Thread: CMA: A Ridiculous Free Agents RP (SevenxKawa)

Sexual experimentation was something that was usually associated with hip, liberal, twenty-somethings and was a practise that tended to be abandoned around the age of thirty when people settled into predictable lives, had kids, and had their libidos stomped on by their chosen career path. Very occasionally, a long-since quashed appetite may enjoy a sexual re-awakening once the kids left home or during a secretive, illicit little tryst, but otherwise a majority of human beings were doomed to a future that contained sparse sessions of relatively tame, vanilla, missionary sex. Of course, Stephen had never really agreed with that philosophy, and so starting at the age of fifteen he had set about on what he considered a noble cause by attempting to make up for the lack of recreational fucking within the rest of the population - a challenge he had continued for thirty years and intended on carrying on until the day some poor sap was tasked with closing his casket lid down over his enormous, Armani-clothed stiffy. Unlike some bastards, however, Stephen didn't just seek physicality for nihilistic purposes - though that did play a big role - he also openly sought the intimacy that came with it, even if said intimacy came in the form of a one-eyed Cirque du Soleil contortionist who insisted on widdling on him. He had a broad definition for intimacy. But when it came down to it, the CMA director just liked people - no, he fucking loved people and everything about them and solitude was something he simply wouldn't put up with, though as of late he'd experienced an inordinate amount of it since he'd managed to muck up yet another relationship by asking his celibate girlfriend to finger him. He still didn't think it was so unreasonable he wouldn't be the one doing the penetrating, after all - but after doing a little research regarding celibacy he'd discovered that even finger-fucking was against the rules, so at the very least he'd made a mental note to get clarification the next time someone described themselves as celibate. But what it all came down to was that Alex had approached Stephen at a time when the director was feeling molested by the grabby, filthy hands of loneliness, and so the concept of taking his employee as a lodger for a second time didn't seem like a terrible thing. In fact, it hadn't seemed like a terrible thing the first time around and it had worked to his advantage because it turned out that the twat was a decent cook, despite being as quiet as a door-mouse. Except when he was crying, then he was fairly loud. Stephen stared at Alex for a long moment not just because he was almost certain that the moptopped dillweed had never even been to an orgy, but because he was trying to stop himself from saying so because, really, there wasn't any point in shitting on a fellow while he was already wading through sewage. He made a mental note to inform Alex the next time the opportunity for an orgy presented itself - which was ridiculously frequent for Stephen. You just can't fucking resist me can you, you piss-arse? he asked, giving one of his broad, boyish smiles - it was the sort of smile that clarified for those that didn't understand, precisely why Stephen found it so easy to get laid while others struggled to get a good fuck once a year. He pursed his lips then reached into his desk, and amidst the frightening array of colourful toys, he located a spare key, which he held up for Alex to take, and he paused, his eyes flicking to the blow up doll, his brows knitting, Why didn't you just deflate it? Alex asked incredulously, Don't tell me you couldn't figure it out you jizz-monger, it's in the arse, right where it should be. There was no context in which that sentance would have sounded remotely appropriate.