at the officenotes by some guy probably - write him perhaps via the feedback-part of the page
perhaps You want to read it or not - I don't care...
whilst at the office, I meet some young guys frequently... one of them is urging to make me know his dirt-phantasies... I probably have some invisible attire, that makes him bring out all this dirt in my presence - whenever someone else joines in, he'll switch to another topic...
in the beginning he told me about his new 'trick' to pick up fuckable chicks in discos. He showed me a visiting-card-look alike piece of paper, where he had written on: 'Voucher for one fuck. Valid only within the next 24 hours.'
He was really excited about this great idea. He though had never tried the card.Next week came the network-job. He had put up a computer for the woman in the office with the nicest legs and the most progressive skirts - his eyes were glowing. The computer obviously was situated under her desk. Additionally she was obviously working there and obviously wearing one of her more progressive skirts. Heart-attack had obviously been near over the visible stuff at his working-surroundings under that desk - she wasn't wearing...
Then following some eventless months at work.
One day, he asked me for dinner at the DaimlerChrysler canteen. I was hungry and went along with him and two other young guys from the office. From the start - walking towards the canteen - they were on fire; talking about the fly office-girls - like all hyped hormon-driven guys in a group larger than one.
We got our meals and seated ourselves at a table, were there was room for two more people. The talking began. Whether I had seen that blonde girl over there. That would be - he told me - the bitch of this location of the company. 'She sleeps with anyone in the company.' When in heat - as always as he then continued - she would go to the local soccer-team to the locker-room and let herself be fucked by the whole team. Her driving-instructor, she had corrupted him to let her pass the test by.... letting herself be fucked obviously.
Two elderly business-men sat themselves at our table.
'She's also always at the local sauna to hook up with strangers, to get fucked'. He proceeded to tell me about the big boobs, about the uncountable fuck-sessions she would have every day and about everything else - probably her pussy and how she would blow-job her boss at the office recently; rest I don't remember. Don't forget the two old men, that kept trying to keep there innocent looks on their faces - same for me.
I was relieved, when that dinner was over!A week later, they told me, they would go to the so called 'casino', where it would be great. No junk-food; only the best; and only for 5 euros. So we went. It was the restaurant for the companies guests of course - not for the regular eating by the employees. I was ashamed right from the start. We quickly gathered our stuff and took off to the farthest corner. The talk got going.
One of the other guys told about a girl, that needed it so bad. Her adress was bare gold arround his town and everyone just drove there whenever, to fuck her. She would always comply. One time they tied her up and left her to buy a camera, returned and photographed her naked and tied. Whatever. Not so much exciting got spilled out by the 'word-masters', until my 'telling guy' laid out his best phantasy - as I rate it... the top!
It was about business on the internet. He wanted to milk woman and sell the product on the internet. 5ml for 200 euros. He would auction it. Not milk of course! Pussy-juice he meant. He smiled like a little child and was so proud. He told this, while the room was already full with the guests of the company and the upper company-personal. How low can You go? He then kept pummeling me about the details, while I was definitely wishing myself anywhere else, no matter where. Perhaps hell...Last weeks have been ok though - here and there a remark, how hot all the woman are and how they all want it so badly. But no more milking... No doubt though, the next big hit is not far...
© 2001 by Ori Kabaki
back to the selection of english texts
back to the main menue
or visit our formmail-sponsor carloweb.de :