Human Resources Associate

by Prince von Vlox

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."

"Good?"

"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."

"Oh?"

"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."

Sandy flinched. "Ouch! That sounds ... that sounds ugly."

"Let's not even talk about it," he said.

Sandy rinsed out her coffee cup and put it on the shelf. As she did so, Chuck stepped up behind her, his stiff cock rubbing against her bare bottom, his hands sliding around to cup her breasts. She turned around to embrace him, and after a brief kiss she led him into the other room.

She'd worn a sleeveless blouse, little more than a glorified tank top. She peeled it off, and Chuck's fingers unsnapped her bra. One of the things she liked was how every guy in the office had become skilled at unhooking brassieres. It was amazing what plenty of practice did for them.

She helped him with his shirt, settled back on the cot, and then pulled him down on top of her. He held most of his weight with his elbows and smiled down at her from a few inches away. His cock was trapped neatly against her tummy, only a little way from where she wanted it.

A few kisses, a few more kisses—Chuck liked to kiss her neck—and he finally focused on her nipples. He sucked and nibbled, making them stand straight up, eager for more attention. As he kissed, as he sucked, his body shifted, and his hardness slipped down to press against her thigh.

She reached between her legs and began to tease him by rubbing the head of his cock up and down the folds of her sex. She loved the look of impatience on his face. And the more she teased him, the harder his cock got.

"Put it in," he finally got out. "Put it in."

She pushed him lower, nestling him against her entrance. She put her hands on his butt. He pushed forward, and she caught her breath as his hardness split her open and slid into her depths.

"God," she whispered, "that is so good."

He began to move, sliding his hardness against every raw nerve inside her. After a few false starts she began to match him thrust for thrust. His arms were like pillars, holding him above her. She ran her hands over his chest, scratching at his nipples and combing his chest hair. Finally she held his waist, at the same time hooking her heels on the back of his thighs.

She closed her eyes, letting her imagination run wild as he put it to her. It felt like he was filling all of her, probing every empty spot inside her, and filling it with his strength. She fancied him replacing everything inside her with his hardness.

He hit some nerve just right, and a spark of fire flashed through her, making her clutch around him. She knew without a doubt that she was going to come. Her insides were on fire, and each thrust stoked the flames.

He bent and sucked her nips. It was like a jagged bolt of raw feeling shot right down to her middle, erupting in a ball of fire. Another suck, and it happened again, the urgency growing. He teased the skin between them, and she clutched him tight. Her body was tensing, pushing up into his, trying to get that ultimate touch. She rose, trembling on the brink, waiting, wanting, aching, and then it was there, spilling over in an unstoppable wave of pure feeling, squeezing down on the hardness filling her, trying to escape, but deliciously plugged up.

She trembled through wave after wave, each stronger than the last, until it was too much and she soared out onto an ocean of peace, the storm gone, just drifting.

Dimly she felt him shift to choppier strokes, and then he was plunging in all the way, moaning as he touched his peak. And then he was with her, both of them drifting out, wrapped together by their shared bliss.

"I swear it gets better and better," he murmured a couple of minutes later. He kissed her beneath the ear. "I don't know why that is, but I'm not going to complain."

She felt him shift as if he was going to pull out. "Don't," she murmured. "Leave the cork in the bottle."

"As you wish, but we can't stay this way all morning."

"I know, but wouldn't you like to?"

They lay there for another couple of minutes, but she could feel him softening. He was just barely in her, and as much as she didn't want to, she knew they both had to get back to work. She moved so he'd move, and when he pulled back she felt his juices slipping down her bottom.

He kissed her again, and they both got off the bed. She replaced the sheet with a fresh one for the next couple, and bundled the used one into the proper bin. Then she followed him to the restroom.

It was a coeducational facility, with a trio of enclosed stalls for the women and a pair of urinals for the men. There was a shower in the corner, something common to each restroom at Hubbard, but it was a small one with just room enough for one person.

She'd brought their clothes in with them, and after a brief shower they dressed quickly. She checked them out in the mirror: blonde hair, lithe frame, and not even the smallest patch of fur between her legs. Chuck, on the other hand, was dark-haired and taller, with a 'big-boned' body, which was a polite euphemism for being heavy. But in his case very little of it was fat. He played on the city's Arena Football team as a lineman, and worked out every day after work. His dick, though, looked red and wilted from exertion.

"I'd ask you to lunch," Chuck said, "but a vendor is taking me out to eat."

"Is he good-looking?"

"It's a 'she', and she could stand to lose some weight. Besides, I keep it at home or here. My dick doesn't get out and wander."

"Not even with those sexy cheerleaders?"

"Especially not them," he laughed. "They know, and we know, that they're off-limits. Violating that rule can get you kicked off the team, and the woman kicked off the cheer squad."

"You should have them dress with you in the locker room," she said. "That way everybody'd be happy."

"And we'd be too tired to play."

"Well, there is that." She trailed her hand across his chest. "I'll take a rain check on that lunch. I couldn't anyway today, I'm meeting some friends."

"See? These things have a way of working themselves out."

She smiled. "Yeah, I guess they do. I'll see you some time."

"We'll have to make a date of it," he said, and headed back to his office.

Sandy took a deep breath to settle the little happy burble she felt. That had certainly brightened up her day. She was humming happily to herself when she settled back at her desk.

Heather, of course, noticed it right away, but she didn't say a thing. She just hummed along while she worked.

Sandy looked at the time, her break had run a little long, and then picked up her notes and went to Ms. Hubbard's office. She met with the boss twice a week at 10:30 to bring her up to speed on any issues HR was dealing with.

Ms. Hubbard was in her mid-40s, a thin woman with brown hair. Today she was wearing a pale blue blouse and a string of pearls. Sandy knew they weren't artificial.

She briefed Ms. Hubbard on their job applicants, mostly for the satellite offices, and what complaints she'd fielded. At the end she brought up Cynthia and her 'problem'.

"I've never understood a woman who didn't like sex," Ms. Hubbard said in her low voice. "Which means I never understood any of my older relatives, my mother, my aunts, and my grandmother. None of them liked it."

"I had an aunt who thought it was a duty a woman had to put up with," Sandy said.

"Same here." She sighed, toying with the pen on her desk. "I suppose we can put an extra HVAC duct in her cubicle. I'm not sure that would change anything."

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