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The Manager

By: girlrocket



Jessie's manager was not attractive. At least that's what Jessie thought, when she first saw him, though she didn't quite understand herself why that was her first thought — whether she'd fuck him or not. Not that she'd had sex before ... she just hadn't met the right person. Sex was something that was meaningful. You should do it with someone you loved.

The other waitresses thought he was sexy, though. Jessie couldn't figure it out. Ryan was his name. He had a big dark beard and he was about her age, which was 26 (well, maybe he was a little older — it was hard to tell these days, with the beard) and people reacted like you were a leper if you told them you were still a virgin at 26.

Not that she hadn't had offers. Jessie was gorgeous, everybody said; big pouty lips and big eyes and a thin fragile neck and big boobs for her frame. A tiny waist too, and legs up to here. Curvy and thin, which was something that everybody wanted.

But Jessie was too afraid. Her friends had shown her pictures of dicks, big thick dicks and animated gifs on Tumblr of dicks penetrating willing, tight pussies, tiny little pussies that Jessie couldn't imagine accepting these huge ... appendages. She had no brothers and no sisters, nobody to teach her about human anatomy.

She knew the mechanics, of course. She wasn't a complete moron.

So it was strange being around Ryan, with his beard and his tattoos, and his hands always wandering around her waist and grabbing her wrist at weird times. He knew she was a virgin. It was a big joke around their workplace. But until now she had never been curious about somebody.

And what a somebody! The other waitresses loved Ryan. He was tall and lean and one of the girls said he reminded her of a jackhammer, like he could pull her hair and fuck her senseless. It was his hands and the way he moved, they said.

And the gossip went that he'd already worked his way through some of them.

Jessie didn't want to know. What happened during those nights when she went home, and they all stayed after to drink themselves silly? The way he looked at her sometimes, like she was a rabbit and he was a wolf. Did he fuck them all? Did he fuck them all senseless? She could feel him closing in on her, cornering her sometimes.

Jessie was scheduled to work the closing shift one day, a shift she didn't normally work. She wasn't happy about it. She had agreed to a date that night, with a nice man from the lawyer's office down the street: a paralegal or something, she wasn't sure of the actual profession. He wasn't a lawyer, but he worked in the office and he had brought her flowers every day and told her she was pretty. Jessie had at first thought that he reminded her of a rodent, but the other girls thought that if he brought her flowers, then he was at least worth a date. And so she had agreed, but she had to cancel it because of her schedule — the schedule that Ryan devised.

Ryan couldn't believe that someone as hot as Jessie was a virgin. When they'd hired him, he'd met all the girls — one of the criteria for hiring the waitresses was that they all be hot — but Jessie was the hottest. The waitresses were all required to wear these tiny dresses that hit just above the inner curve of their thighs, so that whenever they bent over — and they bent over a lot — you could see the edge of their panties, the slick outline of their pussies. It was intentional, of course, and they knew it — hotter waitresses got better tips.

But Jessie — Jessie didn't know it. She knew that men liked her, but she didn't know that the reason why — other than her big, eager tits and her long curvy legs — was that she had never known a man. A girl who looked like that should know a real dick. And Ryan was the one to give it to her.

Ryan knew he had a big dick. All of the girls he'd fucked had told him. One girl told him that his dick was the exact circumference of her wrist, it was that big. And their cries when he penetrated them told him too. You couldn't fake that many girls. And his dick really, really wanted to be Jessie's first. So he scheduled her to close one day, with him.

It was good to be a manager.

*

On the day that Jessie was scheduled to close, Ryan could hardly wait to get the last customer out of the bar. He finished as much paperwork as he could while he watched Jessie wipe down the bar through the security cameras. He'd been half hard for half the night and he could barely restrain himself every time she bent over to pick something up or reach over to grab something. It was all he could do to not pull down her panties and bury himself into that sweet virgin pussy.

When it looked like she was almost done, he left the office and went downstairs to talk to her.

"Want a shot of whiskey?" he said to her, pouring one for himself.

Jessie looked at him. She liked to drink as much as the next girl, but she'd already had a few with some of the customers and she thought that maybe it was too much. "I don't know ..."

"Come on, live a little," Ryan said, pouring one for her too. "Please?"

"Okay." Jessie came over and picked up her shot, looking at him.

"Come over here," Ryan said, and Jessie came around behind the bar so that she was next to him. His hand snaked around her waist and he pulled her closer. "Salud," he said, and they tapped their shot glasses onto the surface of the bar and downed them quickly.

"Whoo!" Jessie said. "That might have been one too much."

"Come on, one more," Ryan said, busily pouring them another. "It's been a long-ass day."

"All right," Jessie said, not moving away. The thing was, even though she wasn't attracted to him, not in a long-term way, there was something about his hand on her waist that made her want to stay, something about the way his hand was creeping down towards her ass, the way his hand seemed to own her.

They did another shot, and then another. Jessie was having a hard time figuring out where her cell phone was.

"Hey," Ryan said, "I heard you're a virgin."

"So what if I am?" Jessie said, grinning at him. She'd heard this before.

"So ... why is that?"

"I don't know. I just never met the right man."

Ryan poured them another shot. "What constitutes the right man?"

"I don't know ... someone tall and strong and sensitive I guess."

"There's no such thing," Ryan said, unbuttoning one of her buttons.

"Um, of course there is," Jessie said. She didn't really want him to unbutton her dress, but she kind of liked it at the same time.

"No, there really isn't," Ryan said, unbuttoning two more. "Being sensitive is just another lie people tell themselves. Sensitive is a stupid quality."

"No it isn't," Jessie said, feeling her own sensitive nipples harden as he brushed his hands over them, unbuttoning another two so that her lacy white bra was showing.

"Well," Ryan said, unbuttoning the last button and letting her waitress uniform fall open at her waist, "sensitive is definitely overrated. It's been my experience — and excuse me — that women just sort of want to be fucked."

Jessie felt a sort of pressure in her pussy as he pulled her closer, his big hands taking ownership of her slender waist, sliding down towards her ass and gripping it.

"Wait," she said, "I don't ..."

"You don't want to what?" Ryan said, his lips already on her neck, warm and hot and sucking.

"I don't want ..."

"It seems to me that you want plenty." He pulled her even closer, and Jessie could feel the hardness in his pants. Not knowing what was in there — not knowing what to do — she stayed, hoping that he would let her go and that the pressure in her pussy would go away.

This seemed like the wrong move because he pulled her skirt up and started pulling down her panties.

"Wait — no —"

"Shhh," he said, nibbling her earlobe and sending her eyes upward, "It's going to be good."

When she didn't lift her legs so he could pull her panties off, he tore them off. Jessie could hear the tear of the delicate fabric.

Then his fingers were rubbing her, rubbing her where she'd never been rubbed; he sucked his own fingers and rubbed her some more, and she'd never experienced anything like this before, it was like explosions and ice cream and her eyes were rolling back into her head and she was making noises.

*

Ryan couldn't believe it. Give a girl some whiskey and rub her ass and rub her clit and she was yours. He felt her tight pussy with his fingers, felt her eager wetness, felt her tits against his chest — he couldn't help it, he pulled the sleeves off her arms and undid her bra as fast as he could, grabbing those full, perky breasts in his hands and trying to grab her ass at the same time, trying to penetrate her pussy with his fingers, her wet, wet pussy. God, she was a virgin — she was all his. He could feel the tightness, feel the barrier.

Holding her tight to him, ignoring her slight protests, he undid his pants. His dick sprang free, ready to enter her. That's when he picked her up and put her on the counter, her legs already open and waiting, her body betraying her. She was open and ready — he could feel her wetness.

He felt her again, made sure of her wet, hot opening. It was going to be tight, but he didn't care — he had to fuck her now. He guided his cock to her soft, warm entrance, and when he found it — hearing her gasp one last "No!" — he thrust with all his might into her tight pussy.

They stood together for a second, locked, Jessie not believing that her first cock was penetrating her to the hilt, Ryan not believing how tight she was, how wet, how unbelievably hot it was to know that he was the first, the one that she'd always remember when people asked her what it was like the first time. He started to fuck her, hard, not caring if it felt good for her, feeling her cunt muscles grab his dick and pull him in, fucking her so hard that their bodies slammed together, holding her in place with his big hands. Her tiny body couldn't do anything about it while he used it. Her cries were music, spurring him on. Penetrating her and penetrating her and penetrating her, feeling her pussy give way to his manhood, his hard rhythm. This was what women were for.

Jessie took it, all of it, feeling him enter her again and again, feeling his big dick take control of her, her legs lifting of their own accord and wrapping themselves around him, her voice calling higher and higher. She began to shake in his arms as he fucked her.

Ryan heard her cries and quickened his pace, no stopping now, her high, loud gasps in his ears. Her thighs were wrapped around him, her tits and her heels bouncing as he thrust. He caught a glimpse of the two of them in the mirror, and seeing her being fucked by him triggered it. All at once, he felt his balls tighten and he came, emptying himself into her, slowing down for a few last strong thrusts before finishing, firmly inside her.

They stood for a few moments, breathing hard.

Then Ryan withdrew, buttoned up his pants, told her, "Clean this up," and walked back up to the office.

The Manager and His Stripper



"Please, Sir, I really need this job! I'll do anything!" Tristan Quick pleaded. Tristan stood atop the center stage, his back to the intimidating pole he was to swing around on while trying to look sexy. The urge to flee was strong, but Tristan knew he had no choice.

Tristan's slender body trembled with trepidation. He had answered the ad in the paper, desperately needing a job. He'd lost his last job through no fault of his own. He was not the one who laced the coffee with liquor—even if he was responsible for making coffee each morning for the bigwig executives at the fortune 500 company.

Well, where he used to work. Thanks to the 'incident', he was currently unemployed and had less than a hundred dollars in his savings account. To make matters worse, his landlord had given him seven days to come up with his rent or he'd be kicked out on the streets.

"Prove it. Take off your clothes," Adam Johnson, the manager of House of Deviant Trixx, growled.

Tristan's fingers trembled as he discarded his shirt. He hurried, afraid the big man would get tired of him and toss him out the door. Tristan averted his gaze, trying not to let the menacing scar running down the left side of Mr. Johnson's face intimidate him. Tristan's dark blue eyes veered back to the scar before darting away again. He didn't want to seem as if he was staring and risk offending the big man. Being so scrawny, Tristan couldn't fight his way out of a paper bag.

"Slow down!" Mr. Johnson barked.

Tristan jumped, startled. "Wha-what?" Trisan was so nervous he couldn't seem to form coherent sentences.

"You're auditioning to become an exotic dancer, yet you're tearing your clothes off as if you're trying out for Nascar. Slow down. Take your time. I need to find out what kind of moves you have."

Tristan felt his face heat with embarrassment and his resolve waver. Could he do this? Work in a place more notorious for its 'special services' than its strippers? Then he thought about the stack of bills lying on his kitchen table and straightened his shoulders. This wouldn't be forever. Just long enough to earn some quick cash and get his bills paid off. Plus, he wouldn't be offering any 'special services'. Yes, he could do this and hopefully, he'd find respectable employment soon.

"There's. . . no music," Tristan stammered.

Muscles bulged as Mr. Johnson crossed his arms, his expression changing from indulgent to inpatient. "A good dancer makes his own music. Get on with it or this interview is over!"

Tristan inhaled and closed his eyes. Maybe if he didn't look at Mr. Johnson he could pull this off. Imagining his favorite song, Tristan began to sway to the imaginary beat.

"Eyes open and on me! Show me everything you've got."

Tristan saw the challenge in Mr. Johnson's gaze. He expects me to give up, Tristan realized. Deciding it was better to show the arrogant prick than tell him, Tristan held Mr. Johnson's gaze.

Tristan began to hum his favorite song and allowed his hips to sway. His hands traveled slowly down his chest, his pink tongue licking his plump bottom lip. Tristan's fingers teased the edges of his jeans, fluttering over the button, before slowly lowering the zipper.

Mr. Johnson moved closer to the stage. A quick glance down showed an impressive bulge pushing against his tight jeans. Tristan allowed a slight smirk to cross his lips as he put a little more sway into his movements.

Turning, Tristan sauntered over to the pole and wrapped his fingers around it. Pushing his ass out and back arched, Tristan once again moved to the beat in his head.

"Fuck me! Take off the jeans."

The husky plea in Mr. Johnson's voice made Tristan's cock swell. To know he had that much power over the big man was heady and boosted Tristan's confidence. Tristan gradually lowered his jeans until he was touching his toes, ass facing Mr. Johnson.

"Fuck, you've got a nice ass!"

"Thank you."

Tristan straightened, winked over his shoulder and began dancing against the pole. Taking a deep breath for courage, Tristan swung around the pole, using his hands and legs to climb. Using his hands Tristan spread his legs and flipped his body until his head pointed toward the floor. With the pole between his legs, Tristan licked his fingers and ran them down his chest, teasing.

Losing himself to the music in his mind, Tristan twirled around the pole using his arms and legs. Stretching and displaying his flexibility.

Finally, the music wound down and Tristan found himself with one leg on the ground, the other stretched against the pole with his arms raised above his head gripping the pole.

Opening his eyes, Tristan gasped and almost fell flat on his face, his stumble stopped by an enormous chest. "Mr. Johnson!"

Mr. Johnson had his arms wrapped around Tristan's waist, reminding him he was still naked. Tristan blushed, Mr. Johnson hadn't released him and Tristan found he liked the feeling of his naked body plastered against the clothed, sexy man. "Call me Adam. Where did you learn how to work a pole like that?"

Tristan shrugged, the blush staining his cheeks darkening. There was no way he'd tell Mr—Adam that he'd taken pole dancing classes when he was in college because he'd once wanted to be a stripper.

Adam raised Tristan's face up to his with a forefinger. "I believe I asked you a question," Adam said with his brow raised.

Tristan slapped at Adam's hand, irritated. "I wanted to be a stripper when I was younger!" Tristan glared at Adam, daring him to say something.

Adam's lips curled up. "Looks like your dream's coming true."

Tristan's mouth dropped open in shock. "I passed the audition?" Should he really feel this excited about becoming a stripper?

"Not yet, there's one more audition you have to pass."

Nervous butterflies flittered in Tristan's stomach from Adam's serious expression. He was also confused. Hadn't he shown he knew how to work a pole? What else was there to know? "What would I have to do?"

Adam grinned, grabbed Tristan by the hand and led him over to the table by the stage. He pushed the chair from the table and sat down, legs spread wide with a raised brow. Tristan cocked his head to the side, baffled.

Adam sighed and patted his lap. Mystified, Tristan perched himself on Adam's lap and waited, his hands belatedly trying to cover his erection.

Adam spanked the side of Tristan's hip and leaned forward. "Are you gonna move this gorgeous ass today or sit there and play coy?"

Tristan shivered at the touch of Adam's lips against the shell of his ear and trembled when that deep baritone whispered in his ear. He'd never been so turned on by a voice in his ear. Then Adam's words penetrated the haze of lust clouding Tristan's brain and he realized he was supposed to give the Mr. Johnson a lap dance.

Tristan shifted position slightly until his ass rested directly on the hard cock beneath him. Oh my god, he has to be at least eight inches! What would it feel like to have that monster pounding inside of me? Tristan wondered.

Placing his hands on Adam's beefy thighs, Tristan began to grind his ass on the erection beneath him, barely suppressing the moan that threatened to escape.

"Shit, your ass feels good moving on my cock like that," Adam groaned before he lifted Tristan by his tiny waist and swung him around so that he was straddling Adam's lap, facing him.

"Move this ass," Adam demanded with sharp slap to Tristan's ass.

Tristan's lips parted on a moan as he succumbed to the desire coursing through his veins. The inferno blazing in Adam's eyes heightened the feeling. Adam looked as if he wanted to eat Tristan for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Yes, please, Tristan whimpered in his mind.

Riding on a cloud of lust and forgetting all about his audition, Tristan wrapped his arms around Adam's neck and swiveled his hips, his cock rubbing against Adam's shirt. Tristan panted, burying his face in Adam's neck. He loved the feeling of the denim rubbing against his ass and balls but craved skin-on-skin contact.

Tristan cried out when Adam used one hand to grab his burgundy-colored curls and the other landed on his ass, encouraging his movements.

"I've always wanted to fuck a redhead. Are you a true redhead?" Adam asked as he glanced down at Tristan's clean-shaven groin.

"Fuck me like you mean it and I may tell you," Tristan purred

Tristan had no idea where his bravado was coming from, but he didn't mind it in the least if it got him what he wanted. Adam's lips crashed down on Tristan's and his mind blanked. He'd never been kissed, no devoured like this before. As if Adam couldn't get enough of him.

"I'm going to fuck you so good you'll feel me for a week!"

Adam released Tristan's lips and laid the scrumptious man on the table. He rose from his seat, yanking off his shirt, damp with Tristan's pre-cum. His movements became jerky when Tristan raised slumberous eyes to him.

"Please," Tristan whispered, one hand wrapped around his swollen cock.

Adam hissed, watching the pre-cum leak liberally from the plume-colored head. Bending down, Adam swiped his tongue over the sensitive head. Tristan cried out, hips bucking as he grabbed fistfuls of Adam's dark hair.

Groaning, Adam swirled his tongue around the spongy tip, loving the sweet taste. He licked up the sides of Tristan's dick before slowly taking the engorged member into his mouth. Tristan screamed, driving his cock further into Adam's mouth.

Adam hummed and swallowed, his fingers gently massaging Tristan's drawn up testicles.

"Oh shit! Gonna. . ." Tristan wailed, body trembling uncontrollably.

Adam moaned and bobbed his head faster, hallowing his cheeks as he felt Tristan's dick jump and expand in his mouth. Adam ran the tip of his forefinger over the puckered pink hole beneath him and was rewarded with warm rush of cum flooding his mouth. Adam swallowed every drop, loving how Tristan stayed hard after that explosive climax.

Adam abruptly stood, reached in his pocket and grabbed the packet of lube and condom he always carried with him and shucked his jeans. Tristan lifted his legs and wrapped them around Adam's waist.

Adam paused and looked into dazed blue eyes. "Baby, are you sure about this?"

Tristan reached down and wrapped a hand around Adam's erection, slowly stroking. "Oh yeah, I'm sure. Give it to me."

Adam grunted, thrusting into the tight fist before stopping himself and gently tapping Tristan's hand. "If you don't stop, I'm not going to make it inside you."

Tristan let go and leaned back, placing his feet on either side of him flat on the table and spreading his thighs wide.

"Shit," Adam grunted, staring down at the bounty spread before him. "Thank you, baby. I'm going to make you feel so good," Adam whispered before leaning down for a kiss. Adam licked the seam of Tristan's lips, his tongue stroking inside, claiming.

Tristan whimpered, pushing his ass onto Adam's finger. His hole clenched greedily around the invading digit, seeking more. Adam unserted another finger. He loved the little keening noises Tristan uttered, urging him on.

When Tristan raked his fingers down Adam's chest, Adam tore his lips from Tristan's and shuddered with pleasure. Adam quickly grabbed the packet of lube and squirted a small amount on the head of his dick, rubbing it in before opening the gold foil packet and sheathing his dick.

Adam grunted and lost his balance, falling into the chair behind him when Tristan leaned up and gently bit his right nipple, his tongue flickering over the small hurt.

Quickly lubing up his sheathed cock, Adam dragged Tristan onto his lap. Adam slowly pushed his cock into Tristan's fluttering hole until he was balls deep. "Hard and fast, babe," Adam said through gritted teeth.

"How I like it," Tristan panted, holding on to Adam's arms as he placed his legs on Adam's shoulders. The position leaving him vulnerable to Adam's whim.

"Fuck me," Adam groaned when his cock sank further inside.

"Do me first," Tristan whined.

Adam chuckled, slapping Tristan's ass. "Brat," he teased.

"Hmm," Tristan moaned, throwing his head back as he wiggled his hips.

Adam growled, spread his legs further apart and thrust up into the tight hole clenching around his dick. Tristan screamed, his hands gripping Adam's arms as the man pounded into his ass. The slight burn of Adam taking him so thoroughly heightened the pleasure washing through his body.

"Fuck yeah, this ass was made for my dick," Adam groaned. His fingers clenched on Tristan's ass, spreading the soft mounds apart to get deeper inside.

"Give me everything!" Tristan cried out, red curls bouncing as he threw his head back.

"Take it," Adam panted, slamming his swollen length into Tristan's tight ass.

Tristan locked his legs around Adam's neck as his eyes rolled to the back of his head. "Not. . .gonna. . .last."

"Play with yourself," Adam commanded, increasing his thrusts.

Tristan mewled, his fingers wrapping around his cock, sticky with pre-cum and stroking.

"Come!" Adam growled.

Tristan screamed Adam's name, cum erupting from his cock in forceful waves. Tristan moaned as he felt Adam's cock jerking inside of him, grinding his hips down to heighten his pleasure.

Gently helping Tristan lower his legs until he straddled his lap, Adam collapsed against the chair, Tristan sprawled against him as the couple fought for breath.

When Adam could catch his breath, he slapped Tristan's ass. "It's impolite to call another man's name out when I'm fucking you, Sasha."

Sasha giggled and snuggled closer. "I don't remember you calling me Tristan when you were coming Nico."

Nico chuckled, kissing the side of Sasha's head and running his fingers through damp, red curls. "This color will wash out, right?" Nico asked, worried. He loved Sasha's blond curls.

Sasha sat up and smiled at his lover. "Of course. It was just something I wanted to try."

Nico pulled Sasha's head down for a soft kiss before pulling back. "You're beautiful no matter what color your hair is."

Sasha's eyes watered and he rubbed his nose against Nico's nose. "I love you."

"I love you too, baby." Nico tightened his embrace around the small man. Sasha was his world and he thanked fate for bringing the little fireball into his life.

Sasha shifted, attempting to stand up. "We should probable get cleaned up before we get caught."

Nico chuckled. "Mike, a buddy I served in the marines with owns this club. He gave us free reign of the club until tonight."

Sasha's blue eyes sparkled. "Well, in that case. . ."

Nico chuckled, laying Sasha on the table. "Now, where were we?"

**** Authors Notes**** This is a sequel to 'The Photographer's Candy'. It is part of a planned fantasy series. I hope you've enjoyed this little tidbit as I've had a blast writing it!

Happy reading, Avid