The Secretary

The secretary's flat on her stomach, ass up, skirt tight, heels clicking as her fingers fly over the typewriter keys spelling out YES BOSS, again and again. The boss watches from his desk, eyes glued to the curve of her petite body, his hunger obvious. She stands, saunters over, hands him the paper like she’s already won, but he just uncaps his pen, crosses something out, and snaps, "Again." She bites her lip and scurries back. Next time she climbs right onto his desk, phone to her ear, belly flat on the wood while he uses her ass like a clipboard and writes PLEASE BOSS in quick strokes. She hangs up grinning. He hands it back, tells her "Again." Her natural tits press the desk, hard little points under the blouse, and she’s practically vibrating. Last round she crawls in on hands and knees, paper folded between her teeth, the words FUCK ME BOSS, PLEASE!! scrawled in big desperate letters. He takes the sheet from her mouth, looks it over, then tells her to stand up and bend over the desk. She doesn’t need telling twice.