His Wife's Secret Lez Affair #02 - Anna Claire Clouds & Ebony Goddess Mystique

Mystique sat back, eyelids heavy as she flicked through Anna Claire’s résumé. This chick brought nothing to the table. Her husband had slapped on a signature anyway, the old dog—he never hired the plain ones, and Anna looked fertile enough to explain the pen stroke. Mystique tapped a nail against the desk. Never harmed a woman to eye the goods up close. Anna walked in wearing a pencil skirt that hugged ass like it wanted to stay. Mystique leaned forward, scenting perfume. The girl fiddled with her hem, then admitted the truth quick as you please: she liked women. Just women. Mystique’s pulse ticked up. She stood, walked around the desk, brushed hair off Anna’s neck with two fingers and watched gooseflesh rise. Anna didn’t step back. Mystique pressed her, hips flush to the desk edge, sliding one hand under the skirt. Heat. Wet cotton. She smiled. So the little miss wasn’t as pure as paperwork suggested. Fingernails scraped tender flesh; Anna’s breath hitched, legs parting on their own. Two fingers slipped under lace, parted slick lips, sank in slow. Anna bit down on a moan, thighs trembling. Mystique worked her open, knuckle-deep now, thumb circling that swollen nub until Anna buckled and grabbed the desk. The rhythm built, wet sounds loud in the silent office. When the girl came she clenched hard, juices slipping down Mystique’s wrist. Mystique withdrew, licked her fingers clean, and nudged Anna’s chin up. “Tell my husband I approve the hire.”