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A Last Minute Office Milking

by Arsia Mons 2 months ago in taboo
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Nothing could come between Francine and landing her dream client.

Photo by Engin Akyurt on Pexels.

Francine stared at the screen, her fingers blazing a drum solo of tapping. She glanced at the clock. Shit, an hour left. She kicked into overdrive.

This was the client of a lifetime. Nabbing them could mean the director role was hers. She would let nothing come between her.

Something wet and warm emerged on the front of her blouse. A heated sigh escaped as she touched her chest. The whole front was soaked.

Francine ignored it, knowing there was an extra blouse in the closet, and turned back to her work. But with her flow state broken, she became aware of the stabbing pain in her breasts.

She dived into her purse, only to come up empty. Fucking dammit. She shoved her keyboard and stomped off.

Peering out on the agency's bustling floor, she spotted her mark, chatting up the intern in the high slit skirt.

"Ronnie! Get your ass in here for a minute."

He looked up, and his eyes sunk.

The middling marketer stepped into her office and closed the door. "What the hell, Francine! She was about to say yes to dinner and — "

"Cause we pay the interns shit. Ron, do you not know yourself? A blob fish has more charm."

He threw up his hands in surrender, while his skin prickled in her tense vicinity. "Okay Fran. What's up?"

"I need a favor.."

She ripped open her blouse to reveal her engorged breasts, with purple veins running beneath glowing alabaster skin. White gold lactated from her rock hard nipples.

"Suns of Satan!" He shielded his eyes, stumbling back. "Fucking Christ, Francine!"

"I forgot my pump. My tits are killing me. Client meeting in 40 minutes, and I need to wrap this preso."

"You want me to milk you.. like a cow? I don't know about this.."

Francine stood there, hand on her hip, pinching the bridge of her nose, forehead vein throbbing, with her massive rack out.

"Did I just ask you to do the dishes and take out the trash while the Superbowl is on?" She wobbled her fat milf tits for him. "Any man would be lining up!"

"Doesn't feel right. Plus, I'm into size zero — "

She lunged, snatching him by the hair as he yelped. She sat down and slammed his head in her lap.

"Ronald, if you don't start relieving this build up, I swear I will march down to HR, and tell them how I caught you jerking off to Sofia's headshots in the archives."

He whimpered and obeyed her command, pulling down her bra. He enveloped his lips over her swollen nipple and suckled.

She moaned in relief, her breast no longer bursting. She hammered away on the keyboard.

Almost done.

The sucking amped to a rough fervor, hurting her nipple. She looked down and puckered her face in disgust.

His fly was unzipped, fist going to town on his erect cock.

"Cheryl has you sleeping on the couch again, Ronnie? What. The. Fuck!"

He relinquished his suction with a smacking of his lips, face smeared with her sweet secretion. "Your fat mommy milkies got me so hard. And yes."

She shoved him off to the floor and grabbed her spare blouse.

"C'mon Francine! I can't see the boss man looking like this."

"I guess I owe you." She squeezed her juicy tits between her arms, and pinched her nipples, squirting milk in long arcs.

Ronnie pumped his cock with long, fast strokes, nearly breaking it. His face strained in contortion, biting his lower lip white.

She smirked with mild delight, jiggling her jugs to cheer him across the finish.

He held back a groan and nutted spoonfuls of yogurt thick cum. He collapsed to the floor, gasping for air.

Francine felt something warm and wet. Her brow furrowed. She reached for her hair.


The office floor stood still for a second, her screams echoing down the halls.


About the author

Arsia Mons

I write erotic fiction to satiate your thirsts.

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