#HIRE FOR MERITS
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The complete incompetence of the ladies of the Secret Service are on full display. One of the agents can’t properly holster her sidearm while another fiddles around with her sunglasses trying to look cool for the crowd.
An assassination attempt was made on former US President Donald Trump at a rally in Pennsylvania. It happened when Donald Trump was leading a public meeting before the elections. The bullet grazed past the upper part of Trump’s right ear. Recalling this incident, he said that he heard a whizzing sound and shots and immediately felt the bullet ripping through his skin. The FBI (Federal Bureau of Investigation) announced that Thomas Mattew Crook is the individual identified in the assassination attempt of the former President.
After this, the security formed a human chain around him and exited the area, but the video caught the panicking situation of the women security of Secret Services deployed in the area. One of the security personnel was panicking and failed to put her gun in the holster while Trump was sitting in his car.

“Imagine if the sh**ter hadn’t been this kid but [someone] well-trained? Our enemies are looking at us thinking we can take [him] or anyone out now without a problem.”
#ssassination attempt#Biden#Department of Homeland Security#Donald Trump#House Oversight Committee#Kimberley Cheatle#Lauren Boebert#resignation#Secret Service#secret service director#Incompetent SS#Awareness#diversity#equity and inclusion (DEI)#HIRE FOR MERITS
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By: Aaron Sibarium
Published: Jan 23, 2023
Connecticut Democrats are working to lower the physical fitness requirements for female firefighters, saying that less onerous standards will make fire departments "more diverse."
A law introduced earlier this month in the Connecticut State Assembly would let women skip the Candidate Physical Ability Test, a timed gauntlet used by fire departments across the country. The test, which only 10 to 15 percent of women pass, requires candidates to complete intense physical tasks while wearing a 50 pound vest. It’s designed to simulate the experience of navigating a fire in heavy gear—and to weed out those unable to do so.
The law, introduced by five Democratic lawmakers, would offer women an alternative test based on "revised physical standards," with the goal of ensuring that "additional female candidates" qualify for firefighter positions, text from the bill states.
But some firefighters, including women, who have climbed the ranks of their departments without workarounds, say the bill will set merit-based hiring ablaze and potentially endanger Connecticut residents. "If you can’t handle a 50 pound vest, you’re not going to be able to rescue a child from a burning building," said Leah DiNapoli, a retired firefighter in New Haven, Conn.
"A citizen in need of rescue doesn’t care if a firefighter is white, black, Hispanic, male, or female," said Frank Ricci, a retired firefighter who served as the president of the New Haven firefighters union. "They care that they can do the job. This attempt to socially engineer public safety positions will only serve to endanger the public."
Unlike in the military, where uniforms and equipment vary by gender, all firefighters wear the same gear, which weighs at least 59 pounds—9 more than the vest used for the physical assessment. That’s not including the weight of ladders, hoses, or other firemen, who must sometimes carry incapacitated colleagues on their shoulders. While a few pieces of protective gear now come tailored for women, most of the essential tools do not.
"They don’t make lighter saws or ladders," DiNapoli said. "When I was there, they didn’t even make female-sized boots."
The law, she added, is "absolutely insane. Either you can do the job or you can’t."
The bill has been referred to the state legislature’s "committee on public safety," which has not yet scheduled hearings on the law. Neither the bill’s sponsors nor Connecticut governor Ned Lamont responded to requests for comment.
Beyond putting lives at risk, critics say the law will exacerbate the suspicion, common among male firefighters, that women simply aren’t up for the job. Fire departments have always been an "old boys club," DiNapoli said, and around 91 percent of firefighters are men. In this testosterone-fueled environment, sex-blind tests often serve as a stopgap against stereotypes, providing an objective assurance of physical competence.
"It’s already tough for women in the fire service, because you constantly have to prove your worth," a retired female firefighter from Chicago said. "How are you going to prove yourself if you don’t take the same test as the men?"
Danny Stratton, a recently retired fire captain from Camden, New Jersey, drew a parallel to affirmative action. "When you lower standards for minorities, people assume they got the job because of the color of their skin," Stratton said. "Lowering standards for women creates the same kind of stereotypes."
Such suspicions are especially dangerous in the fire service, where trust and teamwork can mean the difference between life and death. "The guys I’m working with need to know that I can get them out of a bad situation," DiNapoli said. "If a woman can’t pass the test, men won’t want her on their shift."
This is not the first culture war between firefighters and government officials in Connecticut, where fire stations have been ground zero for diversity-related feuds. In 2003, the New Haven fire department threw out the results of a written exam after none of the African Americans who took it scored high enough for a promotion. Ricci, the former union president, who would have been promoted based on his results, sued the department, arguing that he and other non-black firefighters had been denied professional opportunities because of their race. The Supreme Court agreed, ruling 5-4 that New Haven had violated anti-discrimination law.
Fire departments have nonetheless faced pressure to axe both written and physical tests—especially when women do poorly on them. In 2011, the Chicago Fire Department was hit with a class action lawsuit over its physical abilities test, which was even more difficult than the Candidate Physical Ability Test used in Connecticut and other states.
The complaint argued that Chicago’s test discriminated against women because so few of them could pass it. The department eventually settled, offering jobs to many of the women who were rejected under the old standard.
"A lot of men ridiculed those women," recalled the Chicago firefighter, who had passed the original test.
Though some fire service tests have been struck down on disparate impact grounds, the Candidate Physical Ability Test is not one of them. Developed and validated by the International Association of Firefighters, it has survived multiple discrimination lawsuits, mostly from women, and has received the blessing of the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission, the agency that enforces civil rights laws in the workplace.
"The idea of the test was to keep politics out of fire service hiring," Stratton said. "Now they’re trying to add politics back in."
==
You can't claim to be "oppressed" when everyone in power is willing to lower standards and sacrifice other people's lives just to "include" you on the team.
#Colin Wright#Aaron Sibarium#firefighters#firefighter#LA fires#Los Angeles fires#diversity equity and inclusion#diversity#equity#inclusion#lower standards#low standards#DEI hire#diversity hire#merit#meritocracy#make merit matter#religion is a mental illness
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Why is getting a job so damn hard
#I also have no merits so it’s like#hi! I have no job experience no skills and I bring nothing to the table! please hire me!#jacks yapping
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#us politics tag#this!!! seriously#dei means hiring based on merit!#it's about removing the barriers of prejudice that kept skilled people out of good jobs!
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prev post is so good but i didnt want to rant in the tags too much anyway the way that i feel abt l4rian opening themselves up for feedback and criticism with respect to their STORY and characters is that it's honestly very ignorant and a bit sleazy imo.
i might be missing information and they may have done this, but if they were Actually Concerned abt their writing for, say, Wyll being insensitive they could have--i dont know--done the thing that many legit writers do and hired a sensitivity reader (or a few) to go over their story beats for him. like it's about due diligence, not just bending the knee to every fan who was able to pay for and play your early access game. or even just run focus groups with Black players and paid them for their time and insight.
#personal#delete#the way wylls writing in particular seems to have been handled is so odd to me like the fact that u have his#lead writer like 'hey i dont think he has enough time or gets introduced too late can we maybe do something different'#and the director was like ''ermmm nah [i have nothing good to say abt wyll btw]''#and like sensitivity readers or just Hiring Diverse Staff is also not a fix-all because they're just singular people with singular opinions#but it's still better than being like 'oh these bozos online felt this way abt our characters we should listen to them on the merits of#They Keep Yelling About This'#i will delete this they just created their game in such a fucking strange way to me LMFAOO
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I almost made a Let's Play channel where I would be in-character as the viewer's cool older sister and it'd be me playing scary/difficult games with diffusing commentary (framed around "this game is too scary/difficult") plus longer sessions of chill games for like bedtime viewing or to just gush about games I like (framed as "I can't sleep" and "Can I watch you play?"). The only thing that stopped this from happening is that people would be hella weird in the comments (and also I can barely manage one channel as-is)
#only tgirls with similarly fucked up evil insane minds are allowed to be weird about me#or cisgirls too but you gotta know when enough's enough and back out when I get hella uncomfy#it was gonna be called Hey Big Sis and I even started browsing for channel branding typography before I got too squicked out#It's not like GONE gone but I don't intend to follow through rn#I'd pretty much need to be well off enough to hire an editor for the channel that I can trust with nailing the tone and pacing I'm after#and also it'd make my current livestreams weirdly redundant so like logistically I don't see much merit in it#you're more than willing to convince me otherwise tho ;3c
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#I dislike the fact that nbc hired her but I reasoned that there’s merit to have her institutional knowledge on the inner workings of gop#taiwantalk
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against my better i ended up seeing some of the clips people are posting from kfp 4 and i actually really like it
#id have to actually watch the movie to form a proper opinion#but based on what ive seen they made a lot of choices i dont love but i love what they did with the direction they took#and everything they did with the effects on the chameleon are just so cool#i feel like its worth watching based on that alone#and ik a lot of people are not happy about zhen but she actually looks like a pretty interesting character#i wish they had hired someone other than awkwafina to play her but you win some you lose some#all and all it looks like it works well as an epilogue to the original triology#like the trilogy is pos journey with body mind and spirit#and the 4th is what happens after that arc is complete#but i hope they stop the main series after this one#but i would love a furious 5 spinoff movie#or just more short films set in this universe#like secrets of the scroll and secrets of the furious 5#wow the people who make these movies really like the word secret#but yeah i can see why a lot of people feel let down by the movie but from what ive seen it has a lot of merit in its own right#but as i said havent actually watched it yet#so whos to say#ill probably wait until i can rent it or it goes to streaming bc i dont know anyone who would watch it with me who would actually want to#like i have people who would be willing to but i dont think they would actively want to and i dont want my experience watching it to have..#...to be me forcing someone else to watch it with me#and i dont want to go alone bc that would be embarassing#(unless another secret option presents itself before its available to rent or stream#which dreamworks if youre reading this that was totally a joke i would never watch your movies in a way you would not profit from)
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Merit doesn't exist. Career (not only government career) is more about the friends you have in high position and political connections. Politicians and businessmen talk about merit and hard working only to gaslight you into working harder for them.
Open your eyes and greet them goodbye with a big "fuck you".
#vavuskapakage#merit#meritocracy#Merit is a lie#Meritocracy doesn't exist#dei hire#government corruption#political corruption#eat the rich#eat the fucking rich#eat the 1%
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Same thing?
I don't get it. The meme implies that either hire is the same thing, which is relying on colors of the skin, so what is his point?
Both a rigged, relying on uncontrollable, the color of one's skin.
Unless we all try to remove the quotation marks on "merit hire" and implement truly what merit is.
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#Konstantin Kisin#diversity equity and inclusion#diversity#equity#inclusion#diversity hire#DEI hire#DEI must die#DEI#merit#make merit matter#meritocracy#religion is a mental illness
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Irony
Those who remove DEI, they exclaim this is progress. We end discrimination by pretending differences do not exist. Everyone is treated equal! How wonderful that will be!
And yet their next words complain of too many queers on tv, or in school. Or too many ‘woke’ representations being shoved down their throats. Someone please tell me if this is really equality?
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MT#297r
Hi Martoons fan! Patronage is everywhere – within little tiny organizations all the way up to the huge mega companies, governments and agencies. So take a look at today’s image and think … what if? Would we have a better world? Perhaps it’s worth a try. Cheers, marty west, editor of clickmartoons.com (today’s image originally published on this site June 24, 2018 and – as with most martoons –…
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Examining the Truth Behind the Aviation Tragedy and Presidential Response
Recently, a tragic collision occurred near Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport, involving a commercial aircraft and a military helicopter. This catastrophic event led to the loss of lives, leaving American families grieving, and brought aviation safety into sharp focus. In response, President Donald J. Trump issued a memorandum addressing the incident and outlining his views on the…
#administration#Allegations#Analysis#Aviation#Biden#Collision#Corrective actions#DEI initiatives#Diversity#Empirical evidence#FAA#Hiring practices#Inclusion#Lies#Merit-based hiring#National mourning#Obama#Policies#Reagan Airport#Response#safety#Trump
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SYNOPSIS ᯓ Choso Kamo is a waste of your time. A temp intern with no real skills, constantly fumbling through tasks he barely understood. You've tried to get rid of him, but the agency won't take him back until his contract is done. You've been treating him like the extra he is, deciding that if he's going to waste your time, he might as well make himself useful.
PAIRING ᯓ Intern! Choso x Executive fem! Reader
WARNINGS ᯓ dubcon, office AU, degrading (really not that bad tho), he calls reader "ma'am," reader is mean to him (lmao sorry), reader is a workaholic, choso sucks at his job, power dynamics, choso has tattoos, obedience, use of "good boy," oral (m and f receiving), size kink, fingering (f receiving), punishment, unprotected p i v sex, begging, sub choso x dom reader?
WORD COUNT ᯓ 3.6k
SERIES ᯓ GOJO ⋮ GETO ⋮ CHOSO
Choso Kamo.
A lowly intern hired into this company, not based on merit, just placed here through a temp agency you signed a contract with a few years ago.
It’s gotten to the point where you tried to get rid of him, calling the agency yourself. That’s right, you took precious time out of your day to get rid of him.
“So, you’re telling me he still has a month here?”
“If you don’t have reasonable grounds to fire him, then yes, he will stay for an additional four weeks.”
You sighed, throwing your head back and tossing your feet up on your mahogany desk.
This intern was going to be the death of you. Seriously. Last week you tasked him with some very simple data visualizations, and he returned a pie chart.
A pie chart.
A single pie chart.
“Kamo, what the fuck is this?”
Choso was completely serious, sitting in the chair across from your desk in your private, sleek office. “It’s a visualization of last quarter’s trends.”
You glanced down, almost jaw-slack in disbelief. There was a big rainbow pie chart, indicating… last quarter’s trends? “Kamo,” you said, voice flat, “this is an abomination.”
You didn’t hold back tearing it apart in front of his face, tossing it on the ground at his feet while you silently pointed toward the door, motioning him to leave. It was sad actually, just a small part of your heart aching at the clueless loser here only because he could pass a drug test. It’s clear he tried, but somehow the dataset became absolutely vile, even after you provided a cleaned one.
It was so fucked up, seriously. As an executive you had meetings on meetings, you barely had time to eat let alone find ways to get Choso fired. Most of your days began and ended sipping caffeine, you even worked on the weekends. And to have this inferior being who can barely copy a few papers ruin your day was just the icing on the cake.
He’d already been here for a month, a temporary contract-to-hire position, (he clearly wasn’t getting hired) and you’ve just been having him run your errands for you.
“I need you to get this dry cleaned.”
“Go to my car and bring me the box of files.”
“Put my mug in the kitchen.”
He was almost like a pet, barely good enough to be named slave as you just ran out the rest of his time here with trivial duties.
It was a hell of a Thursday afternoon, pausing your busy schedule and setting your Microsoft Teams to offline as you waited in your office, blinds closed while you rested your head in your hand, slowly drifting off to sleep until-
BANG!
“Ma’am, I have your lunch,” Choso stood at the doorway dripping wet as he panted out of breath.
The sound of the door slamming open jolted you awake, your heart lurching against your ribs. He stood there, shoulders rising and falling, his shirt soaked through, clinging to his skin like it was painted on.
You blinked, trying to focus on something, anything other than the way his pecs pressed against the damp fabric, the slow drip of rainwater from his hair rolling down the side of his neck.
Absolutely not.
You forced your gaze to his face. He wasn’t even looking at you, too busy trying to catch his breath, lips parted, chest rising and falling with every inhale.
“...Apologies for the late time,” he finally muttered, stepping forward to set the bag of food on your desk.
You stared at him, but truly it wasn’t purposeful, your brain was just lagging, refusing to process anything except fuck, he’s actually kind of-
No. Not happening.
You cleared your throat, reaching for the food like it was going to save you. “You look disgusting,” you muttered, barely glancing up.
He huffed a small laugh, shaking out his sleeves in your pristine office before stepping away, rainwater leaving faint specks on your office floor. He didn’t say anything else. Just turned and walked out.
And yet, you didn’t stop staring until the door clicked shut behind him.
God, at least he’s pretty, too bad he’s useless.
That weekend you didn’t think about him once. Really, you didn’t.
But still, you were restless.
That weekend, you caught yourself checking your phone too often, feeling agitated over things that had nothing to do with work. You opened your email just to have something to do, only to find a message from Choso.
RE: Revised Visualizations
Attached are the updated charts per your feedback. Let me know if further revisions are needed.
Oh.
You clicked the attachment, expecting the same disaster as before.
And, well, of course it still sucked, but it was less awful. He was improving.
You set your laptop aside and rubbed your temples. Maybe you just needed a distraction.
It has been years since you last had one.
Work truly consumed the entirety of you, it was the only thing on your mind. Your laundry constantly piled up, dishes overflowing your sink often because you worked too damn hard.
It’s been so long since you had a boyfriend, not that you were keeping track but it’s been about 2 years, 6 months, and 24 days since you broke up with him. He was too bland, too safe, not exciting enough for you, but at least he was a distraction.
Hm, maybe you found yourself bored again, wanting to feel the adrenaline course your veins with a new love interest, but you just sat alone in your office the following week, sighing as you poked your food with a fork. You had no time for a relationship.
That next week you found your office a complete mess, last week the stakeholders visited, and you had endless meetings, constantly having to prove yourself in your position as a woman to these disgusting old men who only wanted money, it was draining.
Piles of paper scattered your floor, you had no idea which filing cabinet they belonged to. Your desk a mess, too, crowded with too many coffee mugs and random office supplies, where did this shit even originate from?
So, you invited Choso to clean your mess for you. Tasking him to organize the scattered papers covering almost your entire office floor. You watched as he sat on his knees, sleeves rolled up revealing toned forearms littered with tattoos.
“All of these papers are titled about the first quarter’s finances.”
Choso’s voice was steady as he handed you the file, but you barely registered the words.
Because his hands.
Shit.
You didn’t mean to look, didn’t mean to notice how thick and long his fingers were, the way the veins ran up his arms, disappearing beneath the rolled-up sleeves.
You swallowed. Taking the file a little too quickly, clicking your pen aggressively.
He sat on his knees, sorting through the mess you’d left him with, hair falling loose from his buns. Sharp jawline. The slow bob of his throat when he swallowed. The slight furrow in his brow as he focused.
You had to mentally will yourself to tear your eyes away, flipping through the file like your life depended on it. “You probably gave me the wrong one,” you muttered.
He exhaled, running a hand through his bangs and pushing them back for just a second, just long enough for you to notice his dark eyes, furrowed brows, the light sheen of sweat clinging to his temples.
You clicked your pen again, harder this time.
This was just nothing, nothing at all.
You were beginning to get frustrated, really frustrated. Because what the hell is wrong with you?
It’s not just some passing thought or fleeting distraction that can be shaken off with a splash of cold water. It lingered in your mind, the parts of your mind that should be occupied with financial reports and quarterly projections. Every time you saw him, some unwelcome thought wormed its way into your brain, like the way he had a ridiculous devotion to completing the most mundane tasks you assigned him. It’s infuriating, really, because how could you, as an executive, someone that clawed your way to the top of this company, be distracted by the likes of him?
Choso Kamo. A temp. A lowly intern who struggled inputting a SUM function in Excel. There’s about three million YouTube tutorials for that, by the way. This was supposed to be his last week here.
It’s not like you’ve never dealt with useless men before, your job is filled with them. Old, crusty men in ill-fitted suits who pretended you weren’t their intellectual superior. But at least they didn’t invade your mind like this.
And worse? He was so obedient, like some helpless thing always awaiting your instructions. He always called you ma’am, whether out of genuine respect or blind adherence to authority, you didn’t know.
Maybe that’s why, as you sat in your office, hands clenched into fists against your desk, you decide.
If you’re going to suffer through the remaining time of his employment, you might as well make it worth your while.
You inhaled sharply through your nose, rolling your shoulders as you stood from your chair, exiting your office.
“Kamo, my office. Now.”
No explanation. No context. Just a simple demand.
You waited, hearing a hesitant knock at first, light and unsure. It’s the same way he approaches everything, carefully like he’s afraid of stepping out of line.
“Come in.”
Choso enters, standing awkwardly just past the doorway, his hands clasped in front of him. “You wanted to see me, ma’am?”
“Close the door.”
He does, albeit clumsily, his fingers fumbling with the handle for a second too long. You watch in silence as he turns his back toward you, shoulders stiff and posture straight as if he’s bracing for reprimand.
Instead of speaking immediately you stood again, walking toward your large office windows that overlooks the rest of the department floor. The blinds are drawn halfway up, letting just enough visibility in for others to see. That won’t do.
One by one, you lowered them, the only noise in the room being the mechanical whir of the blinds. Choso shifted nervously on his feet.
“You’ve been here for almost two months now,” you mused, tone even as you turn to face him fully. “Longer than I would’ve liked, but still.”
Choso nods, saying nothing.
You step closer, crossing the room slow and deliberately. “And despite your many, many failures, you’ve somehow managed to be useful in one way.”
His brows knit together slightly, but he remains silent, waiting.
You tilted your head as if to observe him. His hands are still clasped in front of him, his stance rigid, like he didn’t know whether to be nervous or grateful.
Good.
That mean’s he’ll listen.
You extend a hand, fingers wrapping around the nape of his neck as your thumb traced his jawline.
“You want to be useful, don’t you, Kamo?” Your voice was smooth, measured.
He nods immediately. “Yes, ma’am.”
You dropped your head slightly, “you have…” you sigh, feigning disappointment, “such a bad habit of wasting my time.”
He flinches, subtly, but you saw it.
“I-I’m sorry, ma’am, I-”
You tut, cutting him off. “But I’ve decided something.”
He falls silent again, waiting.
“If you insist on wasting my time, then I’ll run out the rest of yours however I see fit.”
“I don’t understand…” his voice was quiet, more careful.
You laughed softly, reaching behind him to flick the lock on the door. The click is soft but heavy, something final, “you don’t need to.”
You see the way his breath catches. How his fingers tighten into his palm like he’s resisting the urge to fidget. How his pupils dilate just slightly as you eye his figure up and down, like you were a predator sizing up prey.
And he is prey, nervous, uncertain, and pliant.
“You always listen so well,” you muse, talking slow steps to sit back at your desk. “Always so eager to do exactly as I say.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he breathes.
You smile.
“Then be a good boy, Kamo.”
He shudders.
You motion him to your side of the desk. “Take a seat.”
He did so nervously, not expecting you to snap at the ground petitioning him to kneel before you.
“This is your first task, make me cum in 3 minutes or you’re fired.”
Though, this was an objectively easy task for him, you were aroused last night even thinking about it, no idea the state of your cunt currently.
You watched as he sat on his knees before you, inching yourself closer to the edge of your chair while you spread your legs, showcasing your naked center under your skirt.
You could almost hear the thumps of his heart, “aww, don’t be shy, Kamo. You’re running out the clock!” You say playfully.
He nervously looked around him, swallowing hard before licking his lips. His hands traveled up your legs, gripping your thighs to spread you even wider.
You leaned back in your chair, and it was almost as if he attacked you with his tongue like his job depended on it. Because, well, it did.
Inhaling through his nose, he used the flat of his tongue to draw a long, slow stroke along your folds while you exhaled loudly. Quickly, he lapped at you, dipping in your entrance with his tongue before he drew circles with the tip of it on your clit.
You couldn’t help but grip his hair as he worked you, inserting two dept fingers and curling them ever-so-slightly while the lower half of his face was buried in you. And you pulled him closer, tighter to you as you felt him begin to sweat profusely.
It was so cute, really, was he doing this because he wanted to? Or that he didn’t want to lose his job? Surely, he knew he wouldn’t get hired after his contract ran out, right?
“Mmm, one minute, Kamo,” you were breathless, having gone so long without the touch of the opposite sex, either that or Choso finally found something he was good at.
You reached your climax fast, crying out when he quickened his pace, your slick slit gushing out in the palm of his hand while he fucked you through it, gripping the back of his head and practically suffocating him between your thighs.
You gripped his forehead and forcefully shoved him out of you on the edge of overstimulation, leaving him on his hands and knees catching his breath.
You looked over at the digital clock on your computer, “congratulations, you passed!”
He looked up at you, a glossy film of sweat covering his face, or rather, a mix of his sweat and your arousal.
“Stand up.”
He obeyed.
“Look at you,” you tilted your head, eyeing the huge bulge that tented his slacks. “You’re all excited just from eating me out, hm?”
You groped his clothed cock, feeling how big it was under your hands. “Are you ready for your second task?”
You didn’t even give him time to respond before you undid his belt, unzipping his pants and pulling them down boxers included, his thick length popping out.
“If you cum, I’ll punish you.” You began stroking his length, using two hands to jerk him as you spit, using your thumb to spread his pre around his sensitive, engorged tip.
He nearly buckled at the knees, breath quickening and sweat dripping from his temples as he held back. “F-fuck…”
And you gave him no mercy, wetting your lips and pressing light kisses at his tip, squeezing his base with one hand as the other massaged his balls.
He was hunched over, using your desk as purchase while he watched from above as you took only the tip in your warm mouth, spitting on it to use as more lubricant for your hand that tugged him.
You let him out of your mouth slowly, “you look so pathetic,” you mused. “All fucked-out when all I did was lick your tip.”
You watched as his mouth dropped open, using both hands squeezing him tight, jerking him and letting his tip rest on your tongue.
It didn’t take long for him to cum, body convulsing as he struggled to maintain balance, painting your face and tongue with white, ruining your makeup and your tastebuds.
You sat still as he came down from his high, still fully erect in your hands. “You failed.” You said flatly.
He looked at you almost in shock, still out of breath.
“You can leave now,” you started rummaging through your drawers for tissues, wipes, anything to get rid of the horrible artwork left on your face. “Oh, see me in my office first thing tomorrow, for your punishment, of course.”
He didn’t say a word as he took a tissue from you, cleaning himself up before stuffing his still-hard length back in his pants and returning to his desk for the rest of the day.
It was the next day when he entered your office, you noticed the slight bulge in his pants already.
Oh, how faithful he was for you.
You sat on your desk, legs crossed and a bored expression across your face.
Choso averted his gaze, “ma’am, I’m ready to face my punishment.”
It looked like you just fired the man, as if he had a wife and kids at home and you just fired him before the Christmas bonus came in.
“Today you’re going to fuck me.” You said it so blatantly, just putting it out there in the air.
It simmered for a minute, Choso nervously looking around the room to see the blinds barely open. If someone wanted to peak in and see, they would.
“I-I don’t have any condoms,” he checked his pockets like a maniac.
“Just do your best,” you waved your hand, beckoning him to come closer.
His hands traveled your figure, squeezing your breasts over your tight top, pressing kisses to your neck when you throw your head back, his hands landing on your hips.
“Tell me how you want it,” he said, breathless and polite, yet seemingly more eager than yesterday.
All you did was spread your legs, revealing your bare center to him once again.
He began deftly unzipping his pants, bringing his solid length out at the sight of your glistening cunt. He put a hand on your lower back, face too close to yours as he leaned you back, positioning his tip at your entrance.
That’s when you locked your ankles behind his back, immediately stuffing yourself with him. You tried not to cry out too loudly, not even all of him could fit. It sure has been a couple years since you last hooked up with someone, the effects of it having a toll on your body.
You were so tight around him, walls struggling to even pulse around his length, struggling to adjust to his size.
He grunted as he began thrusting, brows pinched tightly as you seemed to clench around him, pulling him back in every time he tried to pull out.
Your pussy dripping for him, the sounds of it squishing, squelching in attempt to take him all as a slow, languid pace began.
All you did in return was grip his shoulders, squeeze your legs tighter to keep him close.
“You feel… so good,” he breathed out between thrusts, “fuck, I-I’m at my limit,” his voice was breaking, stuttering as he was engulfed in your warmth, squeezing him so tight that he was about to cum not even five minutes in.
“Mmh, Kamo, if you… get me pregnant,” you said between breaths. “You’re fired,” voice frail as he only fucked deeper and deeper with each rut of his hips, the only sounds in the room being breathless gasps for air and slapping skin, desk shaking beneath you.
You just squeezed your legs tighter, not giving him the chance to pull out as his hands fumbled in desperate attempt to unlock your legs behind him.
“G-god, I’m cumming,” he grunted, voice low as his grip on your waist sure to leave a few marks by tomorrow.
You felt yourself being filled up with him, so hot and sticky inside in the entrance to your womb, it brought on your own climax.
You lay almost lifeless on your desk as his body collapsed on yours, a pitiful look on his face as he stood fully, about to take himself out your entrance when you grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, bringing your lips to his in a heated kiss.
You two sharing whiny moans as he kissed back with the same passion, the world around you stopping as you tasted his morning coffee, humming into each others mouths.
He broke away only to apologize, plead for one more try. “Please,” he was still out of breath, voice hoarse. “I’ll be good next time, I swear.”
You stifled a laugh at the sight of him looking so unprofessional, hair a mess and clothes all loose, your hand coming up to hide the smirk tugging at your lips. The letter sat on your desk, taunting him. You could practically feel the anxiety radiating off him as he stared at it.
Without saying a word, you motioned toward the paper. The offer a permanent position as your personal assistant.
“Do you want it?” you asked, your voice low but laced with amusement.
He just smiled like a kid in a candy aisle, smashing his lips to yours.
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