Sandy's Busty Assistant

Sandy's too slammed to squeeze anybody in, so she sends Bridgette to handle it. Blondes don't waste time — she meets Mr. Jones in her boss's lipstick-red dress and unzips it before the door clicks shut. Thighs flex, fists on hips, she dares him to skip the small talk. His pants hit the floor in seconds. Bridgette drops to her knees, mouth wide, tongue hot, taking every inch until spit runs down her chin and his sack slaps her fist pumping the root. She gags loud on purpose, letting the noise bounce off the walls. Then she flips around, spreads her ass, and sinks back so his cock splits her open in one long glide. The desk creaks while she slams into him, ass cheeks clapping, nails biting the wood. "Fill it," she grunts, grinding harder. When he grabs her hair and bottoms out, he dumps a load so thick it leaks down her thighs in creamy strings. She smiles over her shoulder and says, "You just met the perks package."