The Job? Interview

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Young Tommie gets something better than a job.
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imhapless
imhapless
3,568 Followers

The author is always supposed to describe herself when writing a story, right? Assuming that's true I'll tell you a little about me, Jill Joy (obviously not my real name).

I'm a brunette, 43 years old, five feet tall, 98 pounds, little tits, big ass for my size, enormous libido. My body looks 25 since I work out two hours a day, six days a week; my face looks about 35 (I "might" have had a little work done). I've fucked guys 18-68 years old since age doesn't mean much to me as long as a guy is reasonably fit, doesn't have a beard, and loves to eat pussy. I don't take dicks of over 7.5 inches in my pussy (though some in my ass) and like them best about 6-6.5 inches. I love heavy testicles.

At work, I am a conservative bitch. I am the boss and to keep the office running properly I do not socialize with my employees (about fifty of them), wear my hair up, and dress very conservatively. While I am compassionate if an employee has a real problem, I do not take bullshit and do not suffer fools. None of my employees would ever believe that I would -- or even could -- write a story like this. I would NEVER fuck an employee; nothing would be worse for morale, and it could bring a sexual harassment lawsuit.

Enough background.

I created a new position in our office that I needed someone with a finance or related college degree to fill. I got about ten resumes that looked promising, five men, five women, and interviewed all of them. The last person I interviewed was Tom. Though he was 23 he insisted on being called "Tommie." I told him to call me "Jill," not "Ms. Joy."

On paper Tommie was one of the most qualified. Unfortunately (for him if he really wanted this job) he was what some women would call a "hunk." He was about 6 feet tall, fairly long blond hair, "sparkling" blue eyes, an athletic build, 180-190 pounds, a Division I college tennis player. He had a beautiful and disarming smile, a great sense of humor, and a confident bearing. His eyes were not only "sparkling" but "piercing;" I sensed him undressing me with them during the interview.

I probably have been rattled at work only three times in the ten years that I have headed our office; this interview was one of the times. I didn't conduct it in the crisp manner I normally do and asked some questions that are legally inappropriate -- but I had to know -- such as if he was married, or in a serious relationship. When he said "No" to both, I was very pleased; but it meant there was no way that he was getting the job even though the interview with him took twice as long as the others.

I think he was a little surprised when I told him flat out at the end of the interview that he wasn't a good fit for our office. However, I also told him that he had a great resume and good personality, and I would -- if he didn't mind -- pass his resume along to friends of mine at companies X and Y in the same city, and recommend him. He say "Great," because he needed a job - and soon. I told him that if either worked out to let me know and I would buy him dinner. With that I handed him my card (the one with my personal cell number on it -- not the one for solely business contacts). I might have "inadvertently" brushed up against his hand for a few seconds when doing that.

He left my office with a big smile on his face.

He left me flustered.

I had to close my door, sit down behind my desk, and play with my kitty for a few minutes before I could regain my composure.

I immediately called up good friends of mine in charge of hiring at companies X and Y. Company X had the clear need for someone with his resume. My friend called Tommie that same day and arranged an interview.

I knew before Tommie did that he had the job at company X -- he was interviewed only three days after he left my office and was offered (and accepted) the job two days later. However I acted surprised -- and I didn't need to act pleased, because I was -- when he called my cell to tell, and thank, me.

I wanted to "play it cool" so while I was pleasant on the phone I didn't remind him of my offer. I wanted him to bring it up, and he did.

"Don't you owe me a dinner Jill?"

"I see you have a good memory," was my reply.

"I would never, ever, forget something like that," was his sincere, yet light-hearted, response.

"This might be real interesting," I told myself after hearing that.

I pretended to have not been serious in making the offer, but went on to say "A deal's a deal." I asked if the upcoming Saturday night was OK with him, or if Sunday might be better. Unknown to him the Sunday question was designed just to find out if he had any plans on Sunday "in case" he might not be sleeping in his bed Saturday night.

When he said Saturday was fine, and he had no plans on Sunday so either would work I smiled to myself. I told him since it was my treat I would pick him up at 7:00 on Saturday and would arrange for the restaurant. I asked if he liked Italian food -- what guy doesn't -- and made reservations for the best Italian restaurant in town.

If you haven't already figured it out (you must be really stupid if you haven't) I intended on fucking his brains out. I didn't want to leave anything to chance. Since it was warm out, I had a lot of flexibility for dress.

I wore my hair down; a low cut sleeveless top with no bra; a short tight skirt that showed off my ass and would be sure to ride up my sculptured thighs in the car; a thong; no stockings; four inch "fuck me" heels; and ruby necklace, ankle bracelet, and earrings.

I picked him up with my Prius at his apartment on Saturday night. He liked it that I had a "crunchy" car. He liked it more that my hair was down. He liked it most that my skirt rode up my thighs when I drove. He stared at my thighs the whole way to the restaurant -- I pretended not to notice.

I had arranged for the best table -- for my purposes -- at the restaurant. It was a glass table that I made sure would not be covered with a tablecloth. We were seated next to, not across from, each other. He had a clear view of my thighs through the glass. He also had a clear view my tiny tits with prominent hard nipples "if" (what a joke this word is) he chose to look down my low cut blouse.

I flirted expertly during dinner. I practiced the type of flirtation that a man loves most, without being brazen. Occasionally "innocently" touching his thigh; stroking his arm; and pointing my ass toward him when I sat down, or got up, or picked up a utensil I had "accidentally" dropped. Some light banter; some serious conversation; sprinklings of sexual innuendo. I was really "on my game." He didn't have a chance. Even if he hadn't wanted to fuck me when the night began he wanted nothing else by the time dinner was over.

I made some excuse to have him come to my house before I drove him home -- a CD he really liked that I was going to lend him. [I'll bet he didn't even have a CD player, just an iPhone, but he knew how to play the game.] When we got to my house I offered him a drink. He refused, which took me back a little; but when he took off his sport coat and tie at the same time he was refusing the drink I knew why -- he wanted to be at his best when he fucked me.

When he took off his tie I "innocently" said "Let me take that for you." I marveled at how nice it looked, both on and off him, and pretended to put it back up to his collar to see which was better. That was simply my way of giving him the opening he was looking for. With my hand pushing against his chest, he put his arms around mine and said "While you're trying to see if I look better with or without my tie I'm trying to visualize if you look better with or without your top on."

"Why don't you experiment?" I shot back while staring into his baby blues.

No further words were spoken except for exclamations like "Holy Shit" when he started sucking on my prominent hard nipples standing up like light houses on my little tits. After that there were only noises, like slurping sounds when mouths contact genitalia, or "whooshing" sounds when playing "hide the salami."

He was as good a lover as I had hoped. He undressed me ravenously yet respectfully. He helped me undress him. He took the lead yet quickly followed hints about what I wanted done. Within five minutes of my "experiment" question he had all of our clothes off, we had had passionate kisses, and we were in a 69 position on the living room couch.

His kisses were unique in my experience. Often when kissing a guy you wonder what else he is thinking; you don't get the idea that you have 100% of his attention. Not so with Tommie. I knew that I was all that he was thinking about or interested in -- that he wasn't just kissing me but my soul too! His tongue darted, caressed, and flicked all at the same time.

Going after pussy he was even more single minded than when kissing; he was a vaginal zealot! He had his tongue and all fingers going at the same time. I almost couldn't suck his dick he was pleasuring me so exquisitely. He moved fingers of one hand into my cunt, attacking my G-spot, while his tongue flicked my clit and the fingers of the other hand worked over both pussy lips at the same time. Then he changed hands in my cunt, licked my pussy lips, and stuck one, then two, pussy-lubed fingers in my ass. A few minutes of this and I was ready to climb the wall.

He took as much pleasure in my first orgasm as I did. That initial orgasm drove him into a frenzy. He worked me over even more passionately, seemingly simultaneously hitting every sensitive spot in, around, or near my pussy. I couldn't suck his dick because I was continuously crying out, though I was able to massage his testicles -- nice and heavy, just like I liked them!

When he brought me to my second climax that seemed to be his cue to mate. He turned me on my hands and knees and stroked his six inch cock (the perfect size for me) over my pussy lips while at the same time gently twisting a nipple. I wanted his cock so badly -- but I'm not the type to beg for it probably disappointing him. However I knew he wouldn't be disappointed once he probed me.

He shoved his cock all the way in. I was so snug it took a while even though he had expertly warmed me up! He held my hips tightly so that he could bury his dick up to his balls and then pull it completely out and then penetrate me again without a misfire. Once he let go of my hips and grabbed my hair and tits he stayed buried and banged hard. Taking advantage of my daily exercises (including Kegels) I undulated my fuck muscles and banged back at him. We weren't in sync; we didn't give a shit; each thrust, counterthrust, and contraction was ethereal. Endorphins were flowing through our bodies like the Amazon!

Tommie banged me through another orgasm then clobbered my pussy walls with a good half dozen sprays of his prime jelly. It washed my vaginal walls, filled my chasm, and overflowed even past the seal between his dick and my pussy lips.

He didn't stop there. He tormented my little cunt by banging me long past his own climax, pumping in and out of me until I had a virtually endless climax. I writhed, whimpered, and convulsed. Just when I thought I couldn't take it any more he stopped. A minute later he withdrew, turned me over, and sucked one nipple and then the next as he rubbed a thigh with one hand and my clit with the other. Eventually he wore out, and we both collapsed in a pool of cum and sweat right on the living room couch.

I awoke about three in the morning. I gazed at his sleeping face. This had been as fantastic as I had hoped. I vowed to make it even better.

I kissed him awake. We took a shower together with me sucking his dick and balls clean, and he diligently fingering both my crotch holes under the guise of cleaning them. Then he carried me to my bed and I rode him reverse cowgirl while he fucked my asshole with his fingers. I had him crying for mercy by the time that I siphoned every last drop of cum out of him, and he had doubly pushed me over the precipice by ejaculating in me at the same time as he was bringing me to an orgasm with his fingers in my ass.

We woke up Sunday morning as smug as a couple of cats who just ate a canary that they had been pining after for a year. After telling each other how fucking great, and great at fucking, the other was Tommie half serious/half jokingly asked:

"Why didn't you hire me? The job you recommended me for and I got was almost identical to the one at your office."

My reply "Would you rather work under me with your clothes on or off?"

With that he got a big smile on his face, put my ankles on his shoulders, snuck his stiffy into my cunt, and started fucking me again!

I guess I know the answer.

imhapless
imhapless
3,568 Followers
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  • COMMENTS
5 Comments
rightbankrightbankover 6 years ago
He came in to interview for a job

But he was a better fit for a different position -

or two.

SampkyangSampkyangalmost 8 years ago
TOO FUNNY

Jill is a complete slut, married 3-4 times divorced for serial cheating, and hasn't the foggiest idea of what love is...and NEVER will. TOO Bad So Sad

TavadelphinTavadelphinalmost 10 years ago
Well she has principles and beilieves in free access

Heh - quite the woman.

Good for both of them - neat story line -

digdaddyrichdigdaddyrichabout 11 years ago
Nicely done

A very well written and edited story that is very believable and erotic.

Thanks for the read.

AnonymousAnonymousabout 11 years ago

amazing. I really wish my interviews went like that lately. I'd be sound as a pound then

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