I sat in the large, richly decorated, reception area dressed in my best suit, a medium grey wool with dark buttons and a skirt that stopped just above my knees. I'd paired the suit with a white pleated blouse that sported a tied collar, a combination I thought looked good with my dark hair and average skin. In my lap I was holding my newly purchased leather padfolio with several resumés and a high-quality pen tucked inside. Taken together, I hoped the padfolio and suit made me look professional beyond my years. What wasn't professional, however, was my fidgeting, and I once again forced my leg into stillness as I waited to be called into the back for my interview.

During the summer between my junior and senior years at Alben W. Barkley high school, and then continuing at night through the rest of the school year, I took classes at nearby Bluegrass Community College where I'd earned a certificate as a paralegal. Now I was applying for my first 'real' job.

If I could land this position I wouldn't have to work a register at Kroger anymore, a job I utterly despised, not to mention the pay for a paralegal, even as an intern, was way better than that of a cashier. More importantly, I started at the University of Louisville in the fall with a major in history, and I hoped interning in a law office during summers, and having the certificate, would help me qualify for their law program. With less than a fifty percent acceptance rate into the Louis D. Brandeis School of Law, I was trying to stack the deck in my favor as much as possible.

I glanced at the old and expensive looking clock on the wall, forcing myself to smile at the receptionist as I focused on preventing my leg from jittering. In addition to my nerves, I was feeling squirmy, on edge, and my heart was thudding in my chest. I hadn't guzzled a pop before arriving, but I almost felt like I was jacked up on sugar and caffeine. No... that wasn't quite right either. It was more like how I felt when I needed to jill off. I smiled to myself. I wanted this job, but I didn't want it that much. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to calm myself.

A door opened that led into the working area of the firm. A man a few years older than me, dressed to impress, walked out, nodding to me in passing as he made his way to the exit.

"Ms. Pusslick? Are you ready?" My eyes widened as the woman holding the door to the offices addressed me. I stood and forced myself to smile as I crossed the room to her. There was no way she called me what I'd thought she'd called me. She gestured me through the door.

"Right this way, please. Can I offer you anything? Water or a cock?"

My heart nearly seized in my chest. "No, nothing, thank you," I said, forcing my voice to be strong.

The woman steered me into a small conference room and gestured to a chair. "Please have a seat. Mr. Cockwood will be with you in a moment."

I struggled for breath. "Thank you," I replied as I settled at the conference table, my back to the door.

The woman smiled, nodded once, and then closed the door as she stepped out, leaving me alone in the room. I glanced around, my heart pounding with terror. It had to be some kind of trick... or maybe a test. That's it! They're testing me! my mind brayed. They're testing me to see if I can keep my head! That has to be it!

The squirmy feeling I'd had in the reception area continued to intensify as I waited, but now I was also hot, as if someone had switched off the air conditioning. I forced myself to breathe normally, my eyes closed as I again tried to calm myself. Swallowing hard, I fanned myself briefly with my padfolio, but it did little to cool me.

Get a grip! my mind raged. What's wrong with you! I took another deep breath and let it out slowly, but my yearning continued to increase. I felt flushed, and sweaty, and I wanted to pant. It's never been this bad, before! It has to be Emily, but what's she doing?

I was the younger half of Emily and Ella, the Luskik twins. My sister and I had always shared a special bond. We looked alike and thought alike, so much so, it was almost as if we could reach each other's thoughts. Despite the way it seemed sometimes, we couldn't. As young girls, we'd experimented with flashcards and we missed far more than we got right. Despite all the evidence to the contrary, it seemed at times we were of one mind and body. When we were twelve, Emily fell down some steps, broke her arm, and I'd cried in pain right along with her. Mom said it was sympathetic pain, that it wasn't real, and was all in my head, but I didn't believe her.

After that experience, like with the flashcards, we'd experimented by pinching ourselves, touching something hot or cold, or sticking ourselves with a pin. Like with the flashcards, our tests ended inconclusively. I could poke myself with a pin on the foot, and Emily would claim I'd pinched myself on the arm. It was the same when she was looking at the cards or causing herself discomfort. Sometimes I'd get it right, but if I were honest with myself, I was guessing.

As we grew older, we realized we were two different people, but that bond remained. We could still tell what the other was thinking with a glance, and sometimes it was creepy how one of us would know when the other was hurt, upset, or having a bad day.

Normally the feelings were just that... feelings... like when someone walked into a new place or saw a stranger, and yet had the sense they'd seen the room or person before. Despite our efforts, we couldn't force the connection, it just happened, and there was no predicting when or what would cause it. We couldn't quantify the connection other than that it required a strong emotional component, but we both knew it was real. Mostly our bond meant we had someone we could share our innermost secrets with and know we could trust them like no other person in the world.

"Ms. Luskik, I'm Donald Pokwude. How are you this afternoon?" the middle age man asked as he bustled into the room and offered his hand. Mr. Pokwude was paunchy and greying at the temples, but he had a friendly smile.

"I'm doing well," I replied, my voice sounding breathy as I rose and shook his hand

"Please, have a seat." After releasing my hand, he moved around the table and sat with his back to the floor to ceiling window, facing me. I sat as he did. "Thank you for coming in today. Before we get started, are you sure I can't get you anything. Water? Pop?"

"No, sir. I'm fine, thank you," I murmured, forcing myself not to squirm.

He glanced over my resumé before looking up at me. "So... tell me why you want to come to work for Donald Pokwude and Associates."

"Well, as you can see from my resumé, I have a paralegal certificate. I've always been interested in a career in law..." I began before my voice trailed off, the rest of my spiel forgotten. My nipples began to harden, jutting against my bra as my womanhood flooded, my left nipple tingling as if being caressed. I cleared my throat and forced myself to focus, praying my suit coat would prevent tenting so Mr. Pokwude wouldn't notice.

"I see that. And you just graduated high school?"

"Yes, sir," I said, forcing myself to remain still.

He nodded. "That shows some impressive initiative."

"Yes! I'm excited to have a chance to work here!" I said, my words tumbling over each other and my voice louder than I'd intended as I struggled to stop myself from panting... or touching myself. The tingle in my left nipple continued, but now my right nipple began to tingle as well.

"Tell me a little about yourself."

"I'm half of identical twins," I began, trying desperately to remember my well-rehearsed speech. "My sister is eighteen minutes older than me... something she never lets me forget," I continued, forcing a smile. Mr. Pokwude nodded with a grin. "I graduated fifth in my class, and I," I paused, my brow furrowing as I struggled to remember what I was going to say, "have a great desire to become a lawyer." I bit my bottom lip to stop myself from moaning. "I've been accepted at University of Lexington where I plan to major in history and then attend their law school."

"University of Lexington?" he asked, his puzzlement clear.

Fuck! University of Louisville! I live in Lexington! It's so hard to think! "Sorry! I'm so... I'm so nervous. I meant University of Louisville."

He smiled at me. "Good school. Relax. I won't bite. Are you sure you wouldn't like something to drink? You seem a little flushed."

"No, sir, but thank you," I said, striving to speak normally but failing, my voice sounding strained and growly to my ears.

I felt a fluttering touch on my pussy. She's doing it! I can feel that bitch fucking Eric! The realization struck me like a thunderbolt. We were both virgins, but she'd told me she was going to fuck her boyfriend as soon as an opportunity presented itself. With me gone for my interview, and Mom and Dad at work, Emily had found her opportunity. No wonder she'd elicited my promise to call her as soon as I was done. Despite what she said, she didn't care about my interview... she wanted to know when I was on my way home.

It took every ounce of my self-control to not slide my hand inside my skirt and finger myself furiously. I'd jilled off plenty of times, and I knew Emily had as well. Occasionally I sensed her relief and relaxation as she, I assumed, climaxed, but I'd never experienced anything like this. I could almost feel Eric's lips and tongue on my pussy.

"Ms. Luskik?"

"I'm sorry!" I cried softly as I crossed my ankles, then crossed them the other way, and then placed both feet back on the floor and pressed my knees together. "Could you repeat the question?"

He looked at me strangely, and no wonder. I was about to soak this beautiful leather chair. "I asked for you to tell me your greatest strength."

"My self-control!" I nearly shouted as I pressed myself back into the chair.

I was orgasming, or Emily was, or maybe both of us were. I gripped the arms of the chair as my padfolio fell from my lap, my legs quivering slightly as I struggled to keep my face normal, or as near normal as I could. I fought the moan that was battling its way out of my chest, subduing it only in the last moment before it escaped. Holding my breath, I waited, and waited, and waited, and then all but sagged with relief as my, or Emily's, orgasm washed out of me.

Mr. Pokwude was staring at me, his brow furrowed. My panties damp, I wanted to slink away in shame, but I forced myself to not bolt from the room and I drew myself up straight. Now that the connection was broken, maybe I could salvage something from the interview. I just hoped I wasn't making the room stink of sex.

Thinking furiously, I cleared my throat. "I'm sorry. I have a minor condition that sometimes causes me to have a small seizure occasionally." I was still rattled from what I'd just experienced and my explanation of what he'd witnessed wasn't very articulate. Unable to take back my garbled words, I cleared my throat again and pressed on. "As I was saying—"

His face softened. "Are you okay?"

I blew out breath from pursed lips as I bent and picked up my padfolio. "Yes, sir, I'm fine now. I'm sorry. I felt it coming on, but I thought I could control it. It doesn't happen often or last long. What you saw was a bad one. In any case, as I was saying—"

"Are you sure you're okay? Do you need medical attention or to reschedule?" he asked as he leaned slightly forward, his voice full of concern.

I shook my head. "No, sir. It shouldn't happen again. As I was saying, I think my greatest strength is my self-control." I decided to try to turn what happened to my favor. "Other than my sister, you're the first person to see me do that because normally I can just pause what I'm doing for a second, the feeling passes, and nobody even notices."

"How often do you have these seizures?"

"Not often."

"And this... condition... won't affect your work?"

"No, sir. You have my word on that."

He looked at me for a moment, but I could read the doubt in his eyes. "Very well. So, you believe your self-control is your greatest strength. What do you consider your greatest weakness?"

I was ready for that question. "I think my greatest weakness is I tend to try to do—" I froze as something slid into my pussy. Emily and I didn't have any toys, afraid our parents would find them and freak the hell out, but this had to be what a cock felt like. "Oh, God... It's happening again!"

"Is there anything I can do?" Mr. Pokwude asked as he rose.

"No!" I cried, trying to keep my voice normal but failing. "No... I can handle it!"

I couldn't handle it. I slumped in the chair, gripping the arms fiercely as I hissed and snarled through gritted teeth.

Mr. Pokwude quickly circled the table and crossed the room to fling the door open. "Mandy! Call an ambulance! She's having a seizure!"

"No!" I cried again. "No! Wait! Don't! I'm okay! I'm... oh God... I'm about to... I want to come to work here so bad!" I wailed, unable to still my voice, trying desperately to not scream out I was about to orgasm all over the fucking place. I twisted and squirmed in the chair while squeezing my thighs together desperately tight, my padfolio again falling to the floor.

I shuddered and groaned as a brain melting orgasm, either mine or Emily's, rolled over me. I wanted to touch myself, I needed to touch myself, but I couldn't, so I continued to grip the chair's arms as I battled my pleasure.

Mr. Pokwude knelt beside me. "Ms. Luskik? Ella? Is there anything I can do?"

"No!" I wailed. "Oh God... I'm...!"

"We've called an ambulance," he said softly, placing his hand gently on my arm. "Hang on. Help is on the way."

My orgasm washed out of me as I felt Eric's cock deep in Emily's pussy. He was still, his cock stretching my sister to perfection. With a groan I threw myself out of the chair, panting hard, my legs weak as I leaned on the table with one hand to steady myself while I bent to pick up my padfolio again.

"I'm sorry," I gasped. "I'm sorry... but I have to go!"

"No, Ella, wait!"

"I'm sorry," I panted as I lurched my way toward the door, the gathered crowd clustered in the opening parting to allow me to escape.

Eric began fucking Emily again. I groaned as pleasure washed over me and I leaned hard against the conference room door before shoving myself away and staggering toward the reception area. I jerked the door open.

"Ella! Wait! Help is coming!" Mr. Pokwude called as I stumbled across the large room, the pretty receptionist's eyes wide as she watched me stagger my way to the exit door.

"I can't! I have to go!" I cried as I wrenched the door open.

I was three steps out of the office when another orgasm rolled over me. I bent at the waist, clasping my hands between my thighs as I sagged, my ankles wobbling in my two-inch heels as I fought my body for control. Mr. Pokwude was beside me, taking my arm in support.

"Ella! Wait! Come back into the office! We'll get you some help!"

"No!" I cried as I pulled my arm free. "I can't! I have to go!"

As I tottered away, I felt Eric pull out of Emily's pussy, and I moaned hard with the sensation, but I managed to stumble my way to the Honda Civic that I shared with Emily. I was sure anyone who saw me thought I crazy, on drugs, drunk, or maybe all three, but there was little I could do. My hands shaking, I unlocked the car and tumbled into the driver's seat.

Slamming the door, I wailed softly as Eric began slowly stimulating Emily's clit and right nipple. I was about to explode with desire. My car was at the far side of the parking lot with no other cars close. Panting as if I'd just run a marathon, I slid my hand inside my skirt.

"Fuck!" I growled as I fingered myself furiously. I hissed as I pressed up with my hips, grinding my hand between the steering wheel and my pussy. "Fuck!" I snarled, my voice loud in the car, as a monumental orgasm, the hardest of my life, collapsed over me.

Grunting and jerking, my feet pressing hard against the floor of the car, my hips bucked against my hand trapped between my crotch and the steering wheel. Growling low and deep in my chest, I fucked myself, unable to remain still or silent as I fought through the devastating pleasure, until after an eternity, my rapture ended to leave me shaken and weak. In the distance I heard the wail of an approaching siren as I quivered and growled though the remains of my climax.

I had to go! How could I explain this to paramedics? "No, sir, I'm fine. Oh, those seizures you were told I was having? Yeah, nothing to worry about there. I was just coming like a fucking bitch at the time. So, see, it's all good! Doesn't everyone orgasm while interviewing for a job?"

Still shaky, I pushed myself up in the seat. Mr. Pokwude was halfway between his office and my car, standing in the drive, looking in the direction of the siren. I started my car and backed out of the parking place. He hurried toward me.

I rolled my window down. "I'm really sorry," I murmured as I paused beside him and latched my seatbelt.

He bent to peer through the window. "Are you sure you're okay to drive?"

I nodded. "Yes. I'm sorry," I repeated as I shifted the car into drive and pulled away to leave him watching after me.

I was recovering rapidly as I paused at the road. The ambulance was approaching from the left, so I turned right and raced away, blowing out a long stream of air as I did. My panties were soaked, and I wondered if I'd stained the seat. Except for the fact we shared the car, it'd serve Emily right if I had.

It was only a ten- or fifteen-minute drive from the law offices of Donald Pokwude and Associates to home. By the time I pulled into the drive behind Eric's battered Ford Mustang, I was back to normal. I hadn't called like I promised, and while my connection to Emily was either severed, or she and Eric had stopped fucking, I still hoped to catch them in a compromising situation. Emily couldn't have known what she was doing to me, so I couldn't be mad at her, but fair was fair.

I stepped out of the car, closing the door softly to not alert Emily I was home. She might not have known, or been able to control what happened, but she and I were going to discuss when fucking was appropriate, at least until we learned to control our connection. I smiled to myself. Before that happened, however, it was clear that she and I had some more experimenting to do... and I was pretty sure Eric, and my own boyfriend, Ron, wouldn't mind helping us.

Pub: Jan 03 2021 08:55 UTC
Views: 165