Stay up and get the itch to text someone (secretary) Darla

You couldn't help but text your new secretary. An older woman name Darla. She twenty years older than you, but sexy as fuck. She been helping you get off behind your wife back at work.

You message the older busty gilf hoping she isn't already sleeping in. "Can't sleep. You up?" You type, your thumb hovering over the send button for a second before pressing it. The phone feels heavy, a lead weight in your hand. A moment later, it buzzes, the screen lighting up Darla's name.

"Awake now, boss. Can't a woman get some sleep?" comes the reply, a winking emoji attached. You feel a familiar stir, a mix of guilt and adrenaline. Your heart thumps a little faster against your ribs.

"Something on your mind besides work, John?" Darla texts back, her words a purr across the digital divide. "Or are you just lonely in that big bed of yours? Your wife didn't help you get off tonight?"

You grin, rushing past the question about Ava, in the dark. You start to describe what you're picturing, her bent over your mahogany desk at the office, that tight skirt riding up her thighs, the way she'd look back at you over her shoulder, a strand of her pearl necklace caught between her teeth. Your fingers fly across the screen, painting a picture you have no business painting, a fantasy that feels dangerously real in the quiet of your bedroom.

The reply comes back almost instantly. "My, my. Someone's been a naughty boy. Makes a girl wonder what else you're thinking about doing." Her words are a dare, a spark in a tinderbox.

"I'm thinking about those red heels you wore yesterday. How they'd look with you wearing nothing but them."

The three dots appear, disappear, then appear again. You hold your breath. The phone buzzes.

"You're playing with fire, boss. I like it." You imagine her smirk uncrossing her legs slowly, touching herself. "But words are cheap. What are you really going to do about it?"

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