Keith is a walking sexual harassment complaint. A triple smoked ham of a man that has been cunting down the days until he can get utterly Buswell’d at the Christmas party
Today is the office party and can you sniff that? It’s the chair of opportunity, and Keith will surely wait until a figure huggin’ honey sits on it.
The office closes at 1:00pm and Keith swaps his suit jacket for a leather jacket that has been fashioned from the hide of a mid life crisis. One wet comb through his deforested scalp and he completes the look, “bra-snapper-chic”.
Upon arrival, Keith fist-fucks his goatee-hole full of canapes. He crams, half-chews and duck swallows like a ménage à trois of fat cuntery. Others party to his conversation are treated to not only shit banter, but a little prize, right from his mouth to their face.
Within the first 45 minutes Keith has slurped down his first bottle of win. He approaches a girl young enough to be his daughter and lets the cat out of the cradle, “struth, you brought the twins!” His leering gaze upon her exposed bust remains unbroken as she nervously giggles.
Next stop on the sex pest express is his 45 year old secretary. Cheryl’s cougar instincts have set in as she purrs at each joke hot Ricky from level 4 blurts out. Not on Keith’s watch.
Keith bowls on over and death grips hot Ricky’s hand like a savings-hungry priest on an altar boy’s dick... smith’s 20% off voucher. “I wouldn’t be so cheery if my sales figures were down 1.32% ay Rick?”
Funnily enough, Keith didn’t land the deathblow to Ricky’s puss-game like it had played out in his head. He adjusts his gut and waddles off to moister pastures.
Fuck it, he reckons as he drinks until his teeth are stained like an Orc. He begins to stagger through the dance floor like a semi sedated water buffalo in search of cocktail franks.
It’s now 10pm and Keith is mumbling incoherencies as he tries to speak his mind to a couple of more successful executives. “Maybe you should hit the waters Keith mate”.
Instead of taking it easy and drinking some water, Keith decides to tell Malcolm that his wife tongued hot Ricky’s balls at the office paintball day in February.
The function room staff look on in horror as Malcolm chokes hot Ricky with his bare hands as Malcolm’s wife swats at her husband with a Gucci clutch, “at least his dick works MALCOLM!”
Keith sways drunkenly in the breeze as he admires the trail of destruction he has caused. Triumphant, he turns to the weird IT chick, “me wife will be home, but we can use me daughter's room if you’re keen?”
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