Misc. Erotica Summer of Sisters 2

I was in a great mood when I got to work and even the snot-nosed kid I was tutoring couldn’t ruin it. The little dude didn’t want to be there, and hated math, but I made it as fun as possible. It wasn’t my attempts at games that fixed the kids’ interest, but Nancy and her heavy breasts.

Nancy kept coming by and checking on us. Each time she leaned down to speak with us her blouse would fall away from her chest, revealing pale flesh and a thick bra. The boys’ eyes were glued to the woman’s bust, but she didn’t seem to notice, for her eyes were on me the entire time.

It wasn’t until the boy commented on it I noticed, and each time she came by after I noted how flirty she was being with me. The woman’s attention was flattering, and I flirted back. It was remarkable how much a smile or compliment affected the woman, and soon she was giggling loudly and drawing attention from the other tutors in their cubicles.

Blushing, she retreated for the last time but made me promise I would stop by her office before leaving for the day. I agreed to and after that my young pupil gave me his undivided attention.

“How did you do that?” He asked, in awe.

“What?”

“She’s hella into you! Don’t you see that?”

I grinned and looked off after the heavyset MILF, appreciating her ass as it swayed side to side. “To be honest, I don’t know, but…” I shrugged. “I’ve learned two things that have helped me with women,” the kid was hanging on my every word as he stared at me with rapt attention, “First, they appreciate boldness and a man who knows what he wants and isn’t afraid to take it. And second, they love watching a man demonstrate competence or preferably excellence at something.”

He frowned in confusion. “What’s that mean?”

“Think about how they all find rock stars so sexy, even the ugliest ones. Or how they can get turned on by a plumber!” I chuckled, thinking through my budding theory out loud. “I think that’s why so many women go for co-workers or teachers. They’re around a man being competent and in charge all day.”

The kid frowned deeper and glanced down at his math book.

“And Mrs. Nancy likes that you know math?”

“Perhaps,” I shrugged. “It’s just a theory, but look around. I’m the youngest tutor and I’ve taken the highest maths… makes you think, huh?”

The kid grew very interested in his textbook after that. He threw himself into learning the algebra and I was pleased to see his increased interest corresponded to picking up the concepts faster. By the time my lunch break came, he was plotting lines and applying the theorems correctly.

When I stopped by Nancy’s office at the end of the day, I found her reviewing time sheets at her desk. She glanced up and brightened when I poked my head in.

“Jake! I’m glad you stopped by,” reaching into her desk, she pulled out a glossy folder. “I received two invitations to a lecture at UCLA by Dr. Degrass Tyson. Would you like to come?”

“That sounds awesome!” I said, grabbing the folder and flipping through the marketing materials.

“It’s this Friday. I know it’s last minute, but I thought we could carpool together?” She asked hopefully. “Maybe get a bite to eat afterwards?”

“There is a great Korean BBQ place I know nearby,” I offered, and Nancy grinned.

“Sounds perfect. I love Korean BBQ. We can leave right after work. I’m so excited!”

“Me too,” I said, and dropped off my timecard and headed home.

As I drove home, I was left to wonder what ulterior motives the woman might have. It would be frowned on for her to fool around with an employee, but I was only part time and an independent contractor. Perhaps I was reading too much into things, but I was on high alert lately and the MILF had my spidey senses tingling.

I was musing on this when I pulled in front of the house and saw Aniston’s car parked in the driveway. She was sitting in the driver's seat, hair hanging down about her face when I approached, and she didn’t look up until I knocked on the window. Throwing her hair back angrily, she glared up at me through red-rimmed eyes, tears making tracks down her smooth cheeks.

“Ani, what’s wrong?” I asked, pulling open the door, but instead of answering, Aniston threw herself out of the seat and into my arms, a high-pitched wail escaping her throat as she sobbed on my shoulder.

“I didn’t get the internship!”

As Aniston sobbed, I reached into her car and grabbed her bag, then began steering her towards the house. All the while I whispered that it was going to be ok. I’d never seen my poised and confident sister like this before, and my heart broke to see her so upset.

“Tell me what happened,” I said, as we got into the living room.

I thought Aniston would fall onto the couch and let me drop her bag, but she clung to me and wouldn’t let go. Dropping her bag by the door, I lowered us onto the couch and held her as she composed herself enough to speak.

“Sorry,” she blushed when she pulled back from my shoulder and saw my shirt was smeared with tears and snot.

“Ani, relax,” I said, stroking her back. “I’m the last person you have to worry about being weak around… ok?”

“Ok,” she said, blushing faintly as she gazed up into my eyes.

Time seemed to stand still as I stared down into her pale blue eyes. They were the color of the sky, just before a storm and I felt them drawing me into their depths before I caught myself and clearing my throat sat back.

“Now will you tell me what happened?” I asked and would have had the words back because a look of disappointment flitted across Aniston’s face. Wondering what I’d done to ruin the mood, she sat back and drew in a deep breath before beginning.

“I didn’t get it,” she shrugged, “what else is there to say?”

I could tell more was bothering her from the way she shifted in her seat, and I waited. Eventually, she glanced up and, with a sigh, continued.

“When I arrived at the affiliates offices everything was going perfectly.” she frowned and looked down at her hands. “The station manager was falling all over himself to offer me water or coffee. I think he would have asked me out right there if the producers hadn’t been there.” She made a sour face before going on. “They were two women from Bristol. Had me read off a teleprompter before a camera and then a short interview…”

“And?” I prompted when her voice trailed off.

“And they said I was no good,” she said, growing snappish in her frustration. I was used to this from Aniston and waited patiently until she looked up and grimaced. “said I wasn’t TV ready… That they couldn’t see someone who looks like me being successful on their network… ‘Not our look, but you could try modeling. You’ve very pretty, little girl.’ Blech!”

The sound of anger she made pulled a laugh from my throat that I couldn’t stifle even when she glared at me.

“What are you laughing at?”

“I’m just trying to imagine the look on your face when they called you ‘little girl’.”

Aniston smiled despite herself, lips pursing together in a self-satisfied smirk as she settled back against the couch. Then she let out a breath and sighed again.

“I guess I could get an internship at the local station and be a traffic girl or something.”

“Fuck that!”

Aniston blinked in surprise at my outburst and frowned, but I continued before she could interrupt me, “You know more about the NFL and NBA than any dudes I know. Why would you want to join that dinosaur network when you could start your own thing on social?”

Aniston’s frown grew unsure, so I continued sketching out the vague idea I’d had the night before.

“You need to start a new page and call it ‘sportschic’ or something. You can’t show highlights because of legal reasons, I bet, but you can show box scores and all those advanced metrics you like. Explain that stuff, teach the audience the stuff you know. Give them something of value and you’ll find an audience.”

She pursed her lips, and I could see she wanted to find an argument, because she was Aniston, but finally she nodded.

“It’s not a terrible idea,” pulling out her phone, she opened the app and flicked through a few profiles, muttering to herself under her breath. “In 30 second to one-minute clips… need green screen in half and voice over on the other half… green screen will get more likes and comments,” she rolled her eyes. “But in the V.O. I’ll be able to prove myself…” Turning to me, her lips pursed again, and she spoke. “It might work.”

“Won’t hurt to give it a try.”

“Thank you,” Aniston said, and shocked me by resting her head on my shoulder and slipping her hand down my arm. She laced her fingers in mine and snuggled against my side as she drew in a deep breath. “You always know how to make me feel better.”​