Donna Williamson volunteered at the local high school as a career/college counselor. She went to the school twice a week, on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and interviewed with the students, giving them choices so that hopefully they would not choose a college degree that was a waste of time, or a career that they would end up hating in a year.
That Thursday she went straight from work. She had worn a dress that morning that was quite a bit different than she was used to wearing. The skirt was tight, and ended several inches above her shapely knees, and she was also wearing a tight thin button up sweater. It clung to the lush curves of her body, molding itself to her firm, large breasts contained in the tight red bra.
The only thing that allowed her to get away with that was the jacket she was wearing, a double breasted affair that allowed her to hide most of her generous breasts. That and the fact that she kept the sweater buttoned up to the very top.
The last interview of the day was with a young man named James Loftin, a nineteen year old student. He was a smart student, but puzzled her because he only tried hard enough at his studies to continue to play football. She had talked with the coach, though. That man had looked at her with his spooky pale gray eyes and said he was not good enough to get into the pros by a long shot, and that James knew it.
Donna was regretting wearing the jacket now. The air-conditioning in the little office they allowed her to use was out, and she was starting to sweat.
The door opened, and James Loftin entered the room. He was a tall man, just over nineteen, with a handsome, open face and an easy natural smile. He stood six four, enough to make Donna feel small by comparison.
"Hey, Ms. Williamson," James said. "Your daughter told me to say hi to you."
"Thank you, Mr. Loftin," Donna said. God, it was hot in here. She watched James sit down on the short couch, and unfastened two buttons of the jacket, just to get some more air.
She sat down next to James, and they talked for twenty minutes. The janitor looked in. "I'm going to lock up now, Ms. Williamson. Do you need anything else?"
"No, I'll be done in a few minutes, Mr. Corbell."
"OK. Just get Tony to let you out. He's down in the boiler room."
"Alright, thank you," Donna said as he shut the door.
She turned back to James, and saw him staring at her chest. She looked down, and realized her jacket had opened far enough to allow him to see her breasts contained in the tight sweater. With a small sound of despair, she realized that the edge of the bra was easily visible where the soft, silky flesh of her firmly soft mounds were pushing over it, and that her plump nipples were also stiff.
She got up from the couch. "I'm sorry, James. I . . . I was just hot," she told him over her shoulder as she refastened the buttons to the jacket. "It is hot in here, Ms. Williams," he replied. "Why don't you come back over here, I have something else I want to talk to you about. I think I made up my mind what I want to do. I should be able to retire in ten years."
Donna looked at the young man. He was wearing jeans and a t-shirt. He had always seemed so nice, but the way he had been ogling her tits just then . . . A shiver went through her. She should just tell him it would have to wait till next time.
Instead, she walked back over to the couch. Before she could sit down, though, he took one of her hands in his big one. "It is hot in here. I wouldn't mind if you took your jacket off, Ms. Williamson," he smiled up at her.
Donna was sweating. Well, nothing would happen -- they were in the middle of a school after all. So she undid the buttons, and slipped the jacket from her slim shoulders, threw it over the arm of the couch and sat down.
She was immediately sorry that she had, for the boys eyes went right back to her proud breasts. "Well, what were you thinking of," she said miserably, shifting on the couch. His eyes went from her breasts to her thick, muscular thighs, and he wondered suddenly whether she was wearing panty hose or stockings.
"Well, I've given it a lot of thought, Ms. Williams. I've already went and interviewed, and I go to work as soon as I'm nineteen. It's going to pay about three grand a week."
Donna was interested despite herself. 'What kind of job pays that money where you don't have to have a college degree, James?" she asked.
"I'm gonna be a porn star, Ms. Williamson," he said, so animated. He leaned forward, and when he put one hand on her knee she did not think anything of it.
"James, I . . . " she did not know what to say. "That's disgusting! How do you get such a job?"
"I went and interviewed. The guy had me fuck his wife right there on the couch. It was wild, Ms. Williamson! Then he joined in, and I was fucking her while she sucked his dick. What's the matter, Ms. Williamson, you look like you're getting hot again. You should undo that sweater some."
Donna reached up and undid the top button to the sweater as she said "James, you can't do that for a living!"
"Why not? My dicks big enough. Here, I'll show you," he said. Before Donna could say a word, the nineteen year old man had stood up, and was peeling his pants down. As he sat back down on the couch he drew his shirt off, so he was sitting there naked next to her.
Donna's breath froze in her throat. She undid one more button, and tried to think of something to say. She was staring at his thick meat. The shaft was already a good nine inches, and he was not even hard yet. The big, purple head of the shaft looked strange. As she watched the thing twitched.
"James, put that away right now," she said, but he just smiled.
"It's the perfect job, Ms. Williamson. I mean, getting paid to fuck?"
