Stable Employment Pt. 02 - Final - Sex Stories

Stable Employment Pt. 02 - Final

... Corin," she says. "I know that's afaux pas out here, but it's the truth -- and, in the spirit of honesty, it's partly because I've been studying you and your whole life for weeks, now. I know that's weird. If you get the job, I hope maybe someday we can be friends."

"Uh... maybe? I feel like I just met you a few minutes ago, and, well, maybe that means I still haven't?"

She sighs again, and, fuck me, she's already sliding past my armor. The sound carries that hint of disappointment -- not in me, but that I don't like her. She wants me to like her, and I feel bad that I don't. God, that's weird.

"I understand completely," she says. "It's part of the job. I don't love it, but finding the right fit is of the utmost importance."

"The right fit for him." There's still some stank on the pronoun. She'd be an idiot not to pick up on it.

"Yes and no," she says. "For girls, yes, absolutely. For you? He wants to like you. You liking him... that's much more negotiable. Us liking you is more important than that, and us loving you more important still. As I'm sure you figured out last week, you being able tolove us as much as possible is vital."

"Huh," I say. "You know, that actually makes sense."

She smiles again, and it affects me more than I want it to. "We still have some time before we arrive. If you want, I'd be happy to help you relieve some tension."

That, too, makes sense. It's weird as fuck, but the whole situation is weird as fuck.

"Here?" I ...

... ask dumbly. "Like, in the car?"

She looks around at the spacious luxury I'm experiencing for the first time. "It's a little cramped for sex, I agree. We could absolutely make it work, but... maybe a blowjob?"

"I... okay?"

She smiles again. "How would you like me for it? Fully clothed? Naked? A bit disheveled? Glasses on or off? I want it to be good for you."

"Uh... shit. Sorry, I'm still a little off balance, here. Disheveled? Glasses on?"

"That's really good. Keep going. Let it flow. See the fantasy."

I don't close my eyes, but I blink a few times. I switch between looking her over and staring off into the endless blackness that logically must be windows and upholstery. "Panties down past the skirt, but not off. Blouse a little open. Bra kind of off underneath -- enough so I can see everything. Ponytail a little looser, threatening to fall apart. Heels off."

"Have a thing for feet?"

"More like I hate shoes during sex. I'll suck toes or whatever all day long though, sure."

"Mmmm, anti-footwear. Uncanny."

That odd line -- I've lost count of how many she's dropped on me -- makes me refocus on her. She's already the spitting image of the little fantasy that played out in my head. She crawls over to me, and it's perfect. I'm catching a pretend-forbidden glance of her perky titties and watching her struggle just a little bit because of the panties that are almost at her knees. She even hiked her skirt way up so that it looks more like a mini. Her ...