"I don't know, Mother," I said. "I don't think you really know what you're asking me to do."
She looked at me steadily from across my desk and leaned forward so that her elbows were on her knees, her palms together as if she was in prayer.
"I do know," she replied. "I need a position, and if you don't help me, who possibly can?"
"I've only been here a few months," I protested, "Give me a chance to get settled in."
"You already have a private office! What does that tell you? It says they appreciate what you've done for them so far."
I looked her over, she'd been a professional woman before she'd been a mother, and she still knew how to pull off the look.
"I was supposed to get some help on the Tokyo accounts ... but I haven't seen anyone yet."
Her tight black skirt had risen above her knees when she'd sat and I could just make out the top of her thigh high white stockings. She wore expensive Italian pumps and the effect was ultra sexy.
"There you go," she crossed her legs, making the dress slide even higher up her thick thighs in the process. "You know I have the skills and experience you need."
"I know you can handle whatever I might need done," I affirmed. "It's a lot of work and requires someone with a lot of dedication."
She smiled and batted her eyes giant blue eyes at me.
"Who's more dedicated to you than your own Mother?"
I shrugged, what could I say?
"Is it my age?" she asked, "I'm not too terrible to look at am I?"
She was beautiful and classy, had the largest tits of any woman I knew, and most of her wardrobe was chosen to accent that fact. I felt a stirring in my pants and shuffled a little in my seat.
"You're a pleasure to look at," I stammered, "and I'm not just saying that because you're my Mother!"
She'd curled and styled her dark red hair and put on makeup; the white blouse and black skirt combo was sexy on her ... just about anything was.
"I'd hope not," she stated.
I'd actually felt a pang of jealousy knowing my coworkers had seen her on the way in. They couldn't have known she was my Mother and I was sure to hear all kinds of lewd comments about her big tits and sexy heart-shaped ass at Happy Hour.
As if she could read my mind - she leaned back, parted her legs slightly at the knee, and shot me a wicked smile.
"I've been feeling ugly since your father left me," she put her manicured hands in her lap and pouted, "Now I'm being rejected by my only son."
"Not true, Mother."
She absently ran her fingertips along the top of the stockings.
"Have I ever rejected you?" she asked, "Have I ever said no to you when you needed something?"
"No, you've always given me everything I've ever asked for," I admitted.
Her fingertips found their way to the hem of her short skirt.
"I've given everything to you willingly; I even worked hard to pick out the right outfit ... something I knew you'd like."
I definitely liked it.
"Mom, I told you, you look fantastic!"
She waved away my compliment.
"That's Motherhood I suppose; suffer terribly, learn to enjoy it, then grow old alone, missing every moment of giving yourself completely to your child."
She buried her face in her hands.
"Come on!" I blurted, "That's not fair."
I instinctively jumped from my chair and stepped around the desk to comfort her. She stood abruptly and we collided so that I fell back against the desk and she fell into me.
"You Vixen! I can't believe I fell for the guilt trip!"
"Not working?" she asked.
"Not now."
She smiled up at me.
"How about if I grovel?"
"Isn't that what you're doing already?" I laughed.
"Fine!" she spat and pushed away from me.
I grabbed her by the arms and pulled her back to me.
"That's not the right attitude!" I admonished. "If you worked for this company you'd have to learn to deal with obstacles without losing your cool."
She smiled at me.
"I'm sorry! It's just that I'm so desperate!" she ran her fingers up my forearms, "I'll do anything - I just need some ... remedial training - that's all."
"Being trainable is a requirement," I stated.
She pressed her hips into mine and ran her fingers over my chest.
"If guilt won't work - I guess I'll have to try being more naughty."
"Is that possible?" I laughed.
"Oh, I can definitely do naughty!"
I reveled in the feel of her soft body against mine; the smell of her perfume, the giant tits pressed against my chest. I could feel her hard nipples through the material of our shirts.
"You show initiative too ... I do like that," I offered.
She pressed into me harder and put her full moist lips to my neck. My dick pumped to full mast and planted itself between her thick legs.
"I can show you more than initiative," she whispered quietly into my ear.
She rolled her wide hips causing my dick to press in the material of her skirt and slide between her thighs. I could feel the heat of her pussy through my slacks.
"I may need to fill a slot," I offered.
We were practically entwined now.
"You seem to have experience," I added.
She slid her mound up and down my shaft to stimulate her clit and pulled my hands to her tits.
"I can assume any position!" she said wickedly.
I felt precum smear my belly.
"I may need someone to stay after hours," I said with a hint of lust. "We'd be spending a lot of time together."
"I like working overtime," she said as her lips found my earlobe, "I do my best work at night."
Shivers ran down my spine at the thought.
"Your prospects are getting much better," I said, "How are your ... communication skills?"
"I have a great vocabulary - I always score high on oral exams."
"Can you ... give me a demonstration?" I asked.
She laughed and kissed my cheek.
"Is this a Working Interview?"
"Yes," I replied, "We like to make sure candidates are qualified."
She spread her legs and dropped like a professional so that my throbbing bulge was only an inch from her lips.
"I want to negotiate full benefits," she stated as she wrapped her hands around my bulge, straining the zipper, "and I want vacations."
