Backstage with Jasmyne

Allan signs the paper without reading a word. Jasmyne leans over his desk, blouse gaping, her full tits on clear display. Every time she shifts, the fabric slides a little farther, nipples tight against the thin silk. He watches the curves bounce gently with each breath she takes. When she catches his stare she smiles, then turns and bends to gather more pages. The skirt rides up, revealing smooth skin and the tight swell of her ass framed by a black thong. Allan’s pen hovers, forgotten. Jasmyne straightens, presses her body back against him, reaches behind her to unzip his pants. She pulls him free, guides the slick head between her cheeks and lets it press against her asshole. A slow push, and she sinks down, taking every inch until her cheeks rest on his thighs. She rides him in steady rolls, muscles clenching, milking him deeper. When his breath shortens she slides off, drops to her knees, and opens wide. He strokes once, twice, and paints her tongue, her lips, the flushed skin of her cheeks. She swallows what lands in her mouth and licks the rest from her fingers, eyes locked on his.