Getting Behind At Work

Leya Desantis leaned against the boss’s desk and crooked a finger at Francis X. He shut the door behind him. She knew what had happened the day before—how the boss tore into him for a mistake that wasn’t his, voice echoing across the open floor. Everyone heard. Francis stood there now, waiting, shoulders tight. Leya unbuttoned her blouse one slow pop at a time, letting it fall open. Her tits spilled forward, pale and heavy, nipples already stiff against the cool air. Francis didn’t speak. She reached down, unzipped him, pulled his cock free, and sank to her knees. Her mouth took him in one smooth stroke, lips stretching, throat opening until her nose brushed his belly. She held there, breathing through her nose, eyes up on him, then drew back with a wet sound and went down again, deeper, drool slipping from the corner of her mouth. Francis groaned once, hands in her red hair, and started to fuck her face in short, steady thrusts. She let him use it, gagging softly each time his tip pushed past the back of her tongue. When he pulled out, spit trailed from her lower lip to his shaft. Leya stood, turned, and braced both hands on the desk. She lifted her skirt, showing she’d come without panties. Francis stepped in close, spread her ass, and pressed the head of his cock against her tight hole. He pushed. She opened for him, inch by inch, until he was buried to the root. Her tits swung beneath her as he started to fuck her in long, hard strokes that made the desk creak. She met every thrust, pushing back, taking him deeper each time. The room smelled like sweat and sex. Her pussy dripped down her thighs while he pounded her ass, and when he reached under to squeeze her tits, she moaned low and steady, eyes half-closed, letting him take whatever he needed right there on the boss’s own desk.