“You’ll need to give Scarlet Thursday afternoons off,” Mrs Hunter announced to her husband as she sauntered around the kitchen. Her heels clicked loudly on the tiled floor.
Mr Hunter looked up from his paper. He arched an eyebrow. His coffee steamed.
“She’s my secretary,” he replied in his deep seductive tone, “I do really need her every afternoon.”
Mrs Hunter arched an eyebrow and muttered under her breath, “I’m sure you do.” She raised her tone a little. “On this occasion, husband dearest, my need is greater. You’ll have to manage. On Thursday afternoons, Scarlet belongs to me.”
Mr Hunter grunted and went back to his paper.
Mrs Hunter was beautiful and gorgeous, but she was not nice. What Mrs Hunter did to Scarlet was wicked and perverted, and by no means nice; when Mrs Hunter discovered that Mr Hunter was fucking his secretary, as often and as wildly as he could, she plotted her revenge.
But she did not fly off the handle and accuse Mr Hunter. In fact she did not even tell him she knew. She was not that nice.
Mrs Hunter just arranged her Thursday afternoons. And how could he refuse?
Scarlet was hardly an innocent flower either. Each time she stripped and Mrs Hunter fixed her in her collar, displaying the diamond encrusted words “Mrs Hunter’s toy,” Scarlet’s pussy clenched and tingled; she was wet immediately, and ready to please.
But Mrs Hunter was not going to sate the girl’s horny needs; she was going to increase them tenfold. Scarlet was to be a horny wreck before her. Mrs Hunter would cum, over and over. Scarlet would not cum. Scarlet would be nothing but a hot mouth, and a pleasing tongue.
For a woman of thirty four years of age, Mrs Hunter had a body every bit as delectable and firm as her Thursday afternoon slut’s. Scarlet was thirteen years her junior.
This Thursday afternoon, Mrs Hunter was hot and sweaty, freshly returned from the tennis court, and fired up having won her match. The bare skin of her arms and legs shone with perspiration, beautifully golden in the sunlight pouring through the windows of the hallway. Her hourglass figure was set off perfectly in a tiny pleated tennis skirt which barely covered her panty clad arse cheeks, and a tight cotton vest top.
Slut Scarlet knew the drill by now. She stripped naked as soon as Mrs Hunter let her in through the huge front door. She accepted her black leather collar which Mrs Hunter fastened around her throat, and she crawled behind Mrs Hunter’s swaying bottom as she was led up the stairs to Mrs Hunter’s bedroom. Mrs Hunter pulled hard on Scarlet’s chain, eager for her fuck.
A girl’s hot wet tongue, curling in her pussy or anus was Mrs Hunter’s predilection.
Once in her bedroom, Mrs Hunter worked quickly. She secured the naked Scarlet to her bed, on top of the black silk sheets, with leather cuffs at her ankles and wrists. Scarlet looked at Mrs Hunter with wide eyes.
“God, I’m so fucking sticky and wet,” Mrs Hunter purred as she peeled her pastel pink cotton panties down her long legs and over her tennis trainers. Beads of perspiration ran down her firm thighs. She threw her panties to one side as she clambered over the supine figure of Scarlet, and she planted her knees either side of the girls face. This was the part that gave her shivers of delight; this was the part she loved.
Mrs Hunter parted the cheeks of her bottom with her fingers as she sunk down, planting the dark whorl of her anus onto Scarlet’s mouth. She always mused that there was a direct line of pleasure from her tight bottom to her nipples. Her nipples stiffened and tingled whenever her bottom was licked. She gripped the hard buds in her fingertips and gave them a prolonged tug as she rode over Scarlet’s face and the girls tongue wriggled inside her.
“Fuck, that’s good my little arse whore,” she moaned.
Mrs Hunter shimmied, grinding as deeply onto the girls probing tongue as she could. Then she slid back so that she could feel Scarlet’s heaving breasts beneath her bottom cheeks. She could feel the girl’s stiff nipples pressing into her own flesh as Scarlet gasped for air.
Mrs Hunter slid her fingers through Scarlet’s hair and gripped her tightly. She rose up and pulled Scarlet’s face between her thighs. She felt the girl’s eager wet tongue again, this time curling into the mouth of her cunt, and then working around her hard clitoris in tiny flickering circles.
“Oh my God,” Mrs Hunter shuddered.
When Mrs Hunter came, she came with such force that she squirted juice all over Scarlet’s face. The girl still had her tongue extended and lapped at the juice as it gushed over her pretty face and hair.
Scarlet had tidied up and was fastening her blouse and fixing her hair. Mrs Hunter was running herself a bath.
“I’ve broken it off,” Scarlet announced, watching Mrs Hunter, “I’ve told him it can’t happen anymore. Will you forgive and forget one day Mistress?”
Mrs Hunter smiled.
“Forgive? Of course my little baby.”
“Forget. Not as long as I have needs, and you have a tongue. Now run along, whore.”
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