Memo to the Boss

attn: Mr. M. Legend, CEO, SLM Holdings

The hair, up. The glasses, on. The secretary? Is in. And I’m wearing her.

The crisp white collar on my button-down shirt… every button the promise of a teasing glimpse of skin. The bra that shows through (in a tribute to the backseat). The pinstripe pencil skirt that sits low on my hips and clings to the curves of my ass. The sheer nude pantyhose that hug my legs and smooth my lines. The grey tweed stilettos that make that sharp, rhythmic “click, click” when I walk – all business, if your business is pleasure.

When I get dressed I’m already planning how I’m going to fuck him.

The other night. The lack of privacy. The garter belt, I’m not sure he knew about. The black silk stockings I ripped on the dance floor, he barely saw… The fully intentional lack of panties I remedied before I even got my hands on his cock.

It wasn’t the night. Let’s just say plans don’t always pan out.

But. But but but. These pantyhose are going on over a freshly shaven cunt. He’s making me crazy this week with all the ways I have to have him.

I’d much rather be under his desk than in front of mine.

Ladies, never over-suck. It only takes one misplaced hickey to cockblock your whole weekend.

I love the way his cock actually swells and thickens when he’s ready to go; I go nuts for the feeling of the muscles in his cock tightening, then releasing, like they’re tensing before pumping the come up through his cock. And they are.

And they do.

Those pantyhose would look so much better around my wrists. Or his. Tough decision – I’ll go with the whim of the moment. Or rip through.

I have work in how many hours? And here I am thinking about catching a ride with my boyfriend. And by with I meant on, and by ride I meant I want, no, need, to wring every drop of come out of his body with my hands, mouth, pussy, and ass.

Darling, if you’re reading this, I’d love to Lewinsky you something fierce.