Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Mult, Consensual, Romantic, BiSexual, Heterosexual, Light Bond, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Slow, .
Desc: Sex Story: Chapter 1 - John is fired from his job and decided to take a vacation alone. Lonely and depressed, fate decides to make life more interesting
As John walked out of his office for the last time, he was hit by the bitter cold wind that intersected Pearl and Wall St. A fitting moment for a career that was as dead as last summer.
As an equity analyst, he had tried to keep the investor in mind. He had worked hard at his vocation; he researched companies with the utmost care, always asking the questions that they least wanted to answer. He prided himself on being able to sniff out the bullshit, to make calls that while not the most spectacular were consistent, and correct. He stood behind his work.
That attitude, personifying the ads that his firm used to attract new business, ironically was the thing that had finally gotten him fired. A company that his firm did a lot of business was unsuitable for a buy recommendation. They had expanded way too quickly in a business for which they already had too much capacity. The debt was beginning to pile up and the debt service was outstripping their profit. He was not even sure how they posted any earnings. However, if he did not give them a buy rating, they would take their underwriting business elsewhere. He refused, and was shown the door. He barely had time to grab the stuff from the mahogany desk before he was escorted out of the corner office by security.
Lisa Ginetti stopped them in the hall. "John, I just heard what happened. I am so sorry." Lisa had been his assistant when she first came to the company. It was under his mentoring that she had continued on to a successful career as an analyst, and they had always remained close, though she was no longer under his supervision.
She quickly looked around, took the box from his hands and set it on the ground. The she gave him a hug. John was startled. Lisa, while beautiful, was always nice but not at all touchy feely - this was a completely new thing. "John" she said quietly, "You have now idea how much I will miss you. If there is anything I can do..." she squeezed him tightly, burying her head on his chest.
With that, she disentangled herself from him, picked up the box, gave it back to him, and left john standing there until one of the security guards motioned for him to start walking.
As they crossed the trading floor, all eyes were on him, but none made contact. Except Sarah, that little bitch. She stared at him, with a little smirk on her face. A little self-satisfied grin as she watched is downfall. She was one of the fast risers. Not on her back. Well, not completely. On her knees and bending over too. Sarah was beautiful and she knew it. For three months she had worked her way through John on her way up.
John could still remember the first time she had made her advance on him. She had seemed so sweet, so misunderstood. He knew her reputation, but she never seemed that way around him. She had never put him on the spot, or dressed sluttish. When she started working in his department, she was professional and friendly. The often worked late hours, and sometimes ended up completely abandoning the project at hand to talk about their lives and their plans for the future. She always had a warm smile for him and made his day a little brighter. She seemed to look forward to seeing him, and that made him feel special.
That one night though, things had been different. John knew he had a little crush on her, but had always been careful to keep it at that. He was working hard during earning season, and it had been very late. He looked up to see Sarah knocking on his door. "John, I cannot make heads or tails of the market projections this company sent over. Can you please take a look at this?" she said, holding up the file in her hand.
John motioned her over and she closed the door, came around to his side of the desk, sitting on it as she dropped the manila file in front of him.
John opened it up. "What the hell?" he said out loud as he stared at a graphic picture of Sarah lying on her back, legs in the air, face a picture of lust as she spread her pussy lips for the camera.
"I figured I had to hit you over the head with it. I have wanted you for so long, and you never seemed to pick up on my signals." Sarah said in an all new, husky voice. She took his hand, and slid it up the inside of her thigh, underneath her skirt. He could feel the heat through her silk panties. "Now what will it be... head or tail? Or both?"
Sarah slid off the desk and pushed his chair back, kneeling in front of it. Wasting no time she had him unzipped and had his cock in her mouth, burying herself on it until her nose was mashing against his pubic hair. She looked up with her brown eyes and winked, and gave the best impression of a smile that one could with seven inches of cock lodged in their throat. Her hand began to massage his balls as she furiously began to pump her mouth up and down his cock. Her lips tightened around him and created an incredible sensation as the slipped along his skin.
"Sarah... what the... ugh... I'm gonna come..." John gasped, still in half shock. It had been so long since he had had any, his orgasm was almost instantaneous.
Sara looked up at him, and slid him completely down her throat. Her tongue writhed back and forth on the underside of his cock as he started to blow his load. Her nostrils flared as she swallowed, the movements of her throat pulling every squirt down.
As John slumped a little in his chair, Sarah's mouth came off his shrinking member with an audible pop. "Now that we have had head, how about tail?"
Everything had been great for the first month. They had agreed to keep things quiet at the office, as John had been in a higher position than her. So they met after work, at little hole in the wall romantic restaurants and then afterwards back to her apartment. Every night was a new experience and John found himself falling in love.
The second month things started to go downhill, as she began to slack off on the assignments that she was supposed to be giving him. They were late, or poorly researched, or both. Whenever he confronted her, she would lean into him, gently grab his cock and promise to try harder. But they saw each other outside the office less and less, and when they did, she was more distant.
By the third, it was evident that he had been played. One of the senior analysts had just left, and Sarah basically blackmailed him into it. If he didn't throw his full weight behind her for it, she was going to file a sexual harassment suit against him, saying that the whole affair had been his idea, and the she had only been going along to keep her job.
Back in the present, John realized that he had been staring at Sarah across the trading floor. He saw that she was now whispering and laughing to one of the traders as they looked at him. He turned and continued to walk out. No one said else goodbye, they just kept talking into the headsets and to each other. Before he was gone, all eyes were back on the computer screens and the stock reports. Fifteen years of hardworking service, and that was that. In this world, money came first.
Fortunately for John, money had mattered when he had worked there. He had made plenty of it. True to character, he had followed his own advice, and now the interest he earned was more than the yearly salary he made. "Used to make," he thought to himself as he dropped the box of his stuff into the trashcan on the corner.
As he walked down the street and hopped on the subway, John went into a bit of a funk. Thirty-seven, no job, no girlfriend, and no real life outside the office. He had been a geek in college, and had not dated much. He had earned his MBA at night, and after that had committed himself completely to the firm. He worked sixteen-hour days, most of the weekends, and his only real outside office hobby was going to the gym. Even that was a job to John. He hated it, but had seen too many of his predecessors and coworkers waste away at their desks eating deli sandwiches and take out Chinese until they were all skinny arms and big stomachs, unfit for anything in life except sit behind a desk.
As John mulled over his life, he looked over the early evening rush of commuters on the subway. Listless and glassy eyed, they collectively stared off into space. At each stop they jostled like rats in a cage to get out when the subway screeched to a halt at each stop, only to be replaced by a new group ready to repeat the procedure. At one stop an elderly gentleman squeezed onto the train, and shuffled his way over to grab the ceiling strap in front of John. The man closed his eyes with a tired grimace as the passengers bumped and jockeyed for position as the doors closed. He looked vaguely familiar to John.
"George... Mr. Davis?" John asked quietly. Hopefully if he were wrong, the man would not notice. Starting up conversations on the subway was not the healthiest practice, even with people you thought were harmless.
The old man's eyes flew open, and then squinted at him. For a second he maintained a blank look. Then a light of recognition entered his eyes. "John? Murphy? How the hell are you, boy?
"I'm well, but my legs are starting to fall asleep. Here, take my seat." John said, simultaneously standing up to let George in while keeping it free from a quicker, more opportunistic passenger. George gave him a thankful smile and sat down. "How have you been?" asked John "I haven't seen you since you left Mitchell & Farlane."
George Davis was the man who had first hired John out of college. Not a company man following the traditional route of prep schools and Ivy League colleges, he had started out as a runner, and then slowly risen through the firm to eventually become a V.P. in the Research department at M&F. He was one of the few in the firm that John had admiration for. He had been John's mentor in the beginning, giving him the advice that he should always stick to his principles and remember that all the money started from the same place; the retail customer. These were the hard working Joes and people's grandmothers. Often lambasted as idiots by the Wall St. savvy, George drilled into him that these people had put their trust, their savings, their future into the work that Research did. His commitment to this and his distaste for politics had led to same fate that had recently struck John. John hadn't seen him since.
"Still fighting the battle, though I think I am losing the war." George replied. "After my 'mutual decision' to leave the firm, it took me a while to find something new. Set back the retirement plans a few years at least. I have a few more years to go before I can buy the boat"
"Buy the boat?" John thought to himself. "Buy the farm is closer to the truth," he thought sadly. George had not been a young man when John started, and looked much worse for wear. John could remember the retirement plans George had had from when John first started.
"Gonna buy a boat and see the world" George would say. "Just me, the missus and the deep blue sea." George had never sailed a day in his life. The closest he had gotten to a sea voyage was his daily commute on the Staten Island ferry.
"How is Lucille? John had met George's wife a few times when George had invited his former protégé over for a Sunday dinner. They had no children and seemed to enjoy the company of a younger person as a change from their usual routine. John enjoyed the good food and conversation, never having the chance to socialize outside of work.
"She passed away a few years ago. It was peaceful, thank God. I just woke up one day and she was gone. They say that the hurt fades in time, but I can tell you the void never goes away." George answered. The subway started to slow. "Well, this is my stop. It was good seeing you. Don't be a stranger to an old man. You still have my number, right?"
As John started to answer a look of pain, then panic crossed George's face. As the subway lurched to a halt, George stumbled and fell, bouncing off the press of bodies pushing out of the car.
As the paramedics wheeled the draped form towards the escalators, John watched numbly as the commuter traffic flowed hurriedly around the slowly moving gurney. He saw the expressions of frustration on their faces that this man's death might make them miss their trains home.
"Were you a relative of the deceased?" asked the uniformed transit cop, as he continued to write down the information.
"No, just a friend," replied John, not really listening. " I knew him from a previous life... I mean job."
"Any family?" the cop asked in a bored tone.
"I don't think so. His wife passed on a few years ago and they had no children. I am not sure what else I can tell you," said John, starting to focus on the cop. " I hadn't seen him in many years."
"I got enough for now. If we have any more questions, we will give you a call. All I need from youse is an address and number." the cop continued in his thick accent.
John gave the needed details and as the cop finished writing, John headed up the stairs. Coming above ground he felt that cold wind again, cutting right through him. He was not at his regular stop, but he felt the need to walk, to clear his head. He set off down the street.