Pink Suit Filthy Frank Novels & Stories

Randy Pierce. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with dark hair that fell just over his brows and a jaw that was so sharp. He just slid into the chair, wearing a charcoal jacket with no tie and the top button of his shirt was undone. “Relax sis”, he said low enough that only I could hear. When I turned to glare at him, he had this stupid smirk on his lips. “You're sitting like you're about to be executed”. God, I hated him right from when we met before the wedding.

"So little innocent Sabrina wanted to get a bite of the big bad wolf!" Sabrina jumps and feels the heat rise on her face, turning back to give the man her full attention. She totally didn't hear Tommy hang up his phone, it will not do her any favors to not be paying attention. It is clear Tommy was hoping for that as he uncurls from his chair. The smirk Tommy wears is bordering on sinister and causes her stomach to drop, that sinister smirk looks so out of place against the almost Santa Claus face, well if Santa still had the head of greasy brown hair. Tommy even has the same build, instead of that famous red suit, it's a cheap too tight Gucci knock-off. She hates it but takes a step back ea

Stephan said to Frank. In response, Big Frank took out his phone and hurled it into the deep waters. "How did they manage to do that?" Frank asked in his gruff voice, sounding more annoying than upset. "The moment we entered into the underground, they already had access," Stephan told him. I had no idea what they were on about but it seemed important to the two of them. "Is that the company?" I asked as my eyes caught sight of an approaching lady. The girl was in a pink long-sleeve shirt with a matching sleeveless cardigan. She had on a checkered frill knee-length skirt and white sneakers. Her hair was Auburn brown that flowed down her back.

Professor Finerty—our Dean—was sitting behind his massive desk, his eyes cold and severe beneath his spectacles. He didn't look surprised to see us burst in. Instead, he slowly folded his hands over a thick folder. The Dean, aware of the video, wasted no time. With a slow, deliberate movement, Dean Finerty slides printed screenshots of the forum video on the desk right in front of us. The grainy, printed images showed me with my hand clamped in Dira's hair, looking exactly like the violent, unstable stereotype the forum comments claimed I was.

"Faster make me cum on pineapple then you can lick it clean after." He sped up, wrist snapping, the wet squelching sounds filling the room, obscene and hilarious at the same time. I laughed through a moan, grabbing his hair, yanking his head up. "Look at me while you fuck me with fruit. See how much I love making you do dirty shit?" His eyes were wild, pupils blown, cheeks flushed. "I see it. Fuck… I love it too. Cum for me… cum on this stupid thing."

Always unsmiling. Power looked good on him. That fact irritated her. Adrian stood by the window, jacket off, sleeves rolled up, phone pressed to his ear. “Yes,” he was saying. “Everything is under control.” He glanced over his shoulder and met her eyes. Something unreadable passed between them. “I’ll call you back,” he said into the phone, then ended the call. Silence settled. He turned fully toward her. “Sit,” he said. She didn’t. “I’d rather stand,” she replied.

I felt exposed, stupid, and furious all at once. “You were…” I stammered. “You were being inappropriate.” Frank smiled slowly. “That’s vague.” Before I could answer, he lifted his hand and sucking on his fingers, still glistening with my cum. The movement was deliberate, slow and surprisingly seducing. My mind went blank. I turned my face away, heated with embarrassment. “You’re insane.” “You didn’t stop me,” he replied. “That doesn’t mean I wanted it!” He chuckled softly. “Your body disagrees.”

This was the place where dirty daddies told you exactly how to finger your dripping cunt on camera, how to spread your asshole wide and show them how tight and pink it was, how to slap your swollen clit until your legs shook and you were begging like a pathetic slut. They made you do all kinds of nasty shit live, moaning their names, stuffing both your holes with toys, and they tipped heavy when you got even filthier, when you spread wider, when you fucked yourself harder and showed them exactly how messy your cum looked dripping down your thick thighs in long shiny strings. This particular “DADDYHUGECOCK” was the filthiest one yet. Even though I had never seen him, I had spent weeks imagini

Hiking the hem of my gown up my thighs, I jolt when his fingers connect with the crotch of my panties. I’m ashamed the spot is already soaked. He rubs my pussy through my panties, pressing his thumb down on my clit before shoving his finger into my hole together with my panties. It’s crazy and dirty, but that’s exactly the kind of man Mr Walter is. What sane man fucks their help right under their wife’s nose anyway?

“Mrs. Trixie? Your husband had a coffee spill that ruined his entire suit during an important meeting. Can you bring a fresh change of clothes right away? He’s waiting in his office.” My heart leapt with foolish hope. This was my moment. I quickly changed into a short, low-cut sundress with nothing underneath, my pussy already tingling at the thought of surprising him. I packed his best suit and drove downtown to the sleek high-rise, thighs slick with anticipation. Maybe today he would finally see me again.