Mutual Interests

She pushed and rolled him away from the desk on his wheeled chair. He let her crawl out and stand. He looked up at her flushed and satisfied face, reached out and squeezed a warm, soft boob, adding a bounce and a fluff.

"Okay, you're hired. Be here early tomorrow, an hour before the other staff. I expect a blowjob each morning before work and a fuck each night after the others have left for the day."

Oma looked down at his unstopped tit handling, conceding his privilege to use his personal assistant's body however and whenever he desired.

"Yes, sir. I'll be here early tomorrow. Thank you for hiring me."

He nodded and gave her tit another quick hard squeeze before releasing his grip. When she turned to leave, his swinging arm palm-smacked her wondrous ass once in a playful 'see you soon' giddiness.

Oma gathered her bundle of fashionable clothes from the sofa and clutched them meekly to her chest as she followed Oksana out the door. Ned, the very happy boss, sat back in his chair smiling. He was sure he had fulfilled Oma's chosen fantasy.

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Outside the closed door, Oma, the sole proprietor of a large global corporation, gave her obedient secretary, Oksana, directions for the remainder of their joint visit to this TWA venue. She handed her the bundle of clothes.

"Take care of these and bring them to my office next week, cleaned and ready to wear. And don't be late, Oksana. We have a lot of catching up to do. A week away leaves lots of loose ends to clean up after my extended absence."

Oma, the proud business mogul, haughtily strutted off, her heels clacking on the walkway. Oksana watched her real boss's undulating naked ass disappear through her bungalow patio door. The real world secretary felt disappointed that she hadn't been able to fuck and suck Ned prior to the fantasy encounter, thereby actualizing her character's rumored role, as described in the stage prop resignation letter.

But Oma said she wasn't needed until next week, so what's the rush? She turned back and tentatively knocked on Ned's office door, heard him say 'Enter' and walked in. She hoped she could convince him to turn back the clock and recreate her special assistant fantasy scenario character, at least for one night.

Oma strolled alone to her bungalow, leaving her blonde assistant to her tasks, musing on the just completed TWA facilitated fantasy scenario of a female submissive obliging a powerful male boss' sexual whims. It was a state of affairs she had been curious to explore but unable to orchestrate in her real world role as the powerful female executive. Therein, she was the one who made men's hearts and minds tremble whenever she engaged them in business.

The fantasy surrender had felt liberating. By lowering her defenses, she had abandoned her constant worries about control and consequences. It had released a lot of her innate sexual stresses and angsts, even if only temporarily. She decided it would be healthy, both emotionally and physically, to repeat that experience as often as practical.

She opened her smartphone and booked a regular schedule of future visits to this TWA Fantasy Venue facility.

Sunday -- Phoebe, Infomercial Spokesperson

Ned sat in the dark; his bungalow glowing softly blue from the TV screen. Phoebe huddled to his side as he watched a montage of her prime time TV scenes promoting numerous infomercial products. In each commercial, she was tricked out in her sexy bandeau mini-dresses. The sequential series of scenes showed her holding a variety of products: kitchen aides, food choppers, countertop grills, lawn games, home sports paraphernalia and cleaning products.

Then the tone of the portfolio montage changed. Her late night appearances were of a different variety and meant for a different audience. She sported the same sparkly heels but the rest of her costume was a nipple flashing loose top and thong panties. The displayed products were an assortment of bedroom toys, some of which she personally demonstrated to the thrill of her manly audience.

While they perused these latter sexier clips, Phoebe squirmed against Ned, her body now encased in one of her typical late night get ups. Ned was idly palming a silky covered tit as he watched her pixel colored performance. He ventured a query.

"So, which product did you most enjoy presenting? The cookware? The cleaning solutions?"

"Hah! Good one. No, personally, I liked the sex toys but it was hard to get excited in a studio with a dozen film crew watching."

"Okay, yeah, I get that."

"There is one new personal grooming product that is coming on the market and my agent is eager to get me the infomercial gig. But I haven't had a chance to practice my performance."

"Oh? What is it?"

"I'll show you. Could we try a dress rehearsal here and you can critique me afterwards?"

"Sure. Whatever I can do to help out."

Phoebe jumped and clapped and retreated to her bedroom. She emerged carrying a small black clutch bag and stepped carefully to where Ned was lounging on the sofa, kneeling between his legs. She looked up at him looking down at her, untied her sash knot, and let the translucent smock hang loose, draping from her shoulders. Ned wondered where this was going but liked the general direction.

She unbuttoned his fly and peeled the shorts down his legs. Her full fat boobs swayed beneath her top, offering nipple flashes but not full exposures. Her thong panties peeked out below the short hem, stretched tightly over her plump camel toe.

Returning upright, she fingered his cock and scrotum, lifting, tilting, and examining his pubic haired genitals. Her stage expression told of her presumed mild displeasure.

"Seems to be a lot of fur here. Ever been man-scaped?"

"No. I'm kind of defensive about the proximity of my man parts to sharp objects."

Phoebe smiled and opened her kit. The motions jostled her heavy breasts and Ned got another quick nipple flash.

The sight only added to his mixed feelings at the moment: anxiety at a new experience not in his control, arousal at the fingering of his cock and balls, fear of razor cuts, and the visual titillation.

His cock thickened. Phoebe noted the slight swelling and proceeded to play out her plan.

She extracted a battery powered razor and tube of shaving balm. Holding up the device, she switched it on and examined the cutting guard, assuring the short tines were well shielded from direct skin contact. She looked up at him with the tool held high.

"Okay, it's safe to go. Ready?"

Ned wasn't sure and was silent. She took silence for affirmative; after all, silence was deemed consent in intimate settings. Would this setting qualify? Probably: cock and tits exposed was pretty intimate.

She studied her target closely and curved his penis down against his scrotum, approaching his lower tummy with the buzzing tool. Ned tensed his back and hips and held his breath but tried to stay still. His fists were clenched at his side, gripping the edge of the sofa cushions. She glanced up to see his face twisted in a near terrified grimace but pressed on.

The first swipe was downward and cleaned an initial path to the top of his penile root. He felt the tingles of vibration as the blades cut the hairs close to his skin. So far, so good: he eased his near death grip on the sofa pads but still held on tightly.

Phoebe repositioned the blades for a second pass, overlapping the first. She looked up at Ned's face again and it was less grimaced than before. She continued until all his upper tuff was gone, forming a small pile of short curls on the floor beneath his spread legs.

Now she shifted the shaver in her hand, taking an underhand grip. Her other hand cupped and lifted his ball sack. The tines moved across the 'taint' between anus and scrotum and cleaned away the scattered follicles.

Ned felt the vibrations and his rod thickened more. Phoebe took note, and was candidly pleased. It would provide a better handle for performing her final genital hygiene task. She pushed his shaft against his belly and asked his assistance.

"Can you hold this monster up and out of the way, please?"

He placed his palm over the semi-erection and held it against his body, his hand thereby shielding his tubular manhood from harm.

She took a little pinch of skin on his sack and pulled gently, stretching and flattening the scrotal epidermis. The clippers touched his skin and he closed his eyes, fearing he would jerk and receive uninvited injury.

She swept the normally rounded plane. The little hairs succumbed to the cutting blades. Again and again, the tool buzzed his balls until the task was finished. She leaned back to examine her work and was pleased with the results.

Setting aside the razor, she daubed her hand with aftershave balm, a safe non-alcohol natural formula. That rookie mistake would have sent Ned hopping around the room as the methanol burned his sensitive area.

Ned felt her hands massaging his nether areas with the organic lotion. Her touch ended and he opened his eyes. She gently moved his hand aside and held his erect cock in her hand. She moved a handjob stroke up and down and chirped a girlish quip.

"Oh! Did I do that?"

Again she took silence as an affirmation and smiled her own response.

"Well, I can't leave you in this condition. It would be unprofessional!"

She shrugged off the smock and it pooled around her ass. She leaned in and kissed his knob. Her tits swayed from the forward lean.

With a hum of contentment, her lips plunged down his erection to his clean shaven root. His knob bumped but didn't pass by her tonsils. Phoebe suckled the mouthful of man-meat and it swelled even more in size, pressing harder at her throat.

A few bobs and hard suctions elongated Ned's cock and this time, the tip went past her gullet. She diddled the corona against the constricted channel.

She came up for air and let his cock out into daylight. It bobbled before her eyes and, holding a deep breath, she resumed her penile enabled oral penetration.

Ned felt the sensations of lips, cheeks, tongue and tonsils light up his libido. He was grunting with lust as the girl worked him towards a massive spew. She halted several more times and eased him back from his inevitable crest. But each blowjob renewal brought him higher and higher towards the summit.

Phoebe decided to let him peak. She plunged down and swallowed repeatedly, massaging his knob in her gullet. The first milky jet shot straight to her stomach.

She pulled up and the following shots filled her mouth, the manly juice lubricating the tongue lashing she placed on his vee and adjoining corona. Ned's orgasmic howls rang in her ears and his hips and ass bounced on the cushions, his groin held fast to her nose by her hands gripping his ass to maintain the proper position of cock, lips and oral cavity.

Phoebe's infomercial practice stage prop relaxed back into the sofa and expelled a deep cleansing breath. She released her oral hold as he shrank and sat back. She realized that the real recorded scene next week would require a similar furry model. She mused on her contractual artistic control and looked forward to the male model interviews.

Meanwhile, the night was still young and she wanted her own sexual satisfaction. She helped Ned stand and waddle to the bedroom where she spent the remaining night fulfilling her carnal desires with the newly man-scaped cock sliding about in her pussy. And Ned was very pleased to be of further service to Phoebe at the TWA Fantasy Venue resort where its patrons shared their Mutual Interests.