“You have an amazing resume, miss,” her prospective employer says.
“I know,” she asserts. She sits at his desk in her power suit, coffee in a styrofoam cup. After years, interviewing for an office job feels weird. However. Right?
“Mmh.” Sits. “It’s unfortunate. Isn’t it?”
“What?!” She gasps.
Interviewer: “Please, miss.” “Finding the truth is easy. A background check won’t exempt you from using Felicity Fox for most of your career.”
“Felicity…?” dizzy. Is this some strange power move? She’s never heard or used the name. Why is it familiar?
“Now, it says here,” he glances at a paper, “that you spent many years as a stripper, correct?”
“A…?” Ridiculous. Ludicrous. She should storm out after throwing coffee at him. “Y-yes,” she says. She suddenly recalls the clubs. Spotlight glare. Nightly stage shaking. Dancing dirty for tips. Her blonde locks and breasts swaying on a dildo to the clamor of an appreciative crowd.
Hands together. “You were an escort too.”
“A whore,” she declares. “I was whore.” She won’t even call what she did a title. She remembers instantly. Her first time getting fucked up the ass in a filthy alleyway, little cocktail dress raised up around her hips, the john pulling severely on her hair—at her request. Cheap hotel rooms and automobile backseats forever. Offering returning customers free blowjobs on holidays… or whenever she just wanted a cock between her lips…
“One thing’s unusual,” the interviewer remarks. “I haven’t worked in years. Why?”
“I…met someone,” she says. “His slave.” So many great memories: kneeling, offering her wrists to him, pleading to be his property. The joy of first putting the collar on her. Giving him all her earthly possessions without hesitation. Her existence was one long orgasm around his firm cock. Spending weeks naked in his house, being used whenever he wanted. The dungeon’s pain-pleasure hours. Getting her clit pierced and his name tattooed on her ass for his entertainment. Walking through sex clubs on a leash, happily fucking strangers.
What happened?
I bored him. Thrown outside in a thong and rusty boots. Pounding at the door, shouting and crying, asking to serve him again, promising to do better, anything to feel his cock inside her again. She was pitied by younger slaves. Thinking about that makes her cry.
The interviewer apologizes. “I don’t understand. Beautiful.”
Thanks. She flushes and straightens. Extends her tits. Why didn’t she wear more cleavage?
“Well.” Interviewer ponders. “Your management experience doesn’t fit what we’re seeking for.”
“… oh.” She looks down.
However, I sympathize with starting anew after a huge life change. His finger taps the desk. “I’d have to talk to the CEO, but maybe we can find another place for your special talents.”
She gasps. “Like?”
“On paper, your job title would probably be secretary or receptionist,” the interviewer continues. “You’re the office slut. Fucking higher-ups—including myself—on request. sleeping with prospects. Free lap dances for staff morale. Suchlike.”
“Amazing!” Wide-eyed. “Really?”
“I’m sorry, but…” Shrugs. “You’ll be working late. Much overtime. You’ll do anal, right?”
“Absolutely!” She’d buy a butt plug on the way home. Make sure her ass was ready for another cock. God, fucking for money? Her desire came realized. Shit. The thought makes her moist.
“Excellent.” Interviewers make notes. He rises and circles the desk. “One more thing, then. Do you mind showcasing your employment skills?”
“No.” Smiles and licks lips. “I kinda hoped you’d say that.”
“Okay.” He indicates his crotch.
Pressure’s on. Time for her best blowjob/titjob—or more if she can get him to try her other products. She joyfully kneels. She takes off her blazer and unbuttons her blouse, smiling at him and keeping eye contact like a good interviewee. When she has time, she rubs her pussy under her pants. Just for luck—she doesn’t think it would be prudent to cum all over his carpet. Hopefully, his desk will be different.
Right? If you must, why not do what you love?
Author: Express-Jicama4051
ONE ACCIDENTAL NIGHT [MF]
Ashley finished her office duties on a scorching June afternoon. She contemplated what to do for the evening as she headed to her car, knowing she had nothing except boxes to unpack and a cat who didn’t care. After a long-term relationship, Ashley was single for six months. She didn’t feel like partying with pals, even if they requested. She called her buddies for a drink tonight because she was lonely.
After five years away from the bar scene, she was confused about what to dress, how to do her hair, and whether to wear makeup. She went home, took a hot shower, looked through her sad closet, and chose a tight white little skirt, a low-cut peach halter, and five-inch white spiked heels. Her tits stood boldly in the Fredericks of Hollywood bra she had bought years before but never worn. They seemed to beg for touch. She skipped underwear to avoid panty lines. Though single, she groomed herself. Her beach-tanned skin shone. Her reddish brown hair reached mid-waist. Tonight she put it up to display her back and shoulders. Her mother gave Ashley beauty. She had Angelina Jolie-like lips, deep blue eyes, and a tiny nose. She left the cat and boxes alone and went out into the night after applying lipstick and eyeliner.
What Girls Do P5
off, she raised one of her breasts to her lips, and began sucking on her breast with an intense sexual fervor. She could feel the pleasure building stirrings deep inside her groin, as her finger slid down her slit dipped back into her wet hole, to re-lubricate.
She discovered that it really increased her excitement as she watched herself frigging her clit, and watched the liquid seeping from her slit, gathering at the lower end of her slit, getting ready to drip on the seat. Hurriedly she reached down with her left hand, gathered the juices from her slit on her fingers, raised her hand to her mouth and licked the wetness from her fingers. Her hips began quivering as her orgasm began to build deep within her loins. Mary lowered her hand from her mouth to her pussy and began fingering her wet hole. She wished she had gotten the vibrator after all.
What Girls Do P4
Her eyes to view the erotic sight she was creating, she reached up with her free hand and slid her breasts out of the confines of her bra. The collapsed cups of her bra resting on her chest above her fully exposed breasts; she turned the bra with one hand and unhooked it, allowing it to fall to the floor in a small heap of lifeless fabric.
“Oh…God, I can’t believe I am doing this.”
Mary gazed at her breasts as they bounced in rhythm matching the motions of her hand massaging her pussy. Her taut nipples stuck out like chubby little erasers on a pencil. The hand that had freed her breasts from their confinement began to tweak the nipple on her left breast, as her eyes traveled down the reflection of her body; her gaze came to rest on the movement of her hand inside her panties. She imagined what her pussy would look like framed in the black lace of the crotchless panties she had purchased. Wanting to enjoy this as much as possible, she removed her hands from her breasts and panties. She hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her panties and slid them down her legs, leaving them in a heap on the floor of the fitting room.
What Girls Do P3
She spent longer than she expected searching the aisles for the “perfect” skirt. Finally she found the type of skirt she had in mind. It should hang a few inches below her crotch, but be revealing should she choose it to be. The skirt was, light cotton, with a red paisley print. She found an opaque white blouse that would reveal what was underneath.
She took her cart to the changing room. Her bra cups and Mary’s fantasy thoughts started to hurt her nipples. She entered the fitting room after checking with the clerk. As she entered the fitting room, her inner labia slid against each other. She envisioned her clit hiding beneath its protective hood trying to peek out and seek attention.
Mary’s fantasies about how she would look in her black lace bra and crotchless pants were distracting her from shopping.
Entering the changing room with only the skirt, the blouse and her purse, her previous purchases being watched by the clerk, she began the process of trying the clothing on. She tried the skirt first. She removed the baggy sweatpants. As she tried on the skirt and blouse, her damp panties felt cold against her pussy.
What Girls Do P2
She bent over and spread her feet to see her pussy in the panties. Exposed hair was seductive. Standing up she turned and took a seat, again opposite the floor length mirror on the door. She lifted her legs and placed them on opposite benches, her pussy resembling lips. She pulled her pussy open, revealing her excited inner labia.
“Oh, God…been it’s so long…”
She closed her pussy with all her might as she removed her fingers from her outer labia.
“Just a little,” she thought as she dipped an index finger into her moist slit and teased her clit. Her clit, already partially aroused from the nipple play, stiffened and begged for more attention, as she tickled her clit a bit more.
“No, I must stop this now.”
With all the willpower she could muster, she removed the crotchless panties, the open nipple bra, and put her own underwear back on. She was relieved to pull up her sweatpants and hide her pussy’s excitement. As she slid her t-shirt over her head and pulled it down to her waist she felt a little better, as no one would be able to tell how stiff her nipples were. She had decided not to even try the teddy on.
What Girls Do [Fiction]
Mary was delighted to wake up to the sun peeking through the curtains. After all the kids were with her ex-husband this weekend, she just wanted to enjoy the nice weather and her alone time. Shopping was her only weekend plan. Change your work clothes. She shopped because she liked it. She chose a bra, panties, loose-fitting t-shirt, sweatpants, socks, and slip-on shoes because she would probably try on multiple outfits in different stores. That would make changing clothes easier. She drove to the mall in a ponytail.
Mall entry Mary wandered the mall, unsure where to start. She decided to try lingerie while walking around the mall. She loved black lace and wanted a matching set of lingerie in case she could show it off to a date or answer the door when her ex showed up to show him what he was missing.
As she entered the lingerie store, the selections became more risqué as she moved toward the back. She would love this. She searched the bras, panties, and teddies for her most provocative lingerie.