A Prospective Parent

A spray-tanned, athletic looking woman enters the room wearing dark sunglasses, and a small designer purse. She projects a haughty attitude without uttering a word, striking you as the typical trophy wife. She's certainly dressed the part in an expensive-looking, form-fitting strapless red dress with high heels to match. It clings tight to her body, showcasing a thin waist and hips, moderately curvy ass and small, but perky tits.

"Um, hello?" she asks in a voice dripping with condescension. "Are you the dean or whatever?" She barely bothers to look up from her phone as she addresses you.

"Sure, why not," you grunt with a shrug, willing to follow this plot where it leads.

"OK, well, I need to drop off my - ugh - step-daughter, and get her out of my house," she says, clearly annoyed by this detour in her day. "Is this where I do that?"

"I don't...think so?" This isn't your job, but you're pretty sure you can't just drop women off like it's a fire station. This chick definitely has more attitude than you've seen so far, but you find yourself more intrigued than annoyed. "Um, miss...?"

"Hartley. Emily Hartley." She scoffs at the offer to shake your hand, taking off her sunglasses to signal her waning patience, giving you a look at her dark brown eyes for the first time, currently squinted in frustration. "So can I leave her here or not?" She stows her phone in her purse, holding it at her side, haughtily leaning to one side. She's not as busty as you would like, but has unbelievable, long, slender, toned legs and a remarkably athletic body.

"We might have a spot," you say without any corroborating information as an idea materializes in your head. "But you'll need to pay the entrance fee and full tuition up front. Somewhere in the neighborhood of $75,000." You try to come up with a realistic, yet problematic number and by the look on her face, you chose correctly as her mouth drops in disappointment.

"No, no, no," she starts, shaking her head. "I have to drop her off today! Our trip starts tomorrow!"

You scoff at her, taking back the power in this interaction. "That really doesn't sound like my problem, evil stepmother. I told you what had to happen. Now you can go get my money from your rich, probably old husband or take the little trouble-making slut with you."

"Oh my god, you are so rude!" Emily says, in abject shock to be spoken down to for once in her life. "How did they let you run a school? Why are you being so mean?"

You turn around and put your back to her, crossing your arms. "That doesn't sound like a call to the bank," you say. Looking down, you notice Olivia's foot and arm sticking out from under her desk, and quickly kick them back underneath.

"Ugh, are you serious?" Emily asks with exasperation. "You're telling me there's nothing else I can do?"

"I didn't say that," you reply, turning around with a smile as the conversation finally reached your favorite part. She was still looking at you with a combination of derision and disgust, but there was a hint of hopefulness behind her steely blue eyes. You couldn't wait to snuff it out.

"You could always blow me and see if that helps."

"OH EM GEE! WHAT?!" Emily nearly screams, hopefully not attracting any outside or nearby attention. "ARE YOU SERIOUS?!"

"Don't act like you've never blown a guy to get what you want," you chide, already pushing your pants down to the floor expectantly. "Might as well see if you can give one worth 75 grand. Maybe you'll get lucky." Pants at your ankles, your sticky cock dangles half hard between you to. Emily looks at it in horror before looking up at you, smiling wide. You know you don't need to worry because if she was going to leave, she would have done it by now.

After a few moments of faux indecision, Emily sighs loudly and takes your cock limply in one hand. "You better not be lying," she says, gingerly, yet awkwardly getting down to her knees in her tight dress and heels. All you do is shrug as she takes a deep breath. "OK, here we g-MMMPHH!"

"Here we go," you repeat, shoving your cock into the tight blonde's mouth. Her tongue flaps and flails wildly - only serving to turn you on further as your dick continues to grow in Emily's mouth. "You're not so bad once you stop talking." You laugh as her eyes widen, realizing that your cock gets much larger than previously advertised. Her ruby red lips stretch out cartoonishly as she chokes and gags on the mammoth man-meat.

"The things a mother will do....just to get her kids out of the house" you continue to taunt, enjoying giving her some comeuppance. Your hips continue to pump, dick now fully hard as it slides between her lips. Your entrance is quick and shallow - not going too deep at first, but making sure Ms. Hartley gets no breaks whatsoever. She seems focused on making this experience last no longer than it needs to, sucking hard as her cheeks cave in even as you continue to steadily pump her face. Probing a bit deeper now, the tip of your dick bounces off the back of her throat, eliciting a delightful "UCK" from Emily's throat each time.

Gagging with her mouth held wide, she can't help but drool. Thick globs of saliva - mixed with healthy amounts of precum - drip slowly down her chin. It stains the front of her designer dress, and leaves a sheen over her exposed chest. You reach down briefly to pull her dress down, exposing her breasts. They're small - a little less than a handful - but round and perky, sitting high on her chest the way fake tits always do. You grip and squeeze her right breasts in rhythm with your pumping hips, groaning loudly.

"I can see why someone made you a trophy wife," you admit in a rare concession. "Honestly, this might be one of the best BJs I've had today".

"Hmmm?!" Emily mumbles around your cock, eyes wide at the revelation that she was receiving sloppy seconds.

"Oh yeah, come on. You're not the first to want a piece of this fuckstick," you answer glibly, as if confirming you ate breakfast that morning. "You sluts can't get enough. You didn't see that cum-drunk redhead under the desk?"

"Mmmmm!" Emily protests. Her eyes shift wildly back and forth looking for evidence of this claim. Meanwhile her hands are slapping and grabbing at your thighs as she rethinks her "grin and bear it" strategy. But your grip is too much for her to overcome.

"No turning back now," you remind her, only encouraged to move your hips even faster, now fucking her face aggressively. "You're in it to fucking win it!" you grunt, finally managing to work your cock into her throat without any concern for Emily's comfort. You consider it a win for all the customer service workers in the area that have entered her radius.

GUCK GLUCK GUCK GUCK GUMPH GUCK! You continue to fuck the wannabe Real Housewife's mouth, stopping just short of the entrance to her throat, loving the sounds you're pulling from her. This goes on for several minutes - Emily being thoroughly used like a sex doll as her makeup runs down her face. Emily's hands dangle limply at her sides as her body rocks back and forth, fiery spirit long broken and replaced with gently fluttering resigned eyes.

Almost all at once, you feel yourself ready to give her the hot load she's earned. Your toes curl inside your shoes while your fingers grip her blonde locks as tightly as possible. You rock her head back and forth in concert with your hips, feeling your balls slap against her chin as they tighten. "Yes, fuck! Pay that fucking bill! Earn that fucking spot! RAGGHHHHHH!"

Holding her down, Emily's nose meets your midsection as you begin to unleash a torrent of cum down her throat. "GUMPH GLUCK!" she gags around you, somehow unprepared for this predictable ending. That's none of your concern as your body lurches and spasms, firing the entirety of your thick load directly down her throat. "Fuck yes, fuck yes, fuck yes," you continue to pant as the last spurts of cum drip out onto her tongue while you retreat. It seems that you holding her head the only thing keeping her upright as you let go and watch her fall to the ground. Laying prone on the ground, eyes cast toward the ceiling, she's seemingly awake, but unable to speak.

"Alright, I'll go grab your step-daughter," you remark giddily, pulling up your pants and grabbing her discarded purse. You quickly rifle through and find car keys, but also take out her beloved phone and open the camera app. Snapping a few pics of Emily's first successful tuition payment, you keep her phone for yourself as well, hoping to cause some mischief with it.

Looking down, you decide it probably isn't great for her to be found like this. Looking around the room, you see only one door other than the entrance to the dean's office. Checking inside, you find a small half-bathroom and breathe a sigh of relief before slowly dragging Emily inside. You leave her, softly snoozing with her face against the cold, tiled floor, and close the door behind you.