Under Her Thumb - Sex Stories

Under Her Thumb

Introducing the porn junkie I love porn. It is so uncomplicated. So straightforward. Honest, in a way, because it strips you of all the fancy illusions and lays bare the core of who you are. If you are open to the challenge, it can be a true ally in your quest of unraveling the threads of your life. I cannot deny I am a porn junkie. Truly there is no shame in recognizing what I have become. Porn has got me by the balls. I'll go into cold turkey if I don't get my daily shot of porn. And when I do get it, the world collapses and I float happy like a baby in a never-ending myriad of bloated asses and monstrous drooling cunts. After work, alone in the office, I can spend hours on end on the tip of my seat, hunched forward in front of the computer screen, subtly stroking my dick under the desk while stealing awkward glances over my shoulder to make sure I am unobserved. There is something soothing in this endless roaming through the dark halls of internet pornography, idly chasing the fulfillment of an urge I find to be as elusive as the meaning of life itself. The porn junkie’s wet dream 'Are you charging us overtime for this?' My heart skips a beat. My dick goes limp in my hand under the desk. It was bound to happen some day. 'Well?' She's right behind me. I'm fumbling with the mouse, nervously trying to close the window with the video stream. Suddenly, my seat is swiveled around violently and I find myself facing Ms. Saunders’ thick belly. She leans forward, grabbing the ...

... armrests of my chair for support while she brings her red bloated face close to mine. She has bad breath. Ms. Saunders is the manager of the marketing department. Quite a legend within the company. They say she bullied her way up to the management position she holds today. They say she is tough as nails and that even the senior partners are afraid of her. And who is to blame them. The sight of this fifty year old rhinoceros will freeze anyone's blood, especially if you have her shoving you around with that imposing belly of hers, shouting obscenities at you for all to hear. They say men fear nothing more than a woman in rage. Ms. Saunders has made rage a way of life. She also has the reputation of being a man-eater. Nobody will talk openly about it, but it is whispered in the hallways that she picks men from among the staff at will, and that most are never heard of again. 'I'm talking to you, Peterson.' I'm too busy trying to stuff my limp dick back through the open zipper. Not an easy job at any time, much less sitting down in full eyesight of company management. My hands are sweaty and shaking out of control. Ms. Saunders’ eyes lower to the frantic action in my lap. I’m about to have a stroke. ‘Stop fumbling around with your dick. I asked you a question and I expect an answer.’ ‘Uhm, I-I’m s-sorry, I didn’t mean to…’ ‘I said stop playing with your miserable dick!’ She slaps my hand and I have no choice but to leave my penis exposed in its embarrassing position, peaking out limply ...