Black Journal Ch. 17

Duncan Cyrus, age 24, Interviewer

I had decided to go for my masters. It's been two years since my undergrad so I had made up my mind to enter. Well, mostly because my job said if I go for my masters they'd pay for it. Even though I'm not a licensed chemist, biologist, or a tech, I have helped a lot with experiments and the care of the patients. I was even given opportunity to give my two cents in on conferences. I was brought in for a meeting to discuss my future. They gave me an opportunity so I took it. They even showed me some respective programs that would help me.

I applied to about three programs. I was looking to gain a master's in biology. All the programs required unprecedented lab work so that would help with my promotion at my job. The first two came and went. The programs did seem good for me but they were looking for students as teacher assistants and I needed to be a student only.

The third program was tiered. First there was an interview just to go over credentials and references. I was actually interviewed by other students. It was me against five others. There was this pretty and well-dressed bbw with mocha skin. She wore a career suit and her demeanor was pure business. I had to keep my answers short and sweet with her. After every question I made sure to answer as if it was intended for everyone, eye contact and clear answers.

They didn't intimidate me but the mocha interviewer was a definite distraction. Her chest couldn't be hidden no matter the amount of layers she used. Her cheeks were pudgy and her double chin baited me to come have a taste. When that interview was over we all stood and I was able to see her full-body-self. Her ass and legs only damaged me further. It was hard to just shake her hand and try not to kiss it for providing me such a visual.

The second interview was more like a test and essay to discover my competence and personality. I sat in a classroom in a suit for three hours answering questions and then an hour and a half listening to a speaker about the program. Basically telling me I am not to have a life outside the program. Some of the other people looked worried. Then we had to orally present ourselves in front of everyone. That was just weeding out those who had weak spirits to complete the program.

The third interview came a week later with a recruiter, an advisor, and a chair member. Again, another step ladder process. The recruiter was an older gentleman. Completely old school. I was ready for him because I feel the same when it comes to education. That lasted only ten minutes. That ten minutes was worth it because I was escorted to an advisor's office. Of course it was my interview wet dream. She welcomed me in with a firm handshake. That wasn't fair. She closed and locked the door. No way for people to see inside and thick walls to drown out sound. I was trapped, even though I welcomed it. This was the "get to know you" part. To see if I'm just another run of the mill students. Apparently these days it's not advantageous to just want to learn. You have to be approachable and be able to work with others.

We sat close to each other, barely a few inches. We leaned forward more as the interview progressed. She wore her thick black glasses very well. She spoke to me directly and her eyes looked me up and down. I did the same to her. She veered in even closer and I could feel her cinnamon breathe waft over my lips. My entrance is in jeopardy but she wants it. I am happy to oblige if she initiates. She kisses me and I respond.

We keep our attire on. Strictly business with a little added bonus of pleasure. I go down her neck and she rakes her nails across my back. I palm both of her titties, they were heavy but I played with them like putty. My hands wanted her butt. It was nice and big. I gave playful pats and it jiggled. I created handmade waves and made myself harder. She groped my dick, teasing for my precum to call me forth. I felt myself leak a little.

I touched her snatch and she was definitely ready. I raised her skirt and rubbed her pussy through her panties. She gasped in my ear telling me to keep going. I placed her on her desk and opened her legs. I ate and ate. She tasted divine. I inserted my tongue as far it could go. Her insides had a tang to it. I believe she came already, perhaps even urinated a bit. I tweaked her nipples and she rubbed my skull. She was about to shoot and she forcefully bobbed my face in and out of her triangle. She inhaled and constricted her exhaled grunts.

Thick walls, but that don't mean sound can't get through. I had jacked myself off. A pool of semen had collected in my underwear. I started feeling the soreness of a week's worth of my boys finally released. She was not happy that it wasn't done by her own efforts, but her own happy spasm left her satisfied. We continued the talk as if nothing happened. I passed because I received a one-on-one with a chair. That was the last of the process because I was able to meet the person I was going to be working in labs, going to conferences, writing papers for, and communicating with on a daily basis. It was a long, drawn out procedure, but what true science isn't?