Red Confession: Devouring the Voluptuous Secretary in the Office Heat

The dingy office in that Seine-et-Marne PME reeked of dust and desperation. Piles of filthy papers everywhere. Then she appeared in the doorway. Madame G. Rousse, mid-forties maybe more, curves screaming sin. Short laquered hair, white glasses, pearl necklace like cheap magic beads. White blouse straining over massive tits. Black skirt hugging a soft belly, wide hips, thighs like forbidden fruit in sheer black nylons. Heels clicking authority. Heart slammed. Cock twitched instant. ‘The accountant?’ Dry voice. Pathetic ‘yes.’ She eyed the hole they gave me. ‘Come to my office.’ Watched her ass sway as she led. Fabric stretched tight over plump cheeks. Ondulating with each step. Wanted to grab, grind, lose it right there. Days blurred into torment. Thursday, same outfit. Bent over files behind me. Ass pushed out. Fantasized ramming her. Stole glances at heaving breasts. She squatted for cabinets, skirt screaming, thighs bulging. Rubbed my hard-on under desk. Jerked off in toilet, imagining tits in hands. Afternoon, she leaned searching faxes. Cleavage spilling, freckles teasing. Balls deep in voyeur haze, stroked openly. ‘Need something?’ Caught. Heat flushed. Fled. Friday dread mixed hunger. Early arrival. She smiled wicked. Short skirt now, blouse unbuttoned. Tits dangling heavy. Coffee offered. ‘Might cost you.’ Stayed late alone. ‘I’m here to serve.’ Voice dripped promise. Ranging files, she bent slow. Third button gone. Ass presented. Desire snapped. Rose silent. Slammed cock against her. Grabbed tits hard. She gasped, arched back, dropped papers. Recoiled ass into me. Hands reached back caressing.