Learn The Ropes 1

Finally alone, he picks up the phone and orders a quick stress release. Ten minutes later a stacked brunette in a tight black dress strolls in like she owns the place. Ink peeks from under her hem, big tits pushing against the fabric, heels sharp enough to step on egos. He tells himself he’ll call it off if things get weird, but she reads the nerves on his face and just smirks. She slides her fingers down his zipper, strokes him hard, then orders him to watch while she hikes the dress, spreads on his couch, and starts fingering her wet pussy slow and loud. Every time he reaches to touch, she slaps his hand away. "Hands to yourself, boss man," she purrs, circling her clit, letting her juices coat her knuckles, then dragging those same fingers across his lips so he can taste her. He stands there throbbing, hips twitching, trying not to groan too loud in case his assistant still lingers down the hall. She leans back, legs wide, plunging two fingers deep inside, tits bouncing with each thrust, eyes locked on his. Every pump of her wrist makes wet sounds fill the room. He grips the desk, knuckles white, knowing one moan too loud and it’s game over for both of them. She grins, slows the pace just to tease, then speeds up again, letting her moans build until she’s right on the edge, fingers buried knuckle-deep, body shaking. Only after she cums does she allow him a single stroke of his own cock, and even that comes with a warning glare: quiet, or she stops. He bites his lip, heart hammering, already plotting how fast he can book her again without anyone ever knowing.