Interview with a Practical Element

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There were not many jobs around in Birmingham at that time and certainly nothing in my usual line: stationery sales. Yes, selling paper and files and marker pens. Don’t laugh: somebody’s got to do it. And I knew my stuff, I tell you.

But no, nothing around, so I looked at the wider area of sales. If you’re a salesman you can sell anything. You’ve just got to learn a bit about the product.

There in the Job Centre was a listing for a salesman for a company that imported Indian foods. I could do that, I thought, so I phoned the number and spoke to the sales manager. He was quick to point out that I didn’t sound Indian, and of course I don’t. I’m English, white and although I like a curry, that’s about as close as I had ever got to knowing anything about “the subcontinent”, as they call it. I impressed upon the guy that I was a great salesman and could quickly get to know the products.

“You will be dealing with Indian guys,” he said. “Restaurant managers, takeaway proprietors, corner shop owners.”

“I can talk about cricket,” I said. “I’m a very good conversationalist.”

He laughed and I could tell I had said something right. He asked me to go and see him the next day for an interview. He had an office above their warehouse. His name was Ranjit.

I’m pretty good at interviews. It’s about selling yourself, after all. So I was quietly confident as I strolled up the stairs with the smell of spices thick in the air. The secretary was expecting me. She led me through a maze of corridors to a room at the back of the building. It was very quiet; Ranjit had arranged the interview for 5.30pm, when most of the staff had gone home and he could concentrate. He said goodbye to the secretary, a good looking dark-skinned girl who I quite fancied. He told her to lock the outside door but not set casino siteleri the alarm.

Ranjit told me to sit down in front of his desk and he began looking at my CV and asking questions. He used indian terms like you see on menus. Bindi bhaji. Sag aloo. I knew them all and he was impressed.

“But you won’t be spending much time dining in restaurants,” he said with a smile. His hair was slicked back and he had one of those thick moustaches they seem to like. “Your job is going to involve making people like you, then giving them good service, and they’ll like you even more. Look at this.” He handed me a file full of information, brochures and price lists.

He stood up. He was wearing a brown blazer with brass buttons and stone-coloured, loose trousers. Striped shirt and tie. He took the jacket off and put it on the back of his chair, then turned away from me and made some adjustments to his clothing. I was only vaguely aware of what he was doing because I was looking at the stuff in the file.

Ranjit walked around the desk and leaned back against it, next to me. His zip was open and his cock and balls were pulled through. He had an erection.

“What would you do if someone did this to you?” he asked with a silly smile.

“That depends who it was,” I said, stalling.

“Let’s say it was a sales manager who was considering giving you a job,” he ventured. I said nothing, but leaned over and licked his scrotum.

“That’s nice,” he said. “Anything else?”

I reached out and held his thick brown stalker.

“Do you think I’m gay?” he asked. I shrugged my shoulders, not knowing what answer he wanted.

“No, I’m not,” he said. “Married for 26 years and very happy. But we’re all allowed a hobby. And mine is seducing white men.” He looked at me steadily, very sure of canlı casino himself and confident that he was in control.

And he was. I was paralysed by a mixture of fear and lust. He looked into my eyes and said, “Suck my willy.”

It didn’t look like a willy. It looked like a much more serious thing than that. A cock, a dick, a todger. I leaned forwards in my chair and took his erection in my mouth.

“You have a very nice cock,” I said after a few seconds of sucking it. “You think I’m gay?”

“No,” he said. “But I think you are going to participate in this because you have the confidence to do so.” I placed my mouth once again over the head of his penis.

“It’s not a willy,” I said. “Willies are soft and small.”

“What is it, then, my friend?” he asked pleasantly.

“It’s a cock,” I said. “It’s a penis. Knob. Donger. Cock. It’s a cock. It’s your cock. Is this part of the interview? If I suck your cock do I get the job?”

“You’ve got the job,” he said. “But we haven’t discussed terms and conditions. I can’t concentrate when I’m horny. You will have to help me to calm down.”

“And how shall I do that?”

“I relax best after having anal sex.” He observed me for a second. “Giving anal sex, to be precise. You can put your clothes on the desk, because you have to be naked. Except for your socks.”

“You don’t want me to suck you off?” I volunteered.

“You may suck me once more when you are nude,” he said. “But then I have to penetrate your anus. With my donger.”

“I would prefer it if you buggered me with your penis,” I said, slipping my clothes off. He removed just his trousers and pants.

“Bugger?” he said, savouring the word. “Yes, it’s different from a fuck, isn’t it? I’m going to bugger you. I’m going to sodomise you. Because my penis will kaçak casino be inside your bottom.” He opened a drawer and brought out a squeezy tube of lube.

“No, it’s not always in there,” he said. “Only when I have a special visitor. Prepare yourself and put some on my cock too.”

“Wow, I’ve never been ‘sodomised’ before,” I said, the jocularity wearing off and being replaced by sheer carnal desire. My cock was vertical but Ranjit didn’t seem interested in it. This was all about him. I didn’t mind. A little domination is nice once in a while. I lubed my arse and smoothed some onto his cock.

“Where?” I asked .

“Just lean on the desk, he said. I bent over and he grabbed me roughly from behind but didn’t enter. He just lodged his cock in my cleft and waited a moment, then eased it into me.

“There,” he said, not moving. “You have been sodomised. Would you like me to continue?”

“You’re a strange guy,” I thought, but silently.

“Ranjit,” I said. “Yes, I want you to carry on. You can’t just put it there and stop. I want you to bugger me.”

Ranjit reached around and touched my cock at last.

“You have a very nice cock too,” he said. “Afterwards you may masturbate and cum in my mouth.” He resumed pumping and his big, powerful tool gave me intense, scintillating pleasure. He was in complete control, whatever my smart mouth might suggest. After just a few minutes he shuddered and his cock lurched inside me as he shot his spunk into my depths.

Then, to my surprise, he fell to his knees and sucked me.

“Wank into my mouth,” he said urgently, and I needed very little time. Within seconds I was squirting my stuff into him as his bushy moustache bristled against my shaft.

After that day, Ranjit never touched me again. But he sent me to see some of his biggest clients. And some of them liked to be serviced too. So my episode with him was a bona fide part of the interview process. And because I loved the thrill of sex with Indian men, life couldn’t have been sweeter. Or saltier.

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