Eagerly devour her cunt

As Donna pulls your face between her parted thighs you feel something unexpectedly surging within you: lust. Not only do you want to keep your job, you want to make Donna cum. You want to bury your tongue in her furry fuckpie and lick out every tangy drop. You want to drown in her juices and smother in her steaming sex. She doesn't even have to guide you the last few inches, you eagerly lean in, bracing yourself on her meaty thighs as you push your face against her fragrant fuck trench.

"Ohhh that's good!" she sighs as you bury your tongue into the juicy cauldron of her cunt. You are immediately awsash in her sour-tinged flavor. Her hairs tickle your nostrils and her smell fills your senses. Her drooping lips part to your spearing tongue, you can feel her big clit against your mouth and you lather it with abandon. Your vigorous licking brings it to the fore and you close your lips on it and loudly suck her clit, battering it with your tongue between pops of suction. Donna can hardly believe your transform-ation, she squirms on the couch beneath you, breathlessly pleasured.

The otherwise quiet office is filled with the bawdy music of your mouth at work on Donna's juicy cunt, the slurping music occasionally interrupted by a stifled cry of pleasure from your supposed tormentor. Whatever you lack in experience and technique, you more than compensate for with your eagerness. You swallow Donna's flooding juices and in scarce minutes she cries out, rocking her hips against your mouth, pushing you against her overflowing and cumming so hard she actually lifts her ass of the couch.

It is only as she descends from her orgasm that you realize you have been fingering yourself, though you are not sure how long, your soaked digits plunge in and out of your aching hole. Donna lifts your basted face from between her pale thighs and kisses you, her tongue sloppily roaming your lips and pressing into your mouth. She roughly grabs your breasts, squeezing them and pinching your nipples. The violence of her embrace only stimulates you more. You moan with pleasure as she tugs your nipples in unision, stretching them painfully and pulling your breasts.

"Let me see it," she gasps and you stand to show her you are frigging your slit. "Fuck yourself with your fingers. Three fingers."

You roll your hips, leaning your upper body back so she can more clearly view your fingers at work. She watches you as the fat bundle of your fingers fucks in and out of your heated hole and your thumb plays joystick with the straining nub of your clit.

"I want to cum," you say, your voice pleading.

"Not yet," says Donna. You fight back the waves of pleasure, lifting your thumb from your clit, but continuing to pound your pussy with your fin-gers. "Lay down on the floor. But don't make yourself cum."

You lie down on your back on the carpet, thighs apart, staring at the ceiling as you try not to plunge over the precipice of pleasure. Right on the edge, your breath comes in erratic gasps, your dark nipples quiver atop your heaving breasts. Donna disappears behind her desk. You can hear her opening a drawer. There is a sound like a belt being buckled. She walks around so you can see her and you see that her hairy cunt is framed by leather straps that buckle to a belt around her waist. Sticking out from her pubic mound, affixed to a black rubberized base, is a huge, purple strapon molded into the exaggerated shape of a large penis. She tears open a condom with her teeth and rolls it over the faux fuckstick.

The strap-on bounces lewdly as she kneels between her thighs. You scoot up against her legs to giver her better access. The fat latex-sheathed head easily parts your folds and Donna thrusts into you, her weight against you as she quickly buries all eight inches of the dildo in your boiling fuckpit. She fucks you hard and fast, slamming into you, smothering your mouth with hers as she brutally pounds your pussy to orgasm. You cry out, your mouth stuffed with her tongue, gasping for air as pleasure explodes deep in your cunt. You dig your heels into her back as the strap-on loudly fucks in and out of your juicing cunt. You can feel the hot liquid pouring out of you, oozing over your asshole and wetting the carpet beneath your butt. Ripples of pleasure flow through you like electricity.

When you sink back and slowly relax, Donna slows her thrusts and then slides the strap-on from your tenderized twat. She rolls off of you and onto her back, a grin on her face, both of you sweaty and smeared with sex juices.

"Take it off," you whisper to her.

"What?" she seems confused as she was content to lay back and bask in the afterglow.

You fumble with the strap-on's buckles, finally loosening it and sliding it down her thigh. Smiling at her, you crawl on hands and knees between her legs. You confront the messy sight of her cunt more clearly this time. It's gaping open, dark pink folds exposed, juices matting the dark hair of her pubic mound. With no hesitation you lower your mouth to it and resume licking and sucking her, eager to prove to her and yourself that you can pleasure any woman. It is a short road to travel to Donna's next orgasm. Her meaty thighs close against your ears and her ass lifts from the carpeting as she fucks your mouth and tongue. You taste her, sweeter, flooding your tonge and dripping from your chin.

"Holy shit," she sighs, her ass slipping back down to the floor. You lap her clit a few last times before she pushes you away. "That was amazing."

"Did I pleasure you?" You crawl up so your faces are even and kiss her on the mouth. It's your trun to slip your tongue between her lips.

"Yes," Donna moans. "Better than I had imagined possible. But you need to go. Perry is on the warpath about those spreadsheets."

"Wanted to keep me around as a fuckbuddy?" you laugh.

"Something like that."

You and Donna get dressed, fix each other's makeup, and spritz each other with perfume. You're sure anybody heading into her office in the next hour or so is going to get a noseful of your pussy perfume. That's not your problem. It's heading into the afternoon and you've really fallen behind.

You hurry back to your desk, stopping at the vending machines only long enough to get a Diet Coke to keep you going.