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Sixth Street Capital I got my job at Sixth Street Capital when I was fresh out of graduate school.

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Working for the world's most successful hedge fund (relative to size) was rare, to say the least, though it does help if your research mentor who wrote your recommendation worked there once himself.

As soon as I was notified that I had got the job, I packed my things and booked a one-way flight to Chicago. The secrets of Sixth Street Capital, also known as SSC, have bamboozled investors for years. Sure, they had smart people, cutting-edge technology, and a convenient location in downtown Chicago; but then again, so did any other competitive hedge fund.

SSC's seemingly never-ending economy of scale was the envy of firms all over the world, and nobody could figure it out. Except, of course, its own employees.

Before I knew it, I was entering the SSC building, a tall, blue shard of glass that barely pokes its head into the visible Chicago skyline. Upon walking in, I was greeted by a tall brunette in a form-fitting black outfit with bright magenta trim. Looking around me, I saw several other women in the same uniform, talking to each other and carrying clipboards.

It struck me as odd that every single one looked almost irresistibly attractive, and as I followed my guide some of them shot curious looks at me. I was soon led upstairs to a vast room filled with cubicles. Men all around were typing furiously at their computers, shouting stock quotes to each other, and running to get from one place to another. In the middle of the room was a large, transparent board with numbers and graphs written all over it.

An assistant nearly bumped into me as my guide led me to my cubicle, outfitted with a shiny desktop and a bamboo plant. "This is where you will work," said the guide, "For further instructions, see Section Chief Mike." I thanked her and she went off.

The next couple weeks were some of the busiest of my life. Coworkers were coming and going from my cubicle, giving me assignment after assignment; I had to work overtime in order to get everything done on time.

It was as if everyone was possessed by some mad energy, and nobody had any time for a moment of respite from work. It was a tired and rainy day when Mike found me asleep at my cubicle. He kicked my chair, and I awoke in shock. "You—you have just wasted valuable time, idling at your place of work," he muttered angrily.

I checked the time. "I've been asleep for ten minutes, I got four hours of sleep last night—" I protested, but he didn't hear any of it.

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He slapped a new assignment file on my desk and stormed off. It was less than an hour later when I got a phone call.

"Hello?" I asked, tired and disgruntled. "This is Jill," a cool voice replied. Jill was the secretary to our CEO, Ms. Manhattan. "Ms. Manhattan would like to see you in her office as soon as possible." This couldn't be good.

I put the phone down, got out of my chair, and nervously walked to the elevator. I looked at my reflection in the mirror of the elevator and straightened my tie. A bead of sweat trailed my temple, and I wiped it off. This would be my first time meeting the CEO, and on less than favorable terms.

When the elevator reached the top floor I got out and proceeded to a lobby, where Jill nodded at me from her desk. "She's waiting for you inside," she told me.

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I swallowed and entered the double doors to her office. Before me was a desk in the middle of a large room. A large swivel chair had its back toward me, and I was unsure if anybody was in it. "Please sit down," said a calm voice. Startled, I sat down.

Several seconds of uncomfortable silence followed, before Ms. Manhattan spoke again. "I've been told that you've been sleeping on the job," she said, her back still towards me. This wasn't a question, and I stayed silent. She continued, "What makes you think that you can sleep while working for the world's greatest financial instrument?" I remained silent.

Her voice was flat and detached—not high, but at a nice, conversational pitch and tone. She tilted her chair slightly to the right, revealing a long, slender pair of legs, crossed and outstretched to the window looking out to Chicago. Still, I said nothing and a few more seconds passed. Suddenly, she swiveled directly at me and looked me in the eye. She wore a gray jacket over a tight frilled white blouse, which housed a conspicuously large and round pair of breasts that threatened to pop out.

A thin gold chain stretched tightly around her neck, and a tussle of long, black hair hung down to below her left shoulder, tamed only by a red hairband. Her head was tilted to the left as well, and her face seemed sculpted out of dark tanned ivory, with a triangular chin and narrow blue eyes decorated with subtle black eyeliner.

They stared at me with intensity, and her lips were thin. She paused. "Why won't you talk?" I said nothing at first, and figured this wouldn't be good for me. I asked, "Ms. Manhattan—I don't understand. How can people work so hard here? I've been drinking three cups of coffee a day to stay awake for all the hours I work. I'm sorry I fell asleep, but I honestly couldn't help it. I was exhausted. Please forgive me; I've only been working here for three weeks." She studied me for another moment, and then laughed and got up from her chair.

"Okay, I forgive you," she said slowly. A hint of suggestive lust entered her voice as she spoke, and as she spoke she circled around me. "But here's what I want you to do. Finish all the assignments you currently have. When you're done, take a look at this—" she pulled out a folder from her cabinet and placed it on my lap. "If you complete this project by the end of next week, you won't get fired, and I'll tell you all of this company's secrets on Saturday night.

Agreed?" During the period of time that followed, I worked tirelessly to complete my objectives. I pulled off two all-nighters within the span of two weeks, and essentially ran on coffee and 5-hour energy.

Thus it was to my great relief when I finished all my work on Friday and got an invitation from Ms. Manhattan to her house the next night for dinner. Having got her address, I showed up a minute or two early and knocked on her door. It was a large house close to the suburbs, and I could hardly believe that she owned it all to herself.

The door soon opened. She wore a red dress that revealed her bronzed, fine skin on her shoulders and her thighs. She smiled at me and let me in. We ate dinner at a long table, sitting across from each other. She asked, "How do like the food I made?" "Delicious," I replied, "I would go for dessert, but I'm stuffed." She smiled, revealing her bright, white teeth, and licked her lips.

"I think you're going to want dessert. I wouldn't miss it if I were you." "No, really," I insisted, "This meal has been…amazing. But I've gotten more assignments to work on, and if I don't get started on them soon, Ms. Manhattan…" Ms. Manhattan suddenly stood up on top of the table. She walked towards me, gingerly avoiding knocking over dishes with her heels.

When she came to my end she straddled my legs, reached for my head and kissed me. I was in shock as her tongue viciously lashed mine, and her lips passionately explored my mouth. When it was over, I stared at her, slightly frightened but ecstatic.

She took my hand, got up, and said, "Follow me.


And call me Sara." We went downstairs to her basement. "This is the reason you boys work so hard at SSC," she explained as we went, "if you get things done in a timely fashion, we get you a night with one of our girls from Human Resources—" she opened the door and walked in. The room was vast, with a huge bed in the middle. She went into a closet. "But for you I made an exception, since your our youngest worker, I couldn't just leave you with one of those sluts, could I?

Oh, and make yourself comfortable on the bed," she said. Hardly believing what was happening, I obliged. She soon walked out. Her hair was tied back into a neat ponytail.

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Her upper thighs to her neck were covered with a black latex suit, with an oval opening that revealed her upper breasts.

The outfit revealed a provocative ass, and her blue eyes shined with lust. She walked towards me. "Do you like it?" she turned around and twisted her body, gyrating her hips mesmerizingly. She made a cute half-smile and stared at me, licking her lips. Then she pounced on me. She unzipped my pants and pulled out my cock, which at this point was fully erect at seven inches.

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"Oooh, you have a nice one," she said, and began sucking. I moaned in pleasure as her tongue traversed the length of my cock and it became even harder. Her hand pulled me up and down as her head was fully engrossed with my dick. "Sara—I'm going to…" I said, and she kept at it even harder. Faster and faster her head bobbed up and down until I felt the greatest sensation of my life.

I shot rope after rope of cum into her mouth, but I saw none of it because she persistently sucked it the entire time. When I was done, she let go and swallowed it all, save a little bead that hung from the corner of her lip.

She lay on top of me and started kissing me again. "You taste so good," she said, and all of a sudden the doorbell rang.

"Be right back," she said as she went to get the door in the same clothes. Within a minute she came down with one of those girls in the black and red uniforms.

"Meet Liz, one of our girls from HR. Liz, meet our newest employee." We greeted each other; my cock was hidden beneath the sheets.

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Liz had black hair that blended with her clothes, but pale skin and beautiful green eyes. "We've just been having a good time," Sarah explained to her, "Care to join us?" "How long is he?" Liz asked without hesitation, "Or—have you gotten there yet?" "Oh, I just sucked him a minute ago. He's seven inches, and the best seven inches I've ever had," Sara said, matter-of-factly.

It was almost scary how casually they discussed this with each other. "Oh, I can't wait to see this!" At this point, Liz started taking off her clothes to reveal a fishnet bodysuit. "Since he just came, we should give him a little time to get ready again," she said, winking at me, whereupon she started making out with Sara.


Pretty soon they were feeling each other's tits and pussies, moaning and shouting on the bed as I watched. As Sara was licking Liz's pussy, she took a brief break and commanded me, "Here, finish her off—she's about to cum any second.

I looked at her fine pink aperture of love with pleasure. I found her clit and started licking it mercilessly. "Oh fuck, I'm cumming!" she said. Cumming was an understatement; she squirted her juices all over my face and wetted the bed sheets. I kept on with it to the end, and I could feel her body shivering with climactic delight. "Now," Sara told me, "I want you to fuck me. You're going to fuck me good, and I want you to make me scream.

Can you do that?" Her eyes were unblinking and demanding.

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I responded by pulling out my dick. "That is a nice cock," remarked Liz, still recovering from her orgasm.


Sara removed a piece of her bodysuit that revealed her pussy; as she lay in a reclining position, I stood on my knees and checked out her pussy. It was as perfectly tan as the rest of her body, and glistening with precum. I carefully slid my dick inside of her. "Ahhh…" she moaned as I penetrated as deeply as I could.

I pulled back, and pulled back in, repeating, and doing it faster and faster. The sensation was amazing; my cock got harder, if that was even possible. Sara continued to moan, "Oh yeah…fuck yeah, don't stop…fuck…oh yeah, yeah, oh god…" After about a minute she made me pull out as she changed positions.

This time she was kneeling on all fours with her ass sticking out as I screwed her from behind. As I did this she spun her ass in a circle, twirling my cock as it went in and out of her. Soon I felt her pussy clench the sides of my cock with fierce resolution; she was close, and I was too. She flipped over and lay down on the bed again as I fucked her even more passionately.

"Oh yeah don't stop don't stop don't stop OHH FUCK!" We hit orgasm simultaneously as my cum shot into her pussy and her cum dripped down the length of my cock. Then I lay on top of her, where we stayed for a while. Then I pulled out, revealing the most beautiful creampie I've ever seen. Liz ate it out as Sara lay moaning in pleasure. We all fell asleep naked on that bed that night. Most of the time I had my arms around Sara, with her fine, curvy body every bit a piece of mine now that we made love to each other.

I kept feeling her skin until she went to sleep, and then me. I woke up to much pleasure as I saw Liz sucking my morning glory. It felt almost better in the morning, and Sara came up to me and made me suck her tits at the same time.

My cum shot into Liz's mouth; instead of swallowing it, she snowballed with Liz, spitting the sperm from mouth to mouth. Then, as Liz held the cum again, Sara told me: "Swallow your own cum from this girl, and we can do this every week—that is, as long as you get your work done." I was somewhat repelled, but upon weighing my choices I complied.

Liz's head came to mine, and as she kissed me she released the thick cum that had been accumulating in my balls overnight. I eventually swallowed it all. "Good boy," said Sara, as she slipped into a pink bra and panties, "I hope you won't disappoint me next week." And that is how Sixth Street Capital is the envy of hedge funds worldwide.