My Manager Said She’d “Do Anything” To Keep Me From Quitting. She Wasn’t Lying.

M

Yesterday I thought I was done. Completely fed up. At the end of my rope. For the fourth time this week, a customer was cussing me out because our ice cream machines were broken. As I listened to the unhinged woman screaming at me through my headset, I was literally biting my tongue … minimum wage isn’t worth this bullshit.

For days I’d been rehearsing what I would say to the next Karen who dared to yell at me about the machines that I had no control over: “Ma’am, would you please go McFuck yourself.”

My manager Brittany already knew I was getting close to just walking off the job, and she was worried. I was her most dependable employee, and if we’re being honest, the one person on the team who she was remotely close to. We sometimes stick around after closing to recap the craziness of the workday or secretly complain to one another about our slacker co-workers. We laugh a lot too … she’s really cute and funny when she’s not dealing with a crazy customer, which is unfortunately only a very small portion of her workday.

I’ll admit that part of the reason I like hanging around after hours is that I sometimes fantasize about hooking up with Brittany. She’s only a few years older than me, but even in the wild world of foodservice, that would be taboo. I just can’t help it.

Brittany is slender with big tits that she tries to hide under a manager’s uniform. The keyword here is trying; they’re constantly bobbing up and down while she is marching around the restaurant with a determined look on her face. (She could be a total hard-ass when she needed to get a customer or employee in line.)

Brittany’s hair is always pulled back in a ponytail … I don’t really understand its hypnotic effect, but on more than one occasion while standing behind her, I have felt the urge to pull it roughly and bring her body against mine so I can feel her back against my front. She wears the usual khaki “managers slacks” that hug her perky ass and full thighs. It’s a sight that has made my cock hard at work on more than one occasion. Sometimes I have to stand awkwardly close to the cash register so I can hide my boner.

One time Brittany bent over to pick up some garbage left on the floor by a customer and I swear I saw a bright red thong peek over the waistband of her khakis. I’m not proud of this, but I jerked off to that mental image in the restroom later while I was still on my shift.

This brings us back to yesterday. As I said, I thought I was done. My face was turning a shade redder with every insult the woman in the drive-through hurled at me. Brittany noticed as she was walking past my spot at the window. She put her arm on my shoulder and with a genuinely concerned look on her face silently mouthed “What’s going on?” I pointed at the ice cream machine and rolled my eyes. I silently mouthed back “I’m gonna lose it.”

Like the pro that she is, Brittany hopped on the intercom and took over. While I cooled off, she politely told the woman in the drive-through that she wouldn’t tolerate customers being rude to her employees. I liked my “McFuck” you line more, but whatever …

After the crazy soccer mom sped off to terrorize some other fast-food employee, Brittany motioned to me to follow her into her office in the back. “Yes, ma’am,” I said. Was I in trouble? Would I even care at this point if I got fired?

She closed the door behind us and all the bustle of the kitchen faded into the background. We sat down across from each other. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. “Sorry, Brittany. I just don’t think I can take much more of the-” and then she cut me off abruptly.

“I am sorry she treated you that way … that all those nutjobs treat you poorly. You do great work. I can’t afford to lose you. I’ll literally do anything to keep you around.” Something about the way she emphasized “anything” made my stomach do a somersault, and I was suddenly aware of blood rushing to my dick. Outwardly, I somehow managed to shrug nonchalantly.

“Please just stick around until after your shift tonight and let’s see if I can do anything to change your mind.” What?? “Um, okay,” I stammered. “But just know this shit takes a mental toll.”

Brittany reached out and put her hand on mine and looked me in the eye. I swear I felt the atmosphere in the room change. My skin was instantly covered in chill bumps. I think she may have noticed the hair on my arms stand up, but she didn’t say anything … she just smiled and said, “I am going to try to lighten your load.” I smiled too. “Let’s get back out there,” she said.

The last few hours of my shift crawled by as I tried not to overthink what Brittany had in store for me. What did she mean about trying to change my mind and lighten my load? Distracted by the thought of Brittany making a move, I totally messed up multiple orders that afternoon. (I’m genuinely sorry if you were eating at the restaurant that day and you got a hamburger bun with just a tomato in the middle. I McFucked up.)

By the time we finally locked the doors, emptied the register, and said goodbye to the other employees who walked into the dark parking lot, it was 10:30. I was exhausted, partially from the work and partially from the mental gymnastics I’d been doing all day.

Brittany had disappeared about 30 minutes before closing like she normally does to wrap up her work in the office. I almost chickened out and went to my car … I could tell her that I was worried I’d fall asleep at the wheel if I stuck around so I made the tough decision to head home.

But I didn’t. I walked through the quiet kitchen and knocked on her door. “You still here, Brittany?” I said. “Just a sec,” she replied. I heard shuffling on the other side of the door. “Okay, c’mon in.” I opened the door and stepped in, and I was completely unprepared for what I saw.

Brittany was kneeling on the floor in front of me. Topless.

“Close the door,” she said softly. I pushed the door shut.

“Sit down,” she said. I took a seat in the chair and failed miserably to maintain eye contact. I was completely transfixed by the pair of flawless breasts that were now only a foot or two from my face. Brittany’s complexion was beautifully pale, and I could see faint blue veins under her skin. Like subtle traces of color through milk-white marble, they drew my gaze straight toward her rosy, pink nipples that were visibly hard.

She was absolutely stunning.

Brittany shuffled forward slightly, placed her hands on my knees, and looked up at me. Her khaki pants were on the floor cushioning her knees, and she was wearing a cheeky pair of black underwear. “You know I meant what I said earlier, right?” she said with a grin. “I don’t want you to leave. I will do anything to keep you here.” Her face suddenly got more solemn. “But if you want to leave, I understand completely. You could leave right now and I wouldn’t hold it against you.”

I was quiet for a second. “At this moment, I can’t think of anywhere I’d rather be,” I said. This may sound corny in retrospect, but I meant it with every bone in my body.

Actually, I take it back. It’s not corny. I still feel that way as I type this.

“Good,” Brittany said with a small laugh. I’d seen her tits bounce when she laughed before, but seeing them bare in front of me was almost too much to bear. My hard cock was showing through my pants at this point, and it was obvious. “May I?” she asked, pointing to my crotch. I smiled and nodded emphatically.

Brittany leaned forward and started unbuttoning my pants. “I’ve put together a list of … perks … that I think will make it more worth your time here,” she said. “I want you to be able to use me—my body, that is—to relieve some of the stress you feel.”

Just as she said the word “relieve,” she pulled my dick free of my boxer shorts. I don’t know what Brittany had been expecting, but her wide-eyed, open-mouth smile told me she was impressed. She regained her train of thought and continued.

“I want you to tell me exactly what you need from me,” she said breathlessly. “I want you to be direct too, like when you take command and tell the new employees how to do things around here.”

A bit of precum had trickled out of the head of my dick and was starting to run down my shaft. Here goes nothing. “I want you to lick that up,” I said. The words had barely left my mouth when Brittany stuck her tongue out and licked the full length of my cock. Then again. And again.

Brittany locked eyes with me and started flicking her tongue over the head of my dick. It was like she was asking, “What next?” without saying a word.

“I want you to take me deep in your throat … and not stop until I say you can,” I said.

“Yes sir.”

Just when I thought it was impossible for me to get any harder, she went and said that.

With her eyes still looking up at me, she slowly pushed my cock through her tightly pursed lips, along her warm tongue, and right to the very back of her mouth. Her head was practically in my lap, and my whole shaft had disappeared inside her pretty head.

She stayed like that for three, four, five seconds—and I felt her tongue moving anxiously along the base of my dick. Six, seven, eight—her spit was really starting to drip out from around her lips now and run down my thighs. At ten seconds I noticed her eyes starting to well up. I grasped her ponytail and gently pulled her head away from my lap, revealing my throbbing cock. Slowly. Inch by inch.

A stream of spit immediately ran down Brittany’s chin and dripped all over her perky tits. A few drops made their way all the way down to her panties, which I’d noticed were already wet.

“Again,” I said. She nodded and she put my cock back in her mouth. This time I pulled the ponytail in the opposite direction—I wanted to be closer to her. Deeper inside her. I wanted to keep her there until I could cum in her throat. But I counted to ten again and then let go.

She lurched back and took a deep breath of air. Brittany’s chest was covered in bubbly drool, and the smile on her face told me she was loving every second of our evening together.

“Now I want to fuck your tits until I cum,” I said. “Yes sir,” she said obediently. She sat up straight like she was proud of her perfect breasts and the attention they were receiving.

I moved so I was sitting on the edge of my seat and placed my dick against her chest. She placed her hands on the side of each breast and forced them into deep cleavage that pressed on all sides of my hard cock.

“Like this?” she asked. “Exactly,” I said.

Brittany arched her back and started rocking back and forth. The head of my dick was disappearing and reappearing between her glistening tits, sliding smoothly thanks to her spit.

I took a second to take her in. To take a mental snapshot of what my boss looked like at that very moment. This was a different Brittany.

Her cheeks were flushed, makeup a mess, and she still had drops of spit below her lower lip. She had never looked so raw, so vulnerable, so alive as she did kneeling there on the floor with my cock between her tits. She was a beautiful sight.

After a few minutes of thrusting, I felt my balls start to tighten. Brittany could feel my cock get firmer and my face told her what was about to happen. “Should I-” she started to ask. I’m not sure what she was about to suggest, and I guess I’ll never know. I grasped her tits, pushed them together firmly so her nipples were almost touching, and came. Uncontrollably. Brittany reached her arms around me as my body shook.

My warm seed shot all over her chest, neck, and the bottom of her chin. She held me there while the cream ran down and pooled around my dick, which was still wedged tightly between her tits. I finally leaned back in my chair, and my cum cascaded down her belly. It collected on the waistband of her underwear, stark white against the black lace.

I smiled at her with a silly, orgasmic grin on my face. She smiled back.

After we had gotten cleaned up and Brittany had gotten dressed, she asked how I felt. “I feel … completely relaxed.” I was almost surprised to hear myself say that.

It was like the anxiety and frustration from the day had left my body. Like I had just watched it run down the front of her chest. The stress was now on a paper towel in the trash. It was no longer mine. I was calm, clear-headed.

“I’m glad to hear that,” she said. “You know … you still have to treat me like a manager in front of everyone else. They can’t know what goes on in my office … nobody can. Just us.”

I opened the door to her office, took one step outside the doorway, grinned, and said, “Yes ma’am.” I stood at attention and threw in a salute for good measure. Brittany laughed, one of her full-body, tit-bouncing laughs. I stepped back into her office and with a completely serious look on my face, I said quietly and firmly, “But I expect you to wear the red thong the next time I’m in here.”

Brittany had a momentary look of shock on her face like I knew a secret I wasn’t supposed to. And then she bit her lip. She liked that tone.

“Yes sir.”

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