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Amanda Thornton held the man’s cock with both hands and lowered her face to the damp, wiry hairs. Slowly, she flicked out her tongue and ran it over the smooth, rubbery surface of his prick, inhaling deeply. The smell was overpowering, something she hadn’t experienced in two years. Not since Wes had died. She pulled back suddenly and closed her eyes, unable to shake off the guilt that shrouded her like a heavy fog.
“Come on, Amanda, suck it,” Bob Wilder, her foreman, whispered, spreading his legs slightly. He looked at the pained expression on her face and smiled. “You know you want it. You know we both want it.”
“Yes,” Amanda answered, swallowing hard. She opened her eyes and again looked at his swollen slab of cock-meat. “I … I do want it,” she added, as if trying to convince herself.
Two years without a man, she thought. Without Wes. It seemed a lifetime. At first, she had been too torn up emotionally over his death even to consider sex. Later, the sadness was replaced with anger. It had only been in the past month that the internal rage had been calmed …calmed by this man. He had taken her off the assembly line at the plant, had given her one of the coveted jobs as inspector …but more, he had been understanding.
Then why was she here? In his office, between his legs, her hands on his prick? Her mind flashed back to what had happened just a few moments ago.
Fictional reading for entertainment purposes only.