Mother's Obsession

Auditioning for the Girlfriend Position Pt. 1

Callum Johnson (P.O.V.)

With a new pep in her step, Lisa sauntered over next to the projection, again shaking her round a*s at me. She pointed at the image, which was titled with the first step of my list followed by a blank page and continued.

"Okay, the first thing you recommend is to 'know Yourself before I meet you,' and the one thing about me is that I know exactly who I am," Lisa began, before hitting the clicker, causing some images to enter the blank page of the presentation.

These pictures made my eyes grow wide.

There were four pictures, and they were of Lisa, but these were not pictures of her at work or on a casual day. No, they were far from professional or decent for that matter. These were pictures of her at play. The top left picture was her at a club, dancing, coated with sweat from the no-doubt the heated atmosphere she was dancing in. She was wearing a tight purple top, scooped low so her large boobs were just pouring out from within. She wore a skirt that barely went below her a*s, and as she danced, the skirt flared up, millimeters away from showing off what was underneath.

The top right picture was her at some sort of house party, and in it there was a picture of her dancing in front of some guy, her back pressed against his front. His hands were on her breasts, squeezing them firmly, causing them to nearly overflow from beneath her silky red top and as this invasion of her person took place, she was simply smirking, as if everything was going exactly as planned.

The bottom left picture was her at work, but she wasn't exactly working. It was a picture she clearly quickly snapped of her bent over a desk, a suit-clad man behind her, his face hidden, clearly... obviously having, uh... relations... with her. While she was still clothed, her outfit looked astray, as if what was happening was very aggressive and rough. And on her face, that same satisfied smirk.

The bottom right picture was her in what was probably her apartment, standing in front of a mirror. She looked perfectly coiffed and styled, her face turned into a wicked looking kiss, but her outfit was absolutely filth. A trashy looking tight blue tank top, the spaghetti straps digging into her shoulders due to the stress caused by her mammoth rack. Her top was molded to her large breasts, showing off their perfectly smooth, round shape, and there were clear indents caused by her throbbing n*****s. Her midriff was exposed, leaving her fit belly bare. Down lower, she wore a tiny, denim skirt, cut way too short, barely covering her nether-regions. Her long legs were bare, smooth, and firm, leading to some trashy high-heels. Her outfit was obscene and looked incredibly skanky, but it was clear that was the look she was going for.

"Like I said, Callum, I know exactly who I am," she continued, talking in a seemingly professional manner while showcasing these obscene images.

"I am a slut! A huge slut! The sluttiest of the sluts. The skankiest of the skanks. The trashiest of the trashy. The whoriest of the whores. Ever since I grew t**s, I have been letting guys, and the occasional girl, play with them. I have been told I should be ashamed of myself, that no one likes a slut, but I do not care. I love it! I love being a slut! It is my best my quality. Callum, I am really, REALLY, good at s*x, like, amazing at it. You do your work as the best boyfriend ever in public and I work in the bedroom."

"Oh my God..." I said to myself, rubbing my eyes in disbelief at what was happening in front of me.

When I looked up at her, she smiled, loving my consternation. She was loving it so much that her n*pples were evident beneath her top, throbbing to escape into the cool air of her bedroom and I had a bad feeling, no matter what I said and did, they would be soon getting their wish.

Why was I letting this happen?

"Now, the next step on your list is 'do your research', and, as you will see a little bit later in this presentation, I have gone above and beyond in that category," she said with a hungry smirk, as if desperate to reveal that delicious part of the plan, a plan that made her mouth water.

"But before that, the next part is what I mentioned before. I am controlling my image. Like I have said repeatedly, to put it bluntly, I am a slut."

Lisa paused for a moment, putting her hands on her hips, jutting her chest out, showing off her impressive frame.

"I mean, look at me," she began.

Staring right at me, she brought her hands up and slid them under her large breasts, bouncing them in her palms before squeezing them lightly, grazing her fingers over her protruding n*****s. She turned to the side and let her hand slide down her torso and over her round, jutting a*s.

"It is no secret I am the neighborhood slut. With a body like mine, it is hard not to be. I am built for sex... what is wrong with me doing what I am good at?"

I simply shook my head. I did not know if I was just tired and this was some strange dream, but I could not figure out how to respond to this bold attempt at seduction. Lisa turned back to face me and brought her hands to her top. Working deftly, her fingers got to work, unbuttoning her blouse. This motion caused me to jump slightly.

Was she disrobing just like that?

"No need for me to play it coy anymore," she stated, unbuttoning her top halfway down, so her giant, barely covered breasts and red bra were exposed.

"If I accept that I am a slut, I have got to at least look like one and besides, there is nothing wrong with a bit of cleavage," she said proudly, downplaying the size of the crevasse between her bulbous breasts that was now exposed to me.

"It is all good, clean fun, right?" she chirped with a sickeningly sweet smile.

I did not respond. I do not know why I thought it would be a good idea to let this play out. She probably took this as some sort of endorsement of her crazy plan.

"Lisa, this has gone too far already." I began, keeping my cool as I looked to end this.

"But I am just getting started," she replied, "And you promised to hear me out."

"Yeah, well, I think I have seen enough." I responded, looking away from her.

"Baby, you have not seen anything yet," she said wickedly.

Undeterred, and before I could interrupt her again, she continued her presentation.

"So, anyway, clearly, I know myself very well but part of this is you knowing yourself, knowing who YOU really are," she said, pointing at me.

"What?" I asked, a bit exasperated with this whole game already.

"Now, I do not know if you know this, but I have never really liked you that much," she admitted.

This admission caused me to bark in laughter.

"If you do not even like me, then, why are you even doing this? Why did you lure me to your house, drug me and place me onto your bed, holding me captive?" I replied, raising my hands questioningly.

"Exactly," she said, pointing at me as if I hit the exact point she was making.

"I could not figure it out either. I mean, I find you annoying and completely full of sh*t. I see your act. I know what you do. No one else does, but I do. I could see through your bullsh*t, I cannot stand this f*cking good guy act of yours, but I could not stop thinking about riding your, no doubt, fat c*ck until I cannot think straight."

"Jesus," I said, sweating a little, shocked at her casual depravity.

"Trust me, you are so not the type of guy I would be normally into. I mean, no offense, but to a girl like me, you are sort of boring. Guys like you do not typically have the type of fun that women like me need. So, I started thinking... maybe there is more to you than meets the eye. Maybe deep down, beyond that stiff, dull, boring façade, this whole good guy, everybody is my friend act, maybe there is a dirty f*cking stud that is just BURSTING to get out," she said, smiling proudly, acting out an explosion with her arms, causing her big breasts to bounce.

"Bursting to get out... dying to be exactly the type of guy I crave."

At this hypothesis, I simply closed my eyes and rubbed my palm on my forehead.

"Lisa..." I began.

"I know you think I am completely off-base but think about it. I mean, I cannot stand you, but for some reason, I cannot stop thinking about you. The only explanation is that you are, in fact, exactly my type of guy and, if I am right, that would make me exactly your type of girl," she said perkily, looking down at me. I couldn't help but let out a small laugh.

"Ha...Lisa, you certainly have a very...interesting...view of things, but you are completely off-base." I said, trying to be as civil as possible considering what she was proposing.

"I knew you would say that" she said, smirking while rolling her eyes. Looking upwards, she continued.

"I mean, it is kind of odd that you seem to always find an excuse to talk to me. You have heard the lies. The nasty rumors. A guy like you within the male population with a respectable girlfriend should not be caught anywhere near a dirty slut like me, but you always found a reason to stop and chat. Chat it up with the neighborhood skank."

"I talk to everybody! That is part of being a good person!" I said, losing my patience slightly.

She was right about one thing. I had heard plenty of rumors about her. Even though, as I said before, I did not give life to rumors, that did not mean that I had not heard them. And the more she went on, as over-the-top as this had already gotten, the crazy things I had heard about her were starting to sound more believable.

Obviously, I had heard that she had f*cked her way through a lot of men for financial gain, but those rumors were positively tame compared to some others I had heard. Among those things was that she had willingly performed a full-on strip tease on one of the desks down on the fifth floor during a Christmas party. I had also heard a rumor that someone had hired a really young bag boy straight out of college a few years back, and on his first day, he was caught f*cking Lisa in one of the supply closets. They were caught by one of the bosses, and although the guy was immediately fired, Lisa eventually convinced the guy who caught them to f*ck her, turning this penalty into a promotion. Another thing was that one of the other secretaries at her former job was spreading nasty rumors about Lisa to whoever would listen. Lisa apparently went to that woman's house and slept with her husband. That woman quit the next day. I had also heard that there was an email thread with sexy pictures of Lisa, promising full-on shots of her naked breasts and then, to my surprise, that email had ended up in my inbox, but I had been a good guy and deleted the email immediately without opening it.

At times, there seemed like there was a secret club of men who had been spent one wild night with Lisa. A brotherhood, and you would think that her sole success with men in the company with be with that type of swarthy, douchebags who were willing to play at her level. One of THOSE guys, you know? But then it would be revealed that someone that I was aware of, who should have known better, energetically leapt into bed with her. Fallen victim to her wiles. One of my oldest friends, a guy named Kyrese that I had gone to college with, after he left the neighborhood that I grew up in, the rumor was that he had cheated on his girlfriend with Lisa. I knew he would never do that kind of thing, that this was just a nasty rumor but when me and a few co-workers ran into him, and one of them brought up Lisa, knowingly mentioning her body to him, I could see the heat behind his eyes, and it was clear there was some sort of history there between him and Lisa.

I tried to keep my head above this stuff, but these rumors had a habit of reoccurring, no matter how much I tried to avoid them. Even I had my weak moments. When I had heard a guy talking worshipfully about her chest, although he shut down the conversation as soon as he saw me, there was a part of me sort of hoping to hear more, just because of deep seeded masculine curiosity. If the rumors were true, Lisa had a habit of making men do bad things and staying above the fray seemed to be the best idea.

"But even good boyfriends know better than to be seen with a w***e like myself." Lisa continued, as if reading my mind, but was simply continuing the conversation we had been having.

"Every other one of self-declared good guys with a girlfriend/wife steer well clear of me, but not you. Every chance you get, you leap at the opportunity to talk to me. A good guy like you...you just want a little taste of the other side, do you not? A sample of the dark delights you are missing out on," she said, her voicing lowering to a lusty tone, moving around the desk.

Why did I talk to her? I mean, like I said, I liked to judge people for myself, but there was pretty overwhelming evidence in the case of Lisa Warden. Sure, I would never not be cordial to someone, and I think that was all I was with her. I never wanted anything more from her. I did not want her to flirt with me. I was not interested in her in that way. It was not like I was one of THOSE guys... right? All those guys, who acted like they disliked Lisa or looked down at her, but when the time came, they were still happy to leap into bed with her. No... no. I was not like that. I was not that type of guy. I had self-control. I was better than that but Lisa was unconvinced.   

"You kid yourself into thinking you are being nice, but you just want to get close to me. You want to smell me and maybe, if you get lucky, you will get one good taste." she said, moving in close, purring in my ear, causing me to shiver.

I felt the softness of her huge breasts pressing against my arm, and this contact caused me to jump. I moved away from her, not daring to look, as she stepped back around the bed, content with not pushing forward too quickly.

"I think perfect Callum Johnson has a little crush." she began, c*****g her head at me slightly as she walked back towards her projected presentation.

"I think someone is in love with my huge titties!" she sang, giving them a little jiggle.

I could not help but glance at them for a moment, but it was enough. Her smirk told me she noticed.

"So, by the end of this interview, I will not only prove that you need a slut like me by your side, but I will prove that you are actually the dirty, slut-mongering a**hole you pretend you are not." she said professionally, as if presenting the fourth quarter earnings.

"Okay, so, I am going to power through a couple of the other points so I can get to the good stuff. With your point about clichés making your eyes glaze over, clearly, you have never seen anything like me and besides, it is not going to be cliché's making your eyes glaze over, and not being afraid to blow you away... I mean, c'mon? You are practically spelling out how you want a slut on her knees... 'blowing you' away. And then, thinking outside the box, ignoring the list... clearly, I am way ahead of you there," she said, quickly clicking through the slides.

"And that brings me to the good stuff," she said, smiling wickedly, as if this was the moment she had been waiting for. She clicked to the next slide.

"Now, there are two points left... 'Set Yourself Apart' and 'Do Your Research'. And, to me, they are intertwined. Now, there are plenty of other candidates, that is, any other girl you become interested in or is currently interested in you, and as I said before, their qualifications may be impeccable. They have me beat, as they may not be wh*res, they may be educated, and they may have goals for the future. But, to take my place as your personal w***e, then it is not the other girls I would be competing against," she paused, and gave me a smug, arrogant glance. "The person I am competing against is your girlfriend, Colette."

She advanced the slideshow, and up appeared a picture of Colette, my girlfriend. I adjusted my position on the bed slightly, as I was caught off guard. The picture was just showing her face, the sun shining through her hair, her brilliant teeth flashing at the camera. It was a great picture, but knowing it was Lisa showing me this sent a surge of concern through me, as if I knew deep down what she was about to do.

"This is your girlfriend, Colette. Pretty as a peach, and sweet as can be." Lisa affirmed.

"We both know and have acknowledged that I have met her, and yeah, she is as nice as everyone says. She is totally perfect girlfriend material," she said, her lip curled up slightly, as if there was something insidious hidden within this seemingly sweet compliment. She advanced the slides forward to another picture, this one of Colette and Lisa, standing side-by-side at a Christmas party, smiling.

"Girls sniff each other out immediately. And even a girl like Colette, the sweet perfect college student, she had to know I was the neighborhood skank. But like the sweetheart she is, and like the nice, sweet boyfriend she has, she did not shy away from chatting me up, being friendly and nice to the dirtiest tramp in the neighborhood. Of course, her parents pulled her away pretty quick because they know better, but you two, you are like moths to the flame, attracted to your own destruction."

I sat there in silence, waiting for the other shoe to drop. As if on cue...

"But..." she began, with an arrogant smirk, "We did have time to snap this picture, and honestly, I think this kind of sums up the whole thing."

The picture itself was at Colette’s house, Colette, and Lisa side by side. Colette looked stunning, her shiny brunette hair hanging down past her shoulders, perfectly styled. She wore a slim cocktail dress, the material hugging her slim, athletic body. It was formal and tasteful, not showing too much of anything. Her chest was mostly covered, only the upper chest bared, and the dress went down to her knees. Her legs appeared from the dress, leading down to her stylish high-heels. She looked stunning. She was the perfect picture of restrained, mature, adult, feminine sexuality. Classy, but restrained.

I remember that evening perfectly. Colette decided to host a Christmas party at home, and she invited some of my family members as a way to meet everyone. In the midst of planning, she had begged her parents to allow Lisa to attend because that evening Lisa called and complained about being lonely and not have anything to eat. Lisa stated that she felt depressed and suicidal because no one wanted to hang out with her.

Lisa was the opposite.

If Colette was in a cocktail dress, Lisa was in a prom dress. Colette's cocktail dress was a formal black, Lisa's was a flashy red. Lisa wanted all eyes on her, and with the amount of skin she was showing, she was succeeding. The dress was scooped very low, showing an expansive amount of her bulbous breasts and deep cleavage. The dress molded to her voluptuous frame and covered just enough of her to remain decent. The dress ended halfway up her thighs, and the thin straps left her arms bare. On her feet were a pair of high-heels, which helped showcase her long, firm legs. Her makeup looked more like she was ready for a night at the club, and her hair was perfectly composed in a wild, wicked manner.

While Colette's look came across as composed and classy, Lisa looked more brazen and wilder. Something about her, not only her outfit, but her look, her hair, her makeup... there was a certain wickedness that came across very obviously. Colette was smiling warmly in the photo, but Lisa, she was almost smirking, as if teasing the viewer.

"You see it, just like I do. Your girlfriend, looking great, just the perfect corporate girlfriend, and me, the neighborhood wh*re, looking even better." Lisa stated. "Now, I am not just doing this to show pictures of me looking hot. This is the lead in to the main... thrust... of my pitch as to why I should be your girlfriend. And that pitch is how I, Lisa Warden, have your girlfriend beat in every possible way." With that, she pulled a laser pointer from her pocket and continued.

"Now, I want you to look at the picture, Callum, really examine it," she teased, but that smirk of her was getting under my skin, and she knew it. Through gritted teeth, I just looked up at her, my silence the only assent I was going to give her. She pointed the laser dot at Colette.

"I mean, your girlfriend is pretty, I will give her that, and she at least seems fit, which is good but let us examine the important things. Let us start right here," she said, shining the laser dot at Colette's chest. "Let us talk about your girlfriend's breasts, Callum. Does it bother you that your girlfriend is as flat as a board?"

"Lisa..." I warned, my blood boiling, but she loved it. She was loving the anger she was causing me.

"Ooh, I hit a sore spot, it seems. I am sorry, but all girls compare cup sizes. I did not realize it was a touchy subject to you. So, it bothers you how small and pathetic your girlfriend's breasts are?" Lisa asked casually.

"Lisa!" I called out again, losing my cool. "Do not talk about my girlfriend."

"But Callum, that is all I am going to be talking about, so please, calm down," she said, slightly shaking her breasts side-to-side, emphasizing their size as she seemingly tried to cool my anger with the sight of her bouncing boobs.

"I know the truth can be tough to hear, but we all know it. It is a fact. Colette has itty bitty breasts. They are mosquito bites. I mean, all the women in the neighborhood like her, but we all cannot believe how tiny her little breasts are. We all cannot believe you settled down with a woman with breasts so small, when you easily could have been with a girl with breasts so much bigger. Come on, Callum, you have to admit your girlfriend's breasts are, like, crazy small," she contested, stealthily unbuttoning another button on her top, allowing more of her copious breast flesh to become visible.

"I love my girlfriend's chest just fine." I said, looking away, wanting to change the subject.

As I said before, a girl's cup size does not change my feelings on her. The foundation of a sturdy relationship is based on stronger things than that. I mean, all things the same, would I mind if she had bigger breasts? Of course not. But honestly, Colette is perfect the way she is.

"Just fine, huh? Not a really strong endorsement." Lisa said. "Now, look at mine." I just looked her in the eyes, not wanting to play along.

"Come on Callum, the sooner you do, the sooner this end. The sooner your eyes are hungrily gazing on the smooth, hot, sexy flesh of my giant breasts, the sooner we can move on." I held her gaze, resisting her invitation. "Fine. You can look at the real thing, or the picture, either choice is fine." I lazily shifted my glance back to the picture, where Lisa was shining the laser at her own pictured, jutting chest.

"Look at my breasts, Callum. So big...so soft...so perfect...thirty-four EE's, baby, and they are all real. Just imagine squeezing them, playing with them... the softness is addicting, you will never get enough," she said, her tone low and lusty as she moved closer to the bed, leaning over it again.

"Have you ever thought about squeezing my breasts, Callum?" she asked, shaking her breasts slightly, trying to get me to look at her exposed cleavage. I glanced at her in the eyes, the look in my eyes voicing my displeasure.

"I bet you have. I mean, me and Colette, together, it really showcases the differences between us. Your girlfriend is all flat and dull, but I have all these luscious curves. My breasts... my a*s," she said, turning slightly to point her butt at me. "She is pretty. I am hot. She is classy, I am dirty. She is a girlfriend... I am a slut."

"All men need a slut, Callum. Especially men as good as you are. They work so hard and do so much goodness in this world, every so often, they just need to vent all that stress somewhere. I am sure all the big bosses you idolize have sluts like me too. Men like you... they need to do all the sick, disgusting, hot things they could never do with their wives. Things they could not possibly do to a woman they respect. That is why women like me exist, Callum. That is the role we play. All men have these needs, and women like me can provide them," she affirmed, pausing for a moment, clasping her hands together.

"You are out there, Lisa." I said, shaking my head at her insanity.

She just smirked.

"Now, I can tell you things about your girlfriend that only you know. Things that only sluts like me can see. For example, Colette strikes me as being a bit... precious... in bed. I bet she makes you do all the work. Sure, she buys some lingerie that she thinks is fancy, but it is actually pretty cheap and unflattering. I bet she whispers adorable dirty talk, talks to you in between the sheets, lies back, spreads her legs, and let us you do your thing. She does not talk; she just moans cutely in your ear. She clutches you tight as you take care of her needs, and sure, you feel the love, but it is not love that makes a guy's balls boil. You do not know enough to know that what she is giving you is the beginner stuff, and you are too nice to ask for the good stuff. You both are practically begging for a slut like me to swoop in and show you what real f*cking is all about," Lisa finished, gesturing her arm as she did so, brushing it against her jutting rack.

I bet those huge breasts got in the way a lot... wait, what am I thinking?

"You do not know what you are talking about," I replied, not letting myself think about her words too much.

"Well, I think you are lying to yourself, and I can prove it because I have done my research, and I know exactly what type of woman Colette is." Lisa affirmed.

She advanced the slide show. When a picture popped up, my eyes widened in genuine shock.

"This is the contents of your girlfriend's underwear drawer," she said.

Projected across from me was my girlfriend's underwear, strewn neatly across our neatly made bed.

"You broke into my house!?" I said loudly.

"I did not technically break in," she replied, shrugging her shoulders. "I can be quite convincing, and your housekeeper is not exactly the brightest of the bunch. I told her that me and Colette were total besties, and I wanted to check and see if she had this purse, I was getting for her. Not the best lie in the world, but the housekeeper bought it, so, yeah..."

I shook my head, gawking in shock. Lisa had been in my house, my bedroom when we were not there? She was insane!

"So, as I was saying, this is all your girlfriend's underwear," she resumed, taking advantage of my silence, acting as if this was totally normal. "And I must say, I am not impressed. I mean, not a single thong in the bunch. No thongs, no G-strings, what is this, the 50's?" 

On the screen was picture after picture of my girlfriend's underwear, nothing skimpy. Lisa did have a point in this department about that.