Office sales call
Corner-office professionalism shatters when Carol Parker strides into Bob’s domain—chestnut hair, black pantsuit, and a sample case hiding sins. Her “software demo” reeks of musk, her loaded glances linger below his belt, and her ridiculous panties—plucked from his desk drawer—soon cling to his swollen cock. “Will you do it, or shall I?” she purrs, hand sliding over his zipper’s strained bulge. The answer? A frantic unveiling: thick shaft slapping free, silk panties strangling his balls, her tongue branding him with wet, hungry laps. Corporate espionage never fucked this hard.
Submission masquerades as control when Carol locks the door, forces him into her scarlet lingerie, and swallows him whole—moans muffled against trembling thighs, teeth grazing his throbbing head. How many “clients” has she drained like this? But Bob’s too lost in her relentless rhythm, the plop of her lips releasing him, the humiliation-tinged ecstasy as she milks him dry…only to smirk, dripping, and whisper: “Ready for the next install?”
Will this QA manager pass her thorough testing—or crash spectacularly when she demands deeper access? Click…before the screensaver kicks in.