The Interview

by:

I had a dilemma. I kept hearing how miserable you are at work, and it made me feel awful. So I knew the value of each and every interview, and I was hesitant to play on that for any reason. Then again, this was about sex, and that was the best reason of all.

I posted an ad on line in which I sought someone with exactly your [professional] qualifications. I got about 100 resumes, and as I flipped through them, I recognized some names from our old company. I guess the community is a small one, and times are tight. Lucky for you, that’s not all that’s tight.

Fortunately, in addition to those who would be passed over for this particular position, I also received a resume from you. I hadn’t seen your resume before, and I thought it was quite impressive. Too bad I couldn’t offer you a real job (well, not in our profession anyway).

I’d rented a P.O. box for the responses to my ad, and created a Gmail account to correspond about logistics. We agreed to meet at my “office” on a Friday afternoon.

Luckily, a friend of mine is an attorney who rents office space. She is the kind of friend who didn’t ask any questions when I told her I needed her office for a project. This is why she is my friend.

At the appointed time, I heard the outer office door open. For some reason, the inner office door has a peephole, which enabled me to see you standing there, looking very hirable, somewhat unsure of what to do. A brief wave of doubt struck me, since I knew when I revealed myself you’d be a little annoyed at being duped…but I got past that pretty fast.

I opened the door, and your expression went from surprised to kinda mad to amused to psyched, all in just a few seconds. You stood there in a suit, which was interesting since I’d only ever seen you in (and out of) jeans and khakis. Me likey.

“Come in,” I said, and motioned for you to sit. You were a little caught up in what I was wearing – white, ruffled blouse; brown pinstriped suit; and brown alligator FMPs – but parked yourself in the leather wing chair facing the massive desk and contemplated what would happen next.

“I’m very impressed by your credentials,” I said, trying to draw out my premise as long as I could. “You are just the kind of man I’ve been looking for.”

“I think you’ll find I don’t disappoint,” you countered, clearly relishing the game.

A quick scan of the office revealed the aforementioned wing chair and desk, as well as a rather comfortable-looking couch. During my scouting trip, I’d been delighted to discover that the depth of this couch made it a most excellent surface on which to carry out my plan.

I asked you a few cursory questions about your strengths and weaknesses, and you answered them accordingly. During this process, I got up from my seat and perched myself on the front corner of the desk, taking care to let my skirt ride up just enough for you to glimpse the top of my white stockings. Being quick of mind as you are, you realized this meant a (most likely) white garter belt as well, and that served to heighten your excitement.

As we continued chatting, I removed my right shoe and ran my foot slowly up your leg toward your crotch. You smiled and tried to stay focused on our “interview”, but it was clear the charade wouldn’t continue much longer.

“Let me show you what I can do for you,” you said, as you rose from your chair and stood over me. You stroked my hair briefly before leaning in for a kiss, one of those “I have waited so long for this, you just can’t imagine” kind of kisses, the ones that never seem to end. And I truly didn’t want it to.

On the other hand, when you reached under my skirt to open a garter, I was eager to explore other options. I had been thinking a lot recently about your hands all over my body, and I was ready for that to happen.

The stocking in question slid down my leg, and you removed it for me, pausing to suck my toes before turning to the other stocking. Garters opened and the routine, which was anything but routine, was repeated. After the toe sucking, I had trouble focusing. Good thing you were there to keep things moving forward. [Actually, it turned out to be backward, towards the couch.]

While I felt the urge to undress you, this was really about your fitness for the position, and how you could help me. So I let you “perform the job.” Once you had dispensed with the stockings, you removed my
skirt and blouse to reveal a white lace merry widow of which you obviously approved. As luck would have it, the matching panties were thong style, although you wouldn’t find this out immediately. The pause during which you took in the scene – and caressed me too briefly – allowed my eyes to wander to your crotch, where a wet spot had formed. The steel strained against its bonds – natch – and it seemed hopelessly uncomfortable to me…but what do I know?

At last you reached back to squeeze my ass and appeared pleased to discover the thong. But that didn’t stop you from removing it promptly, pausing to appreciate its wetness. I was obviously slick and ready for you, and it began to be painful not to envelop you inside me. Oddly enough, you had other ideas which, fortunately for me, involved burying your face between my legs. It was clear you appreciated my carefully trimmed pussy and Brazilian wax. First, you addressed my dripping snatch, which I was delighted to discover included thrusting your tongue in and out of it. This caused my back to arch and a deep moan of approval to escape my throat.

Feeling kinda “cocky”, you moved on to caress my swollen clit with your tongue. My goal just then became holding off the inevitable as long as possible, somewhat unrealistic, but I thought I’d give it a shot. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear you shared that goal, flicking your tongue lightly and lazily around and around. Turns out you just wanted to tease me, and it certainly worked. There came a point where I was ready for you to get serious, which I indicated by grinding my pussy into your face. I was relieved when you began to tongue me faster and harder, and I felt my orgasm building all over my body. At last I exploded into waves of pleasure, surrendering all control to your masterful mouth (yes, I was loud).

Once recovered, I quickly removed your belt and set to work on your pants. That amazing cock was a mighty substantial obstacle, making freeing you easier said than done.

At last you were fully exposed, pointing north and ready to rock. I was about to start returning the oral favor, but there was something in your eyes that said “fuck, and nothing else will do.” You sat down on the couch and pulled me onto that magnificent, steely rod in one smooth motion. Thanks to my workouts, I was able to control the action quite effectively, moving up and down to meet your enthusiastic thrusts. You seemed more than satisfied with the tight little space I offered, meeting me again and again.

Just as I started thinking I should rest my legs on your shoulders to achieve maximum depth, it became obvious that you wouldn’t last much longer. Unready as I was for this to end, I backed away, much to your surprise. I stood over you, a little unsure of my next move…but then you pulled me down and started licking my nipples. Gentle, feathery touches with your tongue, before finding my mouth for some lazy play. Your hands then began to explore every inch of me, even venturing back to my clit as our tongues got more serious. I embraced you, naked, the way it should be, and smiled as your steeliness stabbed at my abdomen. I raised my left leg slightly, daring you to fill me again, but you held off. I was glad.

We continued kissing for a while, and I savored the way our bodies fit together. I had to burn it into my memory the way you do, just in case it was the last time. Meanwhile, my clit, never particularly patient, had recovered from your previous attentions and was demanding further action. I dipped a finger into my pussy and started rubbing it. Predictably, it wasn’t long before another orgasm overcame me, much to your delight. I could feel your eyes on me, and your cock get even (unbelievably) harder, as I rode the wave to its natural conclusion.

Finally, it was time to feel your heat inside me again. I knelt over you with my pussy just above your shaft, and waited for you to seize control of the festivities. When you didn’t, I lowered myself as slowly as I could, down, down, down until you were completely inside me. Steadying myself against the back of the couch, I pulled almost completely up, leaving only the head inside me. I paused there for a second before enveloping you completely in one stroke, eliciting a rather frustrated moan of pleasure. I suppose you just had to control the situation, because you picked me up and off you, placed me on the couch, spread my legs and rammed all the way in. You paused just long enough to lift my legs onto your shoulders, and I smiled at the GMTA of it. After just a few strokes, the incendiary nature of the interview made it impossible to hold off any longer. With the resulting explosion, you deposited your hot load into my eager snatch, coming and coming and coming until you were dry.

“You’re hired,” I said.

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