The interview Part Three of Four  

MastrandSlav 42M/47F
93 posts
6/19/2006 8:14 pm

Last Read:
11/21/2006 1:29 pm

The interview Part Three of Four

“Now are you ready for your real interview?” The voice was much younger then that of Mr. Shuman and it stopped you in your tracks half way down the hallway to the receptionist and the exit of this fly by night insurance company.
“Excuse me?” You questioned, taking a quarter step backwards so you could peer into an even smaller and darker room then the pathetic office of Shuman. The walls were panel and the carpet was an awful green, this reminded you of a mobile home you had once visited.
“I said, are you ready for your real interview?” A person materialized to go with the mysterious voice. The man was tall and young, almost as tall as me at 6’3” or so and he looked like he was fresh out of college. He was dressed in a polo shirt and some smart but practical khakis, the shirt was tucked into his slacks but not pulled out to hide an expanding waistline like most men do. He was incredibly fit looking with broad shoulders and a torso that looked like an inverted triangle. His chin. His chin was strong and chiseled; he looked like a fucking poster boy for apple pie and Friday night football.

“I think I have had my fill with this place,” you frowned but didn’t move. You were not completely convinced that it was wise to give up on this company so quickly after all. The natural bulge in his pants was encouraging and you would have to get close to truly determine its promise. That was your favorite bitch move at the club, back into a prospective male and cup his cock in your hands or rub your ass on in during some song. If he sized up to what you were looking for that particular night you would continue the very forward inspection but if for any reason it fell short of your expectations you would straighten up and merely walk-away, a stunned man standing alone in your wake.

“I apologize,” he had a crooked smile and sparkly eyes, he stepped forward having you mesmerized like a lethal cobra dancing up out of a wicker basket. “That wasn’t a question or a request.” His hand was intermeshed in your red hair and you were tugged gruffly into the smallish chamber before it even registered on your senses.

Your nostrils caught his strong cologne just before he slammed you face first into the paneling that covered the wall. The surface gave and did not do any permanent damage to your beautiful face but it did force the air out of your surprised lungs. “So here the interview starts.”
Your skirt left your hips and down it went with your panties. You would have complained but his big hand came down hard on your exposed ass before the words left your lips. A squeal left your mouth on contact but that was all as you waited for the next question. The dew of your pussy was trailing down your leg. You were primed.
“Do you take Dick? We don’t care about dictation, just if you can handle a cock!” With that he slammed his pelvis into you from behind, bouncing you off the wall but he had you in his grasps. His hand slapped your ass again but this time it was the other cheek.
“You like that don’t you? Wait wait that wasn’t one of the questions,” his fingers were tracing the already rising welts on your nice booty. “What other things do we require of our little whores around here?”

There was a long pause. DAMN, THROW ME AGAINST THE WALL AGAIN. A belt buckle. YES, GIVE ME THE FUCKING BELT. What you did not hear was the leather implement of stinging pleasure being pulled through clothe loops but not all was lost. A loosened belt and a dropped zipper meant something else. You smiled and would reward the boy for his attempt at being a man.

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