Busted at the Office

I was at my desk late one evening when the company's regional VP, my boss's boss, startled me at the door to my office.

"Ah, working late Dave?"

"Yes," I said, sitting up straight in my chair and minimizing the open windows on my computer screen, which, thankfully, faced away from the doorway. "I've got a deadline due tomorrow and we've not quite made as much progress as I would have liked this week. No problem though, I'll catch it up," I said, trying to sound more casual than I felt.

She smiled and said, "yes, Dave, you always pull us out of a bind, although I'd say more so at the last minute than I'd like to see."

Ouch. I wasn't sure how to respond to that. About twenty years my senior, she has a reputation throughout the company as a stern and tough, yet fair and capable, manager. You certainly didn't want to get crosswise with her without really knowing your stuff. I've seen many an unprepared staffer deftly sidelined while going up against her at our monthly meetings.

In the ensuing awkward silence, she entered my office and sat in the visitor's chair at the side of my desk, not quite in view of my screen. I was, in my head, frantically trying to figure out how to shut down my browser windows completely without looking obvious and guilty. Would accidentally hitting the power button be too obvious?

"I don't suppose you are aware that one of my less glamorous duties is to review monthly internet usage reports?"

Much as I tried to stay in control of my reactions, I pretty much visibly froze.

She knows.

She went on, "I can see by your body language you might have some idea what I'm here to discuss with you."

I know I should have interjected something, anything, but all I could feel was a deep knot in my stomach and a cluster of nonsensical denials forming in my throat, while she eyed me sternly as I averted her gaze. While quite a bit older than me, she was attractive in the confident and strong way she carried herself throughout the office, the sharp pantsuits she wore, and above all her piercing blue eyes, and shoulder-length silver-gray hair.

"Let's just jump into it, shall we?" Putting on her reading glasses, she opened a manila folder with a number of printouts, pulling the top packet out and flipping through a few pages. "I'd venture a guess you didn't get much done last week Tuesday, say for three or four hours in the morning?"

I was so busted. I blurted, "I know it's not okay and it doesn't look good to be browsing privately on company time but I promise I've made it up entirely on my own time and it won't happen again..." I trailed off as her stern gaze over the top of her glasses locked onto mine and she tilted her head quizzically. Her lips gradually shifted into what felt like a judgmental smile.

"Here's the thing, Dave. You are one of our more productive employees and you do eventually pull through. However, it's just not good for our processes, our timelines, and... while it's already clearly against our company policy to be surfing the internet while at the office... the subject matter certainly raises significant additional concerns."

This was every guy's nightmare, to be busted at the office for browsing porn. I waited for the next shoe to drop: not just fired, but humiliated in the eyes of my colleagues and friends. This was going to be horrible. There was nothing I could do. My fate was no longer my own. A feeling of shame and resignation began to envelop me. I looked up and her gaze was unfaltering, and, yes, clearly somewhat amused.

At long last, all I was able to come up with was, "I have no excuse". Seconds went by as she continued to look at me in silence. "I don't want to lose my job over this".

"I brought up last Tuesday, but frankly, it's fairly consistent." Flipping through pages of printouts, "you seem to get distracted almost daily. Sometimes for a few minutes, sometimes for an hour at a time. What is it you are getting out of all this?"

"Like I said, I have no excuse." I didn't know whether to beg for my job or to just accept what was coming.

"I'm really curious," she said, looking down at the printouts, scanning a few lines then looking back at me. "I assume this excites you?"

Jesus. There was just no answer to that. I wanted to just get up and leave with some lame excuse about discussing it later, but my office wasn't all that big and there was not enough room to get around her gracefully if I tried.

"I mean, you're a guy, and I know the kind of silly stuff guys get into, but what do you get out of looking at porn for hours at a time on the clock? I assume it turns you on, but doesn't that just leave you frustrated for hours on end? I don't know anything about your personal life, but can't you get that stuff done outside the office? You're a good enough looking guy, can't you find a girlfriend or something?"

I was pretty much horrified at the situation at that point. It was surreal. Never in my life had I been so out-and-out caught, and it had to be, of all places, at my work, at a job that I really liked, and by a woman in charge, of all the possible scenarios. And here she was, giving me the third degree while I was pretty much trapped.

"Dave, I'll be frank with you. At this point, only you and I are privy to this information. I can choose to do something officially with it, which will certainly end your employment here, or you can come clean and we can see if there is some way out of all this between you and me."

Was she was throwing me a branch? Maybe. Or maybe she was just disgusted and toying with me before giving me the axe.

I tried to hold her gaze. "Okay, yes. I find it exciting. But it's just a way to waste some time... and I know that's unacceptable and I regret it." I needed to give her something to run with and try to bring this to a close.

"I assume it makes you hard." A sudden inrush of air on my part. "Do you just stay hard and aroused all day back here hidden behind your desk?"

I know what kind of conversations are okay and this had gone well beyond my threshold. "That's none of your business," I said with some rising indignation, albeit borne of humiliation. "If you are going to fire me, just go ahead and say it, don't humiliate me." I began to rise up out of my chair.

"Sit your ass back down, Dave!" she commanded quietly but firmly... and I did just that. "Get ahold of yourself. I've told you only I know about this. I'd honestly like to keep you if we can bring your work behavior back into the realm of acceptability, or at least to where your behavior does not put my job in jeopardy for not doing anything about it. You need to know you've put me in a difficult situation. Faced with this," she held out the printout towards me, "I'd be hard pressed to explain why I've kept you on staff. What I'm telling you is that you need to make some amends. You need to be more straightforward with me than you could ever imagine, starting this very moment." She reached forward and put her hand on my knee, which made me jump for a moment. "Are we on the same page here?" I nodded meekly.

"Good, because I'm truly curious. This discussion will be just between the two of us, you have my word on it."

Still not sure where all this was headed, I relaxed the smallest amount, which she noticed, and smiled at me in a way that was both patronizing and kind, but her eyes continued staring straight into me, her hand on my knee gripping firmly. Something about it -- it was surreal. I felt exposed. I felt cornered. I felt like I was trapped. But it was also... strangely intimate. Like I'd been caught with my hand in the cookie jar by a kind parent.

"Understood", I said quietly, not knowing how much she was going to ask me to reveal.

A pause from her, then, "good", as she leaned back in her chair and took her hand off my knee. "Back to my question, do you just stay hard all day?"

"I don't know. Sometimes."

"Sometimes it just goes down, and sometimes it just stays hard?"

"Yes." Sheepish.

"Do you masturbate at the office, Dave?"

Suddenly aware of the open door to my office, I glanced in that direction. "Don't worry, Dave, everyone else has gone home and the office is locked for the night. It's just you and me. Answer the question. We need to get over these short reluctant answers of yours or we'll never get out of here."

"Okay, yes."

"Where do you masturbate, Dave?"

"I don't want to get in any more trouble."

Firmly and emphatically, she said, "where you get into more trouble is by not answering everything I ask forthrightly, without me having to drag it out of you. You jerk off in the office, yes, we've established that. Where?"

"In the restroom", I said.

"And at your desk?"

"Occasionally."

"While your fellow employees are all running around?"

"No, I shut the door for a bit."

"Well, that's better than taking the risk out in the open. You must be fairly efficient at it, although I suppose you've had quite a bit of time to get properly aroused."

"Yes."

"What kind of porn do you look at?"

"Ummmm.... Women. nothing specific."

"More detail."

"Naked women."

"You don't say!" Sarcastic. "Okay, we were making some progress here, so don't piss me off. Of course you are looking at women. Or maybe not, I suppose, but how about this: I have fifty pages of logs that tell me all kinds of things you like to look at. I can see what you visit over and over. I want to talk about that. In fact, I want you to show me what you are hiding on your screen right now. Let's take a look."

More of the same. I was caught, and more caught, and, to my developing surprise, I now actually wanted to tell her everything, to come clean and throw myself on her mercy. I maximized my browser window, specifically the "incognito window". Splashed across my monitor was a paused full-on high-definition sex scene of two women engaged in a lazy 69 in a gym shower.

"Take if off of pause." I did, and I could faintly hear the sounds of sex, so slight that anyone passing by would not be able to catch it. "Turn it up." I complied, and the noises grew louder; wet smacking sounds and moans.

She smiled at this, looking from the screen, then at me, and back again. "Okay, so what would you do if you were alone here right now? Would you touch yourself?" My stomach was still in knots, but part of me was, to my horror, considering the circumstances, getting aroused.

"I might."

She got up out of her chair then, walked over to my office door, and closed it. "Just so you are a little less self-conscious, and so as not to shock the cleaning crew if they show up early. Show me how you would touch yourself."

I could feel my heart start to race in a different way, and, surprising even myself, I put my hand on my crotch and rubbed my stiffening cock through my slacks.

"That's a start, Dave, but I want to see the real thing. Stand up and take your pants off."

I was a deer in the headlights. When I didn't move immediately, she added, "It didn't escape my notice that you spend a lot of time browsing the CFNM videos. This seems like exactly the kind of scenario you would seek out. Let's have you pause that video and lose the pants."

Clothed female, naked male. Yes, those videos were a big turn-on for me, and probably a contributing factor in my surprisingly obedient removal of my slacks right then and there while she watched, leaning back against the wall behind my visitor's chair. I was feeling incredibly subconscious, but with the surreal nature of the whole scene and the blood rushing in my head and my cock, I was pretty much under her control at this point.

"Boxers too" she said and I complied, my cock swinging right and left with the weight of the blood flow that had me more than half-erect.

"Sit back down and stroke that cock for me." This was unbelievable, but I obeyed, enveloping my cock shaft with my fist and starting to stroke up and down slowly as it hardened more. I'd look up at her watching me, then look away from her intense gaze, which seemed to wilt my cock just a bit if I locked on too closely. "Shy boy. That's a start, but let's have you fully naked." Off went my shirt, off went my socks, which she then gathered with the rest of my clothes and threw out of reach, into the corner near the door. She pointed back at the chair and I sat back down.

"Turn your chair this way. Lean way back for me." She looked me up and down for a bit, focusing on my cock that, while pulsing with the action and excitement, had flagged to half mast with intimidation and exposure. Now lean back and stroke slowly. Let's see how hard you can get."

So there I was, in my own office, completely naked, leaning back in my chair, stroking my cock for the VP of the company, ostensibly to keep my job, but pretty much at this point driven more by my building excitement and horniness. Her gaze was intense, alternately upon my cock and then straight into my eyes. I couldn't handle the intensity and focused instead on my hand pumping up and down my cock... until I heard a shutter click. Panicked, I looked up to see she had taken a picture of me with her phone. "Carry on", she commanded, "this is for my personal use. You have no say in the matter in any case. Keep stroking!" She said firmly, as I had slowed down. I picked up the pace, knowing in this state I would do anything she told me to do. My cock was now as hard as it gets, curving straight up and out, holding position firmly against my strokes, pre-cum continually forming and dripping down into a small pool on my belly.

"Keep stroking with your right hand, but take your left hand and wipe all that pre-cum all over your nipples. Yes. Good job. Both nipples! Now lick it off your fingers, yes. Now, grab your balls as you stroke with your other hand." The skin on my cock tightened even more and I grasped my balls and squeezed and pulled them firmly.

I felt pressure building towards orgasm, panting audibly while my chair quietly squeaked to my movements in the otherwise silent office.

"Stop looking at your cock. Look right at me, yes, right into my eyes."

It was incredibly intense locking eyes with her while stroking my cock. I was an animal for her, my secrets laid bare in my nakedness and frenzy. I felt incredibly exposed and embarrassed and yet completely enthralled to her. She was, in the moment, my master whose every command I would obey.

"You're getting so close. I expect you are going to cum for me." I was getting close, but also getting shy, my orgasm just out of reach. "Don't you dare look away, look right into my eyes and keep jerking that cock for me." Her voice was rising, "Harder! Faster! You are going to cum all over yourself and I am going to watch every moment of it! Show me how you cum, shoot all over yourself while I watch, cum for me, don't you dare look away, come for me now!" Her voice was loud and strong as I frenziedly stroked harder.

Suddenly my cock arched involuntarily and shot long spurts of cum, over and over, pumping all over my chest and belly as i stroked through my orgasm.

Momentarily disoriented, panting with the blood pulsing strongly in my head, I was brought back to the present by the sound of her quietly clapping with her fingers in my direction. Laughing gently, yet approvingly, she said, "Whew, I'll bet you're exhausted! Getting shy yet?"

She was right. I was beginning to feel awkward again, all naked, soiled, and panting before her. I made moves to sit up and grab for something to clean myself up, but she commanded "Hold it right there! Don't move. We're nearly done with this discussion, but you don't get to clean yourself up yet. I want you to feel awkward for a little bit more."

Awkward it certainly was. I sat back as instructed. She stepped forward and ran her fingers along the edges of my torso where clear fluid from my cum stream was beginning to separate and run down my sides. She smoothed it out, running her fingers in wide circles on my stomach and chest before it could gather and drop to the floor. Finally, she wiped her fingers off on my legs and stepped back.

"I hope you've learned something from all this." she said. After a long pause, she said, "Last thing. You don't get to clean up. If I have to clean up your browsing history mess, then you get to wear your own mess home." Seeing in my face I didn't understand what she meant, she followed, "Go on, wipe your cum all over yourself." I dipped my fingers of my right hand into the cum streams and half-heartedly moved them around in small circles, to which she said, "No. Both hands. Get right into it, wipe it all over. Keep going... everywhere... smooth it all over until it dries out." This felt humiliating but I did as I was told, spreading my cum all over my chest and stomach until it was a thin wet sheen rapidly drying as I shivered in the cooling office.

"Nice job, Dave. So obedient when it comes right down to it. So glad we could have this talk. I sure hope you don't have anywhere else to go tonight, because you sure do smell like cum." She was right, the smell was heavy in the air.

She tossed the folder of printouts onto my belly. "I'll let you have this. You can get dressed and go home now."

She walked around the desk, opened the door, and went off down the hallway, calling back, "Let's check back in a week and see if you've truly cleaned up your act."

And she was gone.