Catrina's Burning Interview

The fluorescent lights of the waiting room hummed, a sterile soundtrack to my mounting anxiety. I smoothed down the skirt of my dress, a simple black number that suddenly felt incredibly inadequate. This interview wasn’t for a job; it was for a role in a play, a production of some sort that promised to be quite the spectacle. The director, a man named Bobby, had a reputation for being demanding, eccentric, and utterly captivating. I’d read about him, of course, but experiencing his intensity firsthand was a different beast entirely.

When the door opened and he beckoned me in, I took a deep breath and followed him into the office. It wasn’t an office in the traditional sense – more like a sparsely furnished room with a large, comfortable couch in the corner. The air hung thick with an unspoken energy, a potent mix of anticipation and something darker, something primal. Bobby sat behind a desk cluttered with papers and a half-empty glass of amber liquid. He had piercing blue eyes and a smile that hinted at both pleasure and mischief.

“Hi! You must be Catrina,” he said, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through the room. “Thanks for coming in. Take a seat.”

I settled into the chair opposite him, my heart pounding against my ribs. The silence stretched, punctuated only by the hum of the lights and the frantic beat of my own pulse. “Thank you,” I managed to stammer, my gaze fixed on his face, searching for some sign of reassurance.

“So, what would you say are your biggest strengths?” he asked, his eyes unwavering.

I fumbled for an answer, my mind racing. “I really don’t know,” I admitted, feeling foolishly inadequate. “I’m a hard worker. I’m a fast learner, I guess. I respect authority?” The words felt hollow, inadequate to convey the intensity of my desire for this role, this chance to be seen, to be desired.

“Okay,” he said, his expression unreadable. “Where do you see yourself in ten years?”

The questions continued, each one chipping away at my confidence. I answered as truthfully as I could, pouring out my hopes, my fears, my desperate longing for a chance to escape the mundane reality of my life. As I spoke, I noticed a personality evaluation form lying on the desk, its pages filled with questions designed to assess my suitability for the role. It felt like a test, a gauntlet laid before me, a final hurdle between me and my dream.

When he finished reviewing the evaluation, he leaned forward, his eyes locked on mine. “Here’s the thing Catrina,” he said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “This is a really big play that we are putting on here. We are looking for confident actors and actresses to fill these roles. I’m not sure you have what it takes.”

Despair washed over me, threatening to drown me in a wave of disappointment. “I really want this part,” I pleaded, my voice barely audible. “Is there anything I can do?”

He studied me for a moment, a slow, deliberate appraisal that made my skin crawl. “Well, how badly do you want it?” he asked, his voice laced with an unsettling intensity. “What can you offer that no one else can? What sets you apart and makes you someone I can’t put this play on without?”

The question hung in the air, a challenge, an invitation. It was a moment of truth, a test of my resolve. I had to dig deep, to tap into the hidden depths of my desires, and offer something truly unique, something that would captivate his attention, his lust.

Without hesitation, I rose from my chair and began to unzip my dress. The cool air raised goosebumps on my skin as the fabric slipped from my shoulders, revealing the curve of my breasts and the smooth expanse of my stomach. I removed my bra, letting it fall to the floor beside me, followed by my panties. Standing before him naked, vulnerable, yet strangely empowered, I directed him to move over to the couch in the corner of the room.

He did as instructed with a hungry look in his eyes, a primal gleam that sent shivers down my spine. As I approached the couch, the scent of his arousal filled the air, intensifying my own heat. When he unzipped and pulled down his pants, his already straining cock sprang to attention, a magnificent display of masculine power.

I licked my lips hungrily, savoring the anticipation, before climbing into his lap. My soaked pussy immediately pressed against the tip of his cock, a desperate plea for pleasure. As we continued to rub against each other, our bodies intertwined in a dance of lust and desire, I asked, “Is there a bed anywhere near this room?”

“Down the hall,” he responded, his voice thick with anticipation.

Without hesitation, I grabbed his hand, leading him towards the hallway. The pace quickened, fueled by the intoxicating blend of adrenaline and lust. As we reached the bed, I lay down and spread my legs, inviting him closer. “Eat me, please,” I whispered, my voice trembling with a mixture of vulnerability and anticipation. It was a request he was more than happy to grant.

The world narrowed to the sensation of his arousal, the heat of his body against mine, the desperate need for release. I screamed as he licked and teased and nibbled at my needy pussy, his touch igniting a fire within me. He took his time, alternating between lapping at my fromthole and clitoris, inserting his tongue into my hole, and intensely licking my tiny little pleasure button.

“AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!” I finally cried out in ecstasy as an earth-shattering orgasm overtook me, sending waves of pleasure through my entire body. The intensity of the release was almost unbearable, a torrent of sensation that left me breathless and trembling.

He then stuck his stiff rod into my pussy and began to make love to me, pushing deep inside with relentless force. In and out he went, each thrust a sharp, piercing pleasure.

How she loved feeling his balls slap against her ass as he pounded her, the raw power of his arousal sending shivers down her spine. The rhythm was intoxicating, primal, a perfect blend of dominance and submission.

“Uuugghh!” he grunted as he exploded, shooting his cum deep into her pussy, a warm, viscous tide that flooded her senses.

“And scene!” said Catrina with a giggle, her body wracked with laughter as she came down from the high of the sex she had just experienced. She and her husband Bobby began to laugh as they both came down from the high of the sex they had just had.

“Was that just as good as your fantasy?” asked Bobby, his eyes sparkling with delight. “It was SO good!” said Catrina happily, “I wasn’t expecting you to put so much work into the interview. You even rearranged the furniture in the living room to make it look like an office!”

“Well, I wanted to be as authentic as possible for you,” he replied, a genuine smile spreading across his face.

Catrina looked her husband in the eye and said, “Okay, now it’s my turn to do a fantasy of yours. What would you like to do?”

“Well, I always wondered what it would be like to be an Uber driver and nail one of my passengers,” Bobby answered, his voice laced with a hint of mischief.

“I think we can make that happen,” replied his wife, a wicked glint in her eyes. The fluorescent lights hummed, casting long shadows across the room, as they prepared for their next encounter, ready to once again succumb to their shared desire. The interview had ended, but the game had just begun.

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