Coworker s Curse
- 1 year ago
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Strange Curse, Pt. 3 free porn video
This is a story of complete fiction, written by Mat for the enjoyment of all. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
I slipped out of bed early, not wanting to wake Cindy who had slept over. I gently covered her up, and then headed for my publisher's office. I knew that I could pick up a sandwich or something on the way in, and that I could pick up a shower and a change of clothes in the locker room that they kept for us global correspondents.
Admittedly, I was still living out of a suitcase, but the jetlag from the Tokyo assignment was starting to wear off, and another more pervasive "problem" was to wear on me.
I had been in Japan for three weeks, ostensibly to cover their baseball "world series", but in my spare time I had been writing a piece about the Japanese pornographic industry, and in particular the practice of futunari - a form of porn where young women are fitted with prosthetic penises, and their ejaculate is volumes what a normal man would produce. I began my work as a skeptic, but was following a lead which ran cold. That was when I met him. The old man in the sake bar who shoved two small raisin shaped pills into my mouth. He claimed that this would begin to enlighten me about futunari, and sInce then, all of the sexual encounters I have had have involved a massive ejaculation on my part. This was, unfortunately, just near the end of my stay in Japan, but it was enough to strengthen my suspicions that there is more to futunari than just fake dongs on lesbians and pumps hooked to paint cans of hand lotion made to pass as cum. Although I felt as though I was closer to finding out the real truth about futunari, I knew that I was still miles away from my quest.
Just to make sure that my last two sexual encounters couldn't be attributed to some kind of internal imbalance brought about by jetlag, I decided to masturbate in the shower stall in the correspondents' locker room. The showers were fairly private, but small. I conjured up images of past acquaintances and lost loves, as well as porn actresses that always aroused me. I even thought about public figures that I thought I might like to get in the sack. My cock became instantly erect, and my erection was hard and (at least it seemed) bigger than before Tokyo. Although it took an incredibly long time to reach orgasm, and I had to muster all kinds of erotic images, my cock and balls finally gave up on what had seemed like a resistive struggle. With one large groan that nearly drained every last once of energy out of me, I came. I came and came again. Not just three or four strong shots, but sustained blasts of jizz that erupted from the tip of my penis like a firehose. It was exactly as the fake futunari porn depicted it. Buckets of my hot warm jizz. Almost so much that I thought the drain in the shower would clog and overflow.
As the orgasmic wave subsided, I melted onto a small bench in the shower's anteroom. I felt so spent, I had to rest. It must have been half an hour, and I think I may have nodded off. Fortunately, it was a Monday, and the place was deserted.
--------------------------------------
I proceeded to get dressed in a set of fresh clothes that I kept in my locker, and then made my way up to my publisher's office.
Sherry and I were about the same age. She may have been a bit older. Had we met when we were younger, who knows what might have happened. We had always had a great working relationship, and I had not wanted to do anything to fuck that up. She kept getting me writing assignments and filling my pockets with cash, so I saw no reason to meddle with that arrangement.
Sherry was black, about 5'4" and was a cuddly sort of BBW with short black hair. Although I had never met him, her husband was a complete tool. A white Harvard MBA who could probably only achieve orgasm when re-enacting a scene from one of his fraternity pledge parties. Sherry was an openly sexually frustrated woman, and it made for a wonderful chemistry between us. She would complain openly about her husband's "short cummings" and laugh like one of the boys when she wasn't getting enough at home. But she remained faithful, and never gave anyone reason to believe that she strayed.
When I arrived in Sherry's office, the first thing she did was thrust a large scotch into my hand. "Your shit on the Tokyo World Series is first rate! I really enjoyed reading it, as did your admirers!". Although was getting a compliment, I sensed that the next sentence would begin with a "but", and it did. Sherry went on to explain that the North American audience is fickle, and really doesn't give a crap about how another country plays their game. In her mind, the main thing that any puritan American wanted to know about another country (and perhaps the only thing) was what sort of perverse things did they do behind closed doors. I tried to look bewildered, and tried to explain to Sherry that I was a sportswriter, not some sort of voyeuristic tabloid journalist. "Cut the crap" she said, "I know you have been working on a piece about futunari. Did you think I wouldn't hear about that". I looked sheepishly at her, knowing that I had been using her money and time to fuel my own work. "Look" she added, "the thing you don't know is that every white boy who spends any time in Tokyo starts to get their mind messed up with that futunari shit. Let it go. It doesn't exist. You're barking up a tree that ain't there". I looked her square in the eye and said "What if I told you that I have proof that futunari, I mean real futunari not the fake stuff did exist?"
I began to relay all of my experiences in Tokyo to her, in hopes that she might come around to see things my way, and perhaps even commission my futunari work as a legit piece. She seemed to be a bit uncomfortable, or perhaps aroused as I explained the unexplainable circumstances around my new ejaculatory powers. When I was finished, she had one word for me "BULLSHIT" she quickly added "Boy, you've either got yourself fucked up on that rice wine, or you have gone plain crazy over there".
I cut her off by saying "What if I could prove it?" The room stopped, and thing became very serious and silent.
"What do you have in mind?" she asked.
I knew I was out on a limb with this idea, for a number of reasons, not the least of which was that I had just jacked off a huge load not less than an hour ago, but I felt like I was fighting for my professional life, and that I needed to prove what I knew to be true. "Let me show you my cock, and let me orgasm for you. That should be enough to prove that something is going on".
At first she seemed a bit disgusted, but her intrigue got the best of her, and she replied, "Ok, drop them".
I walked over and locked her office door, then as I returned I suggested that she might like to make herself comfortable, or at least come closer for a better view. She stood up from behind her desk and walked around to the front of her desk so she could lean her ass against it as I made my case.
Sherry was wearing a business power suit, something that I found very attractive. She had high heels and stockings that disappeared into a short woollen suit skirt that matched a double breasted jacket that appeared to have nothing underneath it, at least what could be seen above the last button was all cleavage. Sherry was a very well endowed woman, and time had managed to do nothing to diminish the magnificence of her tits. My cock began to get hard again, which was a good sign that I had not lost my mind.
I peeled my pants off, and as I removed my shorts my cock sprang to attention. Sherry made a short involuntary intake of breath, then licked her lips unknowingly. I removed my sweater and then asked, "so, how would you like me to do this? Just masturbate?"
Sherry replied, almost dazily, "no, no, don't be silly, I think I can help you out with this".
With that, Sherry lowered herself to her knees and started to kiss, lick and caress my cock and my balls.
When I left, two hours later, Sherry was spread out on a leather sofa in her office, completely naked with about two gallons of my jizz matted in her hair, spread all over her tits, soaked into her clothes on the floor and sprayed all over her pussy and her legs. Clearly she was beginning to think that I might be onto something.
I slipped out of bed early, not wanting to wake Cindy who had slept over. I gently covered her up, and then headed for my publisher's office. I knew that I could pick up a sandwich or something on the way in, and that I could pick up a shower and a change of clothes in the locker room that they kept for us global correspondents.
Admittedly, I was still living out of a suitcase, but the jetlag from the Tokyo assignment was starting to wear off, and another more pervasive "problem" was to wear on me.
I had been in Japan for three weeks, ostensibly to cover their baseball "world series", but in my spare time I had been writing a piece about the Japanese pornographic industry, and in particular the practice of futunari - a form of porn where young women are fitted with prosthetic penises, and their ejaculate is volumes what a normal man would produce. I began my work as a skeptic, but was following a lead which ran cold. That was when I met him. The old man in the sake bar who shoved two small raisin shaped pills into my mouth. He claimed that this would begin to enlighten me about futunari, and sInce then, all of the sexual encounters I have had have involved a massive ejaculation on my part. This was, unfortunately, just near the end of my stay in Japan, but it was enough to strengthen my suspicions that there is more to futunari than just fake dongs on lesbians and pumps hooked to paint cans of hand lotion made to pass as cum. Although I felt as though I was closer to finding out the real truth about futunari, I knew that I was still miles away from my quest.
Just to make sure that my last two sexual encounters couldn't be attributed to some kind of internal imbalance brought about by jetlag, I decided to masturbate in the shower stall in the correspondents' locker room. The showers were fairly private, but small. I conjured up images of past acquaintances and lost loves, as well as porn actresses that always aroused me. I even thought about public figures that I thought I might like to get in the sack. My cock became instantly erect, and my erection was hard and (at least it seemed) bigger than before Tokyo. Although it took an incredibly long time to reach orgasm, and I had to muster all kinds of erotic images, my cock and balls finally gave up on what had seemed like a resistive struggle. With one large groan that nearly drained every last once of energy out of me, I came. I came and came again. Not just three or four strong shots, but sustained blasts of jizz that erupted from the tip of my penis like a firehose. It was exactly as the fake futunari porn depicted it. Buckets of my hot warm jizz. Almost so much that I thought the drain in the shower would clog and overflow.
As the orgasmic wave subsided, I melted onto a small bench in the shower's anteroom. I felt so spent, I had to rest. It must have been half an hour, and I think I may have nodded off. Fortunately, it was a Monday, and the place was deserted.
--------------------------------------
I proceeded to get dressed in a set of fresh clothes that I kept in my locker, and then made my way up to my publisher's office.
Sherry and I were about the same age. She may have been a bit older. Had we met when we were younger, who knows what might have happened. We had always had a great working relationship, and I had not wanted to do anything to fuck that up. She kept getting me writing assignments and filling my pockets with cash, so I saw no reason to meddle with that arrangement.
Sherry was black, about 5'4" and was a cuddly sort of BBW with short black hair. Although I had never met him, her husband was a complete tool. A white Harvard MBA who could probably only achieve orgasm when re-enacting a scene from one of his fraternity pledge parties. Sherry was an openly sexually frustrated woman, and it made for a wonderful chemistry between us. She would complain openly about her husband's "short cummings" and laugh like one of the boys when she wasn't getting enough at home. But she remained faithful, and never gave anyone reason to believe that she strayed.
When I arrived in Sherry's office, the first thing she did was thrust a large scotch into my hand. "Your shit on the Tokyo World Series is first rate! I really enjoyed reading it, as did your admirers!". Although was getting a compliment, I sensed that the next sentence would begin with a "but", and it did. Sherry went on to explain that the North American audience is fickle, and really doesn't give a crap about how another country plays their game. In her mind, the main thing that any puritan American wanted to know about another country (and perhaps the only thing) was what sort of perverse things did they do behind closed doors. I tried to look bewildered, and tried to explain to Sherry that I was a sportswriter, not some sort of voyeuristic tabloid journalist. "Cut the crap" she said, "I know you have been working on a piece about futunari. Did you think I wouldn't hear about that". I looked sheepishly at her, knowing that I had been using her money and time to fuel my own work. "Look" she added, "the thing you don't know is that every white boy who spends any time in Tokyo starts to get their mind messed up with that futunari shit. Let it go. It doesn't exist. You're barking up a tree that ain't there". I looked her square in the eye and said "What if I told you that I have proof that futunari, I mean real futunari not the fake stuff did exist?"
I began to relay all of my experiences in Tokyo to her, in hopes that she might come around to see things my way, and perhaps even commission my futunari work as a legit piece. She seemed to be a bit uncomfortable, or perhaps aroused as I explained the unexplainable circumstances around my new ejaculatory powers. When I was finished, she had one word for me "BULLSHIT" she quickly added "Boy, you've either got yourself fucked up on that rice wine, or you have gone plain crazy over there".
I cut her off by saying "What if I could prove it?" The room stopped, and thing became very serious and silent.
"What do you have in mind?" she asked.
I knew I was out on a limb with this idea, for a number of reasons, not the least of which was that I had just jacked off a huge load not less than an hour ago, but I felt like I was fighting for my professional life, and that I needed to prove what I knew to be true. "Let me show you my cock, and let me orgasm for you. That should be enough to prove that something is going on".
At first she seemed a bit disgusted, but her intrigue got the best of her, and she replied, "Ok, drop them".
I walked over and locked her office door, then as I returned I suggested that she might like to make herself comfortable, or at least come closer for a better view. She stood up from behind her desk and walked around to the front of her desk so she could lean her ass against it as I made my case.
Sherry was wearing a business power suit, something that I found very attractive. She had high heels and stockings that disappeared into a short woollen suit skirt that matched a double breasted jacket that appeared to have nothing underneath it, at least what could be seen above the last button was all cleavage. Sherry was a very well endowed woman, and time had managed to do nothing to diminish the magnificence of her tits. My cock began to get hard again, which was a good sign that I had not lost my mind.
I peeled my pants off, and as I removed my shorts my cock sprang to attention. Sherry made a short involuntary intake of breath, then licked her lips unknowingly. I removed my sweater and then asked, "so, how would you like me to do this? Just masturbate?"
Sherry replied, almost dazily, "no, no, don't be silly, I think I can help you out with this".
With that, Sherry lowered herself to her knees and started to kiss, lick and caress my cock and my balls.
When I left, two hours later, Sherry was spread out on a leather sofa in her office, completely naked with about two gallons of my jizz matted in her hair, spread all over her tits, soaked into her clothes on the floor and sprayed all over her pussy and her legs. Clearly she was beginning to think that I might be onto something.
Mikhaela
- 17.05.2021
- 15
- 0
