Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Reluctant, Blackmail, Heterosexual, Oral Sex, Slow,
Desc: Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Greg is a geeky IT worker who lusts after Kathy, a sexy coworker in sales. Greg finds something interesting in an email and ends up having to take a chance to get what he wants.
Greg stretched his arms and legs out and yawned. It had been a long, boring morning at work. Nothing had broken, not a single computer had crashed. He hadn't even had to leave his office to fix some moron's computer after they stupidly ran some malicious software.
Greg had just taken several of the usual calls. A couple of forgotten passwords, a frozen email client, and one question on a feature in Excel.
Now it was time for his little hobby at work. He pulled up his text editor and put it into the secondary monitor. In the main monitor were the web traffic logs. Amazing what kind of information you could find out about someone based on their surfing habits.
He looked at the list of people in the text editor and found Brandon The Asshole's IP address and glanced through what he had found out about that jerk. Greg had only found one bad thing about Brandon from his web surfing: a porn site visit. With it just being that one instance, it was probably one of The Asshole's buddies playing a joke on him. Then there were the mundane things: Facebook logins, YouTube videos, mainly of people snowboarding which apparently was The Asshole's favorite pastime, news sites and Google searches. There wasn't even anything interesting in the searches for Brandon The Asshole. Again, it was mostly just him searching for snowboarding stuff, videos, equipment and tips and tricks.
It's surprising what you can learn just from what people Google for, thought Greg. Like that time two months ago when I discovered that Robert in Accounting liked to watch videos of women dominating men. The crueler and meaner the women were to the men, the more he seemed to like it.
After finding the IP address for Brandon The Asshole, he put it into the filter for the web logs and dug through The Asshole's internet visits. Once again, there was nothing in the logs.
I wish I could find some ammunition to get that jerk fired after what he did to me.
Over a year ago, Greg had been walking down the aisle between cubicles in Marketing to help Linda figure out, once again, how to do a mail merge in Word. Normally, Greg would have done this over the phone, but having a nice eyeful of Linda wearing tight skirts and low cut blouses always had Greg going to her cube whenever she called.
Greg had been minding his own business thinking about Linda's ample cleavage when he accidently bumped into Brandon.
Brandon had yelled, "Watch the fuck where you're going, asswipe! You almost made me spill coffee on my brand new suit!"
Greg mumbles an apology.
"What did you say, you little geek?"
"I said I'm sorry," Greg said a little louder.
By this time a crowd had formed around the two workers. Brandon wasn't going to miss this opportunity to show this little punk not to mess with him.
"You're sorry? Is that all you're gonna say for almost ruining my brand new Armani, you piece of shit?"
"Well, you didn't actually spill it on your suit, so it's not really a problem."
"Not a problem? It sure is a problem that you're too busy being a dork to watch where the fuck you're going. Go get your prescription checked so you can see when your betters are walking by and not make them ruin their suits.'
Greg fled, completely forgetting about Linda's cleavage.
Someday he's going to slip and show his bad side, and I'll have him. Get his sorry ass fired.
After finishing searching The Asshole's logs, he put in several more IP's of people who usually had interesting things to learn about. There was Bridgette who liked to watch videos of men getting hit in the nuts. She watched several of these a day. There was even a site she liked to visit that showed nothing but that.
Clark always looked at Schnauzer breeding sites and posted on forums about his award winning dogs. Hugh, the tall, fit British guy all the women lusted after, was a news junkie. He especially liked to see news about Europe and more specifically England. Gina was into knitting. Normally people associate knitting with old women, but she was a cute 20-something. Apparently, she just liked to knit things. Greg would see her around the building wearing sweaters or socks or hair pieces that she had made.
Greg made an occasional note here and there in his text file if someone had visited a different kind of site or anything else that sparked his interest.
Looking at Joanna in Receiving's Facebook chat log, he was amused to see that she had caught her fiancée cheating on her. Apparently she walked in on him boning some chick she knew. The chat log was of her bitching him out and threatening to dump his sorry ass. Greg filed that one away under her name.
Greg finally allowed himself to look through Kathy's logs. She was the one that he was really interesting in finding out about. Kathy was a hot 25 year old that worked in sales. Ever since Greg had first laid eyes on her, he had wanted her. The only problem was that she had a massive muscle bound boyfriend that drove a cool sports car and Greg was an average guy who worked in IT. He had no real chance with her. He hadn't even worked up the courage to talk with her, except the few times she called him to help her fix some problem.
Looking through her log, he found the usual stuff: news, videos, department store sites, searches for clothes or shoes and the typical work related stuff. Nothing that was even remotely interesting.
Getting bored with the web traffic logs, he moved on to snooping through the company's email.
The first thing he always checked was the "Deleted Items" folder. Everyone assumed that when you deleted an email, it just went away. It can be setup that way, but Greg had setup the server to store the messages in a special folder that only the email administrator, who just so happened to be Greg, could access. Whenever he would finish looking through the emails and saving any juicy tidbits, he would then permanently delete the messages.
On this day, Greg started to dig through them. A bunch of the normal spam messages that had gotten through his elaborate spam filters. He proceeded to delete them. He also came across the normal bulletin board messages, inter office communication, quick emails to friends in the company for weekend plans, or sharing jokes. Again, nothing that was very exciting.
He then decided to see if there were any good attachments. For some reason he couldn't figure out, the email server didn't put deleted emails with attachments into the "Deleted Items" folder. Instead, they went into a special "Attachments" folder. Sometimes there were some pretty interesting things in attachments. Once, Greg had found a nude picture of Rachel's boyfriend that he had sent her. And the subsequent scalding reply that told him off about sending that kind of garbage to her work email had him laughing until his sides hurt.
Today the first one that popped up was a fairly large zip file sent to Kathy from someone with a Gmail address.
Hrm. Interesting. I wonder what could be in this.
Greg opened up the zip file and found a video titled, "For Your Eyes Only." Greg double clicked on the video and it asked for a password.
Damn. Password protected. It can take a while for these things to be cracked. Might as well start up The Beast and have it chug away at it.
Greg got up from his chair and walked across his office passing by his file cabinet and his degrees that were hanging on the wall. When he reached the back wall he opened the door that led into the server room.
Once inside he walked past the row of racks with the networking switches and routers with their never stopping blinking lights. Once past these, he reached the server rack. Several computers were mounted into the rack. At the top was the main email server and directly below that was the backup email server. Going further down there were the three web servers and the two database servers that were the domain of John, the other IT employee at the company. At the very bottom of the rack was a large computer with a large label in a menacing script that read, "The Beast." The Beast was the testing computer that used virtualization to test out any new patches, Operating Systems, apps or configurations that were needed. John was going to use The Beast for its pure horsepower. The Beast had two 8 core processors 16 gigs of RAM and more storage space than any sane person knew what to do with. Plenty of power to quickly crack that zip password.
Greg fired up the machine and listened to the familiar whirls and beeps as the computer booted. Once logged into the computer, he grabbed the zip file off the network and opened up the zip password cracker program that he had found on the internet. He put the zip file with the video into the program and told it to use a dictionary first, then to brute force the password from 4 to 12 characters.
Brute forcing a password takes time. The program tries every possible combination of letters, numbers and symbols until it finds the correct password. If the password is long and complex enough, brute forcing it could literally take years. The beauty of it is that most people use simple passwords. They will use something that is personal to them like a word, a short phrase or a short random password. In any of these cases a dictionary attack or a brute force attack will get the password in the matter of minutes or days.
Once he made sure the program was running correctly, he went back to his office and noticed the voicemail light on his office phone was blinking. The missed call was from Larry over in Marketing needing help moving some computers around.
Marketing is always moving crap around in their area. I wish they could just decide to leave the stuff in one place so I don't have to go mess with all the jumble of cords and dust bunnies that are under the desks. And there's no chance of running into The Asshole.
Grumbling under his breath, Greg got out of his chair, grabbed his lunch bag from the mini fridge under his desk and spent the rest of the day crawling under desks, bumping his head and sneezing while unhooking, untangling and tidying up all the cords and computers. All while nibbling at his lunch, just so the jerks in Marketing wouldn't bitch about him being slow to respond. At least Brandon The Asshole wasn't in this afternoon.
Getting back to his desk shortly before five that afternoon he remembered the video and the password cracker. He quickly went back to the server room to check on its progress. Wiggling the mouse to wake the monitor up, he saw an error message.
Shit. That crappy program crashed on me again. Someday I'm going to have to write my own password cracker so I don't have to rely on this piece of crap.
But that's for another day. For now, I need to get this started back up and go home.
After starting up the program again, he went back to his desk, grabbed his jacket off the chair and went home.