this point, I found it amusing. He was now more than willing to help direct me quickly and efficiently to the appropriate folder. I found the file and he requested numerous times for me to properly ‘lock’ his machine before leaving it. I did and with that, he seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. Unfortunately for him, my curiosity had been piqued.
Despite being an attractive, young female, I’m not an idiot. I know the things that boys do on computers and could only assume James didn’t want anyone to know what he had been up to. Then again, maybe it was something else.
Looking back, if it were anyone else, I wouldn’t have cared. In fact, if it had been some of the men in the office, I would have tried my best to forget about it. But with James… curiosity was getting the better of me. What was he hiding?
I waited until 5 o'clock, when nearly everyone had left. I made my way back to his desk and sat down in his chair. The soft leather cradled me as I felt a spark of excitement building deep down. I was intrigued by what I might find or learn about him. He was married, maybe he was having an affair. Maybe it was just porn, but then what type?… what smut did he like looking at… what did a guy like James get off to?
I looked around. The office was quiet. I could feel my heart racing. I knew this was very wrong, on many levels, but I had to know.
It took me a few tries to remember his password exactly but I’m blessed with a memory for that sort of thing, despite its complexity.
Again, I found myself staring at his neatly organized desktop. The first several minutes turned up nothing. In fact, it made him seem rather boring. His My Documents folder was practically empty as was his internet browsing history and recent documents. Maybe a bit too clean? He was definitely nervous to allow me access so there must be something. I started to get creative.
A search for the typical sex-related words and file sizes turned up nothing. Then a search for files modified with the last few days seemed to reveal more.
A series of zipped folders with passwords were tucked away in an obscure directory. “Got him!” – I thought to myself.
A quick copy and paste to the network and I was back at the comfort of my own desk, searching out password recovery programs.
I’m often amazed at the ease at which one can bypass a password. Apparently, James was not as knowledgeable. He should have known better!
I knew what I was expecting, or rather, ‘hoping’ to find, and at this point I can be honest with myself and say why... I had a bit of a thing for him. He was a good-looking man. Athletic. Attractive. But given his marital situation (and not being a home wrecker), I would never have acted on my desires. That is, until I began to read a document titled with my name.
A range of emotions passed through me as my eyes darted through the document. Initially I felt sickened and furious, but I was aware of a strange feeling… my reaction was not really ‘me’. It was what I thought I should feel. IN reality, I was flattered, even a little excited.
.
I read on and learnt of an apparent ‘fictional’ character that just happened to share my exact name and physical attributes. This woman teased and taunted a married office worker named Jim. She would purposely bend over and flash her stocking tops at him, secretly wanting him to fuck her after everyone else had gone home. Skipping down a number of pages, the content became very explicit. I was a little shocked, yet incredibly interested to see myself portrayed in such a way. I couldn’t turn away.
Forty minutes and several files later, I found a story which featured me begging Jim for my job after he found me looking at porn. The irony made me laugh out loud. I looked around but I was now the only one left in the office.
I continued reading to learn that I was willing to do “anything” to keep my job and subsequently knelt down in front of him and begun sucking his self-proclaimed “mammoth dick”.
It wasn’t so much him portraying me a slut or idiot that frustrated me, rather that he was having these types of fantasies while I stayed at arms length given his marital status. Not that I was willing to do everything he had thought of, there were days I would have loved to sucked him off in the bathroom, mammoth dick or not. But he was married,,, and I had always seen that as a definite no-fly zone.
I continued to scan through document after document. Various coworkers – named and described in detail – performed a variety of explicit sexual activities. A few trends became quickly evident. 1) I seemed to be a main character (having been with nearly every other young woman in the office as well as the coffee shop barista across the street) and 2) James had an apparent fetish for stockings.
I did wear skirts about half the time but I never wore stockings. I didn’t know any women that actually did wear them to work, especially in this office.
I noticed my work outfits were described in surprisingly accurate detail… except for the underwear that I donned underneath. Where I wore simple cotton panties and nylons, James seemed to think (or wish) I adorned garter belts, stockings, and sheer lace g-strings. Not that I didn’t possess more exciting lingerie, but again, I didn’t tend to wear them to work.
I'm not quite sure when my “anger” towards James and the situation dissipated but it was nearly 7pm when I found myself rather “in” to a particular story where the roles had been reversed. James had Christine (the receptionist) and me standing above him, in full control and sexually tormenting him with our stocking clad legs and feet. I had been reading for a few hours now and I noticed I was getting excited more and more often.
Looking back, it seemed to happen subconsciously – a quick look around to ensure I was still alone and I slipped my hand down my pants and felt the moisture that had mounted since beginning the story. I continued, glued to the story, gently touching myself as I read on.
Christine and I would take turns kissing each other and rubbing our feet against Jame's face. I felt the waves of excitement tingle through my clit as I began rubbing it harder. Putting a physical sensation to the words of the story describing how I lowered my throbbing pussy down on to his face.
By the time I reached the actual fucking in the story my finger was sliding in and out of my now very-wet slit.
He chose to fuck me first (which seemed most common) while I went down on a very passive Christine.
I slid my finger deep into my pussy and closed my eyes for a moment, picturing the situation as he described it. My legs began to tingle as my climax neared. It was surprising to me, as it often took actual sex to get me off. I struggled with logical reason, knowing I should stop yet being incapable of pulling my finger from my now-soaking vagina. I pushed it as deep as I could and held it, imagining him puling my hips tight to his as he shot his hot cum inside me.
I nearly fell off my chair as I came. I instantly became aware I had let out a rather loud moan during my trance and tried desperately to recover. Slowly my senses came back to me and I looked back at the screen – my name jumping out at me from the glowing text.
Still clouded from my climax, I began to assess my options but stopped myself as I realized the obvious. I first needed to copy the stories and leave absolutely no trace that I had seen or read them.
Fifteen minutes later, the entire collection was stored on a USB drive and I was locking the office door on my way home.
.
That night was an exhausting one. I lost count of how many times I came while reading about my apparently unquenchable need to fuck. I had masturbated to the thought of fucking and being fucked by other women… to being tied down and dominated and flogged, to being fucked in the ass, the tits, the feet, and along the top of my stocking tops. Topics that at any other time would have made me very uncomfortable, but for some reason now I was purposely picturing in my own head and used to the scenes to reach climax.
It was sometime after 3AM when I finally passed out, vibrators spread around me on my bed and my laptop thrown aside. I drifted off to sleep as I imagined James on top of me, fucking me hard as I was held down.
