The Pharma Sales Girl - Sex Stories

The Pharma Sales Girl

Shaina knew there was no meaningful predictor of cock size. She remembered the last blowjob she gave (not counting her pageant coach), a swarthy, hirsute doctor who looked like a menswear model from the 1970s. There was something sleazy enough about him that she decided to go for it, after about eight months into her job. Mostly, she wanted to see if his dick was as big as she thought.

It wasn’t, even though the doctor had huge hands, which gently palmed the base of her skull as she nodded up and down on his shaft. His dick was nice and thick, with a spongy mushroom head that expanded and pulsed as he tensed up with excitement. But it wasn’t very long. Barely even six inches. Still, Shaina concluded it was a good blowjob dick; she could take him all the way, nuzzle his pubic hair with the tip of her nose, without worrying about gagging.

He was her fifth sales call. The first four were older, sticklers, with notices posted out front strictly refusing sales representatives without an appointment. Even though Shaina always made an appointment, such signals gave her the feeling that everything about the call should be by the book, even if she was dressed like an out-call escort at the airport Sheraton.

“There’s nothing wrong with letting them think you would fuck them,” said Suzanne, the “mama bear” who supervised all the sales girls in Merevena’s southwest territory. That usually meant a black leather pencil skirt and matching stiletto ankle boots, paired with a white top and jacket, or maybe a clingy black turtleneck that practically shrink-wrapped her huge tits. Oh, and the earings. Gotta wear the hooker hoops, Shaina said to herself as she glanced at the alarm clock of her cheap motel room and got ready.

But there was no sign with an angry lecture when Shaina approached the receptionist’s window, close to the end of the lunch hour. Shaina pushed her big stunner sunglasses to the top of her updo, prepared for a resentful glare from the receptionist. Instead, she seemed like a cheerful piece of eye candy herself, unthreatened by the presence of a woman who knew she was desirable and dressed like it. For sure, word had spread that Shaina was the college cheerleader and Miss Kansas runner-up.

She made sure her LinkedIn bio discreetly mentioned both, as part of her overall marketing experience. The receptionist buzzed her in and directed her to the physician’s office at the end of the hall. The whole place looked shabby and messy, especially the doctor’s office, a windowless, light blue room lit dully by fluorescent lights, with a garish, overstuffed leather executive chair sitting too low behind a large, unkempt desk. The doctor’s diplomas didn’t leave the impression of a brilliant guy, either; party-school undergraduate (LSU) and an M.D. from Barbados.

He didn’t even stand up when she entered. “Hello there, just a second,” he said, barely looking up from his computer screen. She sat down and said nothing, waiting for him to finish ...