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From: The Sysadmin <root@wingadingairplane.com>
Subject: I got a blow job courtesy of Bill Gates, part 1 of 3 parts
Date: Sun, 16 Oct 2005 01:05:27 -0700
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===================
I got a blow job and I got laid, courtesy of Bill Gates.
I should explain. I am a system administrator at a local high tech company.
Our company is organized into 2 parts - the technical people and everybody
else. The technical people are the software developers (DEVs), network admins
(NAs, they work with routers and switches and cables), the database people (DBAs, they work with big databases that run under IBM's AIX OS), the internal computer support people ( MSCAs, They work with MS-Windoze), and the system administrators (SAs, everything else, including some business critical legacy systems).
One evening, I was working late on a server with a bad power supply, when
my phone rang. "Hello?", I answered. "This is M______ _____, and my
computer is broken", I heard. "Well, what error message do you see?", I
asked her. "No message", she replied, "it just doesn't work. Would you
please come up to the 4th floor and help me?"
Well, the fourth floor. Plush carpets, incandescent lighting, private
offices, it would be worth the elevator ride.
"Okay, I'll be right up", I assured her. "Oh, thank you", she gushed.
I got to her office and immediately, I knew she was marketing slime. I
guessed she was about 24, judging from the date on her M.B.A affixed to
the wall. Trim, well dressed, hair perfect, elegant and expensive watch.
Large office, with a view. Not a terrific view, but a view. Sofa to
one side, L shaped black desk, high backed comfortable chair. A fast
computer with a large monitor.
"What is the problem?" I asked her.
"The keyboard and the mouse are not working", she anguished, "and I have
a major proposal that has to be on the director's desk by 8:00 tomorrow!"
Sure enough, the keyboard and the mouse were dead. The lights were on, but
nobody was home.
"Well, I gotta tell you, this is an internal computer support problem. I
don't do Windoze. In fact, I'm not sure why you called me"
"Because the internal support people have all gone home"
"I generally don't do Windoze. I don't have time. I run about 3000
computers and I can't tolerate the kinds of things you seme to think
are par for the course."
"Can you fix it?", she asked, a little desperation creeping into her voice.
"Of course I can fix it", I assured her. "I just don't have the time."
"Could I offer you something? A thank you letter? How about a
thank you letter from my director to your boss?"
"I seriously doubt that a man so inconsiderate as to ask you to
spend the night working on a proposal when he is off carousing would be a
man to write a thank you note."
"How about some free passes to a show?", she pleaded.
"I don't do shows. I'm a geek and I do geek things, like go to open source
conferences and take down Microsoft servers. You know, things like that."
"That's fun?", she was kinda incredulous. "Sure. There are 14 year old
kids who are doing that kind of work, and some of them are quite good at it,
too.", I informed her.
"Is there anything I could offer you? Money? Drugs? A faster network
connection?"
"Uh, not interested", I turned to leave.
"I could have your baby", she blurted out.
Now **that** picqued my curiousity.
"Are you serious?", I asked her. "Well, not exactly, but I could show you a
good time", she said, suddenly brightening up.
"Just what exactly do you propose?"
"Well, you fix my computer, and I show you a good time", she was suddenly blushing a little.
"How about you show me the good time, and then I fix the computer?", I suggested.
"Why?"
"Well, you're a marketing person, right?"
"Yes, I have a master's degree in Marketing".
"Well, I'm an SA and I have a deep rooted and well founded distrust of marketing people", I explained.
"How can I trust you?", she asked.
"Oh, you but you do trust me. I have root access to all of the servers in the
company. Every night, all of your files are backed up on to servers and then
written to tape. I run that operation on your and a thousand other machines.
Incidentally, almost none of those servers run Windoze - we need the reliability and ease of remote administration that Windows just can't provide.
I can read any file you write. I can even modify them and restore them to your
machine. To the extent that you rely on your computer, you have to trust me."
"Oh"
"Well, do we an agreement?"
"Yes", all of a sudden rather downtrodden. She was going to shaft me!
"Close the door and lock it", I told her. Ah, luxury - locking office doors!
She closed the door, and locked it, then turned off the light, and came back.
"Remove your shirt".
She removed her shirt, exposing a beautiful lacy bra that showed perfectly
rounded breasts. She folded the shirt neatly and set it on the desk.
"Take off your shoes",
She kicked off her shoes. Then, without prompting she knelt down in front of
me. She loosened the draw string of my sweat pants (working in a hot computer
room, sweats and a T-shirt was the uniform of an SA). Then she worked the
sweats down below my hips and exposed my underware. She reached in and fished
my cock through the fly and took it in her mouth.
I don't know how she was as a marketeer, but as a cocksucker, she was superb!
She went in and out, allowing the bottom of my cock to slide along her tongue.
She played with my cock, caressed it, kissed it. She gave it long, languid
strokes from the base to the tip. Her immaculately manicured fingers held my
hips so that the two of us moved in unison. She deep throated me, licking my
balls with the tip of her tongue. I felt my juices begin to rise. She must
have sensed that too, because she grabbed my cock with her right hand and began
to stroke it faster and faster. Then she lubed it with her mouth and stroked
it some more. Eventually, I came. She took it all in her mouth, holding me
still until I was done. She swallowed every drop.
She looked up and smiled.
"Can you fix the computer now", she whispered.
"Sure."
Well, the keyboard was unresponsive - no num lock, no shift lock lights,
Control-Alt-Delete was ineffective. So I cycled the power.
Windows/XP began booting, stopping to rebuild the file system. There were no
error messages. I opened up the box and checked that all the fans were turning, all temperatures were nominal. Everything was fine. I checked the network connection, it was fine. I checked her virus database - up to date as of last week.
"Your computer, M______", I announced.
"I've lost about an hour's work", She complained.
"Did you have autosave set up?", I asked her.
"No, what's that?"
"Well, you can have Word save your files every so many minutes, automatically.
By default, it should be on, but I guess on your machine, it's off. Sorry."
"I guess I should say thank you", she said.
"Oh, thank **you**", I told her, turned and left.
Continued in Part 2ld explain. I am a system administrator at a local
high tech company. Our company is organized into 2 parts - the technical
people and everybody else. The technical people are the software
developers (DEVs), network admins (NAs, they work with routers and
switches and cables), the database people (DBAs, they work with big
databases that run under IBM's AIX OS), the internal computer support
people ( MSCAs, They work with MS-Windoze), and the system administrators
(SAs, everything else, including some business critical legacy systems).
One evening, I was working late on a server with a bad power supply, when
my phone rang. "Hello?", I answered. "This is M______ _____, and my
computer is broken", I heard. "Well, what error message do you see?", I
asked her. "No message", she replied, "it just doesn't work. Would you
please come up to the 4th floor and help me?"
Well, the fourth floor. Plush carpets, incandescent lighting, private
offices, it would be worth the elevator ride.
"Okay, I'll be right up", I assured her. "Oh, thank you", she gushed.
I got to her office and immediately, I knew she was marketing slime. I
guessed she was about 24, judging from the date on her M.B.A affixed to
the wall. Trim, well dressed, hair perfect, elegant and expensive watch.
Large office, with a view. Not a terrific view, but a view. Sofa to
one side, L shaped black desk, high backed comfortable chair. A fast
computer with a large monitor.
"What is the problem?" I asked her.
"The keyboard and the mouse are not working", she anguished, "and I have
a major proposal that has to be on the director's desk by 8:00 tomorrow!"
Sure enough, the keyboard and the mouse were dead. The lights were on, but
nobody was home.
"Well, I gotta tell you, this is an internal computer support problem. I
don't do Windoze. In fact, I'm not sure why you called me"
"Because the internal support people have all gone home"
"I generally don't do Windoze. I don't have time. I run about 3000
computers and I can't tolerate the kinds of things you seme to think
are par for the course."
"Can you fix it?", she asked, a little desperation creeping into her voice.
"Of course I can fix it", I assured her. "I just don't have the time."
"Could I offer you something? A thank you letter? How about a
thank you letter from my director to your boss?"
"I seriously doubt that a man so inconsiderate as to ask you to
spend the night working on a proposal when he is off carousing would be a
man to write a thank you note."
"How about some free passes to a show?", she pleaded.
"I don't do shows. I'm a geek and I do geek things, like go to open source
conferences and take down Microsoft servers. You know, things like that."
"That's fun?", she was kinda incredulous. "Sure. There are 14 year old
kids who are doing that kind of work, and some of them are quite good at it,
too.", I informed her.
"Is there anything I could offer you? Money? Drugs? A faster network
connection?"
"Uh, not interested", I turned to leave.
"I could have your baby", she blurted out.
Now **that** picqued my curiousity.
"Are you serious?", I asked her. "Well, not exactly, but I could show you a
good time", she said, suddenly brightening up.
"Just what exactly do you propose?"
"Well, you fix my computer, and I show you a good time", she was suddenly blushing a little.
"How about you show me the good time, and then I fix the computer?", I suggested.
"Why?"
"Well, you're a marketing person, right?"
"Yes, I have a master's degree in Marketing".
"Well, I'm an SA and I have a deep rooted and well founded distrust of marketing people", I explained.
"How can I trust you?", she asked.
"Oh, you but you do trust me. I have root access to all of the servers in the
company. Every night, all of your files are backed up on to servers and then
written to tape. I run that operation on your and a thousand other machines.
Incidentally, almost none of those servers run Windoze - we need the reliability and ease of remote administration that Windows just can't provide.
I can read any file you write. I can even modify them and restore them to your
machine. To the extent that you rely on your computer, you have to trust me."
"Oh"
"Well, do we an agreement?"
"Yes", all of a sudden rather downtrodden. She was going to shaft me!
"Close the door and lock it", I told her. Ah, luxury - locking office doors!
She closed the door, and locked it, then turned off the light, and came back.
"Remove your shirt".
She removed her shirt, exposing a beautiful lacy bra that showed perfectly
rounded breasts. She folded the shirt neatly and set it on the desk.
"Take off your shoes",
She kicked off her shoes. Then, without prompting she knelt down in front of
me. She loosened the draw string of my sweat pants (working in a hot computer
room, sweats and a T-shirt was the uniform of an SA). Then she worked the
sweats down below my hips and exposed my underware. She reached in and fished
my cock through the fly and took it in her mouth.
I don't know how she was as a marketeer, but as a cocksucker, she was superb!
She went in and out, allowing the bottom of my cock to slide along her tongue.
She played with my cock, caressed it, kissed it. She gave it long, languid
strokes from the base to the tip. Her immaculately manicured fingers held my
hips so that the two of us moved in unison. She deep throated me, licking my
balls with the tip of her tongue. I felt my juices begin to rise. She must
have sensed that too, because she grabbed my cock with her right hand and began
to stroke it faster and faster. Then she lubed it with her mouth and stroked
it some more. Eventually, I came. She took it all in her mouth, holding me
still until I was done. She swallowed every drop.
She looked up and smiled.
"Can you fix the computer now", she whispered.
"Sure."
Well, the keyboard was unresponsive - no num lock, no shift lock lights,
Control-Alt-Delete was ineffective. So I cycled the power.
Windows/XP began booting, stopping to rebuild the file system. There were no
error messages. I opened up the box and checked that all the fans were turning, all temperatures were nominal. Everything was fine. I checked the network connection, it was fine. I checked her virus database - up to date as of last week.
"Your computer, M______", I announced.
"I've lost about an hour's work", She complained.
"Did you have autosave set up?", I asked her.
"No, what's that?"
"Well, you can have Word save your files every so many minutes, automatically.
By default, it should be on, but I guess on your machine, it's off. Sorry."
"I guess I should say thank you", she said.
"Oh, thank **you**", I told her, turned and left.
Continued in Part 2