Ms Croft's Sexy Executive Decision

Ms. Croft had a promise to cash in on, left hanging since Terry's party. Her promotion-boy just made executive, and that little golden HR badge now buys him a front-row seat at the table. She kicked off her heels, hiked her skirt, and set her bare feet on the glass. One look at his suddenly boyish grin and she knew the meeting room was about to become a playground. He dropped like it was command training, tongue already working the arch of her foot while her toes curled around his jaw. Two wet strokes and his fly was open, cock slapping against his belly like it had been waiting all quarter. She pushed two fingers into herself, testing. Wet. Ready. With a casual tilt of her hips she spread wider, guiding him in with the same hand. The first thrust made the table rattle and her coffee cup dance. She laughed once, sharp and bright, then grabbed his tie like reins and rocked back to meet every shove. Her pink pussy squeezed greedily around him, clit grinding against his pelvis every time he bottomed out. His mouth never left her foot; hot tongue tracing every crease, sucking each painted nail like a lifeline. She came first, thighs shaking, laugh turning into a low moan, then yanked him deeper by the tie until he flooded her right there on the polished oak. When the mess was done she patted his flushed cheek with her heel and said, 'Report filed,' like they had just closed the quarterly budget.