What's In A Name? - Sex Stories

What's In A Name?

... had to do with the deepthroat oatmeal she was currently serving in Kumin’s strained belly while imprinting her fingers on the flesh of her breasts. Seminal juice was leaking from the girl’s nose and the stretched corners of her mouth.

“So, what do you think of the new girl?” Lola asked as Linda slapped the last drop of urethral cream against her panting coworker’s bright red face. Kumin tucked her breasts back under her straps and reached for her box of Kleenex, which Linda pushed away out of reach. Kumin had no choice but to snort the cum out of her nostrils.

“What time do you get here in the morning?” Linda asked Lola. “She was a little loose for my taste, but that’s probably because I was stuck with your sloppy seconds.”

“Who is loose?” a voice interrupted the casual conversation about the order in which Kumin’s throat should be destroyed every morning.

“Oh, it’s nothing, Boss,” Lola stammered. “We were just fraternizing with the new girl.”

Kumin’s relationship with the boss lady had been hearing her yelling behind a closed office door. Cum dripping down her chin and funneling through her breasts, this was not a great first impression. But at least the woman could see first-hand how much time her underlings and fellow futas were costing the company. The boss had the same pencil skirt as the other futa in the office but with a plain white shirt. Her gigantic breasts seemed ready to make the struggling bottom buttons explode and poke someone’s eye out. Kumin ...

... wondered if anyone had ever brought up that concern with the safety committee.

“Don’t get up. What’s your name, girl?” the woman asked.

“Kumin, Ma’am.” She was glad not to have to get up. Her legs quivered uncontrollably for hours after a throat fuck, and it was logically twice as bad after two.

The boss looked at a list on her clipboard. “Kumin... Mytrott?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

The boss leered at her from over her clipboard and the rim of her rectangular glasses. Then her face suddenly lost all of its frowny wrinkles. “Well... If you insist!” She high-fived Lola and straddled Kumin’s chair like a stripper initiating a lap dance, her engorging cock smearing a goatee of precum around Kumin’s mouth. The lady didn’t have to force herself in; she was the boss. Kumin dutifully opened her mouth and took another giant futa cock down her throat for the team.

Kumin’s chair creaked for fifteen minutes as her boss rocked it while grunting and calling her newest employee a useless little bitch that, with a name like that, was born to suck futa cocks. It might have just been the heat of the moment, but just before dumping a massive load down Kumin's throat, the boss suggested Kumin didn't need a cubicle and should simply 'work under my desk.'

That would suck, Kumin thought. At least here, she had some sunshine from a distant window and a couple of hours alone after the lunch rush. But it would take a lot more than to get her to walk away from such a generous pension plan. Few ...