 |
|||
|
|
Set in a dystopian alternate reality (world created by George Kinaski, aka Marlissa) in which women have been stripped of rights and the best they can hope for is marriage or administrative office jobs in which they will be expected to sexually satisfy the boss. Against this backdrop, Sandi is trying to get a better job
Shit. I forgot the coleslaw. I could picture the Tupperware container sitting next to the fridge. I sighed, fat lot of good it does me there. I peeked up at the clock. Time was running tight and i needed to move my daily 10:00 AM meeting along.
I bit my lip and practiced my rictus of agony/ecstasy for a moment and gave a well rehearsed shiver of pleasure. I looked back over my shoulder and squealed, "oh god, Mr. Stetson, you're busting my ass"!
Mr. Stetson, my boss, was indeed fucking my ass and had been doing so for the last 10 minutes. To say he was 'busting' it, would be an overstatement, but i was in a rush and Mr. Stetson was easily manipulated by appeals to his vanity. Suggesting he was the master of my ass was the best way I know of to get him to empty his balls already. His glazed over little pig eyes flicked on me for a moment and he grunted his little pig grunt. I recognize his grunts and this one suggested my little act had had the desired effect.
I locked eyes with him for a moment and groaned, "please feed me your cum". I don't really like to swallow. I mean, who does? But I was in a hurry and I didn't have 10 minutes to try to shit his cum out of my ass. Swallowing, at least, is quick. He nodded and pulled his fat little cock out. I whipped around and dropped to my knees in one experienced motion. My hands reached for his ass and my moaning mouth captured his 5 inches and inhaled him. I felt his hand grab the back of my head and he thrust his hips. I pretended to gag a little (I know, what girl can't handle 5" these days? But like I said, he's a vain man). He grunted once more and tried his best to ram his cock down my throat as he came. I gulped down his load and looked up into his sweaty red face. I swear, if I don't get another job soon, this fat slob is going to have a heart attack and leave his sweaty 300 pound carcass draped on top of me in some incredibly inconvenient location. "Mmmm, yum", I said. I spent a moment licking his ball sack and worked my way up his lube covered dick until it was both soft and clean. I again made eye contact and made a bit of a show of licking my lips and smacked them together. I opened my mouth and showed him I'd swallowed like a good girl and gave him a naughty smile. "Oh, thank you so much Mr. Stetson".
"Yeah", he grunted. Mr. Stetson is big on grunts. He grabbed my chastity belt and tossed it to me, "go get yourself cleaned up". I grabbed my belt and fetched my make up kit out of my cubical and tottered off to the little girls room. I grabbed some mint flavored anal lube (the cherry is just gross) off the vanity that all the girls shared and made my way into a stall. I wiped up the lube that had been rearranged over the last 10 minutes and inserted the dispenser and gave it a quick squirt. I didn't much care for the constant sensation of needing to wipe, but it was necessary. When Mr. Stetson wanted an ass fuck, you bent over. You didn't excuse yourself to go to the restroom first. I pulled my belt up and smoothed my mini over it.
I walked out to the vanity and put the bottle of lube back with the other toiletries provided by Allied. You needed your own make up kit, but lube, Visine and Scope were provided in bulk by Allied. I know, real humanitarians. I took a look in the mirror and gave myself a quick once over. My Chestnut (it sounds sexier than brown) hair was a bit disheveled and lipstick a little smeared. But eye liner, eye shadow and rouge didn't need a touch up. My brown eyes were mercifully free of tears. If Mr. Stetson had been choking me with a decent sized cock, I'd have had to redo my whole face. I took stock of my outfit (it's a typical working girl outfit, you don't really need details) to ensure there were no rips or stains that hadn't been there a half hour ago. I touched up my lipstick and ran a brush through my hair. Then I rinsed my mouth out with some Scope. I smiled at myself a little ruefully. When I first started sucking cock as part of my job I would almost run to the bathroom for my bottle of mouthwash. Now, it was almost an after thought.
One more look. Good enough. Besides, I had an 11 AM appointment at Office Girlz. Allied Insurance had a full scale, subsidized beauty salon on premises. Allied was a good company to work for. The pay was decent and they spent money to ensure that it's stable of secretarial talent was able to keep themselves looking good. The thought made my heart beat a little faster when I thought about the risk I was going to take that afternoon. Interviewing with a different company was not a path to employment security. A lot of girls out there would kill to work here, but I'd always been ambitious and while my pay and benefits package were good, they were not the best. The best were to be found at Principal Financial. A tangential
Allied competitor in business, but a fierce competitor when it came to acquiring Des Moines area secretarial talent. Principal was the holy grail as far as central Iowa office girls were concerned. Roughly the same money, but high end benefits for those girls deemed by their HR department to be 'Principal Pretty'. Medical, dental, on premises sec dorms (nice ones), paid vacation, company account at the appropriate shops at Jordan Creek Mall and even a "scholarship" program for young interns and junior secretaries regarded as attractive enough to warrant investment in their cup size. Their on staff plastic surgeon was thought to be one of the countries best and his services were available only for Principal girls. They used that benefit package to attract the highest quality secretarial staff in the mid west (according to Forbes). Applicants were put through a grueling process just to get to an interview with her potential primary. PA's (personal assistants) were the cream of the crop. Former models, C list celebrities and a former Des Moines news anchors populated those elite ranks and I was looking to join them.
In my more honest moments, I will confess that I'm not exactly 'Principal Pretty', but I did have my assets. I was pretty, with the aforementioned shoulder length chestnut hair that could be called lustrous. My face was closer to cute than gorgeous. But my lips were full, my eyes large and my nose wasn't much bigger than normal, if not the perfect ski slope so many of the girls the secretarial schools are pumping out these days. If my face was 7, my bod was a 10. Strict diet and rigorous exercise were lifetime habits. As the situation for working girls deteriorated, I had cashed out my dwindling savings and down sized my Prius. The proceeds were now hanging off my chest. As nice a rack as existed in the Allied enterprise, or so Mr Stetson liked to brag. 36 D's that didn't just hang from my chest, but proudly proclaimed to the world, "here we are, take a nice long look". I was educated, I was smart and I was creative. Those assets are as important as looks when it comes to keeping a job. The pretty face and big knockers will get a
girl hired, but keeping your boss interested takes more than looking good in a short skirt.
I sighed... getting that job was the task at hand. Step one was complete. I had landed an interview with Principal's next VP of Product Development. A coveted PA position was open and 2 rigorous rounds of screenings with HR had finally landed me my chance. Not just an interview, but a prime slot. I was interviewing 2nd. Any girl interviewing later than that was unlikely to find a responsive interviewer assuming the previous girls had managed to leave with her bellyful of executive cum. I just hoped that girl #1 left me something to work with.
I fetched a coffee and wiggled my way back into Mr. Stetson's office. I grabbed the belts lock off the desk, handed it to him and raised my skirt up above my waist. He grabbed his key ring out of his desk drawer and found the key for my belts lock.
Even after 2 years of wearing it, the sound of a man turning the locks key and snapping it into place made me blush from anger and shame. Unimpressed with my blush, he turned the key and turned back to his monitor.
I smiled prettily and simpered, "thank you Mr. Stetson".
He grunted and went back to fiddling with his spreadsheets.
I tidied up the desk I had been so recently bent over and then cleared my throat apologetically. "Mr. Stetson"?
"Yeah"? Actually more a mutter than a grunt. Even Mr. Stetson will change it up now and then. "If it's OK, I'd like to take lunch a little early and then I have my appointment. At Office Girlz?"
"Ah. OK. I've got my own late lunch and then I meet with Ballard at 2 out west. I don't expect to be back today. Just make sure you tidy up before you call it a day" Wow, a soliloquy of Shakespearean eloquence for Mr. Stetson. But I'd known his calendar when I made my interview appointment last week. And he was meeting Mr. Ballard, but it wasn't at our West Des Moines office, but their favorite West Des Moines bar. If he was feeling particularly dedicated, he'd roll in again for our daily 10 AM. Mr. Stetson is not a grind.
"Of course, Mr. Stetson". I smiled sweetly and turned out of his office before he could change his mind. My heels clicked down the hall to the secretarial break room. I ignored the gaggle of girls in the break room who turned down the volume of their gossip when I walked in. I don't have a warm and cuddly reputation with Allied's office girls. As senior secretary on the 12th floor, I was responsible for enforcing discipline. I grabbed my sandwich and mourned for my coleslaw once more. I gave the girls the eye as I turned and clacked my way out of the room and to my cube. They wisely didn't return the look.
I wolfed down my sandwich and rehearsed my introduction once more. I'd been told that my interview would last 10 minutes, not a minute longer. Informally, I'd been told that it would be 5 minutes of interview followed by another 5 at Mr. Snyder’s discretion. Those 5 minutes would largely left to the girl to make her case. My introduction needed to be perfect. I planned a 4 minute speech with another 1 minute of padding for question he might have. This would leave me 5 minutes to withdraw the contents of his scrotum. If I made it to minute #6, I was confident I would be in the final grouping over the weekend. Mr. Snyder, would narrow the field to two and re interview the finalist over the weekend. I was certain the field would consist of girls prettier and younger than me. Some of them might even suck cock as well. Those first 5 minutes were crucial.
I looked up at the Principal building and took a deep breath. I knew I looked my best. I'd given myself a hard once over in Office Girlz before agreeing that there wasn't anything more to be done. My hair had been elegantly sculpted into a sleek bob. Makeup had been daubed lightly on. More a suggestion of color than anything screaming out for attention. Unnecessary rimless eyeglasses. Faux pearl earrings and matching necklace. Basically, it was the same look I had chosen when I applied for my first accounting job out of college. The clothes were different of course. My suit was still charcoal gray, but it was a short, snug mini instead of pants. The blazer was form fitting and managed to support my boobs without benefit of a bra. A tasteful amount of cleavage showed through my sheer black turtleneck. My ensemble was completed by thigh highs that were the regulation 1" below my skirt and my 5" black and white oxford lace up pumps. I know, what would be appropriate for a strip club 10 years ago, is now elegant and subdued for today's corporate world. Whatever, I needed the job. Another deep breath and I pushed open the door.
Mr. Snyder's reception area for his 24th story office was large and tastefully appointed. A medium size glass top desk (more of a table really) dominated the center of the room, another smaller desk tucked in the corner behind and to her left (presumably for the junior secretary or intern that Mr. Snyder's status qualified for), a few modernist paintings and a throw rug over a marble floor. The desk was occupied by a classy looking blonde who had to be pushing retirement age (40). She too had gone with a minimal amount of makeup, elegant jewelry and a gray worsted suit that emphasized a D or DD chest. She (Becky) seemed to be a slightly older version of me. It might have given me a little hope that I was Mr. Snyder's 'type', but I knew the girls who worked his desk now were office girls rotated through his office by HR until he made a permanent hire.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fucking fuck!", I thought. I'd navigated my way through hallways full of mini skirted secretaries, bimbo interns and the occasional executive in brooks brothers suits and found my way to Mr. Snyder’s office on 24. There were 4 girls whose idle gossip came to an immediate halt upon my entry. The 2 girls sitting on the reception area couch were scanned and dismissed as minimally threatening. As I expected, they were both younger and prettier. Perfect noses, cheekbones you could cut glass on, big tits and legs that went all the way down to the floor. They didn't worry me in the least. Dime a dozen office girls that could be called up for a quick nooner. Not someone you'd have administer your office. The one I focused on was a girl a little older than me who was standing next to the receptionist desk sipping her coffee and examining me as bluntly as I was her. She was a pretty blonde (no more Principle Pretty than I was)with a taut body and hair that hung to the middle of her back. I was sure I knew her and the fact made me a little uneasy as I couldn't quite place her.
The pretty intern (yes, Principal Pretty) manning the receptionist desk offered me her best smile (why not, whoever got this job would have the power to make her life miserable) and referred to a list displayed on her monitor. "Good morning Ms. Sandi?" At my nod confirming my identity, she cut her eyes to the list once more. "OK, ladies I'll let Mr. Snyder know you're all here. "Ms. Staci, you'll be going first, probably in the next few minutes". She went on, confirming that I was going 2nd and yada, yada, yada. As soon as she referenced 'Ms. Staci', I'd starting tuning her out. Staci Horst. She was fucking Staci Horst! "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fucking fuck!", I thought. For those of you not familiar with Des Moines, Staci Horst had been the KCCI news anchor until a year ago. It had been widely speculated that she might have to resort to PA work and it was assumed that if she did, she would end up at Principal with her former competitor from WHO, Erin Kiernan. Now, here she was, fucking up my day! Of all the shitty luck. She saw the emotions play out over my face which normally expressed nothing I didn't want it to. "Good luck honey", she offered, trying to be nice. I wasn't interested in nice. But making enemies unnecessarily never made sense, and less so these days. "You too Ms. Staci", I said with what passed for my sweet smile. Fuck you and the broom you rode in on. I turned and made my way to a chair by the other 2 bimbos and took a seat. Hopefully, 'Ms. Staci', that fucking cunt, would freak during the interview. It had happened before. Particularly if she'd kept herself insulated from the new realities facing girls in the work force.
I sighed, nothing to be done now anyway. I reviewed my presentation once more, thinking of what I might do if Mr. Snyder didn't react as expected. The temp, prompted by some unheard signal said, "Ms. Staci, Mr. Snyder is ready for you now". Staci gave a little start and I could see her face flush nervously. Huh, maybe I had a chance after all. She took a deep breath, tugged on the bottom of her blazer and strolled easily into his office on her 3.5 inch pumps. Huh... No working girl wore anything less than a 5" pump unless she was wearing some kind of fetish outfit.
"You'll be on in 15 minutes Ms. Sandi", said the temp. I could feel applicants 3 and 4 checking me out. No doubt wondering what was so special about a girl on the wrong side of 30, was not 'Principal Pretty', and was not, apparently, any kind of celebrity had rated the highly desired #2 slot. Bite me bitches, I thought. If things went well, what was so special about me would make the rounds soon enough. Juicy gossip like this would move like wildfire through a sec dorm.
The next few minutes ticked away in an uncomfortable silence as we all wondered what was going on in the office next door. No sounds escaped, and the temp gave nothing away, though it's unlikely she knew anything anyway. Exactly 10 minutes after she went in, Staci walked out of Mr. Snyder's office. The top 2 buttons of her blazer were now unbuttoned and the white lace bra beneath could clearly be seen. A long strand of jizz from the top of her forehead, down across her left eye and ending above her jaw bone could also clearly be seen. She had a mortified air about her and walking into reception in this state was obviously uncomfortable for her. As there was no hiding it, she kept her chin up and walked out of reception and took today's version of the 'walk of shame' to the ladies room around the corner. I grinned snarkily to myself, "welcome to the rest of your life 'Ms.' Staci". Of course, if all went well, I'd be taking the same walk in another 15 minutes.
The other girls in reception exhaled at the same time. I was sympathetic. We had all assumed applicant #1 would receive a nut, seeing it was still a little disappointing. If I did my job, girls 3 and 4 would be packing it in. I could feel them returning their attention to me.
"He'll be looking for you in 5 minutes, Ms. Sandi". I nodded. Every minute Mr. Snyder spent recovering before my interview was to be valued. I forgot about the other bimbos and rehearsed my bit again.
"And why should I hire you Sandi?", asked Mr. Snyder. I took a deep breath and took one more look around his office. Elegant and masculine, it was what one would expect of an executive office at a Fortune 500 company. Hardwood floors, modernist paintings, a leather couch and a little bar were behind me. In front of me was Mr. Stetson's large mahogany desk. Perched on the edge of the desk was a cute as a button intern. She was 18 or 19 and wore a canary yellow skirt, a matching bra and the same color heels. Maybe a B cup and a pixie haircut. She also had a long strand of jizz running down the right side of her face. Presumably she was on her knees next to Staci when she had received the load she wore through reception. I would have to do something about that. I was settled in high chair in the middle of
the room. Presumably, this best displayed the charms of the applicant. It wasn't comfortable, but I wouldn't be in it for long so why quibble? Behind the large desk was the equally large Mr. Snyder. After 2 years of Mr. Stetson's lard ass and tiny dick,I was hoping for a trim primary. He wasn't quite the lard ass Mr. Stetson was, but he was clearly familiar with his way around a buffet table. But while Mr. Stetson had pig eyes, Mr. Snyder’s were insightful and sharp. I didn't think he would be quite as easily manipulated as Mr. Stetson was. The jury was still out on the size of his dick. But back to the question at hand.
"You should hire me Mr. Snyder, because I am the best qualified applicant you will find. I am smart, educated and dedicated. I attended Iowa State and majored in History with a minor in drama. I spent my free time working in support of NOW and other political organizations. After graduating, with honors, I obtained my law degree from Drake and went into contract law at Wells Fargo after graduation. After 3 years, I went to work for Dewey and Cheatem and was on a partnership path when 'things' (I kept the emphasis light. He would know what 'things' I referenced) changed. As you probably know, law firms that specialized in feminist law...
"You do understand what job you're interviewing for?", Mr. Snyder interrupted. "Why should I care about your biography? Are you one of those old girls who doesn't understand the world has changed?"
I smiled inside. Perhaps I would be able to manipulate this one as well. I pretended to gather myself for a moment. " Sir, you will have no reason to believe I'm a girl who's unaware of the history of the last 10 years or doesn't know her place. There are three reasons for sharing my educational and professional successes;
One, as your PA, I would be responsible for keeping this office running smoothly. Intelligence and real world experience are 3 reasons that will enable me to do so.
Two, I am a realist Mr. Snyder. I would rate myself a 7, maybe an 8 on a good day. And I know Principal is jam packed with cute little bimbos like this (I gestured to the girl in front of me. ). Nines and 10s that are desperately trying to stand out. I can't compete with them on looks and youth. I paused, "I know there are some (another light emphasis) executives who enjoy bending a girl over a desk who was once presumptuous enough to compete with them in the same job market. That goes double for girls who have any background in the feminist movement. I'm just trying to stand out myself Mr. Snyder."
There was silence for a long moment in which he gave me an appraising look. "And the third"?
I breathed a small sigh of relief. "The third," I unbuttoned my blazer and shrugged out of it as I stood, "it might be best if you read my resume to present reason number 3 in the best light". I stepped out from behind the high chair that I draped my blazer over. Both Mr. Snyder and the little slut sitting on the edge of his desk leaned forward to get a better look. I wasn't wearing a bra and the snug, stretchy material that made up my sheer blouse hugged my torso like a second skin. The word 'RESUME' arched across my perfectly sculpted 36 Ds in the same sheer material as the rest of the blouse. I took a few mincing steps towards the front of his desk, my arms at my sides, elbows bent with my palms facing the ceiling to give him an unobstructed view. I did a slow pirouette and moved a little closer, stopping with my back to him, I put my hands on my hips and looked over my shoulder like a pin up from the 50's. I was close enough that he wouldn't have trouble reading the back of my blouse.
Executive Summary
Education
College - Iowa St.
Law school - Drake
Employment history
Wells Fargo - Contract law
Dewey & Cheatem - Litigator
Perry Lowell & associates - paralegal
Waldingers - Intern
Allied Insurance - Senior Secretary
I turned slowly back around to give him a full frontal of my best feature. "I got the boob job while at Waldingers. The last of my savings but they got me a job at Allied. These tits are as good as you will find in the enterprise Mr. Snyder, you can play quarters on my ass (Stetson had actually tried this with his drinking buddy Mr. Ballard. Admittedly, the results were mixed), I lap dance, I pole dance and you won't find another bitch working today who sucks a better cock."
I looked over at the chippie on the desk, who was looking wide eyed at me. "You will also find that I don't waste cum like that celebrity slut you just interviewed." I took a step towards her and lifted her chin between my thumb and forefinger. I leaned down and slurped up the cum that was congealing on the side of her face. Yuck. Cum is not tasty, no matter what your secretary tells you, but it's ambrosia compared to cold cum. I let it pool on my tongue, then lifted her chin a little more and stuck my tongue down her throat. I quickly managed to pass the goop on to her and closed my mouth. Experience beats youth every time. I gave her a look I'd long practiced as Allied's disciplinarian on the 12th floor. "Swallow honey". She gulped loudly. I looked back to Mr. Snyder. "May I come over to your side of the desk?" He paused for a minute, but one look and I knew I had him.
I maintained eye contact and clicked my heels around to the corner on the back side of the desk. He nodded and swiveled his chair to face me. I looked down as I dropped to my knees and almost burst out laughing. Running perpendicular to the desk right in front him, was padding like a church kneeler built into the hardwood floor. So considerate were these titans of industry. I restrained my urge to giggle and maintained what I hoped was a sultry look as I crawled to his feet. I gathered myself and placed my knees on the padding which brought me to within a foot of his prodigious belly. I looked down at his fly and saw he wore pants that had a large pull tab on the end of his zipper. Yes, so considerate. I put my hands behind my back and dipped my head into his lap grabbing the zippers pull tab with my teeth. I could feel his boner with my nose and was a bit startled at the size. I finished unzipping his fly with my teeth and his cock reached for the gap in his pants as if it knew the way to find relief. I looked up at Mr. Snyder not having to feign astonishment. A solid 8" at least. Any bigger might have been a problem, but I was sure I could handle 8.
"You see Mr. Snyder, I know my place, and it's right here". I grabbed his hand and placed it on the back of my head, "I just need a strong hand to keep me here". I barely finished the sentence before his hand was pressing his dick past the back of my throat. I felt a tear start to form at the corner of my eye and I thought, "I hope my eyeliner doesn't run". Then I put my hands back behind my back and sucked for all I was worth.
Four minutes later Mr. Snyder was standing, stroking his dick, while I begged him to cum on my face. Barbi (the little bimbo's name was Barbi. I knew because I heard him ask her to get him a coffee while I was choking on his cock) hovered in the background. She and her coffee forgotten while Mr. Snyder's left hand tilted my head back and his right hand stroked once more. I focused on keeping my eyes and mouth open and looked up at his face. Thankfully, I hadn't teared up too much, despite the workout he had given the back of my throat. I kept my focus on Mr. Snyder's face, which now looked down at me. The same red and sweaty face Mr. Stetson so often displayed. Oh well... The strand of cum was almost a surprise as it striped my face from forehead to chin right between my eyes. The second hit above my left eye and trailed down onto my cheek. A third strand was hanging off the end of his dick. I strained against the pressure his left hand still exerted pushing the back of my head down and slurped the dangling strand into my mouth. I made an exaggerated swallowing motion, licked my lips and gave Mr. Snyder my naughty smile. "Yum", I said. I know, but some bits work and you stick with them even if you used it a few hours ago.
He slumped back into his chair and I zipped him back up using my hands this time. I ignored the jizz on my face and stood, turned and did a slow walk back to my blazer on my chair in the middle of the room. I pulled the blazer on over my shoulders.
Mr. Snyder took a sip of his coffee. "Barbi."
"Yes Mr. Snyder!", she chirped.
"Tell that temp out there to reschedule any of the girls that are left."
"Of course Mr. Snyder", she chirped again as she rushed out.
I sighed. I was sure I that he would shut the interview down now. I would need to play my ace card, "Mr. Snyder"?
"Yes?"
"Thank you so much for the chance to interview", I simpered. "Oh, and Mr. Snyder, there's one more piece of information about me you might be interested
in hearing."
"Yes?"
"I have a daughter who turns 18 in 5 weeks. She's going to be looking for a job as well. I'm hoping you'll consider her for your junior secretary position."
He smiled.
Last edited by MrGaffney on Thu Dec 26, 2013 5:38 pm, edited 2 times in total.
http://erenischcomics.com/forum/report.php?f=5&p=10200
Reply, Reply All or Forward | More
me
To
me
\l "
Mar 23 at 12:17 PM
Show message history
http://erenischcomics.com/forum/report.php?f=5&p=10200
Reply, Reply All or Forward | More
me On Monday, March 23, 2015 12:16 PM, Pat Luffner <patluffner@yahoo.com> wrote: Set in a dystopian alternate reality (world created by George Kinaski, aka Marlissa) in which women have been stripped of
\l "
Mar 23 at 12:20 PM
\l "\l "\l "\l "
me
To
me
\l "
Mar 23 at 7:17 PM
On Monday, March 23, 2015 12:17 PM, Pat Luffner <patluffner@yahoo.com> wrote:
On Monday, March 23, 2015 12:16 PM, Pat Luffner <patluffner@yahoo.com> wrote:
Set in a dystopian alternate reality (world created by George Kinaski, aka Marlissa) in which women have been stripped of rights and the best they can hope for is marriage or administrative office jobs in which they will be expected to sexually satisfy the boss. Against this backdrop, Sandi is trying to get a better job
Shit. I forgot the coleslaw. I could picture the Tupperware container sitting next to the fridge. I sighed, fat lot of good it does me there. I peeked up at the clock. Time was running tight and i needed to move my daily 10:00 AM meeting along.
I bit my lip and practiced my rictus of agony/ecstasy for a moment and gave a well rehearsed shiver of pleasure. I looked back over my shoulder and squealed, "oh god, Mr. Stetson, you're busting my ass"!
Mr. Stetson, my boss, was indeed fucking my ass and had been doing so for the last 10 minutes. To say he was 'busting' it, would be an overstatement, but i was in a rush and Mr. Stetson was easily manipulated by appeals to his vanity. Suggesting he was the master of my ass was the best way I know of to get him to empty his balls already. His glazed over little pig eyes flicked on me for a moment and he grunted his little pig grunt. I recognize his grunts and this one suggested my little act had had the desired effect.
I locked eyes with him for a moment and groaned, "please feed me your cum". I don't really like to swallow. I mean, who does? But I was in a hurry and I didn't have 10 minutes to try to shit his cum out of my ass. Swallowing, at least, is quick. He nodded and pulled his fat little cock out. I whipped around and dropped to my knees in one experienced motion. My hands reached for his ass and my moaning mouth captured his 5 inches and inhaled him. I felt his hand grab the back of my head and he thrust his hips. I pretended to gag a little (I know, what girl can't handle 5" these days? But like I said, he's a vain man). He grunted once more and tried his best to ram his cock down my throat as he came. I gulped down his load and looked up into his sweaty red face. I swear, if I don't get another job soon, this fat slob is going to have a heart attack and leave his sweaty 300 pound carcass draped on top of me in some incredibly inconvenient location. "Mmmm, yum", I said. I spent a moment licking his ball sack and worked my way up his lube covered dick until it was both soft and clean. I again made eye contact and made a bit of a show of licking my lips and smacked them together. I opened my mouth and showed him I'd swallowed like a good girl and gave him a naughty smile. "Oh, thank you so much Mr. Stetson".
"Yeah", he grunted. Mr. Stetson is big on grunts. He grabbed my chastity belt and tossed it to me, "go get yourself cleaned up". I grabbed my belt and fetched my make up kit out of my cubical and tottered off to the little girls room. I grabbed some mint flavored anal lube (the cherry is just gross) off the vanity that all the girls shared and made my way into a stall. I wiped up the lube that had been rearranged over the last 10 minutes and inserted the dispenser and gave it a quick squirt. I didn't much care for the constant sensation of needing to wipe, but it was necessary. When Mr. Stetson wanted an ass fuck, you bent over. You didn't excuse yourself to go to the restroom first. I pulled my belt up and smoothed my mini over it.
I walked out to the vanity and put the bottle of lube back with the other toiletries provided by Allied. You needed your own make up kit, but lube,
Visine and Scope were provided in bulk by Allied. I know, real humanitarians. I took a look in the mirror and gave myself a quick once over. My Chestnut (it sounds sexier than brown) hair was a bit disheveled and lipstick a little smeared. But eye liner, eye shadow and rouge didn't need a touch up. My brown eyes were mercifully free of tears. If Mr. Stetson had been choking me with a decent sized cock, I'd have had to redo my whole face. I took stock of my outfit (it's a typical working girl outfit, you don't really need details) to ensure there were no rips or stains that hadn't been there a half hour ago. I touched up my lipstick and ran a brush through my hair. Then I rinsed my mouth out with some Scope. I smiled at myself a little ruefully. When I first started sucking cock as part of my job I would almost run to the bathroom for my bottle of mouthwash. Now, it was almost an after thought.
One more look. Good enough. Besides, I had an 11 AM appointment at Office Girlz. Allied Insurance had a full scale, subsidized beauty salon on premises. Allied was a good company to work for. The pay was decent and they spent money to ensure that it's stable of secretarial talent was able to keep themselves looking good. The thought made my heart beat a little faster when I thought about the risk I was going to take that afternoon. Interviewing with a different company was not a path to employment security. A lot of girls out there would kill to work here, but
I'd always been ambitious and while my pay and benefits package were good, they were not the best. The best were to be found at Principal Financial. A tangential Allied competitor in business, but a fierce competitor when it came to acquiring Des Moines area secretarial talent. Principal was the holy grail as far as central Iowa office girls were concerned. Roughly the same money, but high end benefits for those girls deemed by their HR department to be 'Principal Pretty'. Medical,
dental, on premises sec dorms (nice ones), paid vacation, company account at the appropriate shops at Jordan Creek Mall and even a "scholarship" program for young interns and junior secretaries regarded as attractive enough to warrant investment in their cup size. Their on staff plastic surgeon was thought to be one of the countries best and his services were available only for Principal girls. They used that benefit package to attract the highest quality secretarial staff in the mid west (according to Forbes). Applicants were put through a grueling process just to get to an interview with her potential primary. PA's (personal assistants) were the cream of the crop. Former models, C list celebrities and a former Des Moines news anchors populated those elite ranks and I was looking to join them.
In my more honest moments, I will confess that I'm not exactly 'Principal Pretty', but I did have my assets. I was pretty, with the aforementioned shoulder length
chestnut hair that could be called lustrous. My face was closer to cute than gorgeous. But my lips were full, my eyes large and my nose wasn't much bigger than normal, if not the perfect ski slope so many of the girls the secretarial schools are pumping out these days. If my face was 7, my bod was a 10. Strict diet and rigorous exercise were lifetime habits. As the situation for working girls deteriorated, I had cashed out my dwindling savings and down sized my Prius. The proceeds were now hanging off my chest. As nice a rack as existed in the Allied enterprise, or so Mr Stetson liked to brag. 36 D's that didn't just hang from my chest, but proudly proclaimed to the world, "here we are, take a nice long look".
I was educated, I was smart and I was creative. Those assets are as important as looks when it comes to keeping a job. The pretty face and big knockers will get a girl hired, but keeping your boss interested takes more than looking good in a short skirt.
I sighed... getting that job was the task at hand. Step one was complete. I had landed an interview with Principal's next VP of Product Development. A coveted PA position was open and 2 rigorous rounds of screenings with HR had finally landed me my chance. Not just an interview, but a prime slot. I was interviewing 2nd. Any girl interviewing later than that was unlikely to find a responsive interviewer assuming the previous girls had managed to leave with her bellyful of executive cum. I just hoped that girl #1 left me something to work with.
I fetched a coffee and wiggled my way back into Mr. Stetson's office. I grabbed the belts lock off the desk, handed it to him and raised my skirt up above my waist. He grabbed his key ring out of his desk drawer and found the key for my belts lock.
Even after 2 years of wearing it, the sound of a man turning the locks key and snapping it into place made me blush from anger and shame. Unimpressed with my blush, he turned the key and turned back to his monitor.
I smiled prettily and simpered, "thank you Mr. Stetson".
He grunted and went back to fiddling with his spreadsheets.
I tidied up the desk I had been so recently bent over and then cleared my throat apologetically. "Mr. Stetson"?
"Yeah"? Actually more a mutter than a grunt. Even Mr. Stetson will change it up now and then. "If it's OK, I'd like to take lunch a little early and then I have my appointment. At Office Girlz?"
"Ah. OK. I've got my own late lunch and then I meet with Ballard at 2 out west. I don't expect to be back today. Just make sure you tidy up before you call it a day" Wow, a soliloquy of Shakespearean eloquence for Mr. Stetson. But I'd known his calendar when I made my interview appointment last week. And he was meeting Mr. Ballard, but it wasn't at our West Des Moines office, but their favorite West Des Moines bar. If he was feeling particularly dedicated, he'd roll in again for our daily 10 AM. Mr. Stetson is not a grind.
"Of course, Mr. Stetson". I smiled sweetly and turned out of his office before he could change his mind. My heels clicked down the hall to the secretarial break room. I ignored the gaggle of girls in the who turned down the volume of their gossip when I walked in. I don't have a warm and cuddly reputation with Allied's office girls. As senior secretary on the 12th floor, I was responsible for enforcing discipline. I grabbed my sandwich and mourned for my coleslaw once more. I gave the girls the eye as I turned and clacked my way out of the room and to my cube. They wisely didn't return the look.
I wolfed down my sandwich and rehearsed my introduction once more. I'd been told that my interview would last 10 minutes, not a minute longer. Informally, I'd been told that it would be 5 minutes of interview followed by another 5 at Mr. Snyder’s discretion. Those 5 minutes would largely left to the girl to make her case. My introduction needed to be perfect. I planned a 4 minute speech with another 1 minute of padding for question he might have. This would leave me 5 minutes to withdraw the contents of his scrotum. If I made it to minute #6, I was confident I would be in the final grouping over the weekend. Mr. Snyder, would narrow the field to two and re interview the finalist over the weekend. I was certain the field would consist of girls prettier and younger than me. Some of them might even suck cock as well. Those first 5 minutes were crucial.
I looked up at the Principal building and took a deep breath. I knew I looked my best. I'd given myself a hard once over in Office Girlz before agreeing that there wasn't anything more to be done. My hair had been elegantly sculpted into a sleek bob. Makeup had been daubed lightly on. More a suggestion of color than anything screaming out for attention. Unnecessary rimless eyeglasses. Faux pearl earrings and matching necklace. Basically, it was the same look I had chosen when
I applied for my first accounting job out of college. The clothes were different of course. My suit was still charcoal gray, but it was a short, snug mini instead of pants. The blazer was form fitting and managed to support my boobs without benefit of a bra. A tasteful amount of cleavage showed through my sheer black turtleneck. My ensemble was completed by thigh highs that were the regulation 1" below my skirt and my 5" black and white oxford lace up pumps. I know, what would be appropriate
for a strip club 10 years ago, is now elegant and subdued for today's corporate world. Whatever, I needed the job. Another deep breath and I pushed open the door.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fucking fuck!", I thought. I'd navigated my way through hallways full of mini skirted secretaries, bimbo interns and the occasional executive in brooks brothers suits and found my way to Mr. Snyder’s office on 24. There were 4 girls whose idle gossip came to an immediate halt upon my entry. The 2 girls sitting on the reception area couch were scanned and dismissed as minimally threatening. As I expected, they were both younger and prettier. Perfect noses, cheekbones you could cut glass on, big tits and legs that went all the way down to the floor. They didn't worry me in the least. Dime a dozen office girls that could be called up for a quick nooner. Not someone you'd have administer your office. The one I focused on was a girl a little older than me who was standing next to the receptionist desk sipping her coffee and examining me as bluntly as I was her. She was a pretty blonde (no more Principle Pretty than I was)with a taut body and hair that hung to the middle of her back. I was sure I knew her and the fact made me a little uneasy as I couldn't quite place her.
The pretty intern (yes, Principal Pretty) manning the receptionist desk offered me her best smile (why not, whoever got this job would have the power to make her life miserable) and referred to a list displayed on her monitor. "Good morning Ms. Sandi?" At my nod confirming my identity, she cut her eyes to the list once more. "OK, ladies I'll let Mr. Snyder know you're all here. "Ms. Staci, you'll be going first, probably in the next few minutes". She went on, confirming that I was going 2nd and yada, yada, yada. As soon as she referenced 'Ms. Staci', I'd starting tuning her out. Staci Horst. She was fucking Staci Horst! "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fucking fuck!", I thought. For those of you not familiar with Des Moines, Staci Horst had been the KCCI news anchor until a year ago. It had been widely speculated that she might have to resort to PA work and it was assumed that if she did, she would end up at Principal with her former competitor from WHO, Erin Kiernan. Now, here she was, fucking up my day! Of all the shitty luck. She saw the emotions play out over my face which normally expressed nothing I didn't want it to. "Good luck honey", she offered, trying to be nice. I wasn't interested in nice. But making enemies unnecessarily never made sense, and less so these days. "You too Ms. Staci", I said with what passed for my sweet smile. Fuck you and the broom you rode in on. I turned and made my way to a chair by the other 2 bimbos and took a seat. Hopefully, 'Ms. Staci', that fucking cunt, would freak during the interview. It had happened before. Particularly if she'd kept herself insulated from the new realities facing girls in the work force.
I sighed, nothing to be done now anyway. I reviewed my presentation once more, thinking of what I might do if Mr. Snyder didn't react as expected. The temp, prompted by some unheard signal said, "Ms. Staci, Mr. Snyder is ready for you now". Staci gave a little start and I could see her face flush nervously. Huh, maybe I had a chance after all. She took a deep breath, tugged on the bottom of her blazer and strolled easily into his office on her 3.5 inch pumps. Huh... No working girl wore anything less than a 5" pump unless she was wearing some kind of fetish outfit.
"You'll be on in 15 minutes Ms. Sandi", said the temp. I could feel applicants 3 and 4 checking me out. No doubt wondering what was so special about a girl on the wrong side of 30, was not 'Principal Pretty', and was not, apparently, any kind of celebrity had rated the highly desired #2 slot. Bite me bitches, I thought. If things went well, what was so special about me would make the rounds soon enough. Juicy gossip like this would move like wildfire through a sec dorm.
The next few minutes ticked away in an uncomfortable silence as we all wondered what was going on in the office next door. No sounds escaped, and the temp gave nothing away, though it's unlikely she knew anything anyway. Exactly 10 minutes after she went in, Staci walked out of Mr. Snyder's office. The top 2 buttons of her blazer were now unbuttoned and the white lace bra beneath could clearly be seen. A long strand of jizz from the top of her forehead, down across her left eye and ending above her jaw bone could also clearly be seen. She had a mortified air about her and walking into reception in this state was obviously uncomfortable for her. As there was no hiding it, she kept her chin up and walked out of reception and took today's version of the 'walk of shame' to the ladies room around the corner. I grinned snarkily to myself, "welcome to the rest of your life 'Ms.' Staci". Of course, if all went well, I'd be taking the same walk in another 15 minutes.
The other girls in reception exhaled at the same time. I was sympathetic. We had all assumed applicant #1 would receive a nut, seeing it was still a little disappointing. If I did my job, girls 3 and 4 would be packing it in. I could feel them returning their attention to me.
"He'll be looking for you in 5 minutes, Ms. Sandi". I nodded. Every minute Mr. Snyder spent recovering before my interview was to be valued. I forgot about the other bimbos and rehearsed my bit again.
"And why should I hire you Sandi?", asked Mr. Snyder. I took a deep breath and took one more look around his office. Elegant and masculine, it was what one would expect of an executive office at a Fortune 500 company. Hardwood floors, modernist paintings, a leather couch and a little bar were behind me. In front of me was Mr. Snyder's large mahogany desk. Perched on the edge of the desk was a cute as a button intern. She was 18 or 19 and wore a canary yellow skirt, a matching bra
and the same color heels. Maybe a B cup and a pixie haircut. She also had a long strand of jizz running down the right side of her face. Presumably she was on her knees next to Staci when she had received the load she wore through reception. I would have to do something about that. I was settled in high chair in the middle of the room. Presumably, this best displayed the charms of the applicant. It wasn't comfortable, but I wouldn't be in it for long so why quibble? Behind the large desk
was the equally large Mr. Snyder. After 2 years of Mr. Stetson's lard ass and tiny dick,I was hoping for a trim primary. He wasn't quite the lard ass Mr. Stetson was, but he was clearly familiar with his way around a buffet table. But while Mr. Stetson had pig eyes, Mr. Snyder’s were insightful and sharp. I didn't think he would be quite as easily manipulated as Mr. Stetson was. The jury was still out on the size of his dick. But back to the question at hand.
"You should hire me Mr. Snyder, because I am the best qualified applicant you will find. I am smart, educated and dedicated. I attended Iowa State and majored in History with a minor in drama. I spent my free time working in support of NOW and other political organizations. After graduating, with honors, I obtained my law degree from Drake and went into contract law at Wells Fargo after graduation. After 3 years, I went to work for Dewey and Cheatem and was on a partnership path when 'things' (I kept the emphasis light. He would know what 'things' I referenced) changed. As you probably know, law firms that specialized in feminist law...
"You do understand what job you're interviewing for?", Mr. Snyder interrupted. "Why should I care about your biography? Are you one of those old girls who doesn't understand the world has changed?"
I smiled inside. Perhaps I would be able to manipulate this one as well. I pretended to gather myself for a moment. " Sir, you will have no reason to believe I'm a girl who's unaware of the history of the last 10 years or doesn't know her place. There are three reasons for sharing my educational and professional successes;
One, as your PA, I would be responsible for keeping this office running smoothly. Intelligence and real world experience are elements of my biography that should assure I can do that.
Two, I am a realist Mr. Snyder. I would rate myself a 7, maybe an 8 on a good day. And I know Principal is jam packed with cute little bimbos like this (I gestured to the girl in front of me. ). Nines and 10s that are desperately trying to stand out. I can't compete with them on looks and youth. I paused, "I know there are some (another light emphasis) executives who enjoy bending a girl over a desk who was once presumptuous enough to compete with them in the same job market. That goes double for girls who have any background in the feminist movement. I'm just trying to stand out myself Mr. Snyder."
There was silence for a long moment in which he gave me an appraising look. "And the third"?
I breathed a small sigh of relief. "The third," I unbuttoned my blazer and shrugged out of it as I stood, "it might be best if you read my resume to present reason number 3 in the best light". I stepped out from behind the high chair that I draped my blazer over. Both Mr. Snyder and the little slut sitting on the edge of his desk leaned forward to get a better look. I wasn't wearing a bra and the snug, stretchy material that made up my sheer turtleneck hugged my torso like a second skin. The word 'RESUME' arched across my perfectly sculpted 36 Ds in the same sheer material as the rest of the blouse. I took a few mincing steps towards the front of his desk, my arms at my sides, elbows bent with my palms facing the ceiling to give him an unobstructed view. I did a slow pirouette and moved a little closer, stopping with my back to him, I put my hands on my hips and looked over my shoulder like a pin up from the 50's. I was close enough that he wouldn't have trouble reading the back of my blouse.
Executive Summary
Education
College - Iowa St.
Law school - Drake
Employment history
Wells Fargo - Contract law
Dewey & Cheatem - Litigator
Perry Lowell & associates - paralegal
Waldingers - Intern
Allied Insurance - Senior Secretary
I turned slowly back around to give him a full frontal of my best feature. "I got the boob job while at Waldingers. The last of my savings but they got me a job at Allied. These tits are as good as you will find in the enterprise Mr. Snyder, you can play quarters on my ass (Mr. Stetson had actually tried this with his drinking buddy Mr. Ballard. Admittedly, the results were mixed), I lap dance, I pole dance and you won't find another bitch working today who sucks a better cock."
I looked over at the chippie on the desk, who was looking wide eyed at me. "You will also find that I don't waste cum like that celebrity slut you just interviewed." I took a step towards her and lifted her chin between my thumb and forefinger. I leaned down and slurped up the cum that was congealing on the side of her face. Yuck. Cum is not tasty, no matter what your secretary tells you, but it's ambrosia compared to cold cum. I let it pool on my tongue, then lifted her chin a little more and stuck my tongue down her throat. I quickly managed to pass the goop on to her and closed my mouth. Experience beats youth every time. I gave her a look I'd long practiced as Allied's disciplinarian on the 12th floor. "Swallow honey". She gulped loudly. I looked back to Mr. Snyder. "May I come over to your side of the desk?" He paused for a minute, but one look and I knew I had him.
I maintained eye contact and clicked my heels around to the corner on the back side of the desk. He nodded and swiveled his chair to face me. I looked down as I dropped to my knees and almost burst out laughing. Running perpendicular to the desk right in front him, was padding like a church kneeler built into the hardwood floor. So considerate were these titans of industry. I restrained my urge to giggle and maintained what I hoped was a sultry look as I crawled to his feet. I gathered myself and placed my knees on the padding which brought me to within a foot of his prodigious belly. I looked down at his fly and saw he wore pants that had a large pull tab on the end of his zipper. Yes, so considerate. I put my hands behind my back and dipped my head into his lap grabbing the zippers pull tab with my teeth. I could feel his boner with my nose and was a bit startled at the size. I finished unzipping his fly with my teeth and his cock reached for the gap in his pants as if it knew the way to find relief. I looked up at Mr. Snyder not having to feign astonishment. A solid 8" at least. Any bigger might have been a problem, but I was sure I could handle 8.
"You see Mr. Snyder, I know my place, and it's right here". I grabbed his hand and placed it on the back of my head, "I just need a strong hand to keep me here". I barely finished the sentence before his hand was pressing his dick past the back of my throat. I felt a tear start to form at the corner of my eye and I thought, "I hope my eyeliner doesn't run". Then I put my hands back behind my back and sucked for all I was worth.
Four minutes later Mr. Snyder was standing, stroking his dick, while I begged him to cum on my face. Barbi (the little bimbo's name was Barbi. I knew because I heard him ask her to get him a coffee while I was choking on his cock) hovered in the background. She and her coffee forgotten while Mr. Snyder's left hand tilted my head back and his right hand stroked once more. I focused on keeping my eyes and mouth open and looked up at his face. Thankfully, I hadn't teared up too much, despite the workout he had given the back of my throat. I kept my focus on Mr. Snyder's face, which now looked down at me. The same red and sweaty face Mr. Stetson so often displayed.
Oh well... The strand of cum was almost a surprise as it striped my face from forehead to chin right between my eyes. The second hit above my left eye and trailed down onto my cheek. A third strand was hanging off the end of his dick. I strained against the pressure his left hand still exerted pushing the back of my head down and slurped the dangling strand into my mouth. I made an exaggerated swallowing motion, licked my lips and gave Mr. Snyder my naughty smile. "Yum", I said. I know, but some bits work and you stick with them even if you used it a few hours ago.
He slumped back into his chair and I zipped him back up using my hands this time. I ignored the jizz on my face and stood, turned and did a slow walk back to my blazer on my chair in the middle of the room. I pulled the blazer on over my shoulders.
Mr. Snyder took a sip of his coffee. "Barbi."
"Yes Mr. Snyder!", she chirped.
"Tell that temp out there to reschedule any of the girls that are left."
"Of course Mr. Snyder", she chirped again as she rushed out.
I sighed. I had been sure that he would shut the interview down now. I would need to play my ace card, "Mr. Snyder"?
|
|
|