FakeAgent Oscar winning boobs

Title: “The Consultation of Consent: FakeAgent’s Oscar-Winning Boobs”

The door to the office swung open with a melodic chime, and in walked Jasmine, a statuesque bombshell with hair the color of molten gold cascading down her shoulders. Her eyes, a shimmering emerald, met mine as she extended a hand in greeting, “I’m Jasmine… I believe there was an opening here?”

I stood, straightening my tie, and offered her a warm smile, “That’s what I’m here to find out, Ms. Jasmine. I’m Jonathan, and this is my office. Please, have a seat.”

She took the plush, velvet chair opposite my desk, crossing her long, slender legs. The skirt she wore rode up her thighs tantalizingly, revealing lace stockings that disappeared beneath the hemline. Her blouse was doing little to contain her ample bosom, straining against the buttons.

“So, tell me about yourself, Ms. Jasmine,” I began, adjusting the knot of my tie.

She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the desk. “There’s not much to tell, really. I’m a simple woman with simple needs.”

“I find that hard to believe,” I quipped, my eyes roaming over her curves shamelessly. “A woman like you must have a secret… a hobby, perhaps?”

She chuckled, a sound like honey dripping from a jar. “Well, I do enjoy the occasional interview…”

The word hung in the air between us, electric and laden with possibility. I knew what she meant, of course. This was no ordinary job interview; it was a negotiation, a consensual one.

I stood, moving around the desk to stand before her. She tilted her head back, looking up at me through thick, dark lashes. “An interview, you say? And what do you hope to learn, Ms. Jasmine?”

She reached out, her fingers tracing a pattern on my thigh. “About you, of course. Your… talents.”

My hand found her chin, gripping it gently. “And what do you have to offer in return, hmm?”

She stood, turning to face me. Her hand drifted down to the buttons of her blouse, undoing them one by one. “More than you can imagine,” she purred.

The blouse fell away, revealing a lacy, black bra barely containing her breasts. They were ample, perky, with peaks pushing against the satin. I reached out, cupping one in my hand, feeling its weight, its warmth.

She gasped, her eyes fluttering closed. “That’s… that’s not the only thing I have to offer,” she whispered.

Her hands reached for my belt, unbuckling it slowly, teasingly. I let her, watching as she undid my zipper, reaching into my pants to wrap her fingers around my hardening cock.

I groaned, my hips bucking forward into her touch. “Fuck, Ms. Jasmine…”

She grinned, a wicked, wanton smile. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

She sank to her knees, pulling my pants and boxers down in one smooth motion. My cock sprang free, jutting out towards her face. She licked her lips, a promise of what was to come.

And come she did, wrapping her mouth around my shaft, taking me deep into her throat. I tangled my fingers in her hair, driving myself deeper, fucking her face with abandon.

She took it like a pro, her head bobbing up and down, her tongue swirling around the head of my cock. I could feel my orgasm building, my balls tightening. I wanted to come, to fill her mouth with my seed.

But I pulled back, my cock slipping from her lips with a wet pop. I helped her to her feet, turning her around and bending her over the desk.

She lifted her ass into the air, presenting herself to me. I hiked up her skirt, revealing her lack of panties, her bare pussy glistening with arousal.

I rubbed the head of my cock against her slit, feeling her heat, her wetness. She bucked back against me, desperate for more.

I gave it to her, slamming my cock into her tight cunt. She cried out, her hands scrabbling against the desk for purchase. I started to move, my hips slapping against her ass, my balls smacking against her clit.

She was tight, so tight. Her walls clenched around me, pulling me deeper, harder. I could feel her getting close, her body tensing, her moans getting higher, more urgent.

I reached around, my fingers finding her clit, rubbing it in tight, fast circles. She shattered, her orgasm crashing over her like a tidal wave. Her cunt clenched around my cock, milking me, drawing my own release from me.

I came with a shout, my cock pulsing, my seed spurting into her waiting heat. I collapsed against her back, my weight pressing her into the desk.

We stayed like that for a moment, panting, our bodies slick with sweat. Then I pulled out, stepping back to allow her to straighten up.

She turned to face me, a satisfied smile on her face. “So, do I get the job?” she asked, a teasing lilt to her voice.

I grinned, tucking my spent cock back into my pants. “Oh, Ms. Jasmine, I’d be a fool to turn you down.”

And with that, she became the newest addition to my team, ready to take on any client, any challenge. Because in the world of FakeAgent, the show must go on, and with consent, we’ll always keep the magic alive.