Welcome to Social Animals; the networking group for young professionals. To add a description, photograph and career history, click on 'My Account'. To add a comment or send a private message, click on the links underneath each post.

I've always been into networking, so when a friend introduced me to Social Animals, I signed up immediately. The site looked like a great way to make contacts all over the world, which was exactly what I needed if I wanted my career to progress. Being in marketing, I deliberately added my most flattering photograph to the site because packaging is all-important. I didn't know quite what to add in my profile, so just typed a few quick details and left it at that. I had a marketing plan to write and, with the stupidly small budget the client had given me to play with, I needed to concentrate if I was going to come up with anything good.

Over the next few days, I was up to my ears in costings. How much would promo T-shirts be? Would stickers be a better way of spending the money? Maybe we should go for a guerrilla campaign? When I wasn't calling people, I was flicking through merchandise catalogues. All I could think about was the campaign. Why did my marketing exec Nina have to be on holiday? I cursed her under my breath. To be fair, it wasn't her fault. We hadn't expected to land the account from the chocolate company and I'd signed her holiday form happily.

Of course, once Nina was on a flight to Majorca, their MD, Phil, had called and said the board had decided that they'd like to use us but could we make a few revisions before they made their final decision? Those 'few revisions' had amounted to coming up with an entirely new campaign. Small budget clients were always the worst – expecting endless ideas for free. But finally, after wracking my brains, I came up with it. I hurriedly typed up my proposal and mailed it off to Phil. When he responded with an instant 'Send me the purchase orders' I had a hard time suppressing a whoop of joy.
"Right, who's up for going to the pub? We've got the 'Bliss' account."
It was Friday afternoon. No-one was in the mood to say no.

I got home at some ungodly hour. After going to our office local, someone had suggested a Tequila bar with a late licence. And then we'd decided a club was a good idea. But rather than being tired, I was riding high on the excitement. I decided to fire up my computer and read all the emails from mates that I'd been ignoring while I worked on the pitch.

‘You have a new message waiting for you on Social Animals’

There were five emails with the same header. I clicked on the first. 'Log in to view your messages'. I signed in and scrolled through. Most of them were welcome messages. I checked out who'd sent them: a couple of techies, a junior PR person in the states and a pharmaceutical rep. Worth the five minutes it took to set up the account but not exactly awe inspiring.

I clicked on the link to 'Tom' who'd eschewed the 'welcome' route and gone for some advice instead.

‘You should add some more info. You'll get more people visiting your page. Tom’

'Helpful.' I figured and clicked on the link.

Things immediately started to look up. Tom was gorgeous. As I read through his profile, I mentally ticked off his interests. Writing. Networking. Internet. Philosophy. Reading. Travel. As I scanned the list, I got more interested, particularly when I noticed we shared several favourite authors. Sadly, he was based in America. But I clicked on 'private message.' Anyway.

'Very foxy pic. And we have so much in common. So what kind of contacts are you looking for? And have you ever been to the UK?'

I pressed send and, within minutes, an answer pinged back.

‘Thanks very much. I’m after any contacts – I’m a friendly kind of guy – but hot Brit chicks are definitely at the top of my list. Never been to the UK but I’d really like to. Particularly if all the women look as good as you. So what are you into? Your profile doesn’t give much away – except that you work hard.’

The alcohol in my bloodstream spurred me to reply, despite the somewhat cheesy nature of his compliments.

‘You sweetheart! Well, I’m into lots of things – most of the stuff that you are and, obviously, partying. Been at a tequila bar tonight (I’ll regret it in the morning but right now I feel great) Love dancing too – and just having quiet nights in curled up on the sofa with a DVD and a bottle of wine.’

Again, his answer was prompt.
‘Curling up sounds good to me – though not sure how much of the film you’d get to watch if you’re as much fun as you sound.’

I was getting more and more into him with every message he sent. OK, maybe the drink had something to do with it, but I couldn’t stop myself from sending my next message.

‘So what would you do instead of watching the film…?’

I thought that he’d like the coy approach, but his reply showed that he wasn’t remotely buying my fake innocence.

‘You know exactly what I’d do – long, hard, deep and slow. And I wouldn’t stop until both of us were so exhausted by fucking that we fell asleep in each other’s arms. Shit, gotta go – boss here. Speak tomorrow?’

God! The surge of lust that shot through me as I read his words was intense. I mailed back ‘Most definitely – be thinking of you tonight…’ and headed for my room, to sleep.

When I got into bed, for some reason, his picture was imprinted on my mind. I couldn't stop thinking about him; something about his smile, some flash in his eyes turned me on. OK, so I get horny when I get drunk but this was taking things to extremes. I needed to come.

I slid my hand down my torso, parting my lips and starting to rub my clit. It didn't take long before a slick of wetness made my fingers slippery. Meanwhile, my other hand was pinching my nipples, moving from breast to breast, sending tingles through my body. My mind started to wander with thoughts of Tom.

I start by kissing him until I can feel his arousal pressing against me. I rub my body against his, like a cat, loving the way his hardness feels against my thigh. He returns the pressure, trying to stifle his groans, his desire betrayed by the passion in his kiss. I carry on squirming against him, savouring his desire, my own arousal growing with his.

I start to grind against him, my clit rubbing his pubic bone and I hear him groan as my creamy flesh caresses him. I can feel the blood rushing through his member and know he's getting close to coming. I abandon myself, writhing wildly on him as my clit starts to pulse and… fuck! I start to come around him just as he explodes inside me, biting my shoulder as he fights the intensity of his orgasm. Our mutual climax seems to go on for hours until I finally collapse against him, my head resting on his chest. He strokes my hair, then runs his hound down my face, tilts my chin up and kisses me.
"Thank-you." He whispers.
"No, thank-you. That was incredible."
We carry on kissing, arms wrapped around each other, lost in the moment.

My breathing was heavy as I came hard, fingers wet with my own juices. I carried on pressing against them until the last traces of orgasm faded, then drifted off to sleep, a smile on my face as I thought about my sexy American, Tom. I wondered whether I’d have the guts to share my fantasies with him: what he’d think: whether he’d respond. And as my mind started to wander once more, turning over the possibilities, I couldn’t help but think of what he’d say tomorrow, when I told him what I’d been thinking…