I had spent my lunch hour at the topless club buying two couch dances, so I was hot and horny by the time I got back to the office. Dropping my briefcase at my desk I headed down the hall to the men's room and picked a vacant stall at random. I closed the door, unbuckled my pants, and quickly tugged everything down to my feet. As soon as I sat on the toilet I had my cock in hand, stroking it and fantasizing about the red-haired dancer who had teasingly brushed her ass against my balls for both dances. In no time at all I let a load fly, grunting as I aimed it into the bowl, then massaging the last drops out and rubbing them into the head of my cock. I closed my eyes and caught my breath, waiting for my heartbeat to get back to normal, then got up, pulled on my briefs and pants, and left the stall. I washed my hands and headed back to my desk, spirits high, to get a good start on the afternoon's work.

I knocked out several client reports and was almost finished with the sales projection for the next fiscal year when my boss, Lana, buzzed me and asked me to come into her office. She was watching something on her computer when I entered, but she blanked her screen and picked up her phone to tell her secretary "No interruptions."

"You've been with us what, four years, Marvin?", she started. I corrected her, "Five next March, Lana." I knew the date well, it marked the point where I would finally be vested in the company pension plan. After bouncing through a series of jobs that didn't last more than three years, I was lucky to find a stable company where I could finally make long term plans.

She tapped her knuckles on the top of her cherrywood desk. "That's right... five years is a big milestone. And your work has generally been more than satisfactory..." I wondered what the hell she was getting at. It wasn't like her to be so elliptical. "That's why this matter disturbs me, Marvin. I have to wonder about an employee when I see something like this."

I sat forward in my chair, obviously puzzled. "Like what, Lana?"

She rotated her computer screen so we both could see it, and clicked the remote control. "Like this," she said.

It was a security camera recording of a bathroom. My stomach twisted painfully as I saw myself in living color hurrying into the stall and dropping my pants. The camera caught every detail almost lovingly, all the way to my look of orgasmic bliss and the loving way I rubbed the last drops in. Lana blanked the screen, faced me and asked, "Now what are we going to do about this, Marvin? I don't think this shows the kind of behavior we expect at JJ&M, do you?" I must have had a sick look on my face, and her smile was not something to show the children. "What I think is that you've got too much free time on your hands," she said silkily. "And I have some very good ideas on what to do with it. That is, if you want to make that five years."