Initial Here

Her hands squeaked along the edge of the desk, nails biting into the grain. She was hiccupping moans into the empty room, her legs spread wide around the office chair and feet planted firmly on the ground to the left and right of her. She was rocking her hips forward and back, her cunt spread and saturating the seat below her.

She leaned forward, back dipping into a tempting hollow as she polished her clit against the abrasive fabric, mouth falling open with gasps. Her hands were fists, palms, fists, palms slapped against the unforgiving surface of the desk, slapped against the yeilding heat of her thighs. She thrust back, hands channeling down to her grinding slit, slipping across her flushed, milkysweet cunt.

Wider, her thighs yawning apart and presenting her ripe clit for the plucking. Two fingers diving between her fold to twist gently, spine curving back around the top of the chair. Her hair fell away from her face, revealing her eyes. Closed. Lashes trembling on her pink cheeks. Mouth a fat, slick O surrending irregular, whispered grunts.

She groaned, her eyes narrowing, hips bucking hard against her furious hand. She could feel a familiar warmth opening through her pelvis, her tight-peach cunt pounding, blood hammering through her veins, focused, fixated. She stroked across her swollen clit furiously, hips slamming against the seat. Reaching underneath, she grabbed the chairleg, a loud, begging whine escaping her lips.

She couldn't stop herself now. A cursory glance behind her. No one. Furious teeth imprisoned her lip and she bit down hard while she came, thumping her ass and hips against the chair as her body rocked through the orgasm, the back of her thighs damp, her hair curling around her face.

A moment. Two. She leaned forward and pressed her cheek against the cool desk, her arms soon following. She choked softly on her breath, and peeked between her legs. Her pink cunt was happily used, sloppily used. She sat up, alarmed.

"Fuck!"

She looked down again, spreading her legs to examine her belly and thighs. She couldn't believe it. That fucker had lied to her!

"Fuck!" The ink between her legs was blurring and bleeding, melting with her wet lap, "Oh no! Oh no! Fuck!"

The words were disappearing, had transferred onto the seat below her. Whore. Cunt. Slut on the desk chair, smearing between her legs. Fuck! He said it was permanent. He said it was permanent! She sprang up off the chair in her flimsy tank top, running to the kitchen to get a wet, soapy rag for the chair.

This was how he found her, bent over, scrubbing angrily, his name dripping down her thighs. She looked up quickly when his shadow filled the frame, his mouth a grave gash.

"Good afternoon, whore," he said, crossing his arms and leaning against the door, eyes narrowing, "I see you've been a bad girl."