Maing It in a Man's World

I recognized him as soon as I walked into the office, but tried to keep my cool. Jim Johnson was my idol, my favorite sports writer, and now here I was, recent journalism grad, starting my first day of work at the same paper where he'd spent his career! It was October, I had just graduated from Big State in June, and still had goosebumps from the phone call last week when I learned I'd gotten the job here.

None of my friends understood why I had taken the entry-level job, where I'd likely be stuck listing high school football scores in the back of the sports section for the next two years. I tried to explain that it was the first step towards my dream job - respected beat writer for a major paper, following my favorite team around the country (baseball would be my first choice), scoring free tickets to any sporting event I wanted, and keeping my readers entertained with insightful insider information.

That first day, after introductions and a tour that ended at my ridiculously small cubicle, I decided to be proactive and introduce myself to Jim. He would find out soon enough what an eager beaver I was, so it might as well be today! He waived me into his office and motioned for me to sit down as he finished a phone call, and I took the opportunity to become duly impressed by all of the photos on his walls and memorabilia on his desk. There were photos of Jim with every major sports figure in the city and region - from local high school legends to college and pro stars.

"So," he said, interrupting my awe, "you must be Shannon."

"Yes, Jim, and can I tell you what an honor it is to be working with you!"

"Well, thanks. So, I remember from your application that your dream is to be a beat writer? What makes you think an innocent young girl like yourself is cut out for that?"

I crossed and then re-crossed my legs in my chair, fighting two conflicting emotions before I responded. I was always both offended and turned on when older men challenged my ability to compete in their world. "Well, I know I've got the writing chops. I've followed sports all my life. I love watching the games both on and off the field, and love the way that writers like you are able to share that with your readers. I'd like to do the same, and I think I can if I have the opportunity to learn from the best - maybe I could shadow you for a while?"

A tiny smile formed at the corners of his mouth, obviously flattered by my desire to learn by working with him. "Alright, Shannon. I'll let you shadow me, just a couple of things I'm going to ask of you. Don't open your mouth unless you're sure you know your stuff. And, to be blunt, you should show a little more leg. This is still a man's world, and there's no point in a beautiful young woman refusing to take advantage of her god-given assets. If it helps you land an interview, there's no shame in that."

Again, I found myself getting hot and bothered as he talked to me this way. Jim was probably in his mid 40s, with an attractive, athletic build. He was about 6'1" with blonde hair and blue eyes, and looked at me over his reading glasses as he talked. He was tremendously attractive to me, physically and career-wise. But I also hated being talked to like an innocent little girl. Smoking inside, I politely thanked him for being so generous as to let me shadow him, and made my way out of the office. I knew the only way to handle my conflicting emotions was to take him at his word, take his instructions to heart and take advantage of the opportunity.

The next day, I arrived at work in an outfit chosen in response to Jim's suggestion. In stark contrast to the business suit I had worn for my first day on the new job, today I strutted into the office in a short pleated skirt, a white blouse which was tied around my waist, showing just a bit of skin around my navel, and my blonde hair tied up with a velvet bow into a ponytail. My big blue eyes were framed by glasses which I didn't need, but which I thought added to the look. As soon as I sat down at my desk, my phone rang, and I jumped to answer it when I saw "Johnson, Jim" on the caller-ID. "Yes, sir?"

"Good morning, Shannon, could you please come into my office? Be sure to bring a notepad."

I grabbed a pad of paper, pushed a pencil behind my ear, and made my way into his office. "Close the door behind you," he instructed as I entered the room, and I did as I was told. After looking me up and down for a few moments, he said, "So, took me at my word, did you?"

"Absolutely, Jim. So, what can I do for you this morning."

"Well, since you're obviously so eager to start shadowing me, I wanted to give you the details of your first assignment. I want you to come with me to this weekend's game - Big State vs. State U at the stadium. I can show you around the venue, introduce you to some of the other writers, and you can have the full press box experience."

I was beaming as I scribbled down the information he provided me. This was exactly what I was hoping for - a real behind-the-scenes experience. And it didn't hurt that it was my alma mater and their arch rival. Both teams were playing well this year, so it should be a good contest.

As he stopped talking and I stopped writing a few moments later, I looked up and saw him watching me from behind his desk. Again, as I had yesterday, I crossed and then un-crossed my legs in the chair across from him. His eyes followed every move, watching the pleats of my skirt settle even higher on my legs. He got up, walked around the desk, and leaned against the front of it, just a foot or so in front of me. The bulge in his pants was unmistakable, and I know I blushed, and then blushed redder when I realized he noticed my drifting eyes.

He reached out his hand and gently grazed my knee. My first thought - to keep my legs crossed and ignore his touch - was overwhelmed by my first animal instinct - to uncross my legs and drop to my knees in front of him. As I had entered the office and closed the door, I had noticed that although there were a few windows, they were high enough on the wall that he had some privacy. If I moved quickly and quietly, we wouldn't be caught, even though several dozen reporters buzzed with activity just outside his door.

I quickly undid his belt, unzipped his pants, and pulled his hardening cock out of his boxers. Before he could say a word, I engulfed his length with my mouth, cradling his balls with both hands. I began slowly, licking and sucking a few inches at a time, but soon quickened my pace, encouraged in my motions when he grabbed my ponytail and began forcing me down onto his cock in faster, deeper strokes. I had never allowed a man to grab me by the hair, but somehow with Jim it turned me on all the more, and I went at his cock with gusto. I was now taking his entire length deep into my throat on each stroke, struggling to keep as quiet as I could as he fucked my mouth in the middle of the workday in his office.

It wasn't much longer before he came, allowing his orgasm to come out in hushed whispers. After he finished, he quickly pulled himself together and lifted me up off my knees. Grabbing me by the ass, he pulled my body into his and kissed me passionately, thrusting his tongue into my mouth so quickly I almost couldn't breathe. Still, it was nothing compared to the size of his cock. Breaking away from me as quickly as the embrace had started, he whispered, "you'd better get back to work. I'll see you Saturday at the game. Meet me in the hallway outside the press box." And that was that - after a slap on the ass, I was out the door and back to my cubicle to attend to a little actual work, my head filled with daydreams of sex in the office, at the stadium, anywhere really with this hot mentor of mine.

Time crept by over the next few days, but finally Saturday did arrive, and after tortured wardrobe decisions and getting stuck in traffic, I finally made my way to the stadium, proudly showed my press pass for the first time, and waited in the hallway outside the press box for Jim to arrive. You're wondering about the wardrobe decision? Well, I managed to work out a combination of team colors, reasonably professional attire, but still showing enough skin to bring some attention to the fact that I was a young woman with a nice rack. I chose a low-cut black blouse which showed plenty of cleavage, a team jacket from my college days, and tight-fitting but classy black slacks and heels.

As Jim arrived, he winked in approval at my appearance, and quickly ushered me in to the press box where I experienced a whirlwind of meetings. The names and faces of twenty or so slightly geeky writer types, all seemingly captivated by my chest, quickly blurred together. Jim, perhaps sensing that I was overwhelmed, grabbed my arm midstream and said, "Hey, there's time before the first quarter starts - how about I show you around the stadium?"

"Wow, that was quite a spread in there!" I said as we made our way down the hallway and into an elevator, referring to the ridiculous amount of food that had been provided for the guys in the press box.

"Impressive, huh? Although I have another idea for a nice spread," he said, putting his hand between my legs and forcing them apart. As we rode the elevator down, to where I didn't know, he massaged my clit through my clothes with one hand. With the other, he pushed up my top, pulled one of my tits out of my bra, and began sucking my nipple vigorously. Not knowing how much time we would have before the elevator doors opened, I writhed in pleasure against his skilled hands and mouth.

He obviously knew exactly where we were going, and pulled me back into a state of respectability just seconds before the elevator stopped and opened. Completely flushed, I was suddenly face to face with... the coach! I quickly realized that we must have come down to a lower level of the stadium not open to the public. Jim obviously knew the coach, as they exchanged comfortable conversation and wishes of good luck for the game. True to his promise, Jim took the opportunity to introduce me, sharing with the coach that I was a recent grad. I remembered my promise as well - that I wouldn't open my mouth unless I was sure I knew my stuff - and left the coach with just one comment about the passing game of State U and my estimate for the point spread.

"Nice job, Shannon. I see you're following my advice, and it's already paying off - now the coach will remember you for sure. You're the hot young reporter who knows her football! I think you should be rewarded for your work here today. Follow me."

As we made our way down several winding hallways in the bowels of the stadium, the muffled sounds of marching bands hovering mysteriously above us, Jim told me the story of a secret room to which he had a key. Only a few people knew about it - a handful of press, coaches, etc. - and he had gotten the key from his mentor, a legendary beat writer long-since retired. It was a small room with a bed, a place to crash after perhaps a few too many drinks celebrating a win or lamenting a loss, before heading back out onto the road.

"Unless they've changed the lock..." were Jim's last words before the key successfully opened the door. Like the true gentleman who had just felt me up in the elevator, he showed me into the room, turned on a light, and shut and locked the door behind us.

Only a few words were necessary now. "What was that you mentioned about a nice spread?" I asked flirtatiously. He responded by tearing at my clothes, freeing my tits from my blouse and bra and then sucking my nipples as he worked at removing my pants. I was soon naked, and threw myself onto the bed, spreading my legs wide open before him, revealing my wet pussy. It was now his turn to kneel, as he lowered his head to my crotch and began kissing around my inner thighs, moving in circles ever closer to my pussy lips and finally entering me with his tongue as he spread my lips with his fingers.

Knowing we couldn't be heard in this secluded room, I let myself go, moaning as I ground my pussy into his face. I started to ride a wave of tiny orgasms as he sucked my clit, and he responded by fucking me with two and then three of his big, strong fingers. I couldn't take it anymore, and pulled myself up onto my elbows, saying, "Please, Jim, I want you inside of me. Fuck me now!"

Still fully clothed, but his cock straining against his slacks, Jim stood up and quickly undressed. I massaged my tits and clit with my hands while I waited for him to enter me, telling him I wanted to be his little slut, I wanted him to fill me with his cum before we went back to work in the press box.

He didn't need any more invitation, and knelt by the side of the bed, moving the tip of his cock against my pussy lips. I was insanely hot, wet, and ready, but it was still a tight fit as he slowly pressed his huge hard cock into me. He took what seemed like minutes to enter me completely in one slow, smooth motion. Once his cock was buried inside of me, he began rotating his hips, reaching depths of sensation inside of me that were completely new.

"Oh, god yes, Jim. Fuck me nice and slow." We kept that rhythm going for several minutes, until I couldn't handle it any longer. His stamina was impressive, he was obviously going for the complete-game performance - and my demands changed. "Fuck me harder, Jim. Harder and faster. I want you to take me from behind!"

He quickly pulled out of me and stood up, giving me room to pull myself up off the bed and turn around. The bed was too low, so I instead braced myself against the wall, pressing my hands flat against it, spreading my legs, and looking back over my shoulder at Jim with pure lust. "Take me, Jim, I want you to fuck me as hard as you can. I want you to pound my tight little pussy and fill me with your cummm...... ahh...."

With that, he thrust into me from behind and began fucking me furiously. The sounds and smells of our sex filled the tiny room, and quickly brought us both close to the edge of a violent orgasm. He took hold of my hair with one hand and gently slapped me on the ass with the other as he moved in and out of me, taking complete control of the situation just as I'd hoped he would. As he grunted and I moaned, I reached orgasm very quickly in this position, utterly letting go as he continued to pound towards his climax. I trusted the wall and his strong grip on my hair to hold me up as I came close to blacking out, the feelings were so powerful. Just as I began to come down from my orgasm and come back to my senses, he reached his climax and I could feel his cum shoot deep inside of me.

We stood in this position for a while, his cock still buried inside of me as we both caught our breath, me leaning against the wall, Jim leaning against me. We soon became aware of the sounds of the game seeping into the room from above - the pounding of feet on the field, the occasional whistle, more competing melodies from the bands - and realized that we should get upstairs before it was obvious we had disappeared. And before we missed too much of the action. After all, the sex had been great, but what beat writer worth his - or her - salt would miss more than a few downs of the big game?