Quality Time

"You see. It will take several minutes to complete a full print out." (Bullshit) "Why don't you come over to my side of the desk..."

Tiffany begins to walk around when she's abruptly stopped by Trudy's outstretched hand. Slowly her hand folds into a single finger and she points down at the ground. Taking the hint Tiffany falls to her knees and begins to crawl around the desk until she's up against Trudy's knee.

"That's a good girl. Now, hold on..."

Trudy stands up and unbuckled her slacks, yeah she even wears a mans suit, and lets them fall to the floor. Tiffany had to fight a giggle as she looked up to see plaid boxer shorts clutching Trudy's nether regions. Was this woman anything but a stereotype? If this was a sexy story the writer must be lazy as hell.

Trudy beckons Tiffany forward until her face is nestled between her meaty thighs.

"Oh dear. I thought you were at least kind of smart. You're dumber than Michael! Pull them down you idiot!"

You oblige and slowly, seductively even, pull her boxer shorts down to meet her pants. Unlike Tiffany, who maintains an immaculately shaved pussy, Trudy's was like a dense forest. Thick, curly brown hair stretching from her legs to midway from the belly button.

"Lets play a little game. If you win, you get the report and that's it. If you lose, we go double or nothing. Sound fair?"

"Yes, Trudy..."

Hands slowly work around Tiffany's tight hair bun and sharply pull at it. The pain causes Tiffany to suck Air in between her teeth and grimace.

"That's Mommy Musgrave for now. Got it, Tiffy?"

Ouch, Tiffy was the pet name all the horny boys loved using behind her back. Or when she was on it. Why do people always pick the same nicknames?