I woke up early on a Saturday morning, the first rays of sunlight gently spilling through my curtains. Today was crucial; it was the day I was going to help my dad get his job back. As I lay in bed, my thoughts wandered to the past few months. The financial strain and the worry etched on my parents’ faces since Dad lost his job were all too vivid in my mind.
I knew the importance of this job to him, beyond the paycheck. It was a part of who he was. And now, as our family struggled, it was my turn to step up. I had promised never to meddle in his work affairs, but desperate times called for bold measures. This wasn’t just for Dad; it was for all of us.
With a deep breath, I rose from my bed, feeling the cool morning air against my skin. The day’s mission was clear yet daunting. Convincing Mr. Anderson, my dad’s stern former boss, to reconsider his employment was a long shot, but I was determined.
Before getting dressed, I decided to take a quick shower. The warm water cascading over me felt refreshing and somewhat calming. It was a moment to gather my thoughts, to steel myself for the challenge ahead. I closed my eyes, letting the water trickle down my boobs and also wash away my hesitation, replacing it with resolve.
After the shower, I wrapped myself in a towel and stood in front of the mirror for a moment. The reflection showed a young woman, 18 years old, on the brink of something significant. Choosing my outfit carefully, I opted for a professional yet approachable look – a crisply ironed blouse paired with dark jeans with a white bra and panties. It was important to present myself in a way that was respectful yet assertive.
I finished getting ready with a sense of quiet focus. Looking at myself in the mirror one last time, I saw not just my reflection, but the embodiment of hope and determination. Bag in hand, I stepped out the door, the soft click of the closing door marking the start of a journey that was more than just physical. It was a step towards fighting for my family’s future.
With each step towards the bus stop, my mind replayed the possible scenarios of the day. The city was just waking up, the streets slowly coming to life with the hustle of early risers and the distant hum of traffic. I found comfort in this routine bustle; it was a reminder that life goes on, regardless of our personal challenges.
As the bus trundled along the familiar route, I peered out of the window, watching the world pass by. My heart was a mix of hope and apprehension. I’d spent countless nights researching and preparing for this moment, understanding Mr. Anderson’s business approach and my father’s contributions to his company. Yet, no amount of preparation seemed enough to quell the butterflies in my stomach.
I thought about Dad – his gentle smile, his unwavering support, and how he’d always encouraged me to stand up for what I believed in. He had no idea about my plan today; I had kept it a secret, fearing he might disapprove. But deep down, I knew he would understand. This was more than a daughter’s love; it was about justice and acknowledgement of his hard work.
The bus stopped near the towering office building where my father used to work. As I stepped off, I took a deep breath, it had taken me an hour to get here, feeling the crisp morning air fill my lungs. The building loomed large, its glass facade reflecting the rising sun. It was a symbol of corporate power, a place where decisions that affected lives were made daily. Today, I was here to influence one such decision.
I walked towards the building, my steps steady yet cautious. I knew that appearances mattered in places like this. My outfit, chosen for its blend of professionalism and youthfulness, was my armour – it gave me confidence, a visual statement of my serious intent and youthful optimism.
Reaching the entrance, I paused for a moment. This was it, the point of no return. Once I stepped inside, I would be in uncharted territory, embarking on an advocacy I never imagined I’d have to undertake. But it was necessary, not just for Dad, but for the sense of fairness and the belief that sometimes, one small voice can make a big difference.
With a final deep breath, I pushed the door open and stepped inside. The cool, air-conditioned lobby was a stark contrast to the warm sunlight outside. I was now in the arena, ready to face whatever lay ahead.
As the lobby doors closed behind me, a wave of intense silence enveloped me, a stark contrast to the bustling city sounds I’d just left behind. The opulent interior of the office building was both intimidating and awe-inspiring. Marble floors, high ceilings, and an air of corporate majesty surrounded me. The receptionist, a sharply dressed woman with a scrutinizing gaze, looked up from her desk, her eyes briefly assessing me.
“Can I help you?” she asked, her tone polite yet distant.
I approached the desk, feeling the weight of her gaze. “I’m here to see Mr. Anderson,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. It was crucial to appear confident, to not let my inner turmoil show.
The receptionist raised an eyebrow slightly, a silent question about my young age and purpose here. “Do you have an appointment?” she inquired, her fingers poised over her keyboard.
“No, but it’s important,” I replied, holding her gaze. “Please, it’s about a former employee, my father.”
There was a moment of hesitation, a flicker of curiosity in her eyes before she nodded. “I’ll see if he’s available. What’s your name?”
“Emma Smith,” I said, giving her my father’s last name. She typed it into her system, then picked up the phone to make a call.
The wait was agonizing. The ticking of the clock on the wall seemed unusually loud, each tick echoing my escalating heartbeat. I could feel the eyes of other employees on me, their glances sharp and questioning. The air felt thick with anticipation and unspoken judgments.
After what seemed like an eternity, the receptionist hung up the phone. “Mr. Anderson will see you. Please take the elevator to the top floor,” she said, gesturing towards the elevators.
I thanked her and walked towards the elevator, my heart pounding in my chest. The ride-up felt surreal, like ascending into a cloud of uncertainty and high stakes. My mind raced with thoughts and strategies. This was more than just a meeting; it was a confrontation with power, a challenge to the corporate machine that had so unceremoniously discarded my father’s years of dedication.
The elevator’s ascent to Mr. Anderson’s office was a metaphorical climb to a decisive moment. Each floor marked a step closer to a confrontation that could alter our family’s future. In the reflective space of the elevator, my image stared back at me – a young woman caught between fear and determination.
As the elevator dinged at the top floor, the doors slid open to reveal a quiet, imposing corridor. The click of my heels against the polished floor echoed in the empty hallway, a rhythmic reminder of the gravity of my mission.
Approaching Mr. Anderson’s office, I knocked, mustering all the resolve I could. The deep voice of Mr. Anderson invited me in. The office was spacious and intimidating, reflecting his commanding presence. He scrutinized me as I approached, a hint of curiosity in his voice. “Miss Smith, I presume?”
“Yes, Mr. Anderson. Thank you for seeing me,” I replied, striving to keep my voice steady.
I laid out my case with clarity and passion, speaking of my father’s commitment, the unfairness of his dismissal, and the impact on our family. Mr. Anderson listened, his expression unreadable.
After a heavy silence, he finally spoke, “Your courage is commendable, Miss Smith. However, this is a complex issue. I need to thoroughly review it before deciding.”
A flutter of mixed emotions passed through me. Then he added, “Come back at 9 PM for my decision. Maybe dress up a bit, and put some effort in, if you get my meaning. It might persuade me even more.”
I nodded, a sense of cautious optimism mingled with confusion. “Thank you, Mr. Anderson. I’ll be here.” His comment lingered in my mind as I left, uncertain of what he implied.
Returning home, I tried to act normal around Dad. We shared a meal, and when he inquired about my day, I lied about meeting friends and planning to see Becky at 9 PM. The deception felt foreign, but it was necessary.
After dinner, I took another shower, letting the warm water wash over me, a brief respite from the day’s tension. Refreshed, I dressed again, choosing a simple crop top and skirt which was rather short – an outfit that made me feel comfortable yet confident.
As 8 PM approached, I bid Dad goodbye, sticking to my story. The city lights blurred around me as I made my way back to the building. The lobby was quiet, its stillness amplifying my inner turmoil. My heart pounded as I stepped into the elevator, my body shaking not just with nerves but with the weight of the impending decision.
Mr. Anderson, the boss of my dad, gave me a sly look as I entered his office. After all, he had been looking me up and down earlier in the day, so I felt uneasy with his stare. Seating down in front of his desk, I tried not to lose my cool.
“You also paid attention to what I mentioned regarding your attire, Miss Smith. His gaze lingered on my naked legs as he remarked, “Mmm, nice.”
He was staring at me, and I didn’t like the way this sounded. I was uncomfortable enough, but I could feel his eyes checking me out.
He said, “I have been thinking about it,” in a slightly lustful voice. “Yes, but it will rely on you. I will return your dad’s job. I would even give him a bonus if we had sex right now on my desk.”
Mr. Anderson had just said something that I found unbelievable. The room felt abruptly smaller, even oppressive, as the weight of his proposal weighed thick in the air. Time seemed to have stopped, and I was faced with having to make a tough choice.
I stood there thinking about the implications of this deal, and my mind was filled with conflicting thoughts. I was aware of the extent to which my dad needed his job back on the one hand. The financial load that our family had been carrying for months will be lifted. However, the notion of partaking in an act as obscene as this with Mr Anderson made my blood boil.
I inhaled deeply, turned to face Mr Anderson, and spoke calmly through the agony inside of me. “Okay, Mr. Anderson. I agree if this is necessary.”
I could see the eagerness and joy in his eyes as he gestured for me to come to his desk. With calm and intentional steps, I approached him while trying to project an image of confidence.
As I stood in front of him, he leaned back in the chair and stared at me. It was a moment of surrender, but I was also going to use my body as a bargaining chip to secure my Dad’s future.
Mr Anderson unbuttoned his shirt and indicated discreetly to expose his chubby naked chest.
“A deal is a deal, Miss Smith, now Mr Anderson licked his lips and spoke in a low, sensual voice, “Take off your clothes.”
I fumbled for the hem of my crop top, my fingers shaking a little as my heart pounded in my chest. Though I knew I had no other option, I couldn’t believe I was really following through on this. I was ready to go above and above to save my dad’s career because it was in jeopardy.
As I slipped off my crop top, Mr. Anderson’s eyes roamed over my body hungrily. I felt a blush creep up my cheeks as I unhooked my bra, exposing my breasts to his eager gaze. He let out a low growl, his eyes drinking in every inch of my nearly naked body.
He looked down at my skirt after lingering on my chest. Unclipping my skirt and letting it drop to reveal my lacy white panties, I did so with shaky hands. When he saw me in my underwear, Mr. Anderson’s eyes darkened with want.
He got up and approached me without saying anything, his fingertips moving slowly over my bare flesh. He grasped my breasts in his hands and squeezed them gently, causing me to tremble at his touch and whimper softly. Then, without once moving his hands off of me, he got me on my back onto his desk.
I couldn’t believe I was about to have sex with my dad’s boss, a man who was old enough to be my dad. But the thought of my dad not getting his job back was enough to push away any doubts or reservations I may have had.
Mr Anderson stroked his cock while making his way towards me, he looked chubby and greasy middle-aged. His hands travelled down to my panties, pulling them off and tossing them to the side.
It didn’t take him long to lay his greasy body on top of me as he slid his cock inside me, and I let out a little moan. Mr. Anderson thrust into me, his movements rough and urgent. He made me wrap my legs around his waist so that I was pulling him closer to me, the desk digging into my back.
I was only doing this for my dad, I reminded myself as Mr Anderson continued to pound into me. If my dad knew what I was doing, he would be ashamed and disappointed. But I couldn’t think about that now, not when Mr. Anderson’s hands were everywhere, grabbing and squeezing my body and playing with my breasts as he fucked me on his desk.
He picked up pace “Your pussy feels good,” he said as he panted and moaned as his weighed pushed down on me as he continued fucking me on the desk. His cock didn’t feel as big and by the look of him it look like he wouldn’t last long.
“Just don’t cum in me please” I pleaded with him his face went red as he pounded into me trying to hold back and last longer, I hope so I just wanted this over with.
He then pulled out of me and roughly pushed me off the desk, spinning me around and bending me over. He shoved his cock back inside me from behind and started thrusting again.
He was so rough, treating me like a piece of meat fucking me so damn hard as he slapped my ass.
After a few more minutes of rough and deep fucking, he finally got what he wanted. With a loud grunt, he pulled out of my pussy and made me kneel in front and he demanded me to finish him off.
“Wank my cock over your face now” he demanded as I gripped his shaft, the thought of his cum on my face made me sick.
I jerked him fast I wanted it over with as quick as I could so my hands pumped and pumped his cock. “Argh FUCK,” robe after robe of hot cum spurt into my face and eyes and my hair. I closed my mouth so none of it went in my mouth.
I felt disgusted and used, my face covered in his sticky cum. But I knew I had to keep this a secret for my dad’s sake.
As Mr Anderson gave me some tissues I then cleaned the cum off my face and hair which was sticky. I will definitely get a shower when I get in. He then straightened himself up and composed himself, I quickly put my clothes back on and tried to fix my hair. But as I looked at myself in the mirror, I couldn’t help but feel dirty and used. My dad’s job may have been saved, but at what cost?
I couldn’t believe I had just had sex with my dad’s boss, and I knew it was something that would haunt me for a long time.
But as we left the office and I got the bus home, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief. I had done something I never thought I would do, all for my dad. And I knew I could never forgive myself for what I had done.
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