Jobcentre Joy
"An appointment with a curvy benefits advisor leads to an unexpected kind of job satisfaction"
Signing on was usually the worst part of my week. The fluorescent lights, the plastic chairs, the crushing disappointment of existence. But today, I had Lorraine.
She was my new advisor—forty-something, thick as hell, with reading glasses and a cardigan that couldn't hide what was underneath. The kind of woman who'd given up on diet culture and looked better for it.
"Right then, Mr. Thompson." She peered at her screen. "Let's see what we can do for you."
"Is there much?"
"Honestly?" She looked at me over her glasses. "Not really. But we're required to pretend." She lowered her voice. "Though there might be something I can offer. If you're interested."
"Depends what it is."
"Meet me in Interview Room 4 in ten minutes. Come alone."
The interview room was bare—a table, two chairs, motivational posters about believing in yourself. She was waiting, already unbuttoning her cardigan.
"Twenty years I've worked here," she said. "Twenty years of watching fit young lads walk past my desk. Never once did anything about it." She looked at me with intent. "Until now."
"What changed?"
"Divorce came through yesterday. Realized life's too short." She pulled off the cardigan, revealing a blouse straining to contain her. "So. Are you interested, or are you going to make me fill out more forms?"
"No more forms."
I kissed her, and she melted into me—all softness and desperation. She tasted like cheap coffee and had clearly been thinking about this all morning.
"God, I needed this," she breathed. "Do you have any idea what it's like, watching all these young men and never—"
"Less talking."
Her blouse came open, revealing a full figure barely contained by a practical bra. I unhooked it, watched heavy tits fall free.
"Like them?" She was almost shy.
"They're fucking perfect."
I pushed her onto the table, buried my face in her chest while she gasped and moaned. Her hands fumbled with my jeans, finding me hard.
"Oh my. That's... substantial."
I pulled up her skirt—sensible, black—found tights and knickers underneath. Tore the tights, pushed the knickers aside, and dropped to my knees.
"Oh—nobody's done that in—"
I silenced her with my tongue. She came in under two minutes, shaking, hand over her mouth to stay quiet.
"Inside me—please—need it—"
I stood, pushed in slowly, watched her eyes roll back. She was wet, warm, and clearly hadn't had this in far too long.
"Harder—I won't break—"
I fucked her on that interview table, motivational posters watching as she came twice more. When I got close, she wrapped her legs around me.
"Inside—give it to me—"
I came deep, feeling her clench around me.
We fixed ourselves in silence, both smiling.
"Same time next week," she said, handing me my paperwork. "I'll make sure you're in my queue."
I walked out of the Jobcentre with a spring in my step for the first time ever.
Finally found something to look forward to on Wednesdays.