Unfinished Business

Vanessa, finally, found a balance.

It wasn't the kind of balance that she would want anyone to know about. Ever. It was sick. She was sick.

But it helped. At least some. It was pathetic. But it was working.

She had a printout, in a transparent plastic protector. A printout of Cheryl. Jesus, of Cheryl! The thought made Vanessa whine, deep in her chest when she examined it. The reasons - the self-examination of what was behind her sudden, completely overwhelming, jealousy-and-envy inspired attraction to the younger woman made her stomach churn.

But the idea, of printing out the picture; printing it out and... it had flashed into her head, almost immediately, when she sat down.

The idea of having Cheryl with her while she worked. Having Cheryl, where she could look at the other woman, without fear of recrimination, and...

And kiss her. D-dammit. Kiss her, and be kissed.

Just as a reward. Only when she was good. Lightly, and tenderly.

Maybe it was Cheryl's talk of a... whatever she had hinted at. A mysterious something. A reward? Or, something... something that had crossed Cheryl's mind when she tugged a lock of Vanessa's nappy natural.

Whatever had stuck the idea in Vanessa's mind, she had to do it once the thought came to her. Had to. She would have been useless until she did. And, afterwards - after almost bouncing in shameful anticipation while selecting a picture, after printing it off, protecting it under a plastic sheath, and s-stroking her finger around Cheryl's jawline... she had been soothed.

Vanessa had started working.

And, when she did well, got something done, Cheryl kissed her.

...

Well, Vanessa kissed Cheryl.

That was her balance. And she was working. Distracted by intrusive thoughts, soaking wet again, both made worse by the picture. But with Miss Cheryl there, with her help, Vanessa forged through it, ploughed along. And got rewarded.

Tables. Fact checking the tables and numbers. It was tedious, but it was the last thing. It wasn't hard, it wasn't even that time consuming if she kept her head. She had been good. And when she got done, she could...

F-focus. Almost there. She couldn't lose focus. Numbers in the calculator. Carefully done. D-double checked. Cheryl wouldn't want her to... she had to do it right, if she wanted her kisses.

Fuck, Vanessa wanted them. She was so fucking pathetic. She wanted those kisses so bad. So fucking bad.

It carried her through. One at a time. She got through them.

She finished. Puffy sex squishing, Vanessa attached the file to an email reply, along with a short note, promising that she had done it right. Apologizing. Thanking the younger woman.

That was all she could manage. Vanessa sent it, and stopped thinking.

Cheryl. The colored woman looked at her secretary, into her eyes. She felt her thick, red lips press together, and thrust out - forming the start of their next kiss.

She had been good. Yes, Miss Thomas.

Mouth watering, Vanessa fluttered her eyelashes. She blushed. Miss Cheryl was smiling at her, and leaned in. Leaned in to tell Vanessa she had been good, to pat her head, her... ooh... their lips brushed.

Vanessa's previous kisses had been respectful. Almost reverent. But with the report sent, with e-everything... Vanessa... she started slow. But she had been good. She couldn't hold back. She didn't need to. One slow, respectful kiss turned into two. Two turned into more. Cheryl's lips and cheeks and nose and... an increasing tempo of more - a flurry. A whirling, lusty flurry of wet, grateful kisses. Cheryl was with her, straddling the older black woman in her chair, f-fucking showing her... permitting Vanessa to kiss her without reservation. Allowing her negro boss to stick her fucking n-nigger tongue out, to wet her too-plump ape lips and kiss and worship and -

"Mmph-phuuck!" Vanessa gasped. And rolled. And melted right out of her chair.

The black executive came-to moments later, on the floor, the picture of Cheryl beneath her breathless face. Plastic protector covered in big, cherry kisses. She... dammit... did she cum? She hadn't... hadn't humped anything, hadn't touched herself except for opening and closing her thighs.

N-no. No cumming. But, how completely humiliating.

"Sorry," Vanessa whispered to the defiled picture, and tucked her elbow underneath her, ready to stand.

Lost in homosexual passion with a printout of her secretary's face. What kind of -

Vanessa's tummy growled. She was almost in the same position - face down, rear up, as... eating h-her 'kibble' from her bowl that morning - dry cereal and leftover scraps of egg and bread crusts from the men's breakfasts. She had been rushed, gotten breakfast together too late. Pulled, mouth full, pulled by her collar, choked, and rushed to -

Vanessa stood, shaking her head, brushing off... she had to get something to eat, and also take a moment to try and think straight, before something more happened. She could clean off the red lipstick smudges soiling Cheryl's pretty, slightly smiling face, tuck her away some place safe and- and, definitely, very hidden. For later. In case -

There was a rap, shit, a knock at her door.

Her door! Umm, "J-just a minute!" It cracked open.

Too late! They were back. Vanessa quickly slipped her secret lover--her pitifully smooch-smeared, shameful schoolgirl crush--into a desk drawer, slamming it shut just in time for -

Oh... no.

Why? What... no. No, he couldn't have. Why?

Vanessa swallowed. She shut her eyes, and opened them.

The doorway was still occupied by the same lanky figure of moment earlier.

"I," No. No no no, "I was just on my way out, Timothy."

Vanessa didn't get an answer. She got a pair of bulging blue eyes staring greedily at her tits.

A lump formed in Vanessa's throat. The moment went on... and on. Her skin started to crawl.

"Timothy?" Vanessa folded her arms over her thrust-up chest. "M-Mister Bullock?"

The spidery man finally came to life. He straightened his back, and straightened his tie.

"Clip on." Timothy blurted, his voice high and shaky.

"... What?" Clip on? He pointed at his neck.

"You tried to me last time I was in your office. Um, with my tie. This one's clip on."

Vanessa... didn't know what to say. She stood, arms over her cleavage, looking at the man who had violated her some days ago in her office, spewing his spunk across her face. For chrissake he had called her a...!

A...

"You're going to m-make it up to me," Timothy pointed a long, bony finger Vanessa's way.

A nigger.

He lowered his finger, peering at Vanessa's distressed, pretty brown face. "Um, right? That's what Brand said. He said you would."

"I..." She...

Brand had sent... no. No...

"I've been thinking about you." Timothy smiled, wide and toothy. He sniffed the air, "Thinking about that black girl smell."

Oh... oh god. He was so...

"Let me see it." Long legs ate up the space between them. Timothy craned his neck, peering over Vanessa's desk, at her thighs.

At her...

"Let me see some-o-that puss-ay."

Vanessa instinctively reached down, tugging the stretchy fabric of her spandex clubbing dress lower. Timothy leered.

"Lift it up. Show me what the office nigger's got underneath." Timothy flinched, fear momentarily flickering across his face.

Vanessa wanted to make good on that fear. Wished she could, would have loved to throw Timothy out on his ass again. Instead she sucked in a hurt little breath, and felt her fingers, then elbows, begin to flex. Her eyes to the side so at least she wouldn't have to look at-at anything, the tight fabric of Vanessa's little dress began sliding up her smooth, dark thighs.

Timothy's fear quickly fled his face, replaced instantly by - "Perfect. Yeah, slow... like a stripper. You know exactly how to do it, don't you? Let's see those panties."

Vanessa paused, and swallowed. Sh-she didn't have any -

"Show me what you've got under those slut clothes, um, slut." Timothy moved in, circling the desk. Moved into Vanessa's space.

"Yeah..." The crude, awkward man leaned down. Hands on knees, he put his eyes on level with Vanessa's... her... he s-sniffed deep, "Yeah wiggle that ass. Show me that n-" Timothy looked up once again, at Vanessa, big froggy eyes narrowing suspiciously, "Nigger pussy."

Fuck... fuck you, twerp. Vanessa didn't wiggle her hips, but she resumed lifting her skirt. Timothy grinned in triumph as the first curly black hairs gracing the lips of Vanessa's damp vagina poked out underneath her dress. Followed by more, revealing more, until everything - the whole triangle of her pubic area was naked and exposed.

Timothy hadn't even begun, and already Vanessa felt completely unclean, filthy as he sniffed in her scent... and breathed out; hot breath touching her privates.

"No panties. You really are the office slut, aren't you?" He straightened, stood tall and looked down into Vanessa's eyes. So close, so... so gross. He touched... touched her! Caressed her damp pubic area with his long fingers, and there was nothing Vanessa could do except close her eyes, and wish. Wish she was -

"A-ah!" Without warning, Timothy jammed his finger right in between Vanessa's closed pussy lips, finding the hole after, "Ah-Ow!" After a few misses, hard pokes around Vanessa's most tender area with his stiff finger and sharp nail.

"Aren't you?" Timothy wiggled his finger around i-inside Vanessa, while she clenched her jaw, "Huh? Aren't you?"

"Yesss..." Vanessa sucked in air through gritted teeth.

"Yeah? You're the office slut? The office nigger?" Timothy's face was inch's from Vanessa's, his finger circling strangely inside her, hooking and pulling her insides-ah-Ouch!

"Unnm!" Vanessa squealed. Fuck! "Yes, yes, Sir! Please... I'm a nigger. A slut, please d-" A kiss, deep, slimy, and invasive swallowed the black woman's protest, while a strong, sharp finger swirled and scraped harshly against the wall inside Vanessa's abdomen. Vanessa, gasping around thick, wormy tongue, swallowed and sputtered until Timothy finally withdrew his aggravating finger, releasing his partner to cough out her misery.

"That's the g-spot. I looked it up. Jeez you're wet!" Satisfaction dripped happily from every word. That- she wasn't wet from him! From his awkward, painful poking around the inside of her body. She had gotten worked up because of Cheryl! She...

...She really was a nigger. A girl loving nigger. Vanessa...

Cruel, long fingers gripped her jaw, jerking Vanessa's head up. "I always thought you were a classy sort of woma-ah-bitch. But you look kinda beat up." He turned Vanessa's head to the other side, "Kinda ghetto," Timothy openly appraised the battered, bare-bottomed woman before him.

"Please, Mister Bullock..." Vanessa already felt beaten, sore, further exhausted than she already had been, trying to keep up with the awkward man-boy's bizarre expectations. His expectations and actions, like every sexual experience he had was through a computer or television screen.

There was something wrong with him. Something, everything wrong with her for being here - like this, with him, ready to -

"Strip, bitch," Timothy's voice only warbled a bit at his command. He looked unsure, for a moment, when Vanessa hesitated, but rallied swiftly, "I said s-strip! Everything but the heels. Um, those are hot." He nodded, and through his pants he grabbed and massaged the crooked little tool he carried.

Vanessa... hardly wanted any fluids to stain her already slutty dress. Even less, she didn't want anyone to come back; to be interrupted and seen servicing the neurotic loser in front of her. The humiliated negress got moving. She had to. She slipped a strap off her shoulder, baring its elegant brown curve... and the other. Taking a breath, avoiding Timothy's eyes, she reached around her back -

"Nuh-uh! Slow!" Timothy raised a hand up threateningly, causing poor Nessie to flinch. He looked at her, at his hand, and back again to Vanessa, his face shifting from pouty and anxious to... greedy. Powerful. "Slow, like before." Timothy commanded, raising his hand again in a quick motion, a renewed threat. "Hot. Dancing. Like a stripper. Make me want it - I know that you want it. Uh, slut." He raised the wet finger that had been inside Vanessa for emphasis. He pointed it forward, towards Vanessa's face, and p-pressed it against her lips.

Vanessa, after a painful moment of self-loathing, let it pass. Let it slip inside her mouth, where she sucked it, sucked her plentiful arousal off it. Timothy's digit slid along her tongue, and Vanessa reluctantly bobbed her head - face stressed and stomach turning; going down on his pussy-drenched finger until it was more than thoroughly cleaned of... of her.

Timothy finally withdrew his finger, wiping it on her dress, and stepped back to watch. To watch the show. Vanessa... she began to dance.

The men of the office went to strip clubs. She had more than one offer to go, more than one man attempt to arrange meetings at a strip club. She had always refused, never backing down. She would not engage in business like that, friendly or hostile business, in that sort of setting.

That was before. Vanessa stripped.

A little awkwardly, entirely unwillingly. But from talk, from her knowledge of men... Vanessa tried. She started with her hands... they slid up her torso. Slid up, and then s-squeezed, pressing her jugs together - up, together, making her dark mammaries swell right in front of Timothy's eyes... then let the down, slowly. She let them down. Hips moving somewhat rhythmically, Vanessa reached behind her back, unclasped her bra, savoring her last moments of being clothed. Barely clothed, Timothy's eyes said, while he ogled her propped-up breasts, her partially covered nipples. Strap undone, Vanessa k-kept the cups on, holding her boobs in her hands, pressing them together, body softly undulating. The black stripper... she knew what to do. Even never having been... she tipped the cups down. She teased her tits, giving Mister Bullock a little look, before placing them back. Covering up again, still swaying... delaying as long as she could, enticing like a good stripper; before finally, seemingly reluctantly and reluctantly-in-fact, Vanessa let the cups down. Let her tits out and d-down, to drop and hang exposed in the open air. God help her, she proceeded to dangling the immodest undergarment by a strap, her breasts pendulating hypnotically with the motion of her body, before letting the bra drop to the floor.

Vanessa was rewarded for her show in that Timothy was entranced while it was going, unable to speak, not engaging in any new molestations - until the sight of Vanessa's bare, waving titties proved too much. He grabbed them. Mashed them together into a gorgeous valley of colored flesh, and tasted them. Licked them. Sucked her dark nipples while Vanessa stood and took the sickening, sudden wet tongue ... took it, and she... she felt her hand, a little on her sex, pressing in, brushing when it had a chance, while her hips moved, while she pulled down - pulled and pulled the stretchy red fabric of her dress over her wide hips and butt, tugged it low until it finally gave up hugging her curves and she was able to step out of it, one leg at a time.

Naked, , with her boobs and tender nips thoroughly coated in saliva, Vanessa... she was ready to get this over with.

"Oh, fuck, I'm ready." Timothy groaned and straightened after a final slurp. Fiddling with his buckle, he swiftly dropped his pants around his ankles. Vanessa steeled herself for... for whatever. Her fuck or blowjob or -

The lean white man turned around, and pointed a long finger at the center of his bony ass. Spread his cheeks, and point towards the center of his crack. At that unholy, indented spot in the middle.

His asshole.

"Yeah, bitch. You know what to do."

Vanessa had no idea of 'what to do'. Was she supposed to... touch it? Eww. What... why was he pointing his ass at her? How... how stomach churning. Pointing to... Uggh!

"On your knees." The skinny white man kicked his shoes off, stomping his way out of one pant leg. "Lets see how you feel about kissing now." Something in Timothy's voice...

Kissing, on her... Gross! No! No way! What the hell?! What was he...?

"Uhh," Vanessa got on her knees, just... she didn't want to anger the volatile, unpredictable man. She had to try and...

"C-can you turn around? I really want to see and kiss that - " She was staring right into Timothy's crack, his fat balls and his tan taint, his w-winking star, pinkish brown and... he couldn't be serious. He just couldn't be. "Really, really want to see that c-cock again. Please Mister Bullock? Just for a moment?"

In the face of what she could only imagine was going through Timothy's sick mind, Vanessa meant every word. She was dying for him to turn around and show her his crooked little cock. She would put it in her mouth, suck like mad, suck it until he was to cum. Vanessa couldn't even close her... her wide, horrified eyes were transfixed by Timothy's wrinkled little portal.

"Oh yeah? I bet you do. Here," Spreading his legs slightly, balancing himself with one hand on Vanessa's desk, th-thrusting his ass out a bit, closer to Vanessa's screwed-up brown face, Timothy pushed with his free hand until his funky nub poked back back, behind and through his legs.

"Start there. Give that a little lick."

Vanessa's immediately regretted her decision to ask for Timothy's little cock. From this angle, getting her lips near it would put her face right in the danger zone. Her eyes would be practically stuck against Timothy's winking orifice. It...

"I..."

"Go on. You asked for it." A drip of precum beaded mightily on the tip, "Lick it."

Vanessa closed one eye. Maybe if she extended her tongue to full length, she...

Ugh. Vanessa's nose still found its way into Timothy's puffy, squishy taint. Right above his oversized testicles. Hairs tickled her nose and... the black woman was literally sniffing balls. Face deep in Timothy's nethers, mouth agape, Vanessa ran her tongue along the tiny slit of his urethra, swirled around the underside of his little purple head.

"Fuck, yeah," The disgusting white man moaned, "Lick your way up to my balls, bitch. Lick 'em and suck 'em."

Vanessa's tongue moved, licking, flicking out. Little licks up the hard underside of Timothy's shaft, with the salty, musty taste of precum clinging to her tastebuds. The black woman found the seam of his big, tan balls and slurped, and sucked, while her nose drifted unfortunately close to that place she dreaded. That little hole that occasionally flexed, moved with its own life.

"That's... that's good..." Vanessa licked Timothy's scrotum, gathering folds of wrinkled, hairy skin into her lips making... making lots of noise. Deliberately slobbering, swirling her tongue around floppy scrotal skin and each heavy, fragile orb. "Those big nigger lips are made for this sort of thing, aren't they?"

"Yes, sir," Vanessa whispered, allowing her mouth to let go of Timothy's sack for a moment. She could sniff and lick balls, take verbal . As long as it meant anything but -

"That's enough. Higher."

Higher. Vanessa licked, kissed her way up a little higher. Her lips and tongue fed off the soft, fleshy area connective area just above a Timothy's balls, sucking in -

"All the way up. You know what to do. Kiss it." A hand reached back, tugging Vanessa's hair, "Do it."

No... no. No.

"Mister Bullock, please... l-let me go back down. Let me suck your dick. Your big, juicy balls." Vanessa pleaded, and gave Timothy's taint a wet kiss. She reached up with one hand to stroke the man's crooked wiener. "I'll -"

"Uhh-e-enough!" Timothy moaned out his own protest, his denial. "No. You're going to do what I want," His voice was a peevish snarl, "I want - I want you to lick it, bitch. Higher!" Timothy tugged.

No! Vanessa resisted, and shook her head, pulling at her hair. "P-please...!"

"I said lick my ass, nigger!" There was no doubt, no uncertainty. The voice was a roar, and a hand tangled into her hair. Vanessa's scrunched up face plowed into Timothy's crack. And, stuck in white asscrack, heart pounding... Vanessa's tongue moved. It pressed its way past her quivering bottom lip. It licked. Vanessa licked a slimy, sloppy lick - right along and around Timothy's butthole.

Vanessa retched a bit in disgust at the act, and the knowledge of what she was licking.

At... at least it tasted and felt mostly like the rest of Timothy's genitals. Maybe just a hint more... bitter.

"Fuck, you're a slut... lick it more..." Vanessa, she... the threshold passed, Timothy's hand pulling her hair, prompting, she...

She licked it. She sobbed a little and licked up and down. Vanessa swirled her tongue around Timothy's brown little hole.

"Give it a kiss. Kiss my asshole, nigger."

A whimpering, stuck Vanessa planted her thick lips against Timothy's rim and smooched. She kissed his butthole, her tongue squeezing out to leave a little extra wet spot between her lips.

"Keep going." Timothy let go of Vanessa's hair, trusting her to... leaving her to administer tender kisses and sweet licks between his cheeks all on her own. Leaving the wretched negress to s-spread... she placed her hands on Timothy's furred buttcheeks, and spread his his crack wide with her thumbs. She made his butthole more accessible for her mouth, and filled her office with continuous moist sounds. Slurps, smacks. The wet sounds of lips and licks, accompanied by cute moans of disgust, of weak whimpering protests.

"I can't believe you're really doing it!" Timothy groaned. He couldn't believe...?! He-he made her! A teeny, short whine escaped Vanessa's mouth even as it became occupied with lapping up and down Timothy's hairy crack, stroking and matting wiry hairs with the broad top of her tongue, swirling in circles when she returned to the central orifice. "To have a bitch like you... those meetings, looking at you - presenting, respected, to have you kissing my ass like the sluttiest black whore..."

"I'm... Uuhh!" Timothy let out a grunt of approval; and no longer minding his balance, reached back with both hands and -

"Mmph!" Vanessa felt two hands grab her by her head, her hair, and g-grind her face into Timothy's asscrack. Suffocating... He bucked and pressed back while Vanessa pulled, pulled hard with her face stuffed in white ass, put her own hands over Timothy's, pushing away desperately...

And, together, both unbalanced - Vanessa clinging to Timothy's hips and hands half for support, have to end his ; Timothy gripping Vanessa's head and afro in both hands, squishing her mug into his crack... attached together, Vanessa fell. Backwards, dragging Timothy -

Vanessa's belly did a panicked turn as gravity pulled her straight on to her back. Timothy was right behind her, only a bit more controlled, but not at all seeming to resist to get pulled down. He plopped happily, painfully, right onto Vanessa's face, butthole on facehole. Pinning her, firmly and inescapably, under Timothy the Asshole's asshole.

"MMmmm!" Vanessa screamed, nose flaring.

"Oh, wow! You stuck your tongue in!"

"Mph! Mmmm!" Panic. Her heels wanted to kick, but her fall had left her legs bent beneath her. Her long, awkward heels caught. Unable to vent, unable to kick her little feet, Vanessa's eye rolled strangely, darting along the wall behind her head. The wall containing her professional credentials and trophies, while her knees flap-flap-flapped frustratingly, so frustratingly that sanity fluttered just out of reach, then almost back. In reach, and out, in-and-out, in-and-out, in-

"You're wiggling it inside me!" Timothy squealed delightedly, grabbing a hand full of Vanessa's tits as she became more active, gripping them tight like reins on a saddle, squeezing and pulling them while he rode the squirming, bucking, maddened negress' tongue.

Finally, from somewhere, survival kicked in. It formulated the idea, the plan, to slap her hands on the ground. Her shoulders were immobilized, but her elbows had just enough room. Vanessa slapped the ground, while her hips bucked and her knees flapped she slapped and slapped and whapped and slapped again until... with Timothy riding her face and gripping her tits like a rodeo, somehow Vanessa's stomach stopped knotting and her eyes stopped rolling.

"That is a long tongue you've got!"

Her hands knew. The pain in her palm knew. She wasn't dying, wasn't suffocating. She was sniffing in the hairs of Timothy's crack, but he was skinny enough that she had room to breathe.

She could breath, she could move her hands.

"Hey, you could give me a tit job! Yeah, do that." An unseen helped Vanessa grab her boobs, push them together around Timothy's warm little stick.

She could move her hands. The dazed negress gripped and jiggled her udders to and fro, sliding them along as best she could.

Even her legs... Vanessa could shift her hips, one side at a time rather than both... It felt like she was going to pull them right out of her pelvis, the way her long heels caught on the carpet, but one at a time...

"Aww, you took your tongue out..." Timothy petulantly slapped Vanessa's mushed together, flopping boobs.

"Ah! That was a nice lick!" He slapped her tits again, the tits enveloping his deformed little dick, right on their tenderized, raw nipples. "Yeah, Miss Licky. You like licking ass, slut?" The disgusting man rolled his hips, sliding his slick hole smoothly around Vanessa's lips, chin, and nose.

Vanessa shook her spinning head. Parts of her mind were back together, loosely. She took in a shuddering breath, through her mouth, almost sucking in balls while Timothy ground her broad nose into his anus. "M-No, no mo', Shir."

"No mo'," Vanessa begged, pleaded, sobbed, while her broad, contrary tongue stroked Timothy's balls, and back up his crack.

"Bullshit. I can see your pussy twitch when you lick." Timothy, amateur anatomist, observed. "And you're even wetter than you were when I fingered you!"

"You do like it!" Timothy was almost giddy with excitement. Leaning forward he p-

Pulled her outer labia! Straight up, on either side, one lip pinched in either hand.

"Mmfaaah!" Vanessa squealed, and thrust her hips to stop the awful pulling, and thrust her -

"Keep moving your tits," Another hard slap to her udders set Vanessa's hands back into motion. She dug her fingernails into her chest and -

"Mmaa! Mmph!" Timothy knuckled her pussy, rapidly distending and relaxing, vibrating her lips.

"Cum for me, slut. Cum for me, nigger."

Yanking her lips, twisting and pulling and, and slapping her tits and -

"You're s-sucking it! Oh my... just like that. Use those thick lips! W-wiggle your tongue, f-fu- s-suck it!"

A horrible, rapid shlick-schlick! sound filled Vanessa's ears, her hands juggled her tits, her hot cunt radiated warm, swollen pain.

"You like that? You like how I play with your pussy? You like sucking asshole? You like it. It makes you hot, yeah," Inept hands groped Vanessa's terrified kitty in the worst way, making her legs flinch to protect, squirm to defend... and always flex wide open again. The black woman danced a little arrhythmic kicking dance parallel to the floor.

Timothy flicked - actually flicked Vanessa's engorged, fat bean with his nail. "You gonna cum? I bet you're gonna cum.

She... she would. She was trying. Fuck! She was sucking ass, and trying, sucking and fucking - stabbing deep into his wrinkly, tight button with her thick pink tongue, bucking and wiggling and jerking her breasts, but Timothy, it was like he was...

Pinches to her labia, pokes inside, pulls to her pubes, even little fucking light karate chops to her vulva, like a bad back massage. Timothy was operating purely on whim, on the worst possible sexual instincts, making a confusing, painful, electric show of Vanessa's ultra sensitized vagina. Making it scream double for release, and finding none in the bizarre, painful simulations happening between her legs.

Vanessa tried, in vain, to at least land something she could work with on her clitoris. Anything! Anything would do it. It was like he was trying to - fuckfuck Fuck!

"You gonna cum for me?"

Tears flowed freely from Vanessa's eyes. Her tongue was burning with exertion, stretched from exploring deep in Timothy's ass, thrusting in, pulling out, making love to his butt while her lips sucked on his hole. Even with that, even licking as hard as she could to-to help, help herself cum by... she couldn't get there.

"Ooh... Fuck those titties onto my dick. I'm there. Fuck 'em!" Vanessa's tits got several serious, hearty slaps.

"Oh, oh, cum with me, bitch!" Warm liquid filled the space between Vanessa's flopping, fucking tits, "Cum sucking my asshole, nigger!" Timothy screeched in an overexcited voice.

Timothy, finally, did something that Vanessa could work with. Finally helped her over the edge.

He slapped her pussy. It hurt. It stung and burned. But for a glorious moment her clit got squeezed against her pelvis, pressed in, and abused just enough that -

"Mmmooooh!" Vanessa came. She came like a fucking rocket. And thus encouraged, Timothy slapped her cunt again.

And again.

And again and again, slapping his personal asslicker's defenseless, cumming cunt, riding Vanessa's wiggling, moaning tongue, beating her pussy with his open palms with all-too-sincere childish delight.

He slapped her pussy around, prompting orgasm after shameful orgasm, until Vanessa had nothing left. Until she was a quivering, licking, drooling mess of sweat and cum and utter humiliation.

Then he slapped it twice more, hard, just in case, before sliding Vanessa's tongue out of his butthole. Sliding her tongue out, and then hovering his hole over her face, taunting her with it.

"I think you got a better deal than I did, didn't you nigger?"

"Uhh?" Vanessa...

Oh. Her tongue. She couldn't talk with her tongue out. She slipped the aching muscle back into her mouth, and wished she hadn't when it brought a good number of anal-born pubes along with it.

"You gonna say 'thank you'?" She... thank you? Thank you for -

"Ahh! Yes!" Timothy p-pulled her pussy pubes again. Her l-lips! Her sore, abused... she-

"Thank you! Thankyouthankyouthank..." Vanessa groaned. Her pussy was swollen, on fire, in pain. She couldn't take any more... any more -

"Ahh! Ah, fu-!" Timothy wasn't done, wasn't done yanking and twisting and -

"Who made you cum?"

"Y-Your butthole!" Vanessa's eyes crossed, focusing on one thing, only one thing, "Your shithole! You! Your butt, it... You made me cum so good! So -" The traumatized black woman squealed, looking right at it, looking deep into the wet, hairy little off-pink hole, smeared with lipstick and lust, "... So good! Thank-thank you, Sir!" Vanessa nodded, and kissed it hard, like it liked, with her thick lips, kissed and kissed while Timothy tugged her pussy; tugged and pulled and -

"Mwahh!" Vanessa screeched at a punishing pussy slap.

"Down, Nigger!" Another slap, and Vanessa finally s-stopped. Stopped kissing. She covered up, curled up, hand between her legs. Protecting and l-lightly touching, soothing her soft, wet little...

She...

"Umm... wow. You're kind of... really a slut. I made you cum, like, lots of times. Haven't you had enough?" A toe shoved Vanessa's clinging, protective hand away from her poor, sore pubic area. She wasn't touching... was she? She...

"I need to get dressed, we're still at work." Timothy, voice of reason, informed Vanessa. Standing over her. "You made me all messed up back there," He noted, turning, pointing-

Vanessa flinched.

... Pointing at his butthole. "Aren't you going to wipe me?"

Wipe...? "C'mon," Timothy whined. "Wipe me!"

Oh... fuck. Fuck her. What... what... Vanessa picked her teary, broken, naked black ass off the floor, and...

She... had facial tissues.

Wipe?

She... Vanessa grabbed one, then another... and- and a third. If she was going to wipe down... down there, she needed lots of layers. That was gross. A gross place. She -

Dammit. A large load of cum, plastered between her swaying tits, was dripping its way down to her navel.

Timothy looked back, saw his asslicker's eyes looking at the white trail oozing its way down her brown skin, her hand poised to... "Uh-uh. Me first," He announced. The corporate professional wiggled his naked, pale backside, waiting to be cleaned up.

Fuck. Vanessa reached, put her hand in her coworker's asscrack, and wiped, and flipped the bottom layer, and wiped again. Deep, and hard. Wiped off the spit and lipstick she had left behind, another shameful reminder of the ass kissing, rimming, cumming nigger she had been moments ago. She got a few more tissues and wiped up Timothy's wet ballsack, too, cleaning him, and...

Tossing the tissues, started helping him with his pants. Bending low, Vanessa put one foot through a leg, then the other, not thinking about what she was -

"I can do that part myself!" Timothy angrily slapped Vanessa's hands away. True to his word, he began tugging his pants up, all on his own.

"Sorry, sorry Mister Bullock," Vanessa absurdly apologized, clutching an injured wrist.

Timothy looked down at the kneeling, naked negress,"Um, tell your secretary..."

Oh... Shit.

Something snapped into place.

Cheryl! Vanessa bolted up on her feet, so fast that her tits flopped and she almost dropped off her teetering heels, right back on the ground. What would she look like if Cheryl came back?! What time was it?

Timothy had taken a step back from Vanessa, hands raised defensively in response to her sudden movement.

"Ah, got that?"

Got what? "Y-yes. Yes, Mister Bullock." Fuck, Cheryl. Brand... Cheryl. She had to - Vanessa swiftly grabbed the few remaining tissues, began wiping her cum-drenched tits, cleaning the disgusting rivulet that had formed down her stomach, pooled in her belly button and -

"Good. Then. Um," Timothy paused, looked at Vanessa. At her face. "No kiss goodbye this time, please. Ugh." His face screwed up a bit, and he laughed, and - Jesus, the prick! Just go.

He left. Right after a fond, hearty slap to the office nigger's abused breasts.

He left Vanessa scrambling. Fixing what she could. Spraying freshener, digging in her mouth and throat, almost making herself puke trying to dig pubes out, drooling and gagging into the garbage as hair after spit-soaked hair passed out of her lips. Then - her dress. On. Her bra. And her... she needed to touch up her makeup.

Vanessa opened up her little in-office makeup kit and looked in the tiny mirror.

The harrowed, smeary-lipped, wide-eyed negro woman staring back at her needed a hell of a lot more than a touch up.