BUSINESS MEETING FINGERBLAST ORGY

Before I let you in on what happened last Thursday, I’ll let you in on something else: I’m all business. Always have been. As a kid my favorite game was “Business”. In the game “Business” me and my other child friends would sit a few feet away from each other and pretend-work in silence. Every now and then one of us would shout “I’ve made an advancement! This company and everyone in it is gonna be rich!” Then we’d all cheer and then get right back to work. As time went on, the other kids grew out of this game. We got to middle school and they realized they wanted to be artists or teachers or YMCA aquatics directors. I wanted one thing and one thing only: business. I stayed serious, never smiling unless big profits or big boobs were involved. My wardrobe shrunk to three pairs of identical navy blue pants, three button down shirts, and two ties as well as one black suit, one gray suit, and a classy black jacket as well as some work out clothes like a black adidas track suit and a navy blue adidas track suit as well as one fun colored bathing suit as well as blue and white striped pajamas, the traditional business attire. I went to NYU Stern School For Business because it had the word “business” in its name.

And I love New York City.

College was a blast. By which I mean I had plenty of opportunities to conduct business. I blended right in with the other business majors. Blending in is every aspiring business man’s dream. I never partied unless I felt it was essential for the business I was trying to get done, in which case I would get black out drunk and wake up two days later in an Upper East Side couple’s dog crate or something like that. Classic business stuff. Right after graduation I got hired at a company in Midtown called IBM to do what I do best: business.

Ever since then I’ve been working nonstop for IBM. Sometimes I find myself having ridiculous thoughts like The initials IBM remind me of IBS which is funny because I work at IBM and I have IBS or Maybe I’ll take the weekend off and try hot yoga or Even though Kristen from Human Resources has small boobs I still think she’s pretty or I miss my parents I should give them a call or I’d like to take a ceramics class or I think I believe in a Higher Power or Marc Maron’s podcast is really relatable or I don’t know if I like Howard Stern. These thoughts are shameful and I hate them. If I have these thoughts too many times in one day while I’m at work, I’ll excuse myself to the bathroom, sneak into the women’s room, lock the door, and scratch at my stomach skin with a pen cap until I bleed. The pain and the blood will usually get my mind off of these fantasies and back to what I love: Business.

Anyway, let’s get to business.

Last Thursday was just like any other day. I woke up at 5:30AM in a panic, gasping for air, heart pounding out of my chest. This is how I always wake up, don’t know why, it just is. I threw up in my bed then got some paper towels and wiped it all up. This happens pretty often as well, don’t know why, it just does. I can’t wash my sheets every time it happens or else I’d be doing laundry four days a week at least, so I’ve found the paper towel method works just fine. I got dressed into one of my favorite outfits: black pants, light blue button down, black tie, black jacket. I left my apartment and got on the subway. On the subway I had some of the bad thoughts like I might like to wear V-neck T-shirts and I wish I knew how to figure skate. I figured that if I was still having the bad thoughts when I got to work I could go into the women’s room and do my pen cap thing. As I got off at my stop and started walking towards IBM I realized I had left my briefcase at home. “Shit!” I muttered to myself. I did this somewhat often as well, though, so I knew it was going to be OK. I’d just use my secret back up laptop that I hide in the custodian’s closet specifically for forgetful days like today. Thankfully, this got the bad thoughts out of my mind so I didn’t need to do my pen cap thing.

I got into the office and power walked as fast as I could towards the custodian’s closet. I’m an extremely fast power walker especially when the pressure’s on and it was because I didn’t want anyone to see me without my briefcase. It’s not exactly “business-like” to forget stuff. As I was rounding the corner to the closet, Jim Karfagne appeared out of pretty much nowhere.

“Hey Jim Karfagne!” I said, a little too loud. What I’ve learned in all my years of business is that if you talk too loud that’s suspicious, it means you’re hiding something. So I hoped Jim hadn’t noticed.

Jim barely made eye contact with me and said, “There’s a meeting in conference room 304 in ten minutes.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks Jim.” A bullet dodged. I thought to myself that I must be a pretty good business man if I could get away unscathed in a situation like that.

Jim Karfagne left and I opened the door to the custodian’s closet. I jumped. The janitor, or rather, the custodian, Karl, was inside the closet. He was texting or watching a video on his phone or something. We stared at each other. I put my pointer finger over my lips like “shhh”. I reached into my secret hiding spot and grabbed my back up laptop.

“I won’t tell if you don’t.” I whispered. Then I winked for good measure. Karl nodded. He did not wink back.

I left the closet and wiped the sweat off my forehead. I looked at my underarms, they were soaked. Thank God I’m wearing a jacket today it hides this sweat mess, I thought. My heart hurt for a second and I thought I was having a heart attack but then I realized it was probably just my anxiety making my heart hurt. This is common, especially among business men. I gripped my back up laptop and looked around. I wasn’t sure what I was looking for, I was just passing the time I guess. I saw everyone filing into conference room 304 and figured I should head in there as well.

The moment I entered conference room 304 a wave of nostalgia rolled over me. I remembered being a small child waiting in line at the bagel shop on Main Street. I’d have my entire family’s breakfast orders memorized in my small head. Everything bagel with lox spread, toasted. Plain bagel with light cream cheese, emphasis on light. Onion bagel with tuna and swiss. Salt bagel with cream cheese, lightly toasted, please remember the word light. And so on. I remembered that the beautiful girl who always took my order got pregnant at 16. I remembered her telling me that her boyfriend got her a Christmas gift even though they were supposed to be saving for the baby. I remembered passing this information along to my mother and my mother saying “It’s very sweet that they’re keeping it.” My eyes burned hot with tears. I snapped back into it, wiped my eyes, and looked around the room to make sure no one had seen me cry. No one had. They were all at the hot bagel breakfast spread that was set up at the back of the room. I guessed the smell of these bagels is what had triggered that childhood memory but I couldn’t be sure. I sat down at the conference table. No bagel for me, I just didn’t feel like it.

“What? You don’t want a bagel? They’re hot. You on a diet or something? There’s fruit salad, too. But it’s kinda heavy on the melon, aren’t they always?”

I looked around to see who was saying all this, wondering if they were saying it to me.

“Greg, I’m right here!” Kimmy Granger laughed. She was sitting right next to me. She had a lot of lox on her plate. Probably more than was fair to take but that was Kimmy, a taker.

I smiled as best I could although as I was smiling I realized I couldn’t remember if I had brushed my teeth or not that morning so I tried to smile without teeth although that was kind of hard because I have a slight overbite situation, which I am, of course, extremely self conscious about because overbites are ugly.

“I, uh, threw up this morning so I don’t think I should eat dairy. And who wants, um, a bagel without some kind of spread?” I sounded so stupid.

Kimmy’s jaw dropped.

“Greg, ew! Also I think there’s some kind of vegan spread but ew to that as well.” Kimmy shoved smoked salmon into her mouth. The smoked salmon was the color that I assumed Kimmy’s vagina was. Maybe her vagina kind of smelled like the smoked salmon as well. I wondered if Kimmy ate so much smoked salmon that all of her holes tasted like it. I don’t even like lox that much but I salivated.

“Ok, guys, open your packets to the intro page, I’m gonna try to get through this as quickly as possible. I know you’re all super busy today.” Kristen from Human Resources was standing at the front of the table. Her boobs looked extra small that day. I thought maybe she was wearing a sports bra or something. Weird choice for a business woman. I noticed a packet in front of me “Diversity In The Workplace”. I looked around and realized, for the first time, IBM was not that diverse. Mostly everyone, including me, was a white man. I tasted some vomit.

That’s when I saw it. Jim Karfagne and Lisa Handler were sitting across from me and Jim’s arm was at a weird angle. It was moving up and down. Lisa’s face was red and she was holding her lips together really tight. My heart started pounding. Kristen from Human Resources droned on about whatever she was talking about and people stared intently at their packets and no one else saw what I was seeing. Jim Karfagne was touching Lisa Handler’s privates.

I dropped my pen on purpose. No one noticed. I bent down to retrieve it and looked under the table at Jim and Lisa. Lisa’s legs were spread and Jim’s hand was going in and out of her skirt. In a business meeting strictly for business???? I thought. I felt crazy, how was no one else seeing this?

“Greg, is everything OK?” Kristen called out. I realized I had been bent over “retrieving my pen” for too long. And I realized I was breathing really heavy. And I realized I was fully erect.

“What? Oh!” I came back up. “Yea. I dropped my penis. My penis. My penis.” I was trying to say ‘my pen’ but I kept saying ‘penis’. Kristen was horrified. Everyone stared at me. I looked at Jim and Lisa out of the corner of my eye and they were still going at it. With everyone looking at me I guess they were safe.

“My pen. I dropped my pen. I’m sorry.” I put my face into my hands. Kristen let out a giggle. Then everyone laughed.

“That’s ok, Greg. I’m sorry I’m laughing. You just said ‘penis’ so many times I…” Kristen trailed off. I followed her eye line. She was looking at Jim and Lisa.

Kristen’s face turned red. “Jim?”

Jim turned towards Kristen, still fingering Lisa with vigor.

“Yea, Kristen? What’s up?”

Kristen pursed her lips really tight. Some drool came out and ran down to her chin.

“Are you - um - Lisa?”

Lisa opened her eyes and turned to Kristen. She took a deep breath and exhaled “Yea? What’s up?” Lisa looked like she was going to scream.

“What’s —” Kristen was stammering. Everyone else was still looking at their packets. I felt my member pulsing through my business pants. I watched the scene unfold and was both turned on and absolutely petrified.

“He’s fingerblasting me, Kristen. Under the table.” Lisa said.

Some people looked up from their packets. I was feeling sick again, like I might spew all over the table, all over Kelly’s lox plate. I wanted this weird fingering thing to stop and for all of us to just get back to business. I liked business. I was all business.

“That is not at all appropriate.” Kristen said, red as a lobster at Red Lobster. Jim threw his head back and laughed. He stood up, releasing his hand from Lisa’s crotch, and pushed the table back.

“Hey! What gives!” Us business men on the other side of the table exclaimed. Kelly shoveled more lox into her mouth like it was popcorn at a movie.

Jim sat in front of Lisa and jammed his hand into her. The room was silent besides the squishing noises which sounded like stirring a cup of easy mac. The thought of easy mac made me feel even sicker. I felt like a bunch of baby rats were running around my stomach and scratching at the walls trying to escape. The thought of all those rats in my stomach made me feel even sicker. I felt like the rats were eating each other and pooping each other out all over my insides and my stomach was filling with their guts and poop. The thought of all that blood and poop made me feel even sicker. Before I knew it I was vomiting onto the conference table. The vomit went everywhere. It covered everyone’s diversity packets and it ruined all of Kelly’s smoked salmon plate. Jim kept ramming his hand into Lisa’s yoni but everyone else turned towards me.

“Sorry. I just thought maybe some rats were in my stomach.” I said, which in retrospect sounds really stupid I think.

“Greg, ew.” Kelly said. Then before I knew it, Kelly’s face was on my face. She was kissing me. I hadn’t been kissed in years so at first I thought she was trying to eat the throw up out of my mouth and I thought How dare you say ‘ew’ at me when you want to eat my vomit like some kind of fucked up dog. But then I realized she was kissing me. She took a breath.

“You’re so pathetic, Greg. I want to save you.” Kelly wrapped her legs around my waist and I held her from her bottom. I opened my eyes and looked around. Kristen had her face in her hands. Jim was crushing Lisa’s cock sock with his whole hand. Everyone else was watching me and Kelly. Kelly’s mouth tasted like the ocean.

“Hell yea Greg!” Jim and Lisa shouted in unison.

Suddenly, the others started unbuttoning their pants. People were murmuring stuff like “Well I guess this is what we’re doing today.” and “I’m sure my wife will be fine with this.” and “The carbs from the three bagels I ate are making me feel amped up.” Kelly sucked on my neck like one of those sucker fish sucks on the glass of the fish tanks at Petco and our colleagues started pairing off. There weren’t that many women at the meeting so a lot of the pairs were guy on guy. Usually it’s not really that OK to be gay in business but in a situation like this, it would be gay to not be gay so you kind of have .

Kelly removed herself from my neck and ripped my pants off. They really ripped.

“Hey!” I shouted.

Kelly didn’t seem to hear me. She put her finger in her mouth and then jammed it into my butthole.

“YOW!” I screamed.

“Don’t be gay. Do me too.” Kelly said as she lifted her skirt. In the background, Lisa was climaxing, screaming her head off about how good Jim was annihilating her goop chute.

I stuck my middle finger into Kelly’s tunnel of love. It was already really wet and the goop went down my wrist and splattered onto my blue shirt. Everyone around us was also sticking their fingers into each others’ holes. Kristen was crying in her chair. I felt really bad for her because she’s the head of Human Resources at this branch and she wasn’t supposed to let stuff like this happen. But it was already happening. The Business Meeting Fingerblast Orgy was in session and there was nothing she could do about it.

Something about me is that I have an extremely sensitive butt hole. Up until the day of the business meeting fingerblast orgy it hadn’t really seen much action. I have a butt plug at home for my own private use but I rarely use it because I feel sick with shame every time I pick it up. So with Kelly absolutely ramming me in the b-hole, I was completely overwhelmed.

“Kelly, I’m - I’m - I’m scared.” I stammered.

Kelly looked up at me. She smiled a devilish grin. She had smoked salmon in her teeth which normally would have been a turn off but that day it didn’t matter at all. Kelly swooped down and stuck her tongue into my anus. I yelped. I dissociated. My eyes looked around the room and took in all the finger blasting that was taking place: butt holes being stretched out by fingers and fists, pussies being pulverized by multiple hands inside them, business clothes littering the floor, business men and women crying in ecstasy. But my mind, my mind was somewhere else. My mind was back in my childhood bedroom. I wanted to be there again. Back in the place where no one got finger blasted ever. Back in the place where there were no lap tops to forget or business shirts to sweat through. Back in the place where I could just pretend to do business with my stuffed animals and not actually have to do real business for IBM with mean people like Jim Karfagne. Jim Karfagne was a dick. Who did he think he was starting a finger blast orgy at a Diversity in the Workplace meeting? I looked over at Kristen. She was still crying. I didn’t want her to cry anymore. I wanted her to feel included and loved and comfortable and like she’s good at her job.

I pulled Kelly’s head out of my ass.

“Kelly, I need you to stop now.” I said. Kelly looked at me, her tongue hanging out of her mouth, shiny with whatever fluids are in my butt hole.

“Why?” She asked. She looked angry. I felt scared but I knew I was doing the right thing so I pushed on.

“I need to help Kristen.”

I walked away from Kelly. She stared after me for a moment and then hopped over to two guys finger blasting each other’s buttonholes and spread her pussy lips for them. They jammed their free hands into her and everything seemed to work out for the three of them.

I walked up to Kristen.

“Hey, Kristen.”

She didn’t say anything. She kept crying. She was being traumatized. I knew how it felt to be traumatized. I can’t talk about it right now but I’ve had my fair share of trauma in my life. Most business men have, they just don’t talk about it much.

I gently grabbed Kristen’s hand.

“Kristen, we’re gonna blow this pop sickle stand.” I don’t know why I said that, but I did.

Kristen wouldn’t move so I picked her up like a princess. Even though I wasn’t wearing pants or underwear and I was covered in saliva and cum, I carried Kristen down the hall to the elevator. Karl the custodian was watering the plants. He saw us and opened his mouth to scream. I put my finger over my mouth like “shhh”.

“Remember our deal from earlier, Karl? I won’t tell if you don’t?” I asked.

Karl smiled. He did remember. He winked. The elevator doors opened and I carried Kristen inside.

I took her down to the ground floor and outside into the crowded streets of Midtown Manhattan. By this point Kristen had stopped crying. She looked up at me.

“Greg, where are we going?” Kristen asked.

“I don’t know, Kristen, I don’t know. One thing I do know is that we’re never coming back here. We’re never coming back here ever again.”

Kristen breathed a sigh of relief. I kissed her forehead and started running.