No More the Soccer Mom
Chapter 1

Copyright© 2018 by KingBandor

Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 1 - A bored housewife goes all out to win a job at her husband's company.

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Coercion   Reluctant   Romantic   Heterosexual   Fiction   Workplace   Cheating   Cuckold   Sharing   Slut Wife   Wimp Husband   Prostitution  

I was so excited about my new job at my husband’s company. He’s been working there for the past ten years since we both graduated from college. I had gone straight into being a mom, as I got pregnant a few weeks before graduation. After several years, I was tired of being the stay-at-home mom, so once our second child started elementary school, Dave agreed that I could go to work.

I had a degree in Business Administration, which are a dime a dozen, and no experience. So, it took some help from Dave for me to get an interview for a job as the executive assistant for the VP of Dave’s division. His previous assistant had married recently and decided to take on the role which I was was wanting to get away from. Dave had to use off of his negotiation skills to get me the interview with Steven Andrews, the VP of Technology. That just opened the door, for me to get the job would be all up to me.

Apparently, as VP, Steven traveled often and was very busy when he was in town. The only time he could meet with me was in the evening, so he set it up for me to meet him for drinks at a hotel bar not too far from their office. This job was not an entry-level position and paid almost as much as Dave made with his engineering job. It was an excellent opportunity for our family and me, as we would nearly double our income.

“Isn’t it weird to interview someone at eight in the evening and at a bar?” I asked my husband when I found out about the interview.

“Steven is a very busy man,” my husband explained, “and you have to work around his schedule. If you’re going to be his assistant, you know that means you’ll have to keep a very erratic schedule. You sure you’re up for it?”

“I can handle that,” I responded, “I just never heard of this kind of casual interview.”

“This is the big leagues, Julie,” he said, scolding me, “at his level, you do things differently. You know it also means you have to travel with him on business trips. What about the girls?”

“I mean, you don’t ever have to work overtime,” I said as I thought about it, “it just means that you have to help out with a lot of the things I used to do all the time. But, I wouldn’t worry. I doubt he’s going to want to hire me.”

“Not if you go into it with that kind of defeatist attitude,” Dave chided me. “You have to project confidence. Just act like you’re a professional and that you can handle anything he throws at you. You’re brilliant and talented, honey. I believe in you.”

Wow, I felt a surge of pride. Dave had never said anything like that to me before. “Ok, I’ll do my best,” I said, feeling better.

The day of the interview came. Dave was home early from work to pick the girls up from school. I had fixed dinner and had it all ready for them when they got back. I was too nervous to eat, I just nibbled on a bit of salad, then had to go throw that up. I decided to take a long, hot bath, to try to relax. That helped a lot.

Around six I started getting dressed. I didn’t have anything that would be work appropriate. If I got the job, I’d have to invest some money in a new wardrobe. Since we were meeting at a bar, I decided to wear the one nice dress that I had. It was a dark purple and tight-fitting, with a low cut top that showed off my 38C boobs a bit too much. It was also very short on one side and came down to just below my knee on the other.

When I stood in front of the mirror, I was mortified. I yelled for Dave, and he came running.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, face showing concern.

“I look like shit!” I shouted, almost crying. “I can’t do this. You need to call and cancel for me!”

“What are you talking about? You look great!”

“You’re so full of it,” I snapped, “look!” I turned back and forth. The dress was made of a stretchy fabric as I rotated my body, it clung tightly to me, but my frumpy, grandma panties were outlined with a little ridge of fat above the waistband and on my ass cheeks.

“What?” he asked. I couldn’t believe he couldn’t see.

“Look at the panty lines,” I shouted pointing at them, “I can’t go like this!”

“Oh,” Dave responded, “sorry. Do you have another dress you can wear?”

“No!” I shouted.

“Ok,” he was trying his best to pretend at least that he understood. “Do you have any other panties, maybe a thong?”

“I don’t have any thongs, Dave!” I was getting frantic. “I look like shit. This is a bad idea. I shouldn’t even try to do this. I’m not qualified.”

“Oh, would you stop it?” Dave said raising his voice. “That’s just your insecurity talking. You’re nervous; I get it. But, you look great.”

“I can’t go there with these panty lines, Dave. I can’t.”

“Ok, then, take them off,” he said, “Go commando.”

“What?” I asked incredulously. “You see how short this dress is?”

“Yeah,” he replied, “but you’re just meeting for an interview. You’ll be sitting across a table from him. There won’t be any chance for a wardrobe malfunction.”

I thought about his suggestion. I pulled my dress up over my hips then slipped my panties down and off. Dave was watching my ass as I lowered the dress and smoothe it over my round, mother-of-two, butt cheeks.

“Oh, wow,” I said calming significantly. “That looks pretty good.”

“Looks really fucking hot!” Dave said. I blushed but smiled at him. Ok, I could do this.

“You know you can see your bra,” he said from behind me. I turned my body and looked over my shoulder into the mirror. He was right. It seemed like I had a concealed handgun slung across my back.

“Ugh!” I shouted. “I need better clothes.”

“You get this job, and you can have all the clothes you want,” he said smiling at me.

“I look like someone’s mom,” I said, staring at my reflection.

“Lose the bra,” he said, “then you won’t have any lines.”

“I lose the bra, and these are gonna hit the floor,” I said lifting my boobs and letting them drop.

“I doubt it. Your boobs don’t droop all that much, for someone who nursed two kids. Try it and see,” Dave suggested.

I unhooked the bra and slipped it off and looked. “Oh, wow, ok,” I said, “I can do this. This is not going to be too bad.”

“Yeah, honey,” he said kissing me on my cheek so not to mess up my makeup. “You look great. You’re going to do fine.”

I slipped on a pair of purple heels and sprayed on some Chanel that my mother-in-law had picked up in Korea. I had assumed it was fake. I put it into the fake Louis Vuitton clutch she’d bought me there too.

Dave had offered to drive, but since I didn’t know how long it would take, I didn’t want to take a chance on the girls being out late on a school night. So, I decided to take an Uber. I ordered it up and waited on the front porch with Dave. When it arrived, he kissed me and wished me luck. I got in and spoke to the Uber driver. He turned around in his seat, and his eyes went straight to my tits.

I looked down.

Oh shit! My nipples were hard and poked out through the stretchy purple cloth. The areolas and tips were distinctly visible. It was like my boobs had been painted purple.

Well, it was too late to do anything. I confirmed the destination and off we went.

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