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My name is Ashlee and I didn’t know what to expect when I answered the ad. It seemed like a good idea at the time. A bit of money. But the closer the day came the more nervous I got. All my friends started to ask if I was OK. I was just scared. Terrified more like it. But I said nothing. My secret. They worried about me.
I worried about me.
On the day of the interview, I sat down with the agent, my throat tight and my stomach churning. Churning on nothing, I couldn’t even eat.
He sat behind a wooden desk. Large and strong and something from another time. Before phones. Before computers. It filled the space between us. A barrier, making me feel small. I sat on the chair opposite and shivered. Terrified.
Why was I here. I told myself it was just for the money. But why was I so nervous. Was it the need to be accepted. And why was I so aroused.
The interview started off nice enough but then the agent asked to see me naked. I shook so much that, as I stood, I knocked the chair over. But he stayed calm, asked me to take my time.
And I did. My shirt took forever to unbutton, my quivering fingers struggling with the delicate operation to slide each button through its hole.
I let my shirt drop to the floor. Messy. Unprofessional even. I didn’t know. I’d never stripped in front of a man before. I was only 18. I bent to pick it up.
“Leave it,” he said.
I had a choice, jeans or bra. I turned my body away and reached up behind, unclasping my bra. I snapped my eyes shut at the sudden release of pressure on my breasts. The straps slid down my arms and I let it flutter to the floor by my crumpled shirt. My breasts are small. Bigger than a cup but nothing impressive. I was terrified. Would they be enough? I didn’t want him to see. I remained with my back to him.
I kicked off my shoes.
My jeans were next. Still half turned away, I hitched my thumbs into the waistband and slid them down my thighs. I bent over at the waist to push them to my ankles. My ass pushed out. On display. Like a stripper.
I stood. I turned side on and then, slowly, tugged my panties down. The fabric stuck to my wetness. The gusset stuck to my wetness and they turned inside as I. I slipped them down and off my legs, the white of my wetness stark against the black fabric.
Oh God. What have I done?
I stood. My arms shielding my breasts, legs slightly crossed to shield my wet slit.
“Arms by your side,” he said.
I erdemli escort obeyed.
He stood and came around the desk. Walked around me. Then, stopping in front of me, he reached out and pinched my nipple. I flinched. He lifted the corner of his mouth at my reaction, rolling my now erect nipple between his fingers. I stood stock still as he played with it. The touch was electric. And shocking. A violation. Giving it a final tug he released it and cupped my breast with his hand, warm against my smooth skin.
“You have great tits,” he said.
My heart skipped a beat. I was so afraid of not being good enough, of being wrong in some way that his remark made me a little giddy. A smile flickered across my face. The agent’s dark eyebrows flashed up and I lowered my head, looking down.
But he was still there watching. His gaze like a physical thing that ran over my body making me shiver. His hand left my breast, the warmth replaced by the sudden coldness of the room. He slid the hand down, over my side and onto my ass. He cupped it, just above the crease.
“And a great body,” he added.
I smiled and blushed. Embarrassed, but elated at the same time. If he liked it. Perhaps it would be used. Where rejection terrified me, now acceptance did. Could I go back after this?
He reached out and tugged at my chin, rasing my head so I looked into his dark eyes.
“You know it’s not a photoshoot, don’t you?”
I bit my lip and stared at him, silent.
What did that mean not a photoshoot?
I knew it wasn’t a photoshoot. I’d tried modelling. Too short. No. This wasn’t a photoshoot. I knew that. Why did he ask?
He voiced deepened. “You do know this isn’t a photoshoot.”
This? Oh God.
What if I say no? Will he reject me?
I bit my lip again and nodded.
“Are you ready to do this?”
I lowered my head, swallowed and nodded.
Oh fuck. I wasn’t ready. But I needed to do it. I didn’t want to be rejected. He liked my tits. He liked my body. I couldn’t quit now.
“I need to hear it from you,” he said. “Look at me and tell me you’re prepared for this.”
I looked up into his narrowed eyes. My throat was dry and, when I spoke, it was a hoarse whisper. “I’m ready.”
“Are you?” He reached down. The sound of a zip was followed by the creak of a belt.
My eyes widened in shock. “Does it have to be now?” It just came out. It was little more than a whisper.
My heart hammered. Was this anamur escort it?
“Yes now,” he said. “Either you’re ready or you’re not.”
That was a threat. Do it or get out. Fuck. Trapped.
“If you say you’re up to doing this, you need to prove it,” he said. “It’s my word. I can’t send girls that aren’t ready.”
A breath shuddered out of me as I struggled with the implications. I squeezed my eyes shut and took a deep breath. When I opened them, he was still there. Waiting.
“I’m ready,” I gasped.
I heard the buckle of the belt hit the floor. I flinched. My head spun. My stomach churned so much it’s like it was trying to escape up through my throat. This was it. Could I do it?
He reached out and placed his hand on the top of my head. With gentle pressure, he pushed me down. Inexorable. Guided by his touch, I lowered myself onto my knees and there, directly in front of me was his erect cock. A thick shaft with an angry purple head and a single clear drop of precum dripping down.
I looked up.
I reached out and grabbed the warm shaft in my fingers. I started to stroke him slowly, as I leaned back.
I looked up.
He shook his head. Reaching out, he cupped my cheek then slipped his hand around the back of my head. He pulled me in. Towards the smooth head of his cock. I had a choice.
I opened my mouth, letting him in. Inside my body. My mouth. The cock of a man I’d only just met. Whose name to me was ‘agent’. He slid in me, hot, hard with the dribble of precum landing salty on my tongue. I wondered if I would get paid for this. How I could ask.
I couldn’t. Not with his cock in my mouth and his hand on my head.
I wrapped my lips around him and rocked my head forward taking the full length in. He released my head and I looked up.
He watched. Impassive. Evaluating. Deciding.
Now wasn’t the time to wonder. Now was the time to suck his cock. I slid my head back and a loud, wet slurp filled the room. So loud, so clear it startled me.
I reached up and rested my palms on his thighs.
“Put you hands down. People won’t be able to see,” he explained.
I dropped them into my lap. Without anything to steady me, I rocked at the hips and craned my neck to get a sucking rhythm going, my now useless hands resting awkwardly in my lap. I moved them to my sides.
That didn’t help.
I put them on my knees.
“Cross your wrists behind your back if you don’t mersin escort know what to do with your hands.”
I didn’t know what to do with them so I brought them behind my back and crossed one wrist over the other.
Without my arms to guide me, my motions became clusmy. Awkward as I struggled to maintain a seal around his cock with my lips. Loud sucking and slurping filled the room. I imagined that everyone in the building could hear it.
My eyes looked up into his.
I continued to suck and he got harder and harder in my mouth. Hot, soft skin over a hard core, his tangy precum sharp upon my tongue. I closed my eyes as I rocked back and forth.
A hand on my head stopped me. He pushed back gently and his shaft popped out of my mouth. I knelt, staring up, breathing heavily.
Was it finished?
Did I pass?
It wasn’t finished. In a single smooth motion, he reached down and grabbed a fistful of my hair. Forcefully, he pulled me up and I scrambled to my feet. He guided me towards the desk. The front of my thighs slammed into it as he pushed me and I flopped down on the surface, bent at the waist.
I waited, wondering how many hopeful teenage tits had slammed into the surface of that desk before mine.
I waited and wondered about the fee. Would I get one?
Now wasn’t a good time to ask about the fee either. His fingers reached down between my legs and brushed my soaked cunt. I shivered. They pressed against my lips and slid easily inside. I closed my eyes as spasms of pleasure shot through me.
Oh fuck, it’s going to happen.
I was fucking terrified but I wanted him to like me. I wanted him to know I could do it. I wanted him to tell me I was good. Good enough for him.
I wiggled my ass trying to coax his fingers in deeper. But they withdrew. I felt so empty. I whimpered.
But he returned pressing against my cunt lips. A pressure. A parting. Something inside. That stretched me. Wide. Wider than the dildo I had at home. Wider than the boy after prom night when my parents were away. A man’s cock. Inside me. Inside my cunt.
He slid in deeper. It seemed to go on forever. Further and further inside. Warm flesh pressed against my back as his hips slammed into my ass. All the way in.
Then, he thrust.
Slamming me into the side of the desk. My thighs hurt. I’m full, stretched like I’ve never been stretched before. And trapped. His weight pressing down on me. I’m a fragile thing being used by this man.
Taker of women.
He judges if we are worth it.
If we are worth fucking.
He’s judging if I am worth it.
If I’m worth being fucked.
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