Unknown: Office porn Queen

First she jerked him longer than before to get things stirred up.

Then she jerked him while she sucked him. This really sent him. He lay back, saying "Oh, oh, oh, oh," so far away in a cloud of bliss that he seemed almost to have traveled to another.

She made with her tongue around and around the base of the glands, the head of the prick, an area in which a man carries his wildest sensations.

She put in time on his balls, twiddling them and hefting them gently. And she mouthed his prick and took it out and looked at it, and mouthed it again and took it out and looked at it, full of mischief, until he said that if she did it again he would die right there and she might have a bad time explaining.

She had the rod deep in her mouth and she was bobbing away again when she felt that certain vibration.

This time she sucked so hard, she hurt her cheeks, but she kept on sucking, forming a vacuum in her mouth that enticed the jisum to leave its hiding place. She knew when the dam broke, because Hank let out a blissful sigh.

As soon as the first jet hit the back of her throat, Carlotta knew that Hank's jisum glands had been working overtime. But she swallowed one great gout after another, until finally the flow slowed and the ravening prick began bit by bit to lose its hardness.

Hank had just about returned from the planet called Venus, after the Goddess of love, when they heard someone put a key into the door's lock. They acted fast, then, grabbing their clothing and sitting on it, tucking themselves into the chair and making themselves as small as they could behind its big back, that shielded them.

Not that Hank was much worried. After all, he was a valuable man and he was sporting with a passenger on his time-off. But still a Chief Pilot should not be caught in an undignified situation.

They sat silent, listening to Helen and Cleo make woman-to-woman love, and sometimes peeking at them. They exchanged an indignant glance when Cleo marched off with her snotty, "I owe you one," leaving poor Helen with a hot, unsatisfied cunt to ravage her nerves.

Then, having revealed themselves to startled Helen, they agreed with her that she had been badly used by her lesbian companion on whom she had worked so hard to insure an orgasm, while getting no climax of her own in return. But some passengers did treat airline personnel like dirt.

To make Helen smile, double-naked Carlotta patted her tummy as though to say she would want no lunch, she was so full of jisum.

At least Hank smiled, but his heart wasn't in it. He knew Helen's sex partner's name and he knew that woman's nasty undercover job and he knew that Helen was in trouble. His dear friend Helen was a fine hostess and a lovely person, but Hank knew that she had been uncovered as a lesbian and so she was going to be fired.

He had been only pilot, not a Chief Pilot, and Helen Troy had been high-school junior, when they had met.

At first she was just another fresh young face in a sea of fresh young faces, each with its high young breasts to match. The girls came to find out about being airline hostesses, maybe. Often the high school would set aside a room where Captain Hastings could fill-in this gap in their unsophisticated wondering about the world of jobs.

The trick was not to be too obvious about the sexual angle, especially when some gimlet-eyed dragon of a female Occupational Counselor chose to sit-in.

On the other hand, Hank Hastings enjoyed the challenge. He had to get over to these dewy girls, somehow, that being an airline hostess had a lot to do with sex. And when a girl hostessed for Wanderlust Airlines, the job oozed sex at every pore.

He had to make this clear but not say it out loud, so to speak. And especially he had to make clear that any girl who knocked at Wanderlust Airlines door would deal with an outfit that gave sex first place.

At first this gave him plenty of trouble.

Take a virile man standing before a dozen or twenty dewy young things, shuffling his notes, clearing his throat. And all the time he is imagining how great it would be to line them all up naked and feel his way along a row of pairs of pink-tipped high-borne breasts, cupping, patting, gauging size and weight, perhaps kissing here and there to judge nipple sensitivity. And then say, along with a pat on the rump: you and you and you, report for hostess training.

A fantasy, of course, but even imagining it gave him a hard-on. All he could do was to hold his sheaf of notes across his crotch. But even so, some girls would whisper and giggle.

The Occupational Counselor might even shuffle her feet uneasily. This could be bad for business.

But he had to make the girls know they would be getting into a job in which their possession of pretty faces, handsome and generous tits, swingy hips and a tolerant attitude toward pinchers meant more than their ability to pour coffee without spilling it into a customer's lap.

During the months he had put into hostess hunting while the first of the 797-Xs had been made ready, he never had found the one right way to handle the sex-or-else ploy. Then, out in a Corn Belt auditorium, he noticed a Bible on a reading stand.

He remembered that he also had a Bible in his room at the local hotel, put there by well-meaning people.

That night he found the six words he had vaguely remembered and he copied them onto a card.

"Now, ain't that the Bible truth?" he said to himself. "And who could deny it?"

After that, before he spoke to any group of dewy girls and their dragon-guardian, he first glanced at the card.

Then he stood, with a serious face, until he had everyone's attention. Then he said in his resonant voice:

"I want you to know that everything I have to say is founded upon six words from the Holy Bible. These words are, male and female created he them. I hope that when you get home, and of course I know every one of you has a Bible in her home, you will read these words for yourself. You will find them in Genesis, one, twenty-seven."

Hank would then pause before he said solemnly, "Remember those words. Our business is founded upon them. Male and female created he them."

This made it difficult for anyone to take objection to what he told the girls. Not that he told them anything that might be called outright improper, but he gave them plenty of hints. And showed, in his ease and sincerity, how good it is to have the Bible on one's side.

He told the attentive, fresh faces that the majority of any airline's passengers was made up of businessmen. And that these men liked to feel relaxed during their interim of travel between one office and another.

He told the seventeen-year-olds – meanwhile wondering if any of them were still virgin – that a man feels at his best when he has the attention of a well-groomed, attractive young woman. And it is the duty of any airline to help its passengers feel at their best. Why, Wanderlust Airlines had in its files letters from grateful wheelers and dealers who said something like: "Your delightful hostess made me feel so relaxed that I was able to put over a big deal that no one else in my office could handle."

Wanderlust knew how much of its success depended upon its corps of hostesses. Young women who, to put it simply, never doubted the eternal truth that male and female created he them.

He went on to make it sort-of clear that once any young woman had been well coached in the art of creating an aura of sex around Wanderlust's male passengers, she would see those same male businessman passengers again and again. They would ask for her. They would give her valuable investment tips.

The truth was that those men returned to fly Wanderlust merely to enjoy having their aging cocks stand at throbbing attention for most of a flight. But they did hand out tips on stock. Anything to keep the girls talking so they could make a date.