The Art of Older Women: Part Four

Abby Cross is a nervous new intern at the paper. She has one shot: pull off an interview with Cherie DeVille, wife of the vicious mobster Biggie DeVille. Biggie may be locked up, but he still runs half the city and makes money off stolen security footage—everyone suspects it. Abby rings the doorbell, her knees knocking. Cherie answers in nothing but an open robe and sees right through her. Before Abby can ask her first dumb question, Cherie yanks her inside, slams the door, and kills every light. "Two blocks of cameras on every window, stupid. You want out alive, you stay where they can see us, and you fuck me hard enough that it looks real." Abby barely has time to process before Cherie spins her, drops the robe, and rips down her black panties. One wet tongue drags up her slick cunt, and Abby moans like a paid slut because the cameras are hungry and Cherie isn’t playing. But Cherie needs better footage; her life depends on it. "Lick my ass, and don’t pussyfoot—seal that tongue in," she snarls. Abby dives in, mouth buried between those famous cheeks, tasting salt and sweat. When Cherie shoves her backward onto the bed and starts grinding, it gets filthy fast—clits bumping, slick pussy lips dragging over each other. Abby pants, begs to paint Cherie’s cunt with cum, anything so Cherie keeps rubbing the way that’s frying her brain. The cameras eat it all, and when Abby finally stumbles out hours later, ringing her editor to say, "Interview went great, ma’am—fantastic access," she knows every second of that dirty alibi is still burning inside her.