CLUSTER FUCK

Noun
clusterfuck (plural clusterfucks)

(vulgar) A chaotic mess that might be compared to group sex, in which participants are so intertwined and intermingled that they might penetrate each other rather than their intended target. Its more precise usage describes a particular kind of Catch-22, in which multiple complicated problems mutually interfere with each other's solution.

SPILLING OUT

Sometimes she likes to be silly, and flash me her breasts, especially at home, when she thinks I might not notice. Then I look over, and see that she's spilling out of her shirt.

KAT'S NUDES

My friend Kat is a photographer. As a professional freelancer, she'll shoot just about anything--corporate events, weddings, or products. She'll also shoot nudes for a high-end website and magazine. When she showed me her work, I thought it was beautiful. Instead of the models trying to look serious and sexy with icy cold stares, the models in Kat's photos were always smiling and laughing. It looked like they were having a good time.

I asked Kat what her secret was, and told me that she just asked the models to be themselves, and by stripping down too, she treated the shoot as something fun. "If you have a clothed man shooting a nude female," that's one dynamic, a dynamic of dominance," said Kat. "If both model and photographer are female and nude, it makes the experience equal and shared. And even though it's sort of a cliche, I find it true in my photography--women tend to open up and be themselves if they feel equal and included."

Intrigued, I offered to pose nude for Kat.

BAKER BEACH

The very first swimmers along this this long stretch of beach along the San Francisco peninsula were no doubt skinny dippers. In 1776, the year the American colonies rebelled against England, the Spanish colonizers built a military fort, the Presidio, on the grassy hills at the narrows of the bay, known as the Golden Gate. In 1904, the bluff above the beach was fortified with gun installations known as Battery Chamberlin, which can still be viewed today.

From 1986 to 1990, the north end of Baker Beach was the original site of the Burning Man art festival. In 1990, park police allowed participants to raise the traditional large statue but not to set it on fire, since the beach enforces a limit on the size of any campfires. (Burning Man, of course, is now held annually in Black Rock Desert, Nevada.)

When the Presidio was decommissioned as a U.S. Army base in 1997, it became part of the Golden Gate National Recreation Area, administered by the National Park Service.

The northern section of Baker Beach is considered a clothing-optional by locals, and the Park Service has allowed the historic precedent to continue. Let's hope it stays that way for future generations to enjoy.

NOCTURNAL

I came home and found her sound asleep. She was in bed, nude, and had kicked off the covers. Her legs flopped open, I could see her body. It was swollen and red, still slippery, as if from sex. Then I noticed her toy at the bedside.

She was funny about her vibrator. I knew she had it. She knew that I knew. But she kept it hidden in her drawer. I knew she used it, but she never used it in front of me. Once, when making love, I asked her to bring it out. She stopped, turned bright red, said, "No, that's private."

Apparently, she'd had a private session with her toy, then setting it down, had fallen fast asleep. She was snoring, which she only did when she'd been drinking lots of wine. It usually meant that she was passed out and even a car alarm or a passing train couldn't wake her up. I'd flipped on the light when I walked in and found her--that hadn't even phased her.

Seeing her passed out, with her legs spread, turned me on instantly. My body grew hard in my pants. I approached the bed, and stared at her swollen and wet body. Her toy, on the night stand, was also still wet, slick from the juices of her orgasm. It was sexy to see. I couldn't help picking up the toy, feeling her body's warm sex on the smooth plastic. The knob on the bottom twisted and it hummed to life. So this was what it sounded like and felt like in her hand. Curious, I wanted to see it in her.

I slowly and carefully slipped onto the bed, and she didn't even seem to pause her snoring. I turned on the toy and held it, vibrating inches from her wet lips.I hesitated for a second. If she woke up, and found me about to penetrate her with her own toy, she could freak out. But the humming toy was just inches from her wet lips, and I wanted to touch her that way, to see how it looked, and how it felt in my hand, imagining her hand, and how she used the toy on herself.

I lightly brushed the toy up along her folds. It slipped easily against the skin. When I slipped it over her already swollen clit, her snoring paused long enough to involuntarily moan. I swirled the tip of the toy over her clit and her hips, as if by instinct, pushed up. I was sliding the toy up and down, and her hips were gently rocking back against the motion. Her legs were spread wide as they could go, and her body was definitely responding to the toy's soft vibrations. I could see her body getting wet again, her juices pooling at the part of her inner labia, and dripping down her butt crack and making a wet spot on the sheet. I knew she was ready, and very slowly and with one smooth motion, I pushed the toy up inside her.

I'd of course penetrated her many times with my cock or my finger, but never an inanimate object. I didn't know how it'd go, but the toy slipped right in. Her hips rolled up as they did when I fucked her. And her muscles, contracting inside, pushed the toy back. So I pushed it up into her again, and then again, starting a slow, but steady pumping rhythm, as I would when fucking her.

Her snoring had turned to moans. She was sighing and mumbling what sounded like, "uhmm, yes." She'd often mumble nonsense words in her sleep, so it wasn't clear if she was waking up, or still totally passed out. But her body has certainly woken up, and was responding as if it were wide awake and getting fucked. I increased the pace, pushing the toy into her faster and harder. The soft vibration sound was muffled by the slurping of her body. She was totally soaked and her lips had become rosy and thick. Her clit had swollen to the size of a pearl.

I rubber her clit with my thumb as I pumped the toy in and out of her. I angled the toy's tip up, like my cock inside her, to hit her g-spot. This seemed to work, because her hips were now thrashing, pushing back, forcing the toy deeper and harder inside her.

I glanced up, and her eyes were still closed. There was no sign that she was awake, but her body was clearly nearing orgasm. I could feel her muscles contract and begin to spasm. She squirted with orgasm, soaking the toy, my hand, and the bed sheet between her legs.

As her orgasm ebbed, I slipped the toy back out, then set it on the night stand. I went to the bathroom and washed up, then undressed and crawled into bed beside her. She wasn't snoring, but her breathing had slowly returned to normal. Her eyes, til shut, showed no signs of consciousness. I kissed her on the cheek, and whispered good night. I half expected her to say something, as if she'd been faking sleep. But she didn't. And we slept.

EARLY COLOR

Flipping through history books, it seems as it the world was black and white before the 1960s. But Kodak introduced their first color film, Kodachrome, as early as the 1940s. They gave sheets of the new color transparency film to a few leading professional photographers to test out. Unlike black and white, the photographers had to send the film back to Kodak for processing. They had no control over the image, and no privacy over who saw the picture. Also, the subject matter of their photos was further restricted by the Comstock Law.

In effect since the Victorian age, the Comstock Law forbid the shipping of any image or material deemed pornographic through the US Mail. "Indecent" was left to the post master to determine, and there was no clear line for an artist to follow. To avoid the steep fines (and even jail), most photographers played it safe. Bare breasts could be defended as "art," while any glimpse of public hair could be seized as "lewd" and "offensive." To stay as safe to the side of "art" as possible, photographers posed their models not to show any public hair of any kind.

Here is one that survived the censors, passing as art, not pornography. Glad it did. The colors of early Kodachrome are so rich, and the detail of the 5x7 and 8x10 viewfinder cameras so clear.

VACATION DESTINATION: NUDE BEACH

We'd picked a vacation where we could escape the winter and hang out on a warm beach, doing nothing but soaking up sun. We spent many snowy evenings after work in the local bookstore flipping through travel guides. We found one called best nude beaches around the world, and had fun reading it to each other. We'd never been to a "nude" beach before. We liked being naked together, and being outdoors, but the idea of actually planning a trip to a nude beach seemed silly. Yet, she admitted casually that the topless beaches of Europe sounded fine, or the Australians' acceptance of nudity seemed pretty normal. The more we talked about it, the more eager I became. Sure, my girlfriend looks great in a bikini. We'd first thought about Hawaii, and hanging in Waikiki sounded fantastic. But I couldn't help picturing her at a nude beach. So, after considering all our options, we booked a trip to a remote beach area, off the tourist beaten path, with plenty of sunshine and sand.

We got just what we wanted--a long open beach to ourselves. She had no problem taking off her top, as she had always wanted to be able to say in her life that she'd been topless at a beach. I snapped a few photos to document her first foray into public nudity. She seemed to enjoy it and gave me a few provocative poses.

After an hour, the sun had gotten hotter and higher in the sky, but we still had the beach to ourselves. She decided that she needed to cool off with a splash in the ocean, and she'd never skinny dipped in the Ocean, and that would be one more thing to add to her list. She said she'd do it if I joined her. I agreed, so we stripped down, and splashed, and then came back to our towels to lay out and dry. As the sun warmed us, I began to feel more and more aroused. She looked beautiful and natural on her towel, totally naked under the sun. I snapped another photo. She kept her legs parted comfortably open. I could see her smooth skin, the wisps of blonde hairs she had recently trimmed. She sat up, and smiled. I snapped again. She reached down and felt her skin, brushing sand from her curls, and dipping a finger into her folds to test her wetness. The sun on her bare breasts, and my camera clicking at her exposed naked body had turned her on, too. With her fingers, she spread her lips to show me just how wet she'd become.

She touched herself as I watched, then lay back and spread her legs wide, inviting me to slide inside her. We made love on the beach, under the hot sun, the surf crashing so loud that it boomed over our moans and slap of sweaty skin. We switched positions, her on her knees, me taking her from behind. This felt primitive, like animals copulating. We could look up and down the empty beach. We had it all to ourselves, like Adam and Eve in the Garden. We could fuck and scream as loud as we wanted. The surf kept pounding and didn't care. We both had crashing orgasms on the beach, which we added to the list of things to do before you die.

PAISLEY

ART MODEL

Kelly had done some modeling in college for art classes and now that she was unemployed, she found herself posting on Craisglist as an art model. She figured, as long as she was still young and had a good body, why not? It was just art, although Gary, her regular client, wasn't ever gong to be a great artist. He had talent enough--it was fine. Sort of a mix of landscapes and abstracts. He sold much of his work to hotels. He'd occasionally sell the glamour nude. He'd call Kelly in to model. A lot of times, he'd paint Kelly like a greek statue of Aphrodite, draped in a sheet, holding up an apple or grapes or a prop bow. He'd play classical music in his studio and offer Kelly tea during the break. Kelly wasn't sure if she was gong to tell her mom about the modeling gig she'd picked up to cover the rent, but as far as easy money, it was pretty easy. She wondered how many images of her romanticized buttocks and breasts were hanging in hotels.

WINTER OLYMPICS

Here's a salute to the winter olympics and all our friends in Canada, who really know how to have fun in the snow. Beauty, eh?

CURE FOR THE WINTER BLUES

If you're reading this blog from somewhere locked in winter--say Detroit, Minneapolis, Warsaw--here are some warm wishes from the South Pacific.

CUM ON!

Did you know?
A man will ejaculate approximately 18 quarts of semen in his lifetime.

THE GOOD OLD DAYS

Some people say the good old days, and you think--I'm sure they weren't that good. People tend to recall the past with nostalgia. They cast it in amber, as a golden, carefree time. Sometimes a photo or a letter or a diary entry will remind them that the past wasn't all that good, and had its share of heartaches and troubles. But sometimes the evidence confirms--those favorite times really were that good.

COMING HOME BLITZED

She came home from the party pretty blitzed. She was good and buzzed, and wasn't ready to go to bed. So, she grabbed a beer from the fridge and drank it as she undressed. By the time she was naked, the bottle was empty and the glass warmed to her hand. It felt good. She had been having such a good time at the party and had so much energy still, she could only describe it as horny. She didn't like the word, but that's how she felt. She wished she could have gone home with the guy from corporate accounts that she'd been flirting with, but work relationships are tricky. Still, with the beer bottle, she could pretend she'd taken him home, and was riding him slow and hard. Slow and hard. Slow and hard. Until her release.

FOREST NUDE

FOR THE HUBBIES

Glenda and Veronica were housewives in a time when women married young. Right after the war, in fact. While their husbands were at work, they got together. Valentine's Day was coming up, and they thought it'd be fun to give their husbands a special present. They had grown up in a time of the classic pin-up, and they knew their husbands had gone through the war, with pin-ups painted on the nose cones on their bombers. They'd posed for pin-up style pictures before, to do their part on the homefront, give the men something to fight for and to come home to. They thought it'd be fun to take some pictures like that again. They agreed to dress in their finest lingerie, and take turns being model and photographer. They had so much fun, they even tried the self-timer and taking one picture with the two of them. Wouldn't it be a riot to give each husband that image, the two friends, the two wives, to each of the husbands?

COUPLE AT HOME

They had a kid, but contrary to what their friends had warned: their sex life had not ended. In fact, on weekends, when they both had time to relax, they'd put the baby down for a nap, and have a little time to rekindle the romance.

CLOSE FRIENDS

They were roommates, but also close friends. They shared everything--food, clothes, and sometimes, even boys.

NIPPLE PEEK

VINTAGE LESBIANS

BELLE

A lovely girl.

BEDPOST

We were talking about masturbation, and when we each first discovered it. She said that she'd first learned as a teenager, and one of the things she soon discovered was the wooden knob of her bedpost. She never lost her passion for it, and when she went to college, her parents let her take her old bed to school. It saved her money, of course, but it also helped her continue her favorite way to get herself off. She kept the bed after college, and had it when we first started dating. I never understood why she insisted on keeping the old bedframe when we finally decided to move in together, but now I understood. I asked if she had used the bed in private, when I was away, and she admitted that sometimes, yes, she did. She asked if that threatened me, and I said, of course not; in fact, it was kind of sexy. I asked if she would show me, and she was happy to demonstrate.

UNDER THE BOARDWALK

It was not a scenic spot. Under the boardwalk, we found old shoes, and trash. Empty beer cans. It was a place trash collected and was forgotten. Ducking under the boardwalk, we were out of sight. It made her feel excited, like they were sneaking privacy like teenagers. The smell of saltwater and tar and trash didn't make her feel romantic, but dirty. She wanted a quickie. In the back. She had a small bottle of hand lotion in her purse. It was enough to use a lube. She squirted some on her hand and, tugging down his shorts, greased him up until he was hard and ready. She pulled down her pants, globbed some hand lotion on her anus, and got on her knees. She told him to give it to her, and quick.

VINTAGE BACKLICKER

ARTY SELF-PIC IN BACKYARD

Here's a creative pic taken by an art student. A back yard, a mirror, and a camera, plus colorful socks and some creativity. Lovely.

I SPY

We were hanging out at a nude beach last summer during our vacation. She was reading and relaxing, and I grabbed the camera. She rolled over and flashed me a personal view of her bum.

DRUNKEN FUN

She loved to get drunk and would always ask to be tied up, and let me have my "way" with her.

WHITE STOCKINGS

DO NOT LOCK

Derrick and Pam met at work and started dating, which was strictly against company policy. They knew they could both be fired if caught, and that made it all the more thrilling. They worked at a large wholesale shipping company. Pam worked on the fifth floor in accounts and Derrick in the shipping department. On breaks, Pam would slip down to the lower levels of shipping, and she and Derrick would sneak off like two high schoolers, looking for a private place. The old building was enormous--one of those giant 19th century buildings in the old industrial part of town. There were basements and sub-basements, boiler rooms, and hallways of old steam pipes. It had once started as a company that shipped plows, and then it was owned by John Deere, and then Sears, and finally by the current company (which we won't name).

Pam and Derrick found a secluded area down in the depths of the building's heating and air vents. They found a slot in the wall, much like a glory hole. That's how they were using it, when they got caught.

Steve was one of the foremen. He commanded the crew of fork lift operators. He was a hard ass, and always yelled at his crew to speed up, and then yelled at them if they dropped a box or cut a corner too close and nicked a pallet. "What the hell's going on here?" he demanded. He looked at Derrick, pants down, with his cock inserted into the air vent hole. Derrick pulled out quickly and pulled up his pants, red faced from the sucking he'd been getting, and from embarrassment.

"Who's behind there?"

"I don't know," said Derrick quickly.

Steve looked at him hard, like he wasn't buying it, but also didn't know what to say, and not knowing what to say, just made him mad, but he wasn't going to look like an idiot, so he just glared at Derrick, and then turned to the air vent. "You want me to come back there and get your ass fired?" he said.

From behind the wall, Pam murmured, "No."

"Well, do you!" Steve said again. He was angry and confused, and when men who are not very smart are like that, they're dangerous.

"Do you?"

"No," Pam repeated, this time louder.

Then Steve's face relaxed a little. He was still mad, but no longer confused. He'd seen his opportunity to take advantage of the situation. "Want me to come back there and drag your ass upstairs to HR?" He unbuckled his pants and tugged out his cock. "Well if you don't want me to come back there, then I'll come here." He walked over to the air vent and pushed his limp tool through the slot.

Derrick wanted to rush up and punch Steve. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. He'd much rather get fired than watch his girlfriend suck another man's cock, especially a jerk like Steve. It had all happened so fast, and yet seemed to move in slow motion. Derrick could not form words, could not raise his arms or move his feet. He stood completely frozen. It wasn't like TV, where the hero jumps into action. It was shock. It's like when someone is about to get hit by a car, they don't jump out of the way, but stand fixed, staring as the car gets closer and closer.

All the emotions of rage, fear, embarrassment, and shock raced through Derrick as he stood there. It was like it wasn't really happening, but that he was watching a movie. He saw Steve's bare ass begin to pump. Steve moaned, "That's it bitch, suck me off and I won't turn you in." Steve was getting the power trip of his life. He could yell at the fork lift guys, but nothing was as powerful as forcing a total stranger to suck him off. And in front of her boyfriend. That was the ultimate.

Derrick was horrified, but strangely, he was surprised that his cock, as if totally independent of his brain, was growing back to a full erection. It was totally wrong, but yet, it was strangely exhilarating.

Steve was getting worked up, red faced and sweating. He was grunting like a hog. Slurping and pulping sounds were coming from the other side of the wall as Pam choked down his rod. She didn't think of herself as a slut. In any other circumstance, she'd never want to suck off Derrick's foreman. But the simple fact was that a penis is a penis. When it came down to it technically, it wasn't any different blowing one cock as another. She couldn't afford to get fired. Especially not with the economy. She had friends who had been laid off and trying to find work for more than 8 months. She didn't really want to suck off Steve, but it was better than unemployment. And once she started, her motions just took over. She always thought positive attitude is what makes the biggest difference in life. If life gives you lemons, make lemonaide, she'd always say. In this case, if she had to suck Steve off, she was not only going to do it, but give him the best fucking head he'd ever had and ever will have in his pathetic little petty tyrant life, she decided.

She'd always worried about going too hard and hurting Derrick, nicking him with her teeth or something. She cared about him, and naturally, didn't want to cause him pain. But she could give a flying fuck about Steve, and so she really got into it. She imagined herself a pornstar, and sucked him as hard and sloppy as she could. Her gusto even surprised her. She jacked him with her hand, twisting it with each thrust as she spit on his cock head and then jammed it to the back of her throat. The deeper she plunged, the more she gagged. The more she gagged, the harder Steve shoved his cock down her throat. The harder he thrust, the harder she went down on him. If the wall had been thinner, she probably could have taken his whole length.

Steve was not used to getting his cock sucked, and Pam's enthusiasm soon had him erupting. It seemed the poor bastard had never been sucked so hard and he shot the biggest load of his life, every single drop his body had held in his sexually-frustrated balls. It splashed down Pam's throat and across her face.

Derrick couldn't see any of this, of course, but he could clearly picture it in his mind. He could tell by the slurping and gagging noises that Pam had been given Steve head like she had never done before. This had made Derrick insanely jealous, enraged, and really turned on. His cock was rock hard when Steve pulled out of his girlfriend's mouth. Steve zipped up quickly. His dick withered back to its small size. Without a word, he turned and marched down the long, empty hallway, back toward the shipping warehouse.

With Steve gone, derrick instantly unfroze. He went back to the wall, pulling out his hard cock. Before Pam could get off her knees, she had another cock poking at her face. She recognized it, of course, and took it in. Her knees were sore from the cold concrete, and she was worried that her lunch hour was almost over. She wasn't in the mood to linger any longer than she had to, so she gave Derrick the same hard, fast, and sloppy porn-star blow job she'd just given Steve. It was kind of sexy to be sucking off her boyfriend while another man's cum dribbled down her chin. And that's exactly what Derrick was thinking as he was getting sucked. Steve had soiled his girl, like a stallion takes another stallion's mare. The only way to reclaim her, in this primal animal way was to blow his load into her, washing over the other man's semen. Derrick hadn't studied animal behavior. He didn't know that, in fact, this is exactly how wild mustang stallions act if another stallion has just had sex with his mare. He wasn't going to let his girl spend the rest of the afternoon upstairs at her desk with only Steve's cum in her belly. He was going to shoot his load, too. And he did.

He came and came, harder than he could ever remember, his heart racing, his energy wild and on fire.

Pam swallowed every last drop.

Then the each returned to their work.

The story could end here, but it didn't. The next morning, Steve came up to Derrick. Steve had been turning things in his mind. A slow man, he needed the night to think it over. A man hungry for control, power, and sex, he wasn't going to let Derrick and his cock-sucking girlfriend off the hook. He slipped up to Derrick and said under his breath, "same place, noon."

Derrick realized it wasn't a request--it was blackmail. The whole morning he turned it over in his mind. Should he go to HR and report Steve? Would they believe the younger, lower-level employee, or the foreman, who had been with the company for years, and other than being an asshole, had a perfect work record. Derrick couldn't just quit. And he couldn't risk getting Pam fired. He hated being forced to do anything, but conversely, he was sort of getting more and more aroused as the hours passed. He recalled the sounds of Pam choking on Steve's cock, and how eagerly she took his load right afterward. It was sick, he knew, and wrong. But being sick and wrong, it was impossible not to think about. As much as he wanted to deny it, he was actually looking forward to noon, and if Steve shot his load into Pam first, Derrick would get to follow up. He'd never gotten into the Japanese bukkake porn videos, because they just seemed too over the top. But the thought of very real cum dripping down Pam's face as she sucked him seemed totally different. The more he imagined it, the more he was looking forward to noon.

The only thing that didn't sit right with him was if he let Steve repeat what had happened the day before, it'd become something Steve would demand at his will. And the longer it went on, perhaps the more Steve would demand.

Derrick only had a few hours to find a solution. Then it came to him. When he completed an order pull, he returned to the order clerk for his next shipping order. TK, the clerk, was a tall, skinny kid that liked to tell stupid dirty jokes each time a forklift opp came by to pull an order. TK had a new dumb joke of the day, and he'd also try to get as many of the lift opps to go with him to the strip club afterwork.

"Hey, bro, did you hear the latest..." said TK. Derrick listened to the joke, and then, as if sharing a close personal secret, looked both ways, and then leaned forward.

"Did you hear about Steve and his stripper..." Derrick asked.

"No, bro! What's the what?"

"Shhh," said Derrick. "You gotta keep this on the DL."

TK nodded. Then they both looked to make sure no one was in earshot.

Derrick told TK that Steve had hired a striper from the club, and was getting a little side action on his lunch break. In hushed tone, he told TK how he'd seen the boss and the stripper slipping into the east door and sneaking down a hall. Derrick said that he followed them, just enough to see what was going on.

"That dirty dog," said TK.

Derrick nodded, "and I heard him on his cel phone this morning. I think they're hooking up again at noon..."

Another lift opp came up to the desk for an order, and Derrick gave TK a final nod, and left to pull his next order. He knew that the trap had been set. TK wouldn't be able to keep the news to himself. By noon, the entire crew of lift opps would know. Derrick ran the scenario in his mind: Steve would show up at the air vent at noon, and pull down his pants, and present his cock to Pam. She'd go to town on him, just as the crew would be sneaking up to catch their boss with a stripper. If Steve got caught with his pants down, then it would be the whole crew's word against his up at HR. They could fire Derrick as an individual easy enough, but they couldn't replace the whole crew. It'd shut the company down for weeks. Steve's blackmail would be done before it even started.

It was a perfect plan. And like any perfect plan, it went wrong.

It started out just as Derrick imagined: Steve arrived, looking smug, and pulled out his cock and shoved it in the air vent. Pam took it and began to work on it with her new-found porn-star skills. Steve was getting into it, letting his moans and grunts echo a little too loudly down the cement halls. The crew slipped up and stood, gawking, as they saw their boss with his pants down at his ankles, thrusting his hips into an air vent. Steve was grunting and thrusting with all his might as Pam worked his cock from the other side, gulping and slurping. Steve began to twitch and clench his butt as he shot his load. When he turned, his dick limp and coated in Pam's spit, he saw the crew. Derrick could see his plan falling perfectly into place. He saw the tension suddenly seize Steve's face, scrunching it up, the veins on his forehead pulsing. Steve was not a quick-witted man, as we've said. And Derrick knew it. The element of surprise was his, and Steve had been caught off guard.

However, Derrick had overlooked one thing. He'd told TK that the boss had hired a stripper to make the story sound more credible, and to throw off the idea that the woman could actually be a company employee. As long as Pam stayed hidden in the air duct, her identity would be safe, and only Steve would be identified with the violation of company policy.

Derrick assumed that the crew, seeing their boss breaking the rules, would suddenly rally against him, like a mutiny. He didn't realize that the guys, thinking their boss had just scored with a stripper, instantly thought of Steve as 100% cooler.

Just as the flustered and embarrassed Steve was about to shout a threat about firing all of them, the crew began to clap and cheer. "Hell yeah!" they shouted. "You da man!"

Suddenly Steve stood taller, puffed up with their cheers. We was not the asshole boss--he was the stud that got glory hole blow jobs on his lunch break--inside the warehouse! Steve was now basking in the crew's instant admiration.

"Way to give it to that slut!" yelled TK!

"Yeah, stickin' to the dirty whore!" shouted another.

Steve beamed, triumphant. But as slow as he was, his simple mind did grasp the situation. If he was the only one caught, it was still his ass on the line. "Well, boys," he said, beaming. "Don't just stand there! Line up! This bitch can suck a golf ball through a garden hose!"

To Derrick's shock and horror, the crew did exactly as their boss said. They stepped right up, and one at a time, unzipped and gave their cocks to the hole. There was no way for Pam to get out, without walking right out in front of everyone and being identified. She feared if she didn't take the other men's cocks, they'd come around into the vent and then who knows. Have their full way. She liked the relative safety of her small station. She didn't want to see the crew. Behind the wall, she had no idea who's cock was in her mouth. And, as she'd thought the day before, a penis is pretty much a penis. They all worked the same, and she worked the same on them--but she also loved the slight variations. The small ones she could take deeper, the large ones that made her feel like she was in her own private porn movie. The thick ones, the ones that curved up, and the one that curved to the left. She wondered who's that was as she gobbled it.

For the whole hour, Derrick stood, trapped in the trap he had set, watching his girlfriend take load after load of his co-workers' cum. The whole hour the guys lined up one at a time to get sucked. Derrick wondered how Pam was holding up.

She was tired, and her knees hurting, and her jaw sore. So after a while she stood up in the vent and reached back and positioned the cock heads into her pussy. Standing was much easier, and with just rolling her hips on the wall, she could give the guys what they wanted. They'd pump away, and she'd let them fuck her and she'd try to feel when they were getting ready to shoot and then pull back and finish them off with her mouth. It was so much easier on her this way, and she could last longer. Sometimes they'd shoot without any warning. She probably took three or four loads in her pussy and six or seven in her mouth. She had no idea how many were out in the hallway--a big group or some coming back for seconds or even thirds.

The men were all happy, gleeful as a high school football team that has just won regionals.

When it was all done, Derrick waited for Pam to reappear from behind the air vent. He felt terrible for getting her trapped like that, used and passed around all the men of the shipping department. He prepared to see a woman that had just been through hell. But when Pam returned, she looked the same as always.

"I guess that was taking one for the team," she said with a smile. She laughed and turned to go. Derrick didn't know what to say, so he followed her.

"You're ok," he asked.

"Sure," Pam said casually, more concerned with getting back before her break was over. "Let's just not make this every day."

"Yeah," said Derrick.

"Maybe every Monday," she said. "Start off the week."

Derrick could not believe what he was hearing, but something had certainly changed in Pam. The Pandora box had now been opened and there was no shutting it again. So they agreed to every Monday.

The workers loved it. It kicked off their Monday, and they were far more productive during the week. With work and morale up, Steve relaxed as a boss. He stopped being such a jerk. Upstairs, management noticed the improved performance, but the only person on the fifth floor who really knew, was Pam.