Human Resources Associate


Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Heterosexual, Swinging, Orgy, Safe Sex, Exhibitionism, Voyeurism, .

Desc: Erotica Sex Story: Sandy is an HR Associate at Hubbard & Associates. Her job is to smooth out anything that could interfere with the way things are at Hubbard. She takes great pride in doing her job.

"How do you put up with all of this?" Cynthia Forester asked. She and Sandy were standing at the copy machine just around the corner from Sandy's desk at Hubbard & Associates. "Don't you get tired of the constant nudity and sex, the men groping you and wanting to, you know, all of the time?"

Sandy looked at her friend in surprise. Cynthia was relatively new, hired in to replace one of the Admins when that woman had quit after maternity leave. She and Cynthia had been friends since high school, and she thought she'd known her pretty well.

"You don't like it?" Sandy asked.

"Sometimes I do, mostly I don't. I mean, once in a while I'm in the mood for it, but a lot of times I just want to get some coffee and get back to my desk. And I feel so exposed walking around like this. We don't wear skirts, slacks, or even panties, and people can see right between my legs! I don't know about you, but it makes me feel real uncomfortable. How do you deal with it?"

Sandy shrugged. "I'm a nudist, always have been." She smiled fondly at her memories of her childhood. She was startled back to the moment as the copier dropped another stack of paper in the output tray. "I grew up at a nudist resort, even went to school there, at least for the first few years. I had to transfer to a high school in the fabric world, but I've been a nudist most of my life." She chuckled. "I guess I don't even notice it."

"I didn't know that. I always thought..."

"We don't walk around with a sign saying 'I'm a nudist.' That wouldn't be very smart." She chuckled again. "I'm a home nudist, too, sort of."

"Sort of? What do you mean by that?"

"There's a nudist apartment building here in town. I live there."

"I didn't know that."

"Of course not. We don't advertise. It's fully enclosed, so nobody on the outside can see a thing."

Cynthia watched the copier for a bit. "I've heard stories about nudist camps. You know, with everyone naked, people—"

"Let me guess," Sandy interrupted. "You've heard that it's a non-stop orgy, that you have casual sex with everyone around you."

"Well, yeah, something like that."

Sandy laughed softly. "That's because most people equate nudity with sex. Actually most nudists are very chaste and conservative in their attitudes about sex."

"Except that they take off their clothes in public."

"It's not really public, Cynthia. Yes, we walk around nude, but it's in a controlled environment. None of the fabric world intervenes. And if everyone's nude, pretty soon it's no big deal. If you've seen one naked body, you've seen 'em all. Some are heavier, some are skinnier, or taller, or shorter, but they're just people."

"But what about the sex? I've heard stories of orgies and things like that, and by reputable people."

"Most of them are just stories," Sandy said, smiling, "sort of a wish fulfillment. There are people out there who want to take part in orgies and things like that, but they're afraid of the consequences. Like I said, most of the nudists I know are chaste, maybe even more so than if they lived in the fabric world. You see everything, but there's no touching."

"So this doesn't affect you at all."

"I didn't say that." Sandy grinned at her. "I enjoy looking at a well-built guy just as well as the next girl."

"But wouldn't you be, I don't know, ho-hum about it?"

"Not really. Each person's an individual, and seeing a guy with a tight butt will make my afternoon."

"Especially because around here you can haul him off and do the nasty with him."

"Even without that."

"I don't know. I don't really care for it, never have. Oh, once in a while, but not always, not like it is around here."

Sandy didn't know whether to feel sorry for her friend or not. After she picked up her copies and returned to her desk, she decided to keep an eye on Cynthia. She didn't want any problems spoiling what she considered to be the perfect workplace.

She hadn't told Cynthia about the sex at apartment building where she lived, or what had happened at the camp where she'd grown up. She'd told her friend the truth: most nudists weren't swingers. A few were, just like in the fabric world, but they kept things quiet. Oh, pretty soon you knew who they were, but as long as they didn't flaunt things in public, nobody raised a fuss. She knew because her parents had been swingers, and just after she'd turned 16 she'd joined them.

She'd been going to a public high school by then, Roosevelt High School (Go Rough Riders!). While her friends were experimenting in the back seat of a car, worrying about just how far to go, and what it might do to their reputations if word got out, she'd been trying to decide if she liked being on top better than the missionary position, and what was it about doing it doggie style that she liked so much. She'd been like a minx in heat, her opinion, not that of her friends, and had concluded that if she could spend the rest of her life in bed with men (not just one man, either), she'd be happy.

There'd been an ironic twist to all of that. Her friends at school had known she was a nudist, but she'd managed to convince them that 'nothing happened' at the camp. There were too many adults around for the kids to do anything, she'd told them, and after a while her girlfriends had believed her. Pretty soon they'd started coming to her with questions about guys, what did they look like naked, did they have 'accidents' when they saw a pretty girl—short answer, from time to time—and so on. She'd answered as best she could without telling them quite everything.

There were things she couldn't tell them: that she and the other kids her age found plenty of time to go off experiment. The parents at the resort knew this was happening, and knew that teenagers were going to do it no matter how they were lectured. They'd done the only other thing they could: by the time a girl turned 14 she was on birth control.

The prudes of the fabric world were right about one thing: knowing that nobody could get pregnant, the kids had gotten even more active than their contemporaries. There were more than a few times when she and some friends at the camp would get together and experiment, even on school nights. Her parents had insisted that she keep her grades up and have her homework done first. Collectively she and the other kids soon had the highest grade points in the school; it was remarkable what an incentive sex could be.

When she got back to her desk she had some emails to answer, and a few phone calls to return. She was in the middle of that when Heather returned from her break. Her friend's hair was a bit of a mess, her face was flushed, her nipples were trying to poke through her blouse, and her sex was red.

"Have a good time?" Sandy asked as she finished with the phones.

"God, I love this place," Heather said. She sat at her desk with a 'whoosh!' and began trying to straighten out her hair. "I met the new guy in IT. Don't let people tell you that nerds don't know what they're doing."


"Fantastic! He has the most amazing tongue, and his dick..." She sighed happily and resumed working on her hair. "I could fall in love with that thing."

"A dick's only as good as the guy it's attached to," Sandy said, repeating something her mother had told her repeatedly, and she'd proven to her own satisfaction.

"Well he has a God-given talent. If he's half as good at those computer things as he is in bed, then he's great."

Sandy forwarded her phone, and locked her computer. "Too bad I can't find out right away. Maybe I'll get a chance to later this week."

Heather took a deep breath, and smiled dreamily. "Too bad I have to share him with every other woman in this place."

"Yeah, that's a problem. Oh, speaking of problems, I ran into Cynthia Forester at the copy machine. She's kind of unhappy about the way things are here."

"Really? How did she get hired in here?"

"I don't know. But I think she could be a problem."

"I'll dig into her file," Heather said. "I've heard a few things about her."


"Mostly from other people. A few of them say she doesn't really fit in here. If she's got a problem, we don't want it to spread, or get out and cause problems."

"Yeah, I know. Let's do some brainstorming after I get back from break. We don't want this place spoiled."

Heather smiled. "Have fun. Be sure to do everything I'd do."

Sandy laughed politely. "And a few other things, too."

There was nobody in the Break Room. A little disappointed, Sandy poured herself a cup of coffee and sat at the table, sipping it. She wondered where everyone who had the 9:45 break was. Normally there were half a dozen people in the Break Room. She checked the room next door; it too was empty.

She'd was about to return to her desk when Chuck Morrison pushed into the room. He was tall, with broad shoulders, a tight butt, and powerful-looking legs. He smiled when he saw Sandy.

"How's my favorite perky little blonde?" he asked.

"Feeling a little lonesome," Sandy said. She got up and pressed herself against him, running her hand down to squeeze his bare butt. "How's my favorite manager?"

"Feeling a lot better, now that you're here."

"We haven't got much time. Do you think we should take a rain check?"

"I'd say yes," he replied, "but something's come up, and..."

"Ah, yes." She could feel his stiff cock pressing against her hip. "Be a shame to make you take that thing back to your desk."

"Be kind of painful, too. I'd probably accidentally close a desk drawer on it or something."

.... There is more of this story ...

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