Dance with The Devil A mafia story

The lights have gone off again. I looked up from my computer screen, my eyes were blurry and tired from staring at the screen for so long. This was the fourth time this week that I have been here after everyone else has left for the day. I've been putting in overtime like crazy the last 4 months and this was just another example of the annoyances of being here well past quitting time.

Even the cleaners have left and security was reduced to a minimum. Simply one overweight security guard would be sitting at the security desk, probably playing some game on his phone. After 6, motion detectors control the lights. Therefore, the lights will turn off if nothing moves for a while. It usually happens every 45 minutes. It acts as my own personal coo-coo clock.

Rubbing my eyes, I stood up and stretched. I got up and walked up and down the aisle until the motion detectors noticed me. Once the lights turned on, I headed to the break room to grab a cup of water.

“I’m so fucking tired!” Looking at the clock it was just after 9. I had been here for over 12 hours, minus an hour lunch. The overtime was great when I got my paychecks. But at that moment I felt like shit. If I was dating someone, she would be pissed I was spending so much time at work. Hell, if I were dating someone, I would be spending more time between her legs than working extra hours doing reports after endless reports. However, as it stood, I was single. So, I either save my money or blow it on something stupid. Feeling sorry for myself I went back over to my desk.

Thinking about being single was depressing, but not as depressing as knowing I was spending my early 30’s going on multiple dates with none of them making it as far as a second date. The girls were cute, and in many cases, they were interesting. They wanted someone who could offer them security and make them happy. This roughly translated into a man who had his shit together. I do have my shit together—if only my priorities were a little skewed. Unfortunately, we never had much chemistry so I never pursued a second date.

But my pockets and my retirement account weren’t the only things that were growing. My sexual frustration was at an all-time high. I hadn’t had sex in over 7 months and I was beginning to find almost every female in my office attractive. Just earlier today, Martha, a 60-something pre-retiree came over to my desk for help on using Access. As I glanced at her drooping H-cups I started to fantasize about motor-boating them.

To say I was sexually frustrated was an understatement.

The worst was my boss, Samantha Knox. When she hired me 5 years ago, she was a skinny and fit 30-year-old and one of the youngest managers our company had. She was a knock out from the bottom to the top. I spent many nights jacking-off to fantasies of doing her every which way imaginable. I would come to work the next day only to find her at her desk and I would get an instant hard-on when I walked past her. I was constantly nervous because slacks and briefs only hide so much. If she wanted to, I’m sure she could see how excited I got just from being close to her.

In the 5 years I worked under her, she put on about 10 pounds. She stayed fit but the extra weight went to her hips, her ass, and her breasts. She reminds me of those Renaissance women—their bodies sexier by having some additional curves. I don’t know or care what other guys thought about her figure, I think she is damn sexy. My fantasies of her are made all the more exciting by her new curves. I hope she never loses them.

By the time I made it back to my desk, I no longer had the drive needed to stay. So, I packed up my stuff and headed home. When I made it home, I ate a late dinner then went to one of the many porn sites in my favorites list and searched MILFS. I scanned the available videos until I found a woman whose body reminded me of Samantha’s. After I found her, I searched for a POV video of her and settled into my desk chair. I was still hungry, but instead of food, I hungered for a sexual release. I masturbated to the woman getting plowed until I came three times. Temporarily satisfied, I headed into the shower then to bed.

The next day I was tired from a lack of sleep but I felt oddly refreshed after cumming so much the night before. But when I saw Samantha leaning over her desk reading a document—her huge tits hanging down and the upside-down triangle of her cleavage, which was framed by her long brown curls—my hunger returned. So that she knew I was there, I cleared my throat as I walked up to her. I didn’t want her to catch me drooling over her. She looked up at me, her gray eyes lighting up.

"Good morning, Chase! I was just going over your report from last night regarding our recent acquisition. It looks great and very thorough."

“Thanks, Samantha! How is your morning?” I enjoyed making small talk with her. It gave me an excuse to get close to her. Sometimes when she came to my desk to speak with me our closeness allowed me to feel the heat from her body. That, mixed with the smell of her perfume, always made me rock hard. I had to make sure I had something in my lap at those times, or else she would get a little surprise if she looked down.