Indian Muslim forced gangbang in interview
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The Interview free porn video
There was a job for a personal assistant that sounded like an ideal opportunity to get back into work. Our kids were old enough to look after themselves for a couple hours after school until I got home and the job was less than a mile from home in Overland Park, Kansas City. Wanting to look my best for the interview, I changed three times before I was satisfied. My best skirt suit was very professional in my opinion. But after the way Greg stared every time I wore it I began to think it might be too racy. The skirt stops in the middle of my thighs but can climb up a little if I do not keep it in place. The black lace underwear was to give me confidence. Don’t ask why, it just works. Trust me.
My interview was scheduled for 9:30am. Since I am the type who considers being on time the same as late, I arrived just before nine when a number of others were on their way to work, unless it was the first mass interview I was to attend. The building has twelve floors and my interview was on the seventh. Obviously, I wore heels with my suit and I did not consider the stairs. There were only two elevators and I managed to catch the nine o’clock rush.
Several others waited as I did for one of the elevators to return. One person exited to a wall of us heading up. Waiting briefly crossed my mind but my need to be early included arriving on the correct floor of the building and at least identifying the office where I needed to go. Several others entered before me. When I entered I checked the panel of buttons and pressed the seven which lit up as I did so. In accordance with societal norms I turned to face the door. A man squeezed in next to me, did the same check, pressed eight and then turned his back to the side of the elevator. Given the crowded space he was considerate to leave a gap, sort of a shared space in front of the two of us as we stood at an angle to each other.
Behind me, someone bumped my purse and the strap slipped off my shoulder. My swift reflexes caught the it before it slipped more than a few inches off my shoulder. Unfortunately, all I tried to grab was the strap. Momentum from the brief drop was converted into an arc as it travelled in front of me a fixed distance from where my hand held the strap. Physics was a bitch that day. The result of this brief motion was a collision with the gentleman next to me. Right below his belt.
The man flinched and then I flinched. His hands moved my purse out of the way before I could grab it and my reaction times were less impressive. Before it had registered that my purse was not in front of my hand I brushed the man with my own hand. It was the social equivalent of a car crash and happened just as quickly.
“I’m so sorry.” I could not apologize enough. On the other hand, I did not want to draw the attention of everyone else in the elevator to what happened.
“It’s fine,” the man said with a playful glint in his eye. He smiled down at me as people often do when they share a private joke. At least he was not angry or in obvious pain. I avoided eye contact, fully aware that my light complexion must be very bright at this point. Inevitably, my thoughts progressed where they should not. The gentleman was ten or fifteen years my senior, but maintained a charming and confident appearance. His mostly grey hair brought to mind the phrase, silver fox. I needed to reign in my hormones.
After that things got even worse. The elevator stopped abruptly. I nearly lost my balance. An arm pressed against my back briefly and I leaned against Mr. Unfortunate as the lights went out. There was a moment of panic but everyone soon calmed down. Wearing heels was beginning to feel like a mistake as I struggled to maintain balance while getting bumped by strangers in the dim light of everyone’s phones.
The man who was unlucky enough to stand beside me helped stabilize me. His strong arm reached around my shoulders and pulled my right shoulder up against his chest. This gesture from a stranger would normally make me uncomfortable, but given my situation it was a relief. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I have been through this before. It should only take a few minutes to fix.”
Why were there no backup lights? There was just enough light from a phone behind me to see a smile on his face. He was a couple inches taller than me even with my heels. “Thanks. I’m Ellie.” As I considered shaking hands I considered the darkness and my coordination in the past couple of minutes and decided against it. “It’s probably best not to shake hands just now.”
A low, easy hint of a laugh reminded me of my dad. “You’re probably right. I’m Dan.” He sort of hugged me with a brief squeeze across my shoulders. A moment of quiet between the pair of us allowed my attention to shift to the sounds of others with us. One young man phoned a supervisor to let them know he and a colleague were stuck. A woman was spouting abuse at someone about the situation, but clearly she was not speaking to anyone responsible for the malfunction.
“Of course, you’re assuming another accident would be a bad thing.”
My mind had drifted so quickly that I barely registered that Dan had spoken to me. “Sorry? I was miles away.”
“If we tried to shake and missed.” He paused and I got the impression he was making a pass at me. “There are very few negatives even if it went wrong.”
While I tried to work out if he was asking me to shake hands with him I felt something bump me. It was below my waist and in front of me. It should not be my bag and no one else was close enough to be in the small space, cornered between Dan and me. It moved again. Oh, God. It was Dan’s hand. My skirt gave enough to let him gently press a finger between my legs. A spark shot through my body at a stranger’s touch of my clitoris. “Oh!” I sounded like a dumb blonde. Since I am blonde he will probably think I am a dumb one.
Perhaps I am a dumb blonde because I kept worrying about how dumb Dan would think I am while he slid his hand down my thigh and between my legs. He pushed up, under my skirt and my instinctive reaction was to bend my knee that was nearer to him. That allowed him to reach all the way up. In a matter of seconds he pulled my underwear aside and worked two fingers into me.
It was not me. There is no way I would do that. I am a married woman, happily so. But, my right leg was bent between the legs of this man I just met. My head was not simply resting on his shoulder, but pressing firmly against him as his fingers stirred my blood. My heart had never raced so fast. Was I making noise? Oh, please don’t moan. Don’t be a stupid idiot. But I am a stupid idiot. I am letting a stranger finger me while another man keeps bumping into my other side.
Dan pulled his hand away. Shamefully, I felt disappointed. I tried to stand straight again, regain some composure. I straightened my skirt. The movement of various light sources danced around our faces. It was clear enough to see that Dan had raised his hand to his face. He smelled his hand. No, that was not it. He smelled me on his fingers.
The arm around my shoulder dropped away. I expected to feel a hand on my ass, but that did not happen. Instead, two hands held mine. We were nearly shaking hands. This was not typical. He guided me, at least my right hand. Dan had me flatten my hand and then he put my hand down his pants. I felt the waistband on his suit and then the fleshy warmth of his penis against the back of my hand. He let go of me and put his hand back on my shoulder and pulled me close again.
A hand returned to my thigh again, slid up and this time rubbed my clit. The situation was unbelievable. It was also a once in a lifetime opportunity. Does it count as cheating if you just use hands? I told myself it was okay and turned my hand so I could grab Dan’s cock.
I have never jerked a guy off in his pants before. Nor a stranger. It was also the first cock I have touched besides Greg’s since we started dating. That did not mean I did not know how to do it. Who needs a lot of room to get a guy off? My fingers can work magic and that is exactly what they did.
The elevator held us captive for nearly twenty minutes. Part of that time, I think Dan took up a personal challenge to make me moan. I refused. I took his fingers like a pro, even when I thought people might hear the sloppy sound of my cunt. It only took a bit longer than ten minutes for my magic fingers to get Dan off. The guy was sneaky and grabbed my hand and held it as he came. Sticky cum warmed my wrist and ran down his cock and around my hand, getting between my fingers and on my palm. My hand was covered in man gravy when he finally let me go.
To me, the smell of his cum was obvious. No one said a thing about it, but I could not believe that no one noticed. What I desperately needed to know was whether anyone knew it was me.
Luckily, the lights came back on and then the lift resumed its task of delivering its passengers to the various floors. Two young men left on six. As people shuffled in the confined space I carefully held my hand near me without touching anything to avoid spreading cum on my clothes or anyone else. I followed a woman out on seven as Dan said, “It was great meeting you, Ellie.” I nodded and smiled as I left.
My greatest need was right in front of me. The ladies room. I went straight to the sink and washed my hand three times. Once got most of it off, the second was to be sure I did not miss anything that my interviewers might detect, and the third was more out of guilt for having given in to such selfish and depraved desires.
The executive design of the building included full length windows beside the main entrances to offices. A sign directed me to Collins Inc. Down the corridor and around one corner, the name Collins was written in large letters on one of the massive windows. Inside, I could see an attractive young woman at the reception desk with a hint of Asian ancestry and bronzed skin. She was attentive as I approached and introduced myself. I was relieved to still be a few minutes early and she asked me to take a seat. She phoned someone and informed them, “Mrs. Walsh is here for a 9:30 interview.” A moment later she hung up and told me, “Mrs. Collins will be out in a couple minutes.” In the meantime, the receptionist kept glancing at me. She tried to be subtle, but it was obvious she was checking me out. At my age, I was not likely to be much competition to her, plus I am already married.
The woman who arrived looked stern at first glance. She was older than me, appearing professional and more conservative than my borderline flirty suit. A smile appeared as if artificially placed on her face as she greeted me. “Hi, I’m Pauline.” We shook hands and I introduced myself with my first name in kind. She led me to a small office space and offered me a coffee.
While Pauline made coffee for each of us, I asked if she was the CEO. The job was for a personal assistant to the CEO, so I wanted to know if she was my potential boss. “Oh, no. That’s my husband.” Her smile finally appeared genuine as she spoke. “It is his company. I just manage the HR department.”
Stage one of my interview was an “informal” chat. I always wonder what psychoanalysis they try to process when they have these discussions. I told her I had been in the elevator when the power went out. She sympathized, and said they were having a problem with one of their computers not restarting after that outage. The next stage involved a few standard forms, which I filled out at the table. Following that, I took a brief test on a computer. The automated test tracked my typing speed and accuracy. Since I had taken a formalTo continue reading this story you must be a member. Join for FREE here.
My interview was scheduled for 9:30am. Since I am the type who considers being on time the same as late, I arrived just before nine when a number of others were on their way to work, unless it was the first mass interview I was to attend. The building has twelve floors and my interview was on the seventh. Obviously, I wore heels with my suit and I did not consider the stairs. There were only two elevators and I managed to catch the nine o’clock rush.
Several others waited as I did for one of the elevators to return. One person exited to a wall of us heading up. Waiting briefly crossed my mind but my need to be early included arriving on the correct floor of the building and at least identifying the office where I needed to go. Several others entered before me. When I entered I checked the panel of buttons and pressed the seven which lit up as I did so. In accordance with societal norms I turned to face the door. A man squeezed in next to me, did the same check, pressed eight and then turned his back to the side of the elevator. Given the crowded space he was considerate to leave a gap, sort of a shared space in front of the two of us as we stood at an angle to each other.
Behind me, someone bumped my purse and the strap slipped off my shoulder. My swift reflexes caught the it before it slipped more than a few inches off my shoulder. Unfortunately, all I tried to grab was the strap. Momentum from the brief drop was converted into an arc as it travelled in front of me a fixed distance from where my hand held the strap. Physics was a bitch that day. The result of this brief motion was a collision with the gentleman next to me. Right below his belt.
The man flinched and then I flinched. His hands moved my purse out of the way before I could grab it and my reaction times were less impressive. Before it had registered that my purse was not in front of my hand I brushed the man with my own hand. It was the social equivalent of a car crash and happened just as quickly.
“I’m so sorry.” I could not apologize enough. On the other hand, I did not want to draw the attention of everyone else in the elevator to what happened.
“It’s fine,” the man said with a playful glint in his eye. He smiled down at me as people often do when they share a private joke. At least he was not angry or in obvious pain. I avoided eye contact, fully aware that my light complexion must be very bright at this point. Inevitably, my thoughts progressed where they should not. The gentleman was ten or fifteen years my senior, but maintained a charming and confident appearance. His mostly grey hair brought to mind the phrase, silver fox. I needed to reign in my hormones.
After that things got even worse. The elevator stopped abruptly. I nearly lost my balance. An arm pressed against my back briefly and I leaned against Mr. Unfortunate as the lights went out. There was a moment of panic but everyone soon calmed down. Wearing heels was beginning to feel like a mistake as I struggled to maintain balance while getting bumped by strangers in the dim light of everyone’s phones.
The man who was unlucky enough to stand beside me helped stabilize me. His strong arm reached around my shoulders and pulled my right shoulder up against his chest. This gesture from a stranger would normally make me uncomfortable, but given my situation it was a relief. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I have been through this before. It should only take a few minutes to fix.”
Why were there no backup lights? There was just enough light from a phone behind me to see a smile on his face. He was a couple inches taller than me even with my heels. “Thanks. I’m Ellie.” As I considered shaking hands I considered the darkness and my coordination in the past couple of minutes and decided against it. “It’s probably best not to shake hands just now.”
A low, easy hint of a laugh reminded me of my dad. “You’re probably right. I’m Dan.” He sort of hugged me with a brief squeeze across my shoulders. A moment of quiet between the pair of us allowed my attention to shift to the sounds of others with us. One young man phoned a supervisor to let them know he and a colleague were stuck. A woman was spouting abuse at someone about the situation, but clearly she was not speaking to anyone responsible for the malfunction.
“Of course, you’re assuming another accident would be a bad thing.”
My mind had drifted so quickly that I barely registered that Dan had spoken to me. “Sorry? I was miles away.”
“If we tried to shake and missed.” He paused and I got the impression he was making a pass at me. “There are very few negatives even if it went wrong.”
While I tried to work out if he was asking me to shake hands with him I felt something bump me. It was below my waist and in front of me. It should not be my bag and no one else was close enough to be in the small space, cornered between Dan and me. It moved again. Oh, God. It was Dan’s hand. My skirt gave enough to let him gently press a finger between my legs. A spark shot through my body at a stranger’s touch of my clitoris. “Oh!” I sounded like a dumb blonde. Since I am blonde he will probably think I am a dumb one.
Perhaps I am a dumb blonde because I kept worrying about how dumb Dan would think I am while he slid his hand down my thigh and between my legs. He pushed up, under my skirt and my instinctive reaction was to bend my knee that was nearer to him. That allowed him to reach all the way up. In a matter of seconds he pulled my underwear aside and worked two fingers into me.
It was not me. There is no way I would do that. I am a married woman, happily so. But, my right leg was bent between the legs of this man I just met. My head was not simply resting on his shoulder, but pressing firmly against him as his fingers stirred my blood. My heart had never raced so fast. Was I making noise? Oh, please don’t moan. Don’t be a stupid idiot. But I am a stupid idiot. I am letting a stranger finger me while another man keeps bumping into my other side.
Dan pulled his hand away. Shamefully, I felt disappointed. I tried to stand straight again, regain some composure. I straightened my skirt. The movement of various light sources danced around our faces. It was clear enough to see that Dan had raised his hand to his face. He smelled his hand. No, that was not it. He smelled me on his fingers.
The arm around my shoulder dropped away. I expected to feel a hand on my ass, but that did not happen. Instead, two hands held mine. We were nearly shaking hands. This was not typical. He guided me, at least my right hand. Dan had me flatten my hand and then he put my hand down his pants. I felt the waistband on his suit and then the fleshy warmth of his penis against the back of my hand. He let go of me and put his hand back on my shoulder and pulled me close again.
A hand returned to my thigh again, slid up and this time rubbed my clit. The situation was unbelievable. It was also a once in a lifetime opportunity. Does it count as cheating if you just use hands? I told myself it was okay and turned my hand so I could grab Dan’s cock.
I have never jerked a guy off in his pants before. Nor a stranger. It was also the first cock I have touched besides Greg’s since we started dating. That did not mean I did not know how to do it. Who needs a lot of room to get a guy off? My fingers can work magic and that is exactly what they did.
The elevator held us captive for nearly twenty minutes. Part of that time, I think Dan took up a personal challenge to make me moan. I refused. I took his fingers like a pro, even when I thought people might hear the sloppy sound of my cunt. It only took a bit longer than ten minutes for my magic fingers to get Dan off. The guy was sneaky and grabbed my hand and held it as he came. Sticky cum warmed my wrist and ran down his cock and around my hand, getting between my fingers and on my palm. My hand was covered in man gravy when he finally let me go.
To me, the smell of his cum was obvious. No one said a thing about it, but I could not believe that no one noticed. What I desperately needed to know was whether anyone knew it was me.
Luckily, the lights came back on and then the lift resumed its task of delivering its passengers to the various floors. Two young men left on six. As people shuffled in the confined space I carefully held my hand near me without touching anything to avoid spreading cum on my clothes or anyone else. I followed a woman out on seven as Dan said, “It was great meeting you, Ellie.” I nodded and smiled as I left.
My greatest need was right in front of me. The ladies room. I went straight to the sink and washed my hand three times. Once got most of it off, the second was to be sure I did not miss anything that my interviewers might detect, and the third was more out of guilt for having given in to such selfish and depraved desires.
The executive design of the building included full length windows beside the main entrances to offices. A sign directed me to Collins Inc. Down the corridor and around one corner, the name Collins was written in large letters on one of the massive windows. Inside, I could see an attractive young woman at the reception desk with a hint of Asian ancestry and bronzed skin. She was attentive as I approached and introduced myself. I was relieved to still be a few minutes early and she asked me to take a seat. She phoned someone and informed them, “Mrs. Walsh is here for a 9:30 interview.” A moment later she hung up and told me, “Mrs. Collins will be out in a couple minutes.” In the meantime, the receptionist kept glancing at me. She tried to be subtle, but it was obvious she was checking me out. At my age, I was not likely to be much competition to her, plus I am already married.
The woman who arrived looked stern at first glance. She was older than me, appearing professional and more conservative than my borderline flirty suit. A smile appeared as if artificially placed on her face as she greeted me. “Hi, I’m Pauline.” We shook hands and I introduced myself with my first name in kind. She led me to a small office space and offered me a coffee.
While Pauline made coffee for each of us, I asked if she was the CEO. The job was for a personal assistant to the CEO, so I wanted to know if she was my potential boss. “Oh, no. That’s my husband.” Her smile finally appeared genuine as she spoke. “It is his company. I just manage the HR department.”
Stage one of my interview was an “informal” chat. I always wonder what psychoanalysis they try to process when they have these discussions. I told her I had been in the elevator when the power went out. She sympathized, and said they were having a problem with one of their computers not restarting after that outage. The next stage involved a few standard forms, which I filled out at the table. Following that, I took a brief test on a computer. The automated test tracked my typing speed and accuracy. Since I had taken a formalTo continue reading this story you must be a member. Join for FREE here.
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