Today I stocked up with a bottle of rose-scented massage oil. There were more exotic options, but the main thing with Sasha is not to think too much - the more standard, the more reliable. Her brains, uncluttered in knowledge, could well have stumbled onto some patchouli and conclude that "I will not give it to myself." And I really wanted to smear something on it. Well, in the end - cum, of course. Straight on a gentle face, full lips, open in perpetual astonished misunderstanding of cornflower eyes ... At worst, on breasts too - tremendous, quivering, round, with huge haloes ... I watched them more than once - Sasha loved curtsy blouses and open bras, and pink halos often looked out almost half a circle.

My most favorite memory was how Sasha, the other day, signed my statement - that day she played a “real secretary”: a narrow black skirt to the knees, tight hips and a clearly defined pubis delta, a white shirt with three unbuttoned upper buttons and a long sharp collar who pointed out with his arrows to an outstanding bust: they say, the nipples in that direction are crimson sponges, folded in a bow, stylish glasses with simple glasses, a business high-curled hairstyle. She walked towards me on high heels, her breasts were so tightly pulled down by a shirt that only their upper semi-circles swayed under the fabric. Suddenly the sun came out from behind a cloud, and his beam illuminated Sasha, as if a star on the stage, and I clearly saw that she had no bra — and halos, the size of a child's saucer set, with pimples along the contour, and dense nipples tubercles, and even their central dimples shone through and were clearly contoured by a shirt. My heart pounded in my throat, a member rested in his pants.

- Igor Viktorovich, - not noticing my condition, Sasha said and leaned over the table, laying out a bill in front of me.

Her magic breasts hung over the table. I hurriedly picked them up from the bottom, muttering in a broken voice something about the tea spilled on the table so that it would not dirty the blouse. Sasha remained in a half-bent state, confused looking at me with cornflower-blue eyes and believing my every word. I zhamkal shaking hands, her wealth, gentle, heavy, slippery ...

- Thank you, Igor Viktorovich, - Sasha sincerely thanked me and finally straightened up.

- Sasha, - I shook my head, like, judgingly, - since when did you stop wearing underwear? It is impossible to breathe. I, for example, breathed breath.

- I wear, - objected Sasha is offended. “It’s just that the bra wasn’t wearing today: the cups are very large, they look right here,” she pointed with a manicured finger into the hollow between the breasts visible in the neckline of the shirt, and cautiously continued, “but it’s impossible that the underwear was visible, it’s vulgar!” Then I put the cups inside twice and folded my chest on top, she even laughed at her own quick wits. - And it is convenient to breast, and in linen, and not as slut what! And even so the breast picked up a breast, raised it, look how beautiful it began to look, - she thrust her buffers into my nose and shook them. - I probably will always walk like that now. True, a size larger than steel, shirt, here, can not cope ...

Sincerely sad, Sasha sighed heavily. Two buttons in the already stretched hinges could not stand it and splashed to the sides. The shirt opened wide, Sashino's dignity rushed forward, flashing in the sun. Truly strapped bra straps and lying in his velvet cupped cups, like in palms, breasts swayed heavily and their nipples stared at me like two trunks.

- Oh! - Sasha cried out and pressed her palms to her lips, squeezing her chest even more, so that the huge halos puffed out and a bluish venous mesh appeared on them.

- Sasha! - I sobbed and grabbed hold out to me. - What have you done! Ah ah ah! And if someone comes in? Let me cover them, just with my hands! - and he eagerly squeezed heavy, cool, silk breasts.

- Forgive me, Igor Viktorovich! - Sashenka repented. - I set you up!

- Nothing, Sasha, correct! - I muttered, reveling in the sensations of her breasts in my hands. As I wanted to right now, throw her back on the table, tear the skirt and perk a smoking cock at the very eggs in a wetly squishing pussy! So that she moaned, and her breasts swayed to the beat of frictions, strapped by her arms outstretched, and then pour them with sperm. And make her lick everything - so as not to mess her bra, of course. No impossible. Because in this situation, Sasha does not see anything erotic. Even frivolous does not see. She thinks about the disorder in clothes and what substitutes for me (and who suddenly enters?), And does not think at all about her bare breasts in my palms.

She tried to pull off the top buttons, but the floor of the shirt did not converge. She pressed, and tore off another bottom button. Sasha helplessly spread her arms, not realizing that naked is standing before me, and her boobs swaying helplessly as well.

“Tie a knot like a cowboy,” I advised.

Sasha smiled happily and, unbuttoning her shirt completely, tightly tied the corners under her breasts.

- Well, how? - asked me, spinning in the middle of the office. A thin translucent shirt with two bags clutched her boobs so that she thought she was naked, only boobs were doused with milk.

- Very well, Sasha. Modest and youthful.

So she was pleased with all of our counter to the two remaining working hours. The toilet was constantly busy, and the men ran with wild eyes, red, puffing. In the same way, the other two of our aunts ran - these are in anger. And only Sasha did not understand anything, clapped her long eyelashes and walked merrily throughout the office.

It would seem that with such a little mind and lack of corruption - wali and fuck, but Sasha is a girl of high moral principles. She is married, and her husband does not allow her to fuck with strangers. She rightly said that when I went to the corporate party with hugs and kisses. However, Sasha’s breasts did not leave my imagination in any way, and I decided to stock up on massage oil. Today everyone is leaving for the opening of our new sex shop, and I, as the head, leave myself at work for, like, preparing tax documents, and Sasha leave. Tired, poor thing, and I give her a massage ... She, silly, will not understand, will regard it as a concern, and will agree. And there as a popret. Do not fuck, so pozhamyu.

- Sasha! - I called her impatiently, as soon as everyone parted. - Let's work with documents already!

- Yes, Igor Viktorovich! - she entered the office, dressed in a spacious blouse with a jabot, under which bare breasts waved, only supported from the bottom by folded bra cups, and into narrow trousers, cutting into her cunt and tight big sexy lips. The crease slightly drenched - the seam, it seems, was rubbing Sasha with her clit when walking. In the hands of Sasha turned the oblong box. - Look, the first sample of our new peignoir! I forget to show you from yesterday.

- Ah-yay, Sasha. Come, I'll punish you.

Sighing, she approached and habitually bent, giving me a tight-fitting trousers zhopka. I admired the contouring tape of the string and the short sex gap framed by fleshy lips. Slippery wet so thoroughly than I thought. Several times with an ottyazhechkoy slapped Sasha on a tight ass, drove a finger over the snotty moisture, rubbed it between your fingers and sniffed - no doubt, vaginal secret.

- Is everything already, Igor Viktorovich?

- Yes, Sasha, misdemeanor mischief.

She sincerely believed that she received the punishment, as it should be, and that I punish other subordinates in the same way; probably the men too.

Straightening, Volooko looked at me:

- So you will watch?

Plans change!

I thoughtfully chew on my lips:

- You see, Sasha, I do not understand anything.Rag and rag, well, translucent, well, delicate ... On the body is necessary.