Naked Houseboy & his BBW Boss Ch. 07

*Part 7 of an ongoing series...

When I returned to my hotel room, I immediately stripped off all my clothes. I did this unthinkingly. It was a habit, really. Whenever I got "home," the first thing I did was get naked. At least from this perspective, I had definitely found the right job for myself.

I walked into the bathroom, which had a floor to ceiling mirror on one wall. Standing before it, I looked at my naked reflection. This is what Carrie, my new boss-to-be, had seen at our interview. Pale skin, slim but not muscular. Hair on my chest, but hardly a forest. Closely trimmed down below.

My dick, an average six inches when hard, always seemed to fit my 5'6" frame pretty well. At least, I thought so. It did look a little red from overuse, although I was more proud of that than embarrassed.

I turned around, looking over my shoulder as I did so. No hair on my back. That was good. I looked downwards towards my ass. I gave it a good slap. Firm, I thought. "Do I have a nice ass, actually?" I thought to myself. I chuckled. When the hell had I ever considered if I have a 'nice ass'?

"So this is what Carrie saw during our interview," went my inner dialogue. "I know she didn't hire me for my looks. But also, she didn't not hire me for my...not looks? Good one, Jack. You're regular philosopher." I turned back around so that I was facing the mirror again.

"We hit it off though, didn't we? I mean, there's definitely a rapport there. Rapport. Comfort level. That's why I got the job. But, I mean, also, she'll be seeing this." I looked myself up and down. "Every day. I have to think - or at least hope - it's something she'll enjoy seeing."

"But then," I continued to myself, "I'll be seeing her every day, too. Not naked, of course. But still. The same woman, every day. And not just for work, either. We'll be living together." I paused. "Not that it matters what she looks like. Rapport. Comfort level. That's why I want to work for her. That's why I felt comfortable in her home."

"And yet...wow. Just, I mean, just wow. Let me pretend to be a gentleman here for a moment and talk about those soft eyes, that kind smile. What a lovely face to be blessed with seeing every day. Good, Jack. You're a gentleman. Now let's be real. Those tits." I shook my head. "They have no business. No business."

Although I was ostensibly regarding myself in the mirror, my eyes didn't see my reflection. No, they saw the memory of Carrie, as she was at our interview. Blue skirt. Beige sweater over a white button-down. They way she needed those two shirts and, presumably, a bra of steel to even try to contain her breasts. Breasts which, even then, rested upon her protruding belly, almost corseted by the same sweater/shirt combination...

"Oh, hello, friend." Remembering how she looked, seeing her again in my mind's eye, was making me hard. I let out a little laugh. A moment ago, I was looking at my naked body in the mirror and thinking that this was what she'd seen at our interview. When I thought that, I was flaccid; just as I had been flaccid at the start of the interview.

But now I was hard. And she'd seen me hard, too. But she hadn't yet seen me do anything with that hardness. I sat down on the cold tile floor, across from the mirror, my back against the wall and slowly started to pull on my penis. "It's only a matter of time before she sees this as well," I thought, gazing at my own reflection.

As I began to pick up speed, I could see my balls moving up and down. The faster I went, the more they moved, until they were positively bouncing with each furious stroke. And watching my balls like that, I was reminded of the way Carrie's tits jiggled when she laughed, the way they bounced as she thumped down onto her chair. I closed my eyes.

I knew I wanted to cum to the image of her laughing. The question was, what did I want to focus on? The way her eyes squinted? The way she used her hand to cover her mouth with faux-modesty? The way her tits were shaking?

Something was happening. The memory was becoming a fantasy. She was here with me now, in the hotel bathroom. Sitting on the counter, she was looking down at me. Still the same squint in her eyes, still covering her mouth as she laughed. Still those tits. But she wasn't making eye-contact with me this time, as she had been during the interview.

Now here eyes were firmly focused between my legs. Was she laughing at my size? Was it the way I was doing it, my stroke-method? Or just the fact that I was masturbating at all? What was so funny? Why was she laughing?

But she couldn't turn away. She couldn't take her eyes off me. She was enjoying this. There was no question. And it was sexy as hell. Her laughing only made me stroke harder, faster.

"Fine," I thought, inserting dialogue now into my fantasy. "If you can stare at my dick, I can stare at your tits!" Which is exactly what I did. But she just kept laughing. If anything, she was laughing harder now. As if to say, "You go ahead and stare at my sweater, if that's what turns you on. But we both know you can't see my tits. Meanwhile, I can see...everything!" She was rocking back and forth with laughter.

This whole time, she never once took her eyes off my cock. But now, as her laughter was finally subsiding, she looked up for the first time. Our eyes met. She wasn't laughing anymore. I could read her thoughts.

"This isn't a joke to you, is it?" Her eyes were full of kindness. "This is just...just you. And that's OK. You can be this person with me. I accept you. I more than accept you. I think it's great." And she smiled, this time without laughing.

Looking back into her eyes, I brought myself to climax. I closed my eyes as I came, but I could still see her, smiling at me. For a long moment, I kept my eyes closed, feeling the warm cum slide slowly down my chest. At last, I opened my eyes again, seeing my cum-splattered torso in the mirror.

"Well, this part she's seen, at least," I thought to myself, remembering our post-interview encounter in the kitchen. As I stood up, I grabbed some toilet paper to wipe myself down with. "Yup," I concluded. "Definitely can't wait to start this job."

With that, I grabbed a quick shower, packed my bags and headed downstairs to check out. The bill being paid, I loaded my bags into my car and headed over to Carrie's place. My new home...