MY CONFESSION BY BABEINTHEWOODS

I once had an interview for an internship for a large charitable organization at the Detroit airport. This was a first, being interviewed in one of those low-budget motels strung along the access road whose doors opened onto a large asphalt parking lot.

All I had was a name, “Anita,” to ask for at the front desk.

The late night desk clerk looked at me bleary-eyed as I explained my purpose. He barely managed a grunt, pointing at a phone that I was to use to call her room.

“Hello, this is Anita,” the honey-dewed voice said at the other end. I began to introduce myself… “I know who you are,” she said. “I’ve looked at your paper. Could you bring me a pack of cigarettes on the way up. Marlboro’s. They sell them at the machine at the front desk.”

Anxious to make a good impression, I did as Anita asked, got the pack of cigarettes, and went outside where jets hustled overhead. The noise blocked out any other.

Anita’s room was on the second level. I climbed the concrete stairs, found the room number, and knocked timidly, not sure what to expect. The door opened and there stood a knockout woman with wavy chestnut hair who wore a low-cut crewel sweater that hinted at a full bosom and a pair of skin-tight jeans. She was also barefoot.

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled, I must have the wrong…” “Hello, I’m Anita, come on in,” she said, accepting the pack of cigarettes that I forgot I held. I stepped into the room, completely thrown by the beautiful woman before me.

Before I had the chance to sit down in one of the chairs next to a small table next to the window, Anita sprawled out on the bed, propping herself up on a pillow. “You’re cute,” Anita purred. “By the way, I don’t believe in the traditional interview. I just like to get to know the person.”

OK, this is a test, I told myself, and I had to think quickly. Is this a trap? Or am I supposed to show Anita what kind of man I really am? Meanwhile, Anita had stretched out on her side facing me. She moved her hand across the bed in front of her. “So why don’t you tell me a little about yourself,” she almost whispered. Damn.

I spoke a little of my upbringing, what life had been like, my education, why I thought I would be good for… Suddenly, Anita sat up and began to pull the sweater over her head. Then she raised her buttocks, pulling her jeans off. She was now full regalia in the sexiest lingerie I had ever seen. I had an immediate erection that I thought was going to burst the seams of my pants.

Anita stared at the bulge in my pants. “Why don’t you tell me a little about him,” she smiled seductively, making an obvious reference to my erection where a small stain was darkening my pants. This was the moment of decision. I would either spring into action, nuzzling Anita’s neck, stroking her inner thighs, fondling her breasts or… I did what was against my nature, to turn down a chance rarely offered to make love to the most seductive woman I had ever met. And that’s what I did. I kept my equipoise and continued on saying whatever, trying to focus my thoughts on the matter at hand, so to speak.

Realizing that I was taking the more conservative approach, Anita slipped under the bedsheets. But I could tell the offer still stood. I awkwardly stumbled through the interview and finally realized I had to stand, erection or no erection.

As I walked to the door, Anita spoke. “I really like you, you’re cute as they come, I just not sure you have enough tiger in you for the job.”

I stepped outside into the bright daylight, jets climbing and arcing overhead. A bathroom, I had to find a bathroom.

I returned to the lobby. An older woman now sat at the desk, looking desultory and bored. “A bathroom…” She cut me off and pointed down a hallway off the lobby.

I tried to walk slowly but as soon as I was inside, I locked the door and dropped my pants. My penis fell into my hand already knowing what it had to do. It only took a few strokes until I shot a torrent of cum, more than I had ever experienced, more than I had ever felt, over the bathroom sink.

I bent backwards as wave after wave of the most indefinable pleasure rolled over me. I had made a mess of the place, but oh what a mess. I cleaned up the best I could, even the sink, regrouping my thoughts, proud that I had done the right thing. Except I didn’t get the job. It turns out I didn’t have enough tiger in me.

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