HiTech Hijinx Ch. 01

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“Idle hands are the Devil’s Workshop” has never been so true as last week at work.

Working in the Information Technology department of a Fortune 500 company is kind of like being in the military – there is a lot of “hurry up and wait”. Projects and tickets need to be addressed swiftly and efficiently – but if you do that too efficiently, you lose the war, and your employer will figure that they don’t need three people to handle the workload of four, since you can all stay ahead of the game. When they figure that out, they’ll axe one of your headcount the moment they have a budgetary excuse. Too much efficiency can easily lead to one of your team on the unemployment line while the others work like dogs to only stay slightly behind.

When I went to work for my company, everything was broken, from file-sharing to printing. Backup and recovery procedures were this theoretical desired state, and hadn’t been addressed in months. Sales and Marketing were spending a fortune driving to Kinkos to produce their slick slide handouts and so forth because it was quicker – and probably cheaper – than trying to make the Tektronics printer in the corner actually do something.

Fortunately, the place was in such bad shape, that I sought and gained approval for two more people for my team, pretty much without any argument; I’d learned long ago that the best way to get what I need from Finance is to present them not with what it might cost, but what it would cost the company to not do it my way.

In any case, within 90 days we had the IT spending under control (I saved the equivalent of my staff’s salary on cutting out the waste on parts alone; we were hiring two – three people a month, and I cut an average of $650 per person by establishing standard builds and getting custom quotes from the right vendors. The LAN was fixed, and regularly backed up, and printing was just as effortless as the HP commercials claimed it could be. We rotated helpdesk duties among the team, made sure that our resource queue was clean, and had a reserve of parts and systems so that we could react with maximum flexibility when the company had to move swiftly on a project or new hire.

In short, we each had about 30 hours a week of work, and had enough time to web browse, do personal technical projects, and take long lunches (so long as we kept coverage). However, we made sure to keep up the illusion of chaos and nose-to-the-grindstone work – I didn’t want to lose my team because we’d made an impossible Marmaris Escort job easy!

Of course, it did give us plenty of time for surfing. Ordinarily, surfing Internet sites for naughty pictures is a stupid thing at work; proxy servers could block sites, and certainly keep track of what sites are visited, and by whom.

Not that we had to worry – we were the ones who did the audit of our proxy servers…

And so – I was bored, and doing my civic duty to vote – I was browsing through a site featuring the breasts of amateur models, and giving those lovely ladies (and the not-s0-lovely ladies – who, one must imagine, have more courage than the knockouts. The model-wannabees always get rave reviews by the HNG – Horny Net Geek – contingent; it takes no courage to stand and receive complement after complement. Now, the real women – those who won’t be appearing in Playboy anytime soon – have real courage, putting themselves out there for not only the complements, but the inevitable jerk comments made by smart-ass sixteen year olds who don’t yet understand that a warm smile is worth 20 firm, unreal, surgery-induced bustlines). Honestly, I was passing out “10” scores indiscriminately – why not make them feel good about themselves, and honoring the courage as well as the beauty?

In any case… I voted, and the site automagically brought up the next image. One of the nicest set of breasts I’d yet seen came to life in front of my eyes. Breasts that were nicely-sized. Breasts that had large, puckered nipples that seemed to beg for my lips and teeth. Smooth, clear alabaster skin. An adorable little mole above the left nipple – that some philistine would have undoubtedly airbrushed out of a professional photo shoot, but whose presence made the woman less of an icon and more real, more personable, and ultimately more desirable.

And then I saw the face.

I knew that face. I’d seen it speak up a hundred times in the management meetings, always with cogent, intelligent comments. She was a consummate professional in the Marketing field. She was, if not a friend, then certainly someone with who I was friendly. Her name was Giana, and she was the woman at work upon whom I’d had a secret crush.

Part of me wondered what I should do, while most of me screamed “Do nothing!”. The spike of my desire was tempered with a sense of shame – that I shouldn’t be looking. Of course, that was ridiculous – she hadn’t put her picture up on that Marmaris Escort Bayan site to be ignored, after all. On one level or another, she had an exhibitionist streak (although – and probably smartly so – that was probably a wise choice on her part. See? She was smart!), and – like anyone – wanted positive feedback. The only thing I wasn’t sure about was whether or not she wanted it from someone she knew, however superficially. Knowing that every day she’d see me, and that I’d seen her naked body.

Or at least her naked upper body – the picture was cut off at the waist.

In fact, the head was cut off, too. I began to mingle my jealously that someone else had gotten to play photographer – and what else, perhaps? – with her, and had cut her head off. He should have included the top of her head, adjusted the gamma a bit in Photoshop, and… bah. I was nitpicking. What I wanted was for him to have made it a full-body shot, with her wearing some sexy panties, showing off her legs and ass. Or maybe her pubis…

I shut the door to my office, which everyone knows is a rare event, and only done when I was focusing on some problem, not to be disturbed unless really necessary… and in this instance, the problem was that I was having trouble focusing on anything other than the erection she’d caused, and the fantasies which began to leak out of my head like a garden hose under far too much pressure… and like a garden hose, my cock wanted to explode.

The site didn’t allow downloads, but that only stops amateurs – I quickly shot the screen, opened Photoshop, loaded the buffer, and there she was. I tweaked the lighting, blew it up, sharpened the detail…. and it was like she was sitting there in front of me.

My slacks hit the floor without ceremony, and I started rubbing myself through my silk boxers. Every male should wear silk boxers – its the best material for teasing, and in the event that one actually gets lucky, one can use the material all over your partner’s body. As it was, the black silk made the fingers gliding over my thick shaft send wave after wave of pleasure… I didn’t really have to take the slacks off with silk boxers, like when I’d rubbed against Gina’s ass over in Quality Assurance. She was married, but her husband encouraged her to flirt – and causally tease – other men she found attractive. I’d been one of those fortunate enough to catch her eye, and during one long night she’d backed up her jeans-clad ass Escort Marmaris against my cock, and given me a standing lapdance that ended in both our pants needing a good cleaning. We had a great relationship – she was one hell of a cocktease, and I loved being teased!

I stared at those breasts on the screen, imagining what it would be like to touch them, to feel those hardened nipples against my palm as I kissed that neck, those pouty lips… I wanted to kiss down her neck to her collar bone, and from there to the swell of her chest, my fingers running lightly over her skin, making little trails of fire… I wonder how sensitive her nipples are, and how hard I could bite them… and how much fun it would be doing the calibration work, finding the point just under where it becomes painful – at least, painful in the non-enjoyable way.

I imagined pushing those breasts together, and rubbing my cock in the channel… how good that mouth would look around my cock, her eyes meeting mine with that devilish grin… is she the type who swallowed? Or would she want me to pull my cock away as I came, my hot spunk hitting the skin of her breasts and neck, splattering her with the penultimate evidence of her desirability…

…and I came, imagining what her breasts would look like, covered in my cum…

…and a few minutes later, I came a second time. Not a frequent occurrence for me – its probably only happened four or five times over my sexual career, and only when I’m extremely excited.

Like now.

As I came down from my cum-high, and my breathing assumed something resembling normal, I reached into my gym bag – I work out before coming to work – and cleaned myself with my towel, still damp from my morning swim. I dressed, and opened the door – back to business as usual, at least upon superficial examination.

All the while, I was thinking… should I say anything? Should I just enjoy her in anonymity? Ultimately, I remembered my earlier thought about how she had made the decision to post that where anyone could see her, and appreciate her sexiness… and if she didn’t know that men where going to use her picture as fantasy material, while stroking their cocks and imagining her, then I’d have been very surprised. But someone from work? Work is one of those “forbidden” places, and anything personal – and this was extremely personal – at work had blackmail potential.

I determined my course of action, and executed it, sending her email letting her know what I’d done:


In the course of my duties, I have added the site (site name deleted) to the blocked list. The content of that site is inappropriate for the workplace, and some of the content particularly inappropriate, however deeply appealing.



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