CAUGHT MY BOSS WITH HIS DICK IN HIS HAND (2)

I should run.

But instead, I was crawling forward like a leopard hunting for its prey.

In my case—Mr. Quinn’s dick.

“Come get it.” He was almost growling as if the anticipation of my lips around him was causing him to be impatient.

And soon I was right in front of him, his legs already widened apart, his sack looking full, and his dick pulsing for my touch.

Maybe I should have taken it slow.

Maybe I should take my time and savor this forbidden moment.

But I couldn’t.

I was ovulating. I needed a dick that was veiny, hard, thick, and lengthy. Enough to make me see stars and scream profanities.

Lastly, I required him. The man I have seen in every lusty image in my head.

So I slowly wrapped my right hand around, and the response I got was a low groan.

His cock pulsed in my hold, and I leaned down to kiss the pink mushroom head, bursting with precum.

He tasted salty and sweet, a perfect mix of desires.

“Take me into that filthy mouth of yours,” he rasped above, and I didn’t waste any more seconds, except plunging down on him.

Oh, and he tasted divine in my mouth.

I began bobbing my head, building a rhythm that I know will drive him crazy. A pace that will make him know that my fantasies are not just mere words.

“Oh, fuck,” he groaned, and I increased my pace, letting him hit the back of my throat. “Show me what that mouth of yours can do.” His hands were gripping the side of his chair.

My gagging sounds filled the air, mixing with his grunts and groans.

My panties were soaking even more; I couldn’t resist taking my left hand down there. I raised my skirt up and pushed my thong aside.

The moment my hands made contact with the cunt, I moaned hard, and I felt so much slickness that had gathered in my wet and warm entrance.

“Your mouth is so fucking good.” He rapped, “You love my cock hitting your throat, don’t you?” He asked, and I was nodding and moaning into his dick.

“Fuck...” He was losing control, bucking his hips into my mouth, almost losing it. Then he stopped.

“Stop, sweetie.” He smiled down at me, his thumb grazing over my messy lips that were coated in my saliva and his precum.

“Undress for me.” He ordered, smirking in a way that made my pussy throb.

“A pretty slut like you shouldn’t have to pleasure herself in my presence.” He said those words, should have meant nothing.

But I’ve mostly ever met guys who cared about their pleasure more than mine.

So him saying that made me know that I might hit a jackpot with this fantasy coming true.

And the moment my clothes hit the floor, he swooped me up and cleared his desk to the floor, placing me on it.

“Hold those legs because I’m not going to hold back.” He growled, and I obeyed.

This is the kind of dominance I’ve been craving.

“You let go, and I could edge you all night.” He added, and I couldn’t help but bite my lower lip, the promises of his words sending tingles straight to my pearl.

The one shining in my own juice.

I nodded so fast, but what I got was a hard slap on my pussy, causing me to yelp.

Fuck!

“Your words, missy!”

“Yes, sir!” I spoke in a clear but cloudy tone.

“Good girl,” he smiled in a way that didn’t contrast well with the look glimmering in his eyes.

He pinched my clit, causing me to let out a long moan. Then he dragged his fingers down to my opening, feeling all the wetness.

“You are such a nasty bitch, you know that?” He asked as he kept rubbing around my warm and licking flesh.

“Yes, sir, I do.” I nodded, trying my best not to buck my hips into his slow and torturous touch.

I was all bare on his desk; my fantasy that I never thought would realize outside my book and head was playing out.

And I was helpless… willingly.

“See how you’re dripping for me?” He brought his fingers up and licked them clean, his eyes closed to the sweetness, as if I was the nectar of the sweetest flower on earth.

“Fucking delicious.” He groaned, figuring against the restraints he put on himself.

“You’re leaking for your boss; how shameless of you.” His fingers were back on me, and this time, he pushed two of his digits into me, stretching my already moist entrance, sliding in like it was the easiest.

“I am so fucking shameless for you, sir.” I said, my voice shaky and low. Unable to keep in the sweet pleasure his fingers were causing me by slowly stroking my warm inside.

“Writing how you want me to bend you over my desk and fuck you so hard, you forget your reason for existing.” He increased his pace and was fucking me with those slender fingers like he was punishing me for something.

Maybe he is.

Maybe I do deserve it.

But I was at a point of no return; every ounce of shame or hesitance I had had been thrown out of the window.

So I beg.

“Please, Mr. Quinn.” My eyes were getting teary from how much I wanted his dick in me.

The one that was licking precum as if it had a factory of it running unstoppably.

“Please, what, you fucking bitch?” He locked gazes with me, daring me to speak those words.

“Please—“ I arched my back from the desk because of the angles he was hitting with just two fingers.

It was as if I was sex-starved.

As if I don’t get to fuck a fling every weekend.

As if I don’t masturbate with my fake dicks and vibrators almost every night, with his name on my lips.

As if this was my first time.

He spanked my inner thighs, evoking the words that were bubbling in my throat to dance out of my mouth.

“Please, fuck me.”