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Blowing Jobs

All he asked for was a simple blow job, and I blew it. He asked me to do one simple job, and I blew it. Literally! I'm on my knees, bobbing on his hardness; my mouth feels like it's ready to have an orgasm. I'm moaning and going to town, it's feeling better to me than it's probably feeling to him. 

Then a knock on my office door: "Zaftig, are you sick?" *Paula* asked. 

PANIC. 

PANIC! 

Shuffling quickly, pants zipping, shirt tucking, mouth wiping. "I'm fine, my stomach's a little queasy." 

He looked so deflated. "Well, you blew that." 

"Meaning the job?" I asked.

"You can't be quiet? I'm quiet when I blow you." 

"First of all, we shouldn't be doing this at work." 

He shushed me. "You blew the job, embrace it."

I embraced it. But I missed a deadline for a report I was doing; so technically, I blew two jobs today.
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