Nicole nervously straightened her blazer as she surveyed herself in the bathroom mirror. Sometimes, on a bad day, people may not like what peers back from a mirror. Well, Nicole got that feeling every time she had the misfortune of walking past a reflective surface.
The Portland native was beyond self-conscious about her looks; she had self-doubts about herself that bordered on diagnosable - which was beyond absurd. Nicole had naturally platinum blonde hair that fell to her shoulders, normally as a slightly wavy cascade that had the sheen of a rainbow when it caught the light. It framed the lovely face of a girl-next-door that permanently bore the hesitant and apprehensive expression of someone with acute social anxiety. Her large blue eyes always gave her a kind look. Her crisp features - an angular jawline, sharp but rounded chin, high cheekbones - made other women turn around in the street to remark on her delightfully adorable characteristics. She was always loathe to see her nose because the bridge rose slightly, but it was hardly significant to most, particularly from the front. Nicole herself despised her face. She just couldn't see the beauty that her friends and family noted.
She didn't feel any better about her body. She had slim breasts that were obscured by loose-fitting blouses. Her legs weren't very curvy but were fitted. Her entire body was slender and slight. Her features, coupled with a 5'6" stature, made her appear to 21 at oldest. However, she was 29, which made her nervous just thinking about it. People often mistook her for a teenager. There have been pretty embarrassing times where high school boys had attempted to hit on her.
Her nervousness and timidity may contribute to the slight tremor in her hands, which made holding still and handling paper a potentially embarrassing feat.
Her husband lay sprawled over their elaborate bed, custom-designed in traditional Qatari decor. He was a member of the Qatari House of Thani, the royal family of the small nation-state jutting into Persian Gulf, and the heir to a large oil fortune. He was a cousin of the Qatari Emir, but he had always enjoyed Western culture more than the socially conservative nature of his Sunni Muslim homeland. After a falling out with all three of his siblings, he left for south England and then Portland, Oregon.
The promiscuity and sexual deviancy of the Pacific West was a second home to the Qatar native. There, he found Nicole. He wasn't particularly attractive or charismatic or romantic, but he was assertive and imperious and intimidatingly wealthy. She was less his loving wife than a subservient protectorate subject to his suzerainty, much like the relationship between his native island-state and Great Britain previous to independence. She was intimidated by his wealth and arrogance but also terrified of living alone. She still doesn't know whether or not she regrets their matrimony.
He greatly enjoyed utilizing her cooking, her pretty face and her body for his pleasure. The sex could only be described as dry and dull. He angrily pounded her until finishing and promptly falling asleep. She winces throughout more than anything. And he would wake up to expeditiously find some prostitutes to drunkenly fuck.
As she woke up early this morning, he forcefully urged her to fellate him. She had slowly drawing her mouth over half his prick and pumping the rest with her hand as he appeared to nearly fall back asleep. After a few plunges of her throat down near his base, he aggressively grabbed her head and held it against his groin, nearly wrenching out strands of her hair. The unexpected cum, coupled with the shock of his force, caused her to choke. Her hands pressed desperately against his thighs, urging to let her go as she squealed around his thick cock. It was all too apparent he didn't intend to let up. She had urgently and fearfully squelched some of his cum down while allowing the rest to dribble out of her mouth. When he finally released her, she fell backwards, coughing with tears streaming down her cheeks. She took 15 minutes to recover from his vicious deed.
A fan of popular book series A Song of Ice and Fire, she privately compared her husband to Robert Baratheon. He even shared the morbid obesity.
Nicole inhaled deeply and steeled herself before heading out the door. She was heading for a job interview at a Spanish fashion company, Zara, the largest fashion retailer in the world. She did amateur designing and had caught the eye of a couple prominent executives at this company. Although she obviously didn't need the income, she wanted to have a career of her own.
Dressing properly did not suit her. She was a real girl's girl, enjoying frilly skirts and colorful tops, summer dresses and extravagant hats, sweaters with foxes and shoes in the shape of cats.
She strode out of her front yard when she noticed her next-door neighbor with a bucket and mop.
"Hey, Alexis!" she beamed. His father had named him Alexis after the French political theorist Alexis de Tocqueville, which Nicole recognized as a high honor. Alexis wasn't so keen; he had everyone he knew call him Alex.
He glared at her momentarily before grinning. She had known him since he was just 13 years-old and had watched him grow up into an 18 year-old man, just preparing to graduate high school.
"What's going on there?" Nicole asked, gesturing to the mop.
"More stupid shits with eggs," he replied darkly, "you should hunt them down for killing baby chickens." (Nicole was a vegetarian).
"Aw, sweetheart, I'm sorry." she said.
"Yeah, well, if my father wants to hang the Goddamn flag, he could clean up the shit." he lamented. An enormous American flag fluttered from their house. To its left was the United States naval jack: an uncoiled rattlesnake superimposed on 13 alternating red-and-white stripes with "DONT TREAD ON ME" inscribed on the lowermost white stripe. It is the official maritime flag flown from anchored ships of the United States, but nobody except Navy vets knew that. To others, it was a political statement. And in Portland, it is the wrong political statement to make.
Alex's father is the son of immigrants of Vietnamese nationality and Chinese ancestry. Fleeing the Vietnam War in its earliest, pre-American stages, his parents gave birth to him in Helena, Montana. He grew up a patriot vowing to vanquish socialism and fascism. He married a former Oregon state comptroller, an ethnic Dutchman. He moved to Salem and then to Portland after she retired.
The day after 9/11, he volunteered for the U.S. Navy and abandoned his then-baby son. After returning, he ran for the U.S. Senate to represent Montana. On the back of his military service, he served a full six-year term before retiring. He spent the rest of his life trying to pass down his legacy to his son, prompting him to join the military or enter the civil service. A watcher of the ASoIaF-adapted Game of Thrones, Alex often compared his father to Tywin Lannister.
"What's up with the pantsuit?" Alex mocked, "where's the floral dress?"
"Job interview." she smiled meekly.
"Right! Zara, right? Man, good luck. You're gonna crush it."
"Yeah, well, I'm pretty fracking nervous."
He extended his arms for a hug.
"You're gonna crush it." He held the embrace for perhaps a bit too long. He could feel the straps of her bra through her blazer and shirt. He had always had a little - well, enormous - thing for Nicole, who was literally the girl next door. He lusted for her slight frame and pretty face. He wasn't into the "hot girls" and thought her cute face blew bulging tits and massive asses out of the water. He even adored her hand tremor. Tingles ran down his back whenever he saw her handle small objects while trembling. He was probably attracted to her overall timidity and shyness. He was the same kind of guy. He knew she was married, but that never stopped him from masturbating to thoughts of her pouty lips sliding down his shaft.
"Hey, listen, if you're not doing anything afterwards, I don't know, maybe you could stop by and let off a bit, play some Titanfall or something?" The fact that she was a gamer too further reinforced his image of her as the woman he'd most like to fuck on planet Earth.
"Um," she started. She had originally planned a late lunch with some of her girlfriends, but she did really like hanging out with Alex. Plus, 2 hours of Titanfall sounded better than 2 hours of being prodded about her interview. "You know what, yeah, let's do it."
"Fuck yeah." He smiled.
****
Bill Blythe wandered out of his office and made a beeline straight for his secretary's desk after seeing no one in the waiting room. He was supposed to interview some woman named Nicole for a designer job in about half an hour. She had sounded demure and nervous on the phone, her voice was like a loud whisper and was the audial version of trembling. She made great clothes though, so he had almost already made the decision to give her the job.
But he was really damn horny right now, so he went straight for Cum Receptacle, er, Jennifer. The 23 year-old was hired because she understood how to pick up a phone and type words into a keyboard and because her double-D tits were always on display with a low-cut blouse. Her blonde hair came down to her upper back, normally straight. Her piercing green eyes were particularly erotic to gaze upon when she was sucking dick.
Bill reached over her chair and firmly cupped her mountainous tits, squeezing and feeling the lacy bra beneath the thin satin blouse. Jennifer gasped at the unexpected touch but quickly settled back down when she realized who it was.
She sat uncomfortably still as her boss kneaded and groped her wonderful breasts, groaning as he did so. He unbuttoned her blouse and slid it off her shoulders, revealing her funbags barely encased in a lacy beige bra. Every time her tits were revealed, Bill gazed in sheer amazement. He reached beneath her tits and gripped the underwire of the bra and shook it. Her breasts jiggled delightfully before settling again. The cleavage revealed by her bra showed a deep valley between her tits.
He quickly undid his pants and took out his large, engorged dick. He grabbed her and roughly shoved her backfirst on her desk before climbing and straddling her chest. He pushed his cock beneath the piece of fabric connecting her bra cups and slowly slid it up through her tit valley. The lace fabric against his dick and the malleable titflesh on the sides felt incredible.
He started angrily bucking against her. She pushed her tits together to form a tight, tight sheath for his dick to fuck. His cock was long enough that every time he thrusted upwards, his head emerged from her cleavage and struck against her chin. She tried to lean away to avoid it, but Bill forcefully grabbed her head and put her back into place. Soon, there was a sticky collection of pre-cum against her chin, a strand connecting to his penis.
