They quickly washed, rinsed and dried off. After getting dressed Jake noticed the time. “I gotta get going babe, I gotta finish up some homework, see you tomorrow” he said, giving his girlfriend a kiss on the cheek. Jake grabbed his gear and drove home. “I’m coming, I’m coming!” proclaimed the blonde office aide in response to her immediate supervisor’s incessant, relentless demands for her lackey to hurry and finish so she could get what she wanted. Her boss had just instructed her to provide the ‘special treat’ that her subservient underling was duty-bound to come running to offer at a moment’s notice. It didn’t matter when, amateur and it didn’t matter where. When the shrew that signs her paychecks snarled out a degrading command for her to spring pov to her side and service her with whatever she needed, Gretchen – the newly-minted executive assistant – was expected to graciously follow protocol. “Look, if you don’t come in the next thirty seconds, I swear to God, Gretchen..” came the bark from around the corner to the kitchenette in which, stood atop the requisite stiletto balancing act that was demanded as part of her ‘business casual,’ Gretchen was doing her damndest to follow orders. “Oh, I’m cumming alright, bitch,” sneered Gretchen as she shoved the round-bottom glass coffee pot onto the crusted old brown burner that had seen its fair share of coffee stains, but certainly not the brand public of ‘espresso shot’ that the devious administrative assistant was eager to pump into the mug of joe. “I’ve just got to fix that extra ‘turbo shot’ that you like in it, Mrs. Rodriguez!” Gretchen fired this waylaying comment back down the hallway, knowing that would buy her enough time to prep a fresh batch of the ‘secret ingredient’ that her direct superior had grown fond of after hiring her a few months ago. Gretchen slipped her manicured nails in between the mug and the handle and lowered it down past the lower hem of her skin-tight pinstripe pencil skirt – another article of required office garb. “I remember hearing that ten, twenty years ago, those chauvinist ad men who oral fucked every desk jockey with a pussy from here to Long Island were the ones who put this skanky dress code in place,” Gretchen recalled hearing from her first cubicle mate during the first day of her on-the-job orientation. That was, of course, before sweet Cecilia got the axe for mispronouncing the name of Felicia Rodriguez, their (at the time) mutual overlord, on the phone with a ‘very important client.’ Gretchen remembered accepting that explanation for the gratuitous, borderline objectifying, threatening-a-harassment-lawsuit costuming Hardcore expected of a worker bee on the thirty-third floor. After she caught Mrs. Rodriguez side-eyeing the supple curve of her skirt-clad rear end, she knew immediately that a certain someone was getting paid dividends on that ‘skanky dress code’ set in place by ‘chauvinist men.’ At first, it was just one finger at a time. “No ma’am, though it’s been awhile since anything has happened.” Her pussy was wet, her legs were spread, and she was waiting for his dick like pov a good slut. oral “We thought it might be fun, to give you control.” That is a fabulous way to start off any blow job and draw out the length of it. Whatever happens to you on Aghara-Penthay you’re going to feel exploited afterwards, and this lesser experience will toughen you for what’s ahead.” I caressed her. “oh, you taste amazing” amateur she said quietly between sucks, “I could swallow your public load every day” Even in his prime years, I doubted he’d fair well against the withered male Hardcore tribesman that were too old for war. He indicated it concerned my wife. This is the story of one of those encounters that he had always dreamed of having. Though we are no hoard, and mean you no harm. ‘Now’. He began to increase the speed of his thrusts slightly. She wasn’t even dating yet, so Nana didn’t want to go into the ‘birds and bees’ discussion.