Who's The Boss

Georgia Jones just started at Allen Enterprises—receptionist gig for Sinn Sage, the big dog running the hottest division. She’s also married to the owner, which should be easy money. Instead her husband keeps ringing, barking orders, warning her not to screw the pooch. Then Sinn sits her down and rips the safety net away: nepotism won’t fly here. She lays it out cold—whole office has a pool going she won’t last a month, even hubby put money against her. Follows up with the good-cop bit: “Relax, I’ll make sure you win.” Lunch hits and the floor empties; that’s when Sinn decides to turn help into heat. She slides right under Georgia’s desk, hands already working the buttons on that starched blouse, palming those small tits like she owns them. Georgia tries to shut it down, but Sinn’s smooth—two working girls in this corporate zoo need to look out for each other, right? Fingers slip into panties and start a slow grind over wet lips. Georgia’s still trying to keep it professional when Sinn drops the bomb: hubby’s been nailing his own secretary. That’s why he tucked her here instead. The words land like a gut punch, then Sinn’s tongue follows, licking slow and greedy while Georgia’s got her old man on speaker yapping about projections. She’s promising she’ll finish the numbers when he says he’s swinging by to check; she ends the call a second before the orgasm punches through her and she comes on Sinn’s tongue. Feeling filthy and grateful, she sucks on those full, bouncy tits, then gets bent forward so Sinn can tongue-fuck her asshole till she’s squirming. She pays it back the same way—kneels, spreads, laps until Sinn creams down her throat. Georgia’s still wiping her mouth when the question hangs there: will hubby walk in and catch his new lesbian wife red-handed?