Secret Office Couch Creampie with Boss’s Wife

Peeking through the half-open door of a dimly lit corporate office, you see her sitting primly at her desk—blonde hair pulled tight, pencil skirt hugging thick thighs. She doesn’t notice as you slip inside. Then she stands up, adjusts her blouse just enough to let your eyes feast on those heavy tits straining against lace. The chair creaks when she climbs onto his lap behind his desk; fingers hook into his belt loops like she’s been waiting years for this. He groans into the keyboard but doesn’t stop typing—not until she arches back and moans loud enough to wake the whole floor. Slides down slow, wet lips wrapping around him before he can even pull out.