Lydia Thanos

For her ten o’clock job interview, Lydia Thanos showed up wearing a lavender long-sleeve blouse, mid-thigh length black pencil skirt, dark grey pantyhose, and black shoes with one-inch heels. Her long blonde hair was loose, in her earlobes were large gold rings, a black scrunchie around her right wrist, and she carried a black clutch purse. The receptionist, after checking the e-mail that Lydia showed her against her own set of schedules, directed Lydia to Professor Van Zaadvocht’s office on the second floor.

Lydia took the stairs, stopping first in the lady’s room before knocking on the Professor’s door. Inside, she took considerable time refreshening her lipstick, using both a solid tube and a liquid variety. She wanted her lips to be absolutely perfect, for she intended those to be her major selling point.

A few minutes later, her knock on the door elicited a simple, “Come.”

The man behind the desk was in his mid-forties, clean-shaven, and wearing a simple black suit with a muted tie. He seemed of average build, certainly not fat, medium cut dark hair just starting to turn grey at the temples, and his alert blue eyes had the tiniest hints of crows feet developing. When she introduced herself, he invited her to sit in one of the two chairs opposite his desk. The one not over-flowing with books piled in the seat. Several maps were taped to the walls, more books were atop the two metal filing cabinets, and his desk was cluttered with file folders.

“Your qualifications look good,” the Professor told her as he consulted the hard copy of her on-line resume. “It says here that you are employed by a law firm?”

She replied in the affirmative, saying that she had taken the morning off as personal time. He told her replied, “I’ll be up front with you Miss Thanos, I’m afraid the college will not be able to match your current salary. I’m afraid the most I can get the Dean to spring for is…” And he quoted a number half of what her resume said she was currently earning.

“I kind of expected as much,” she nodded. “But to be honest with you…” She hesitated and licked her lips. “Well, one of the partners… passed away two weeks ago. The place… the place hasn’t been the same since.”

“Oh, I am sorry about your loss,” the Professor responded, pretending that he knew nothing of the firm or that the man who had died was a friend of his. After all, he had not seen her at the funeral, which, knowing what he did about her relationship with the deceased, was odd. “But I can hardly ask you to accept such a significant pay cut.”

Lydia took a deep breath, causing her smallish breasts to rise and fall, before saying. “Listen, Professor. I will do anything to get out of that place.” She stood up with determination, walked over to the office door, flicked the lock close, and marched around to stand beside the Professor on his side of the desk. “And I do mean anything.”

Professor Van Zaadvocht swiveled his chair to face the young woman. She looked to be in her mid-twenties, with Slavic features. A rather prominent nose, dark eyes, and full lips. Lips that he was already imaging being put to use. His heart was racing. And not just from the potential blowjob (although that was part of it). She had “taken the bait” by accepting a reduced salary. His lawyer friend Larry, the one she used to work for (and blow regularly if Larry’s locker-room talk could be believed), was a nice enough guy. But this woman was way out of his league. And her readily agreeing to work for less pay eliminated money as a factor. So, what then did she see in Larry?

“What do you have in mind?” the Professor asked. But he spread his legs wide apart, signalling that he knew exactly what she had in mind.

Sinking gracefully to her knees, she leaned forward and began unbuckling him without saying a word. Once she had his pants open, she straighten up and said, “Why don’t you take off your pants and briefs so I can really get in there good?”

The Professor did as she suggested, pushing his chair back and standing up. As he took off his shoes, pants and underwear, Lydia ran her fingers through her golden mane several times. Reaching around behind her head, she gathered her tresses into a bunch. Clutching her hair with her right hand, she slid the scrunchie off that wrist with her left hand and looped the hair through it.

Sitting back down, the Professor scooted his chair forward until Lydia was nestled between his widespread legs. The woman wasted no time in going to work. She delicately lifted his cock, turning it this way and that as she examined it. Watching it slowly growing. Affectionately, she planted a few kisses on the organ. On the head. And sides. She held it up out of the way and licked at the loose, hairy skin of his scrotum. Once the cock had grown enough that it was trying to stand up on its own, Lydia curled her fingers around the shaft and carefully stroked it. Encouraging it to obtain its full glory. All the while, her tongue ran around the sensitive head.

When she was satisfied that the now proudly standing cock was fully erect, she shifted around on her knees, getting more comfortable. Settling in. She reached under his thighs and wrapped her arms around his legs; her fingers gripping his limbs near the hips. With parted lips, she lowered her head, taking the man-meat into her mouth. It was a warm, wet, receptive mouth. After bobbing up and down a few times, she slowly lowered her head all the way down. Taking that slab of sausage not just into her mouth, but down her throat. Completely. Until her nose touched his pubic hair and her chin rested on his nuts.

“Ohhh,” the Professor moaned the first time that she did that. He tilted his head back and breathed through his mouth. Short, rapid breaths as the woman slowly raised her head. Then she did it again. And again. The Professor’s entire body started shaking, as his brain was overloaded with pleasure. Again and again. Lydia swallowed his soul pole. Repeatedly making his schlong disappear and re-appear into her face. The tight, restrictive muscles of her throat squeezed his shaft and head like a virgin’s pussy.

There was no gagging. No **** noises. Just the wet gurgling sound of Lydia milking him with her full lips and constrictive throat. She kept looking up at him. Her brown eyes staring hungrily into his blue ones, as if begging for his sperm.

She would not have to beg for long. The Professor felt his orgasm rapidly approaching. Already his nuts had drawn up into a tight package. His cock was throbbing. His hips started bucking. He was gripping the arms of his chair so tightly that his knuckles had turned white.

“Arrrgh!” he cried out without giving the kneeling, cock-sucking interviewee a warning. He arched his back, his head resting on the top of the chair, his hips lifting from the seat. He shot blast after blast down the woman’s throat. Filling her stomach with his seed. Emptying himself deep inside her. Over and over he erupted. The jets of sperm searing through his shaft before shooting out into her gullet.

Through it all, Lydia just mewled contently. Her swallowing motions adding to the milking process. When she felt the dick stop spurting, the twitching subsiding, she slowly raised her head, lifting her mouth from the head of the salvia coated cock. She gave the softening organ a few parting kisses, then leaned back on her haunches. Smiling up at the professor.