Office Perverts Vol 06

Anne Marie caught him zoned out at his desk, eyes unfocused, hard-on tenting his slacks. "Miles from here, aren’t you, honey?" she teased, locking the door. Steps closing slow. Her sweater came off first—then the bra. Tits full and heavy, pink at the tips. His face reddened, but the tent twitched, grew firmer. "Want me to do what’s got your pretty head floating around?" "Say please." She dropped onto his lap, pressed her tits against his chest. Steam rose off her skin, grinding heat seeping right through the zipper. Her perfume mixed with office dust, sour metal, aroused sweat. Fingertips traced the shape of him through the fabric. Under her strokes the blood pulsed alive. "God, you’re soaked already. Scoot the chair back." Fabric bunched at her waist; panties slid down creamy thighs. Still half-dressed, bare below, she pulled his cock free. Rigid. Veined. Ready. Anne Marie curled her fingers around the head, cooed at its slick tip, and lowered herself in one smooth drop—enveloping him so fast he cursed. She rode him quick, hips snapping wetly, desk bumping the wall with each slap of skin on skin. Laughter turned to hoarse moaning between clenched teeth. He cupped her ass, leaving pink fingertip bruises. Sweat ran down her sternum and onto his shirts. Soon she clenched the sweetest contraction—milky reward surged into her, pulse after hot pulse. Their work day ended with one brief moan and enough shine on glass that any janitor tonight would know damn well what happened. }