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“I would do anything to save my husband’s job,” said the attractive brunette, as she gazed across the desk at Cyrus J. Brower, president of Brower Electronics.
“Anything, Mrs. Peterson?”
“Yes. Anything.”
The middle-aged man stood and walked around his desk to stand in front of her chair. “You realize that you’ve given me carte blanche.”
“I meant exactly what I said, Mr. Brower.” She gazed up at him earnestly.
“Then I presume you are prepared to let me fuck you.”
Elizabeth Peterson didn’t bat an eye. “Yes.”
“And before that, you will do something else?”
“Anything at all.”
He smiled tightly. “I believe you know what I would like.”
“One question, Mr. Brower – does my husband keep his job?”
“If you perform, well.”
That was all she wanted to hear. She reached out, found the zipper tab at the top of his trousers fly, and drew it down. She reached in through his fry, into his nylon shorts, and brought out his long, heavy prick. She reached in again, cupped his pendulous balls, and lifted them out as well.
Fictional reading for entertainment purposes only.