The thought crossed my mind, “Hmmm, that’s strange.” The computer lab at my job was locked and the blinds were closed. Completely shutdown. A couple of hours ago, I had given a young man access to our business center. Seeing that the lights were off, a few scenarios started to sprout from my creative mind. (1) We’ve been had and our computers and printers were stolen. (2) He had some company that required some privacy. (3) Our facility was vandalized.
Unlocking the door with my master key, I saw his right hand maneuver the mouse with lightning speed. His shadowy figure sprung up from in front of the illuminating computer screen. Quickly putting on his coat, he adjusting his baggy jeans. With zero eye contact, he exited the room as I turned the lights back on. Maybe because I haven’t had my morning jolt of caffeine yet… Or, maybe because I had a thousand files piled on my desk… The thought of him using the computer to view pornography and masturbate didn’t cross my mind! I was shocked by the stupidity of the both of us.
I began to remember. There was a time I didn’t have a PC of my own… When I so sexually repressed, I’d spend hours at the public library… When I’d wear black sweatpants to camouflage the several loads soaking my thigh. I could relate to the man storming past me. I used to be him, a pervert in sexual poverty.
We were very different, however. I liked being in broad daylight, viewing porn from a small, minimized window. I preferred to have people around. I’d have an excel spreadsheet, or something productive-looking, with a tiny glimpse of flesh in the corner of my monitor. In between data entry, I’d scroll down slowly past his pectorals… Past his abs… To the erection and the mouth hovering over it. Squeezing my own hard dick, I got off repeatedly as the elderly looked up ancient periodicals on microfiche.
For shits and giggles, I had to know. What kind of porn was he jerking off to? Opening the web browser, I checked the history log and found his shame right on the surface. I was disappointed. His taste in porn was rather…rudimentary. Big breasts. Big asses. Girls gone wild. I found myself wishing that I had discovered something juicier. Something that would’ve changed the way I looked at him. But, alas, he was pretty softcore.
Later in the day, he returned to my office to retrieve the ID he exchanged for the business center key. Working hard to reduce the stack of files, multi-tasking, I handed him his driver’s license while recommending, “Remember to clear your history next time.”
His voice spoke in the key of inexperience, “Ummm…Okay.”
Unlocking the door with my master key, I saw his right hand maneuver the mouse with lightning speed. His shadowy figure sprung up from in front of the illuminating computer screen. Quickly putting on his coat, he adjusting his baggy jeans. With zero eye contact, he exited the room as I turned the lights back on. Maybe because I haven’t had my morning jolt of caffeine yet… Or, maybe because I had a thousand files piled on my desk… The thought of him using the computer to view pornography and masturbate didn’t cross my mind! I was shocked by the stupidity of the both of us.
I began to remember. There was a time I didn’t have a PC of my own… When I so sexually repressed, I’d spend hours at the public library… When I’d wear black sweatpants to camouflage the several loads soaking my thigh. I could relate to the man storming past me. I used to be him, a pervert in sexual poverty.
We were very different, however. I liked being in broad daylight, viewing porn from a small, minimized window. I preferred to have people around. I’d have an excel spreadsheet, or something productive-looking, with a tiny glimpse of flesh in the corner of my monitor. In between data entry, I’d scroll down slowly past his pectorals… Past his abs… To the erection and the mouth hovering over it. Squeezing my own hard dick, I got off repeatedly as the elderly looked up ancient periodicals on microfiche.
For shits and giggles, I had to know. What kind of porn was he jerking off to? Opening the web browser, I checked the history log and found his shame right on the surface. I was disappointed. His taste in porn was rather…rudimentary. Big breasts. Big asses. Girls gone wild. I found myself wishing that I had discovered something juicier. Something that would’ve changed the way I looked at him. But, alas, he was pretty softcore.
Later in the day, he returned to my office to retrieve the ID he exchanged for the business center key. Working hard to reduce the stack of files, multi-tasking, I handed him his driver’s license while recommending, “Remember to clear your history next time.”
His voice spoke in the key of inexperience, “Ummm…Okay.”
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| All Images are from 'All Jacked Up' |
