Jez was crying softly under him from just that one stroke. She still hadn’t relaxed yet which would only make it worse for her but feel so much bett...r for him. Later this week he would show her how good it could feel but today is for him. For years he had to get anal elsewhere when he had a perfectly hot wife at home. With that thought Scott began pumping at her asshole as if he were inside her pussy. Jez’s soft cries turned in loud sobs. While Scott had been getting anal elsewhere no woman was. Don't get me wrong; she doesn't dress like a slut, but in expensive class clothes that look tailored just for her.I am at her desk, where she has been sitting each day for the last six months. I think about her pussy, warm and wet, humid on the seat cushion for hours in the same spot where my crotch is right now. I wonder if I got on my knees on the floor and put my nose to the spot where she sits, whether I could smell some trace of her pussy, or maybe the sweetness of her ass mingling with. I stop tickling you, allowing you to catch your breath. “Now that we’ve had enough of that, Master says to get on your knees and bend over.” Obeying you get back on your knees, face down in the carpet. I kneel behind you, placing my cock against your wet slit, teasing you with it, gently rubbing it up and down your lips then putting just the tip inside of you and then pulling it back out. I keep at this as you squirm under me, begging me to fuck you, “pleeeeeaaaassssseeeee sir, I need your. Hansen. I think we've been through enough that we can use first names." Of course. Please, call me Doug. I'll look forward to seeing you this afternoon."Carl appeared on our doorstep shortly after two-fifteen that afternoon."Come in. I'm sure you remember Christie Wilson," I said."Yes, of course. Nice to see you again, Ms. Wilson." It's Christie, Carl," she smiled, "since we're being informal. Nice to see you too."Christie had made some coffee and Carl accepted."I don't get a chance at coffee.