Total Woman Horizons Ch. 05

*** Open Call ***

Karrie was well into her rookie year of corporate responsibilities. She did her best to satisfy the even greater number of merged company executives but one girl could only sustain so much energy over the long haul. She broached an idea with Daddy and he concurred that additional Comfort Secretaries might be needed. Karrie assured him she knew just where to find suitable candidates and contacted TWA to arrange Post-graduate Interviews

*** Candidate Ranking ***

The office lobby was abuzz with girlish conversations. Some of the interviewees were acquainted with each other and it was a mini-reunion of recent TWA graduates. Karrie joined the gathering and made the rounds, greeting each girl with a bijou kiss of welcome. When she had all their attention, she herded them into the executive area front desk lounge and got them settled in the guest chairs and sofas.

"Good morning. The interviews today will commence shortly. You'll all get a chance to meet two of the executives in the order of their selection preferences. Of course, they are just as excited as you are to learn about your motives for joining the firm. Be aware that they are watching now on the CCTV and you will be called in for the meet and greets in turn, at their whims."

*** Redheads ***

*** Caroline's Tryout ***

Caroline loved sucking cock. It was her best talent; all the TWA coach tutors, resident staff, and gentleman guests had told her so.

It wasn't so much her good looks, though her body and face were certainly well received. No, it was her utter enthusiasm for the act. She loved the first sight of an untried cock, the musky smell, the bumpy texture on her tongue, the engorged muscled form filling her mouth or gullet, and oh..., the erupting sounds of masculine joy when the man ejaculated sperm pulses into her mouth or drained their balls down her throat. She loved that salty milky gush that tantalized her palate. Yes, Caroline loved sucking cock.

This fellatio session had started like many others. The strawberry redhead was the first to be invited by Mr. Townsend for her personal interview. She had stood in the center of his office in her chosen attire: secretarial heels, translucent blouse, no bra, and pencil skirt. After she had removed her blouse at his direction, he had stared at her well-built tits for a long while. Soon, she perceived from his lack of movement that was her duty to initiate the action. Stepping forward, she took his hand and led him beside his desk. A proficient unclasping of his belt and button led to the pants and shoes disrobing. Boxer shorts removal was no work at all for the experienced TWA graduate. She pushed him gently to his executive chair and posed him leaning back, feet propped wide on his desk, opening his groin to her access. She crawled under one leg and popped her red-haired head back up, kneeling between his hairy bare legs.

She cooed softly in admiration as she handled his penis. She leaned up, pressed one, and then the other, boob against his naked groin. Leaning down, her face and cheek rubbed his cock and balls. She kissed the resulting tumescence and brought her hands further into the action. The soft tube got longer and thicker in her hands and grew to where she could get a good oral hold. The knob slipped past her cherry-red lips and her tongue took swipes along the circumference, signaling that her dexterous fellatio was underway.

Caroline's sea-green eyes watched his face as she guzzled his erection, peering upward past his belly, finding his brown eyes gazing down upon her blowjob performance. His cock was bloated and her lips felt the raised veins prominent on the long appendage.

It was time to show her special talents. Holding him half in, she rolled her tongue back, the tip tickling the soft tissue of his corona nook. That gained her the pride of hearing his first lustful groan. She took the cue and focused on drawing out more of those female-flattering impetuous sounds.

A learned finger technique should help. Holding him still in her mouth with a gentle toothy grip, she used a single finger to lift his scrotum, her other hand tunneling beneath, her middle finger scratching at his perineum before easing further along to rim his anus. His hips jerked, causing an unsynchronized poke of penis in her mouth. She took it in stride, continuing a controlling hold with a comfortable suction as she gave his anus another soft poke. She readily controlled the irrepressible jerk that the digital probe elicited. He settled again and she was ready for the next step.

Pressing firmly, her long middle finger penetrated his asshole, wiggling to get deeper, up to her second knuckle. She had him inverse pegged now: his cock in her mouth and her finger in his bottom. She commenced a synchronized motion: the embedded finger wiggled in time to her bobbing head and flicking tongue.

Mr. Townsend's bare ass was bouncing in the seat, his penile nerves buzzing like a bee's nest. He felt her fingertip rubbing over his prostate as her lips circled the base of his cock. He was deep; her tonsils massaging his corona. He surrendered beyond any ability to control himself.

Hearing his loud call of defeat, she pressed hard on his prostate from within and took his first shots straight into her throat, pulling back halfway, holding him there as he emptied his reserves with slackening bursts of spunk. She let the sperm pool in her mouth, holding the liquids as his swollenness ebbed to flexibility.

Mr. Townsend's ass settled in his chair, trapping her hand in his ass crack. He wheezed a cleansing breath of relaxation as Caroline uncorked her finger, drug her hand out from beneath, and slid her lips off his genitalia.

He looked down across his hairy belly and saw her looking back, tits dangling beyond, a smudge of white sperm edging the corner of her lovely cherry-red lips.

He wearily smiled and Caroline happily smiled back, satisfied that she had passed her interview.

*** Shannon's Tryout ***

Mr. Webster lay atop Shannon, her long auburn hair strewn beneath her head as his cock stroked long and slow in her tight pussy. Her freckled boobs were unusually large for a true redhead, more than the typical B-cups on such a slender frame.

He was holding his chest on elbows, letting the pliant masses waggle on her chest as she wiggled her ass, trying to get extra caresses out of his slow movements.

Shannon moaned little sounds at each cycle. Webster smiled inside; she was a horny little wench. That boded well for this session and probably many more if the partners agreed to take her on. They should; they would all feel a super-alpha ego boost from dominating this eager female's sexual cravings.

When Shannon had entered his office, he perceived just by her demeanor that she was something special. Her fluid movements displayed athletic grace. Her clothes were well-fitted but not overly flashy, invoking a sense of adolescent wholesomeness. The light green dress fell to mid-thigh, close-waisted, spaghetti shoulder straps, the top laying loosely over the promising breast swells. Her lowered eyes and high cheeks held subtle makeup, enough to highlight but not conceal her natural glow of innate beauty.

On his spoken command, she had simply shrugged off the dress, revealing her toned body bereft of undergarments. Her nudity authenticated her true nature. The luxurious auburn waves were real, not a bottled dye proxy, matched by the trimmed tuff of ruby fuzz at her pussy.

He had gestured to the office sofa and she had turned and walked to the indicated place. She sat facing him, her hair loosely laying on her face and shoulders, her hazel eyes looking aside but taking him in with her peripheral vision. An instinctive slow motion spread her thighs, exposing her pink pussy lips.

He slipped the knot of his tie, the first motion of the following self-performed acts that stripped off his suit, shirt, slacks, and shoes. She watched the familiar routine silently, her impulsive fingers lightly rubbing her labia with its growing moisture. He now stood naked before her; she squinted her eyes in joy at the size of his substantial penis, already rising to its impending purpose.

He drew closer and she leaned over, lifting a leg high to the couch back, presenting her ready cunt, moving prone for the best position to accept his genital penetration. He followed her lead, climbed aboard, and posed on the cushions above her. His tip touched her moist orifice and, as he braced for a thrust, she drew his face to hers and held him in a long kiss. He pressed and, as his cock slid home, her tongue pieced his lips and matched his genital incursion with her own oral one.

She released her lip lock and drew his head beside hers, breathing into his ear, letting out little moans in sync with the cock that sluiced her nether cleft. He lifted his body a bit and that freed her hips and ass; she actively rocked and rolled to tilt and torque his cock inside her.

Webster wallowed in mystique created by her innocent youthful appearance that belied what turned out to be the wanton sex addict squirming beneath him. Those recollected thoughts now added to his libido as his cock stroked her tight little cunt and his nostrils filled with the scent of her perfumed hair.

But he controlled himself just enough to thoroughly test out her full potential as a Comfort Secretary candidate.

He teasingly drew back his cock and let the head slip out of the enflamed pink nether lips. Shannon let slip a whiny protest.

"Nooooo..."

She slithered one hand down to reposition the masculine appendage, thumb and forefinger holding the tip against her saturated labia. She wiggled her ass, rolled her hips up for good alignment, signaled her plea for reentry, and emphasized it vocally.

"Pleaseeeee..."

Webster dabbled his tip a little, teasing, just tapping her aroused pussy lips. She rolled her head back, whining a lingering sob of frustration in his ear, licking his lobe to gain his total attention.

"Pleaseeeee..."

Webster relented. His cock pressed into the tight wet channel, paused for emphasis, and surged its full length all the way to her cervix, eliciting a vocal sigh of relief.

He rested at the bottom, fully embedded, unmoving, trapping her hips between his pubic bone and the cushions. She bucked against his weight, thumping her clitoris against his groin.

"Pleaseee..."

He deemed it time to let her take her pleasure. He reared back and pounded out long quick strokes, brushing his corona along her fleshy tube, grazing the hidden G-spot. He heard her puffing breaths as he worked her to the sexual pinnacle. Her body went rigid beneath him and she tottered over the edge, a long slide down the slope of vibrant full body thrills.

He waited deep inside her as her breathing calmed and steadied, heard her long last cleansing sigh, and felt her rigid body relax.

Then he started again.

She was even quicker this time and only a dozen cycles brought on her next body stiffening orgasm.

Two more times he patiently brought her to the peak. Webster found it harder to constrain his slippery fuck-mate, a sweaty mass of feminine flesh; even her dark red hair was drenched with perspiration. He decided to end the interview by cycling his cock, adding a full series of manly drubs against her clitoris, and finally, in mutual ecstasy, let loose his own voluminous contribution to their mélange of genital fluids.

He lay atop her softly whimpering body, and felt her hands fondling his back and ass in gratitude for the joys he had generously helped her find. He was satisfied that she would make a good employee; only hoping his colleagues would come to the same conclusion after their equivalent exhaustive interviews.

*** Buxom Brunettes ***

*** Modern Cowgirl Pamela ***

Pamela looked down on her interviewer. It wasn't a disrespectful thing; it was just that Mr. Thurgood was lying naked prone on the office couch and she was sitting on his hips in a forward cowgirl pose. His hands were kneading her tits as she gently rode his erection, tucked comfortably up inside her cunt.

Her hips cycled on his, rubbing her labia along the base of his cock. The gentle sweeps weren't more than an inch or two, enough to stir his probe around her womb like a warm thick swizzle stick. His slight moans when the stirrings caressed his under-vee against her soft moist inner membranes told of the pleasure her efforts were affording her interviewer.

She liked this pose and her upright role. Most men preferred to take charge and ride their girl from atop, controlling the action, setting the pace, and dominating her body with the heavy press of their body. But others, like this partner, were secure enough in their machismo to accept the proffered attentions of a servicing female, delighting in the variations that she saw fit to provide.

And such it was now. Pamela watched his eyes, the windows to his soul, seeing the little winces and pops when he felt the sensual talents of her whole-body endeavors. Having played around with her mix of tricks and treats, she settled into a routine that combined the ones she had seen him noticeably react to.

Pamela pressed deep and cycled ripples of vagina compressions along his shaft, from base to tip. A slight torso wiggle rubbed his sensitized tip again her cervix. A slow rise to almost exit, then a hard plunge and hip rotation that swirled his corona circumference about her warm inner flesh. She saw his eyes pop at that one and started over, repeating the routine again and again.

His moans rose in volume at each sequence while his hips gave small bounces, trying to help with his own arousal. But she stopped deep again and placed a finger on his lips, her voice low and soothing.

"Shhh, my love. This is my time. Lay back, relax, and enjoy."

She felt him lessen his body tension but his hands still fondled her proffered tits. She took over again. It was the same sequential routine but she quickened the pace. She saw his eyes close, a sure sign of his futility to be a passive participant but also a sign of his resolve to try. Faster and faster, she moved her body, leaning forward to brace her hands on his biceps, loading his hands with her dangling globes of chest meat, feeling his grip become more crushing.

She twerked and torqued her hips and pussy on his solid rod. It seemed to swell larger under her efforts. His breathing deepened to staccato gusts. She whispered.

"Are you close, sir?"

Thurgood's groan between rapid gulps of air was his response and she drove her cunt completely onto his cock, executing an ass wiggle that tickled his sensitive tip against her cervix. He howled at that rare coital caress, one only an exceptional woman was able to do. She was a true treasure and worthy of reward. He uncontrollably clenched harshly at her tits and showed his masculine gratitude by jetting shots of spunk up into her dick-delighting grotto.

Pamela was a magician of timing and let loose her own cry of delight, joining in with her own ecstatic celebration of carnal lust. His spewing shaft felt the pulses of her vaginal spasms on his cuddled cock as she swooned through her vibrant orgasm.

She collapsed and lay atop him, her boobs crushing his hands between their chests, her lips kissing his ear, her eyes watery with joy. When he recovered his senses, he whispered his praise as his cheek nuzzled hers.

"Pamela, that was incredible. Welcome to the company. You will enjoy getting and giving boundless pleasure in her new duties."

Thurgood playfully smacked her bare ass for emphasis. Pamela validated the verbal and physical compliments; she let him feel her head nod in agreement. She thanked her lucky stars for finding this role; it promised to be the best job ever.

*** Oriental Miko ***

"Miko, Mr. Monroe will see you now."

The buxom Japanese girl rose from her seat to stand on her slender legs, propped on stiletto heels. But even with those stylish designer shoes left her a head shorter than most of her interview colleagues. She smoothed down her wool pencil skirt that only covered the top few inches of her toned thighs. The tight waistband cliched her torso below large round breasts that stretched the white blouse. Her straight black hair was pinned up in a coiffed bun but thin tendrils trickled down near her delicate ears and her straight-cut bangs edged her eyebrows.

The small mouth curved in a nervous red-lipped smile, dimpling her high rosy cheeks beneath jet-black eyes that were submerged in dark exotic eyeshadow. She presented herself on the outside as the neatly dressed secretarial candidate while her chest-heavy trimmed physique hinted at inner smoldering sexuality.

She stepped calmly towards the office door indicated by the hosting Karrie who gave the candidate a conspiring look of knowledge for the bawdy welcome that Mr. Monroe would surely enact. Miko bravely marched through the portal to her interview and Karrie closed the door, sealing the Japanese coed's imminent fate.

Mr. Monroe was standing in room center, a smirking grin on his face as he saw Miko enter. She took a few steps and stopped a couple of paces in front of him, her gaze downward towards his feet. He was not tall himself but her diminutive size still had him towering over her.

"So, who do we have here?"

"Good morning, sir. My name is Miko. How are you today?"

"Fine... okay, enough pleasantries. Let's see what we have to work with here."

Miko remained in a respectful stance, arms hanging along her sides. He stepped forward and his hands rose to fiddle with her collar tie. He pulled the bowtie tails and slid off the neck adornment. His fingers plucked the blouse buttons at the pleat and the fabric angled apart across her bulging chest as he continued the task's descent to her waist. The open panels displayed her packed lacy bra, its cups straining to contain the creamy tit flesh that bulged in mounded cleavage.

He turned to his second task and unclipped her miniskirt clasp, zipping down the side closure to allow the bottom to drop to her ankles. Her hips were adorned with a white high-cut thong that molded her camel-toe pussy and revealed most of her toned ass and legs.

Miko took a small initiative and timidly arched her back, lifting her boobs higher while letting the blouse slide down her arms to join the skirt on the floor.

She thought the interview was going well so far, avoiding the small talk and getting right into the meat of the matter. And her sexy female meat seemed to be what mattered most to Mr. Monroe.

He looked her up and down and offered her a hand, which she took as he led her one step forward, exiting the bundle of lost clothes at her feet. Her eyes still gazed downward the whole time.

Leaving her hand, he circled behind her back and deftly unclipped the straining bra straps. The loosened cups eased but remained on her chest. He slipped the shoulder straps over her arms and the boob boosters dropped to reveal small puckered nipples, a light pink that melded perfectly with her ivory white skin.

She saw his hands rise to cup both chest globes, a light upward jolt to jiggle the natural plumpness. The soft flesh wavered and settled, overflowing his palms with the plentiful masses. His thumbs rubbed circles on her nipples; they responded with a stiffening of the nubs.

Miko was so used to this mammary treatment. Ever since entering TWA years ago, her male engagements had gloried in her outsized boobs. The manual stimulus, like now, was a constant routine, often enough leading to oral caresses, them on her and her on them, and even a fuck now and then. But tit play had been the norm. Her cleavage, neck, face, and hair had been the primary receptacles of the male jism. And such it would probably be now.

Mr. Monroe move in front and dipped his head to lave tongue-swipe kisses on her breasts. She welcomed the wet smooches that reflected down to ignite tingles in her pussy. Her hands found his zipper, opened it, and dug in to expose his cock, already hardening, and growing harder still at her touch.