Sexual Harassment Theatre

As a general rule, I don't mess around with people I work with. Sometimes I break that rule, but it comforts me to know the rule is there to fall back on.

I recently discovered that several people I've known and worked with for the last two and a half years don't even know I'm gay. I mean the gay people I work with don't know I'm gay. The dreaded curse of the SSGG (Straight-seeming gay guy). I don't hide my sexuality. In fact, they should make videos of the way I behave at work and show it to potential employees just to warn them away. I'm like a roving Scared-Not-Straight Campaign.

I'll be posting a bunch of stories involving myself, Jeremy The King Of Bisexual Harassment and Equality, and John The Weirdest Perv I Know Outside of My Friends List.

Here's tonight's story:

I was training a new kid. Let's call him...Jason because that's his name. Normally when I'm training I tend to be more matter-of-fact than normal, but this was the kid's fourth night. If he didn't get it by now, he was gonna be busing tables instead of waiting on them.

I thought I had been fairly low-key the past few shifts, not being the perverted ass that I can be. I was wrong. I know this because after my sincere conversation about what I expected him to do, and what I felt we should work on, I asked "Is there anything you think you need my help with?" To which he replies: "If I need anything from you, I'll scrape it off my zipper."

¿¿¿What???

I'm fairly sure he got the line mixed up, but I can guess the intention behind it, so I preceded to make the rest of his night Sexual Harassment Hell. I sicced Big Rich on him.

Big Rich is far gayer than even Big Gay Tom. Big Rich is a fiftyish year old man about 6'2", at least 300 pounds. He kisses the tops of guy's heads for no discernable reason, likes to pinch people, and seems to have a fetish for youngish looking asian and/or jock boys. Who doesn't?

Anyhow, I have Rich invading his space all night. After about a half an hour, Jason playfully slaps my ass while I'm carrying a tray of food. Oh, it's on now, motherfucker.

I start carrying a big wooden breadboard with me. I "accidentally" slap his ass with it while he's taking an order from a table. He retaliates with a bread board while I'm up at the bar. As he reaches into the bread oven I wind up and CRACK!!!

I (A)break the breadboard on his ass, which causes (B)his upper body to spasm upwards, pressing his (C)arm against the top of the bread oven (D) which is very hot causing him to (E)curse so loud you can probably hear him outside in the restaurant's parking lot, which causes (F)another server to drop a plate, and eventually the whole kitchen is involved in a very Rube Goldbergesque scenario.

His arm is not actually burnt, making me feel a little better. He whimpers out "I think my ass is bleeding." and then proceeds to go check. Of course it's not. Bruised perhaps, but it's not like I poked him with a skewer.

That ended our breadboard warfare. While I don't know if I ended up winning for the night, I know he ended up losing, as another server for reasons that had nothing to do with me took his cell phone camera thingy into the bathroom and left him all sorts of blurry dirty pictures.

Sometimes I love my job.

original post: http://insafemode.livejournal.com/4289.html

All Moby, No Dick

There was a reason Justin never sent me a pic. I'm not choosy, but he wasn't my type. Not unattractive, but too fat to comfortably fuck. A friend once told me that he hated having sex with other fat people because it was tough to stay penetrated. I'd never experienced that before tonight.

We were off to a bad start when we realized that neither of us had done any online dating since the nineties. We were obviously uncomfortable around each other & had little chemistry apart from both liking the same TV shows.

Drank a beer to get prepared. I hate beer.

Started out in the shower. He was bigger without his clothes. Smooth but awkward. I knew I should have gone home. He was too big to shower with, so we headed to the bedroom.

The bedroom had a couple of dildos out and some lube. I had brought the condoms.

He likes to give head with the latex on. Had I known I would have bought flavored condoms.

Despite not being attracted to him in any way, I managed to get aroused. He gave decent head.

After a few minutes he was ready to get fucked. This is when I realized that I am an emotionless robot. If I'm not attracted to someone I have the most mechanical sex imagineable.

It was tough to find a position to get comfortable in. He was clearly too big to be comfortably on top of me. It would be like being pinned by The Canadian Earthquake. His bed wasn't high enough for him to be laid out on his back, so we ended up doggy-style.

Usually I'm all about long tantric sex, but I just wanted this to be overwith, so I ended up coming in about eight minutes. Yes, I looked at the clock. That's how bad it was.

The hard part would be getting him off. I'm not a fan of licking latex, and haven't bottomed for anybody in about six years, though I don't dislike it. I decided I'd rather get fucked for a while than lick latex.

He lubed up a condom, and put it over a butt plug which he then sat on. I laid on my stomach, forgetting that the bed was too low for this to be a comfortable option. Doggystyle again. It didn't work too well, though, as his stomach kept getting in the way. Also he was much more of a bottom than a top, so he was having trouble staying hard.

After about two minutes the condom fell off, and that was all she wrote. I wasn't into it enough to kiss or give proper attention to keeping him aroused. My passionless jerking of his cock did nothing for either of us.

He was clearly embarrassed. He offered to pay for a cab ride home, claiming it was too cold for me to walk to the subway. It wasn't that cold. Neither of us broached the subject of his not getting off, but he was clearly disappointed. So was I.

At least I don't have to wash santorum out of my boxers.

original posts: http://insafemode.livejournal.com/458.html, http://community.livejournal.com/bad_sex/379486.html

Who Let The Penguins Out?

I have decided to move again. I can't take the cold so I'm going to move to a warmer clime like Siberia, Moscow, of the North fricken Pole. It was twenty degrees warmer today in Moscow than it was in Boston. When I went to open my front door today, my hand broke off on the knob. You read that right. I am now typing one handed, and not because LJ entries turn me on.

I went to the aquarium today and asked one of the workers if he would consider letting the penguins out to play. I think he thought he was coming on to him, though I'm not sure what "letting the penguins out" means in perv. The sea lion I could see, but penguins?

When I'm a millionaire I'm going to buy me some Emperor Penguins and let them loose on the streets of Boston. Sure, they look cute on TV, but imagine walking down the street on your way to the grocery store and seeing a flock of pissed off four foot tall penguins waddling towards you. Everyone assumes penguins just eat fish, but there's not a lot of human flesh around in the Emperor Penguins natural habitat. In fact, it gets so cold in Antarctica that every type of bird migrates except for the Emperors. They're some hardcore fucken penguins. I bet if I start feeding them human flesh, they'd develop a taste for it and start running amok in a way that even Alfred Hitchcock couldn't imagine.



The new Opus strip wouldn't be very popular then, would it?