Stable Employment Pt. 02 - Final - Sex Stories

Stable Employment Pt. 02 - Final

... reached out to some... acquaintances."

"About me."

"About your situation."

So much for forgetting anything. I stay silent again, and get fucked some more. Things have gone all topsy-turvy. Jack is reticent -- lacking confidence. I don't feel as safe as I usually do. I feel quivers in my chest and stomach that her cock is neither causing nor suppressing. It should be one or the other. That's how it's always been. Something's already changed.

"There's a job you could apply for," she says. "It'd be... a radical change. You're not going to like the idea, but I really think it might be for the best."

"I need you to stop, please."

She doesn't need a traffic signal; she knows I'm serious. She slowly withdraws from me. I feel empty, but I know I can't have her in there right now. I grab a cloth and wipe my own crack. She rolls onto her back and sighs heavily.

"I'm sorry," she says. "I shouldn't have--"

"No, I'm sorry.I shouldn't have."

"Quite the pair." She tries to chuckle. It doesn't really work.

I curl up into a ball. She gets up, finds the spare blanket, and covers me with it. That feels right. I want to go to sleep forever.

"Thanks."

"Yeah."

"Stay. We have to finish."

"Interesting choice of words."

We both try to chuckle. It goes...okay. She sits on the bed. I can't really do anything to let her know I'm listening, but she takes it on faith.

"It's a job at a compound," she says. "High demand, apparently. Who knows? ...

... You might not even make the cut."

In any other situation, I'd be out of bed, pacing, ranting, and generally losing my mind. Instead, I stay right where I am, curled up under the blanket, because no matter what else this is, it's about losing Jack. "But something still has to change. So I go. I interview. I don't get the job. What happens then?"

Therapy hasn't done much. I'm scared of the pills. The doctor didn't do me any favors on that front."Depressive symptoms incidental to underlying factors." What an ego trip: I'm too fucked up to be properly medicated.

"I don't know," she says. "I meant what I said, though. I'm in this. I don't know... move, maybe? I'm not sure where, but there must be some place. I guess... we try to find you what you need."

"That isn't healthy."

"I think we're well past 'good,'" she counters, "and into 'least bad.'"

Yeah, that's what every dickgirl wants to hear, all right -- that she's an anchor around her best friend's neck as they go forth on their magical quest for the least-bad remaining option, which is to find a regular girl that's both reasonably tolerable and willing to take it up the ass for a few decades or more. Did I mention that Jack has an amazing ass? It's right there. If I could fuck it, and enjoy fucking it, everything would be okay.

"I love you, Jack."

"Love you, too, Cor."

"I'm very tired. I need to think. Come back in a few hours? You can wake me up. It's fine. I probably won't be asleep ...