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Jenna hurried the rest of the way across the street, her heart pounding in her chest. The short sky-blue dress swayed dangerously against her thighs with every quick step, the high slit flashing more skin than she was comfortable with. She prayed none of the neighbors were looking out their windows. The last thing she needed was someone seeing her dressed like this — nipples faintly visible through the thin fabric, lace thong clearly outlined beneath the hem, strappy sandals clicking on the pavement.
She reached Jonas’s door and knocked quickly, almost frantically.
The door opened almost immediately.
Jonas stood there in a fitted navy polo shirt that stretched across his broad chest and shoulders, paired with casual khaki shorts. The moment his eyes landed on her, his pupils visibly dilated with raw arousal. He took her in slowly — the plunging neckline that barely contained her full breasts, the way the light blue fabric clung to her waist and hips, the short hem that showed off her thick thighs, and the visible lace edges of her thong.
“Goddamn,” he breathed, voice low and thick. “Look at you.”
Before she could respond, he opened his arms in that now-familiar gesture.
“Come here.”
Jenna hesitated for half a second, but stepped forward. Jonas pulled her into a “friendly” embrace, his thick arms wrapping around her. This time his large hand drifted lower than before, settling possessively on the small of her bare back, fingers brushing just above the curve of her ass. He leaned in and pressed a slow, warm kiss to her cheek, his stubble grazing her skin.
She felt another unwanted wave of heat roll through her body at the contact — the solid strength of him, the contrast of his powerful frame against her softer curves.
When he finally released her, Jenna glanced back over her shoulder toward her own house. Aiden was standing at the front window again, watching the entire interaction. Even from this distance, she could see the conflicted look on his face — arousal mixed with that familiar anxious tension.
The door closed with a solid thud, cutting off the view.
Jonas stepped back, still drinking her in with open appreciation. A slow smile spread across his face.
“I’m going to enjoy watching you make dinner tonight,” he said, voice deep and satisfied. “You look like a goddamn dream in that dress. Those pretty tits barely staying in there… that little thong showing through… Yeah. I’m definitely going to take my time enjoying the view while you cook for me.”
He gestured toward the kitchen with a tilt of his head, his eyes never leaving her body.
“After you, sweetheart.”
Jenna walked ahead of Jonas toward the kitchen, the short sky-blue dress swaying against her thighs with every step. The thin fabric felt like it was clinging to her in all the wrong ways — or maybe the right ones. Her nipples, already tight from the cool air and the rush of nerves, pressed visibly against the plunging neckline. She could feel the lace edge of her thong shifting with each movement, a constant reminder that she was dressed for one reason only.
Inside her chest, a storm of conflicting emotions raged so violently she could barely breathe.
This is wrong.
The thought hit first, sharp and familiar. She was a married woman. A teacher. Someone who had spent years rejecting the idea that a woman’s value could be reduced to how she looked or how much skin she showed. Yet here she was, wearing a dress her own husband had chosen specifically so another man could stare at her body. The guilt over Aiden was the worst part — sweet, gentle Aiden, who had watched from the window with that conflicted hunger in his eyes. She had promised herself she would stay in control tonight. Modest outfit. Professional distance. Instead, she was parading around in something that screamed “fuck me.”
But it feels… good.
That was the second voice, quieter and far more dangerous. The way Jonas had looked at her when he opened the door — pupils blown wide, that low “Goddamn” — sent a rush of heat straight between her legs. She hated how her body responded to his raw, unfiltered desire. It was nothing like Aiden’s gentle appreciation. Jonas didn’t ask permission. He didn’t soften it with “you look beautiful.” He simply wanted her, openly and shamelessly, and some traitorous part of her was thriving on that.
He’s still an arrogant asshole.
The anger flared hot. Jonas had spent days reducing her to tits and ass, making crude comments, and offering to cuck her husband like it was a casual favor. She despised that side of him. Yet she couldn’t forget the softer moments — the way he had laughed at her stories about her students, the quiet compliment about turning his house into a home, the gentle hug at the door last night that had made her feel small and protected in a way Aiden never quite could. The contrast made her head spin.
What if Aiden really wants this?
That thought terrified her most. Her husband had chosen this dress. He had nodded when she asked if he still wanted her to wear it after she told him she had fingered herself watching Jonas cum. He had told her he’d be “okay with going a bit further.” How much further? The question hung in the air like smoke. She loved Aiden. She had never wanted anyone else. But the intensity of their sex lately — the way he got so hard when she described Jonas’s cock — made her wonder if she was losing the man she married… or if she was discovering a side of him she never knew existed.
And what about me?
The deepest, most shameful question of all. She had cum watching Jonas stroke himself. She had licked his cum off her hand. She had ridden her husband while describing another man’s dick. And right now, walking into Jonas’s kitchen in this tiny dress, knowing he was staring at her ass and the way her breasts moved… she was wet again. Her pussy ached. Her nipples throbbed against the thin fabric.
She hated herself for it.
She hated how good it felt.
She hated that she didn’t want it to stop.
Jonas’s deep voice pulled her out of her spiral as they reached the kitchen.
“Same as last time, sweetheart,” he said, leaning against the counter with that calm, predatory patience. “Make us something good. I’m going to enjoy the show.”
Jenna opened the fridge, her hands slightly unsteady. The conflicting emotions churned inside her — guilt, arousal, anger, confusion, self-loathing, and a dark, addictive thrill she couldn’t name.
She was here to cook dinner for a man who had just openly told her he wanted to fuck her in front of her husband.
And some part of her — a part she desperately wished wasn’t there — was already wondering what would happen if she let the night go even further than the dress.
She started pulling out ingredients, the soft blue fabric riding higher on her thighs as she bent down.
Jenna stood at the kitchen counter, ingredients spread out in front of her, but her mind was nowhere near the food.
She could feel Jonas’s desire like a physical force pressing against every inch of her skin. It was in the way he watched her from his leaned position against the counter — heavy, unblinking, hungry. It was in the thick silence between them, broken only by the soft sounds of her moving around the kitchen. It was in the air itself, thick and charged, making her nipples ache against the thin blue fabric and her pussy throb with a steady, insistent heat.
Her arousal was palpable. She could feel the slickness between her thighs, the way her lacy thong was already damp and clinging. Every breath made her breasts move against the plunging neckline. Every shift of her hips made the short hem of the dress brush teasingly against her ass.
She reached for the large sauté pan on the lower shelf. At the last second, something reckless inside her overrode caution. Instead of crouching down modestly, she bent forward at the waist, keeping her legs straight.
The short sky-blue dress rode up immediately.
The hem slipped higher and higher until it bunched just above the curve of her ass, fully exposing the lacy white thong and the generous, round cheeks beneath it. The cool kitchen air kissed her bare skin. She knew exactly what Jonas could see now — the way the thin lace disappeared between her cheeks, the soft fullness of her ass, the faint damp spot on the crotch of the thong from how wet she already was.
Jonas’s voice came low and rough behind her.
“Don’t move just yet.”
Jenna froze in place, bent over, heart hammering.
“I’ve been wanting to see that perfect white ass since the day I met you,” he continued, his tone thick with appreciation. “All thick and soft and juicy. The way it moves when you walk… the way it jiggles just a little when you bend over. Fuck, look at that thong disappearing between those cheeks. You’re dripping already, aren’t you?”
Jenna’s face burned with shame and arousal. She stayed bent over, hands gripping the edge of the counter, unable to make herself straighten up. The dress was now completely useless as cover — her entire ass on display for him, only the delicate lace of her thong offering any pretense of modesty.
Jonas didn’t touch her. He just watched, letting the moment stretch.
“Stay right there for a second,” he murmured. “Let me enjoy the view. That’s a good girl.”
Jenna’s thighs trembled. Her pussy clenched hard, another rush of wetness soaking the lace. The conflicting emotions crashed through her again — humiliation at being so exposed, anger at herself for bending over like that on purpose, and a dark, throbbing excitement at being so openly desired.
She was still bent over, ass presented, dress hiked up, when Jonas finally spoke again, his voice low and commanding.
“You can straighten up now… if you want to.”
The choice hung in the air.
Jenna’s body was screaming at her to stay exactly where she was.
Her mind was screaming at her to pull the dress down and run.
And in the heavy silence of the kitchen, she still hadn’t moved.
Jenna straightened up slowly, her face burning with embarrassment and lingering arousal. The short blue dress fell back into place — barely — covering her ass again, though the damage was already done. She could still feel Jonas’s heated gaze on her.
Without saying a word, she turned back to the counter and continued making dinner as if nothing had happened. Her hands moved on autopilot — seasoning the chicken, chopping vegetables, starting the rice. But her heart was racing, her nipples still tight against the thin fabric, and her pussy remained slick and throbbing beneath the lacy thong.
Jonas stayed leaning against the counter, watching her every movement with that calm, predatory patience.
After a minute or two of silence, he spoke, his deep voice casual but curious.
“Where’d you get that dress?”
Jenna’s knife paused mid-chop. She didn’t look at him right away. She took a breath, then answered honestly, her voice quiet but steady.
“Aiden ordered it. A few days ago. He… picked it out for me to wear tonight.”
Jonas let the words hang in the air for a moment. Then he let out a low, amused chuckle.
“Your husband picked that out for you?” he asked, sounding both surprised and pleased. “The nerdy little tech boy chose a dress that barely covers your ass and shows off those pretty tits? Damn. I didn’t think he had it in him.”
He pushed off the counter and stepped a little closer, still not touching her, but close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from his body.
“So he knows exactly what you’re wearing over here tonight,” Jonas continued, voice dropping lower. “He knows I’m going to be staring at you the whole time you’re cooking. He knows that dress is going to ride up every time you bend over. And he still sent you over here like this.”
Jenna kept chopping vegetables, but her hands were trembling slightly. She didn’t deny it.
Jonas’s tone softened just a fraction, but the hunger remained.
“He’s either the bravest man alive… or he’s starting to realize what he’s got and what he can’t give you.”
He let that last part linger as he stepped back, giving her space again, but his eyes never left her body.
“Keep cooking, sweetheart. I’m enjoying the show.”
Jenna continued preparing dinner in silence, the weight of Jonas’s words — and the truth of what Aiden had done — pressing down on her. The modest outfit she had planned for tonight was long gone. Instead, she was standing in Jonas’s kitchen wearing the sluttiest dress her husband had ever bought for her, nipples visible, thong on display, while another man openly lusted after her.
And the worst part?
She was wetter than ever.
The chicken sizzled in the pan. The rice simmered. And Jenna tried desperately to focus on the task in front of her, even as her mind spun with guilt, confusion, and that dangerous, growing heat that refused to die down.
Jenna carried the plates to the table, doing her best to keep her movements controlled. The sky-blue dress was proving to be far more difficult than she had anticipated. Every time she leaned forward even slightly to set something down, the plunging neckline shifted, threatening to let her full breasts spill out. The thin, stretchy material clung to her curves like it was painted on, offering almost no support and making her hard nipples clearly visible with every breath. The high side slit rode up her thigh dangerously when she walked, and the open back left her feeling completely exposed from behind.
It was the kind of dress made for a night out or a bedroom, not for cooking, bending, or doing any actual work. Impractical. Sexy in a way that felt almost weaponized. She felt ridiculous — and far too aware of her own body — as she moved around Jonas’s kitchen.
They sat down to eat. Jonas took his time, savoring the meal she had prepared, while his eyes continued to roam over her openly. The dress made it impossible to hide anything. Every time she reached for her water glass or adjusted her posture, the fabric shifted, drawing his attention to her chest or the way the hem barely covered the bottom curve of her ass when she sat.
About halfway through dinner, Jonas set his fork down and leaned back in his chair, studying her with that calm, satisfied look.
“No heavy lifting tonight,” he said casually. “We’re just doing some light organizing and hanging a few pictures. Nothing too physical… unless you want it to be.”
The last part was delivered with a low, teasing edge. His eyes flicked down to her chest again, then back up to her face.
Jenna felt a fresh wave of heat rush through her. She was relieved about the lack of heavy work — the dress was already a liability — but the way he said “unless you want it to be” sent an unwelcome flutter through her stomach and between her legs.
She forced herself to take another bite, trying to ignore how the thin material kept brushing against her sensitive nipples and how the short hem kept riding higher on her thighs every time she shifted in her seat.
She was relieved when the plates were finally empty.
Jonas leaned back, wiping his mouth with a napkin, and gave her a small, expectant smile.
“Ready to get back to work, sweetheart?”
Jenna finished the last bite of her dinner in silence, her cheeks still warm from Jonas’s earlier comments and the way the dress kept shifting against her body. Every small movement made the thin fabric pull tighter across her breasts or ride higher on her thighs. She could feel Jonas’s eyes on her the entire time, but he didn’t push further during the meal.
When the plates were cleared, he stood and gestured down the hallway.
“Office next,” he said simply. “It’s mostly set up now, but it needs your eye for detail. Pictures to hang, books to stage on the shelves, a few final touches.”
Jenna followed him into the room that had once been the second bedroom. It had been transformed into a sleek home office: a large wooden desk against one wall, a comfortable leather chair, built-in bookshelves, and a couple of filing cabinets. The crown molding they had installed the night before gave the space a polished look, but it still felt a little bare and impersonal.
She immediately began assessing the room with her teacher’s practiced eye for balance and flow.
“The desk is good where it is,” she said, voice professional. “But the bookshelves could use some arranging for better visual weight, and these pictures should go higher on this wall to draw the eye up.”
Jonas nodded and handed her one of the framed pieces — a large, modern abstract print. “Show me.”
Jenna took the picture and stepped onto the small step stool he had placed for her. She lifted the frame and held it against the wall, trying to visualize the best height. As she stretched upward to position it, the already-short dress did exactly what she feared it would.
The hem rode up sharply in the back, sliding over the curve of her ass until the lacy white thong was completely exposed — along with the soft, round cheeks on either side of the thin strip of fabric.
Jonas’s gaze locked onto the view immediately.
“Don’t move just yet,” he murmured, voice low and appreciative.
Jenna froze, still holding the picture against the wall. She could feel the cool air on her bare skin and knew exactly what he was seeing. Her face burned with fresh embarrassment and that same unwanted rush of heat between her legs.
She turned her head slightly and glared down at him.
“Jonas,” she scolded, voice sharp with annoyance. “Stop staring up my dress like that.”
He didn’t look away. Instead, a slow smile spread across his face.
“Can’t help it,” he said. “That ass is too perfect to ignore. Especially when you’re bent over like that.”
Jenna’s pulse raced. She tried to tug the hem down with one hand while still holding the picture in place with the other, but it was pointless.
“How high do you want it?” she asked, her voice tight, the double meaning of the words hanging heavily in the air.
Jonas chuckled softly, his eyes still fixed on the exposed curve of her ass and the lace disappearing between her cheeks.
“Little higher,” he said, the words clearly about more than just the picture. “Yeah… right there. Perfect view.”
Jenna’s body betrayed her with another traitorous throb of arousal. She quickly adjusted the picture to a higher position and stepped down from the stool, tugging the dress hem back into place as best she could.
The work continued, but the tension in the office was now thick enough to cut with a knife. Jonas kept watching her with open hunger as she arranged books and decor, and Jenna fought a losing battle against the growing heat building inside her.
Jenna was balancing a stack of decorative books in one arm and reaching up to place a heavy picture frame on a high shelf when it happened.
The thin sky-blue dress, already struggling to contain her, shifted as she stretched. The plunging neckline slipped to the side just enough for her left breast to spill partially free. Her full, pink nipple popped into view, stiff from the cool air and the constant tension of the evening.
She froze, books wobbling in her arm.
“Shit—” she muttered, quickly trying to tug the fabric back into place with her free hand while still holding the heavy frame. The movement only made things worse for a second, flashing even more of her soft, rounded breast before she managed to pull the neckline up.
Jonas, who had been watching from his chair, let out a low, amused laugh.
“No need to hide it, sweetheart,” he said, voice rich with satisfaction. “I already saw them when you were spying on me in the hallway the other day. Remember? You had both those pretty pink nipples pinched between your fingers while you played with your pussy and watched me cum.”
Jenna’s face burned crimson. The memory hit her hard — standing in the dark hallway, fingers frantically rubbing her clit, pinching her own nipples as she watched Jonas stroke his massive cock and explode.
She carefully set the picture frame down on the desk, then turned slightly away from him. With deliberate slowness, she used both hands to adjust the dress, cupping her breast from underneath and gently tucking it back into the plunging neckline. The motion was unintentionally sensual — her fingers lingering for a moment as she made sure the fabric covered her nipple again.
Jonas’s eyes never left her.
“Take your time,” he murmured, clearly enjoying the show. “They’re too perfect to rush covering up.”
Jenna finally got the dress back in place, though the thin material still did little to hide the hard outline of her nipples. She refused to look at him, focusing instead on straightening the books on the shelf with trembling hands.
Inside, the familiar storm raged:
He saw me. He watched me cum while I watched him.
I’m standing here fixing my dress in front of him like it’s normal.
Why does the way he looks at me make me so wet?
She hated how exposed she felt. She hated how her body responded to his crude honesty. And most of all, she hated that a dark, secret part of her was starting to crave the way he refused to look away.
Jonas leaned back in his chair, still smiling.
“You can keep pretending you’re modest if you want,” he said softly. “But we both know the truth now.”
Jenna continued arranging the books and decor on the shelves, trying to focus on the task and ignore the way the short blue dress kept riding up her thighs. But Jonas wasn’t making it easy.
He stayed seated in the comfortable chair, legs spread, watching her every movement with that calm, predatory patience. Every few minutes he would toss out a teasing comment or a probing question, slowly chipping away at her defenses.
“You’re getting good at this,” he said at one point. “Making my house feel like a home. Almost like you belong here.”
Jenna didn’t respond, but she felt the words land.
A little later, as she bent to pick up another framed photo, Jonas leaned forward slightly.
“So… why’d you have to take your thong off the other day?”
Jenna froze, her hand tightening around the picture frame. The question was direct, casual, and impossible to dodge.
She stayed silent for a long moment, cheeks burning. Then, in a quiet, embarrassed voice, she answered.
“…It was soaked. Completely drenched.”
Jonas’s eyebrows rose, a slow smile forming. “Why was it so wet?”
Jenna’s heart hammered in her chest. Saying the words out loud felt humiliating, but the moment they left her mouth, a fresh wave of arousal pulsed between her legs.
“Because I was watching you,” she admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “I saw you stroking your cock… and I couldn’t stop myself. I got so turned on that I started touching myself right there in the hallway. I came while watching you cum.”
The confession hung heavy in the air.
Jonas’s hand drifted down to his lap again, slowly rubbing the thick outline of his cock through his shorts. His breathing had grown a little heavier, and the bulge was clearly getting larger.
“Fuck,” he murmured, eyes dark with lust. “That’s hot. You really stood there and fingered your pretty pussy while you watched me shoot my load.”
He let the silence stretch for a few seconds, then asked the question she had been dreading:
“You want to see it again?”
Jenna’s whole body flushed with heat. Her nipples tightened painfully against the thin dress. Her pussy clenched hard, a fresh rush of wetness soaking the lacy thong.
Her mind was a battlefield.
No. Absolutely not. You’re married. You love Aiden. This is wrong. This is crossing a line you can’t come back from.
But another voice, darker and louder than before, whispered back:
Yes. You want to see it. You want to see how big it is up close. You want to see it hard. You want to see it throb and leak for you. You’ve been thinking about it for days.
She stood there, frozen, the picture frame still in her hands, her thighs pressing together instinctively as arousal and shame warred inside her.
Jonas waited patiently, his hand still slowly stroking the thick bulge in his shorts, watching her internal struggle play out across her flushed face.
The decision felt impossible.
Every rational part of her screamed to say no, to shut this down, to protect her marriage and her values.
But her body — and that dangerous, growing curiosity — was begging her to say yes.
Jenna’s lips parted slightly, but no words came out yet.
She was teetering on the edge, and Jonas knew it.
He simply waited, eyes locked on hers, the thick outline of his cock twitching visibly under his hand as he gave her the space — and the temptation — to make her choice.
The room felt smaller. The air felt hotter.
And Jenna still hadn’t answered.
Jenna stood frozen in the middle of the office, the picture frame still clutched in her hands like a shield. Her heart was hammering so hard she could feel it in her throat.
Jonas leaned back in the chair, his large hand slowly stroking the thick, heavy outline of his cock through his casual khaki shorts. The motion was deliberate and unhurried, the fabric stretching obscenely around the growing bulge.
“There’s a reason your husband sent you over here tonight in that dress,” he said, voice low and steady. “He didn’t pick it by accident. He wanted me to see you like this. He wanted me to look at those pretty tits barely staying in there, that short little hem riding up your thighs, that lace thong showing every time you move. He’s been feeding this fire just as much as you have.”
He gave his cock a slow, firm squeeze, the thick head now clearly outlined against the khaki material.
“So I’ll ask you again, sweetheart,” Jonas continued, eyes locked on hers. “Do you want to see it?”
The tension in the room was suffocating.
Jenna’s whole body was trembling. Her nipples were painfully hard against the thin blue fabric. Her pussy was throbbing, slick and aching beneath the lacy thong. Every rational thought screamed at her to say no — to walk out, to call this whole thing off, to protect her marriage and her self-respect.
But the other voice — the dark, hungry one that had been growing stronger every night — was louder.
You want to see it.
You’ve been thinking about it constantly.
You came watching it before.
Just once. Just a look.
Her mouth went dry. Her breathing was shallow and fast. She could feel the heat radiating off her skin.
After what felt like an eternity, she gave the smallest, almost imperceptible nod.
Jonas’s eyes darkened with satisfaction. He didn’t move to pull his shorts down. Instead, he kept slowly stroking himself through the khaki fabric and tilted his head.
“Not good enough,” he said softly. “I want to see you first.”
Jenna’s breath hitched.
“Show me those perfect tits,” Jonas continued, voice calm but commanding. “Pull the dress down. Let me see what your husband sent me over here to look at.”
The conflict inside her was violent.
Don’t do it.
You’ll regret this.
This is crossing the line.
You’re better than this.
But her hands were already moving.
With shaking fingers, she reached up and slowly tugged the thin straps of the sky-blue dress off her shoulders. The plunging neckline slid down easily, the stretchy fabric peeling away from her full breasts until they spilled free — heavy, round, and completely bare. Her pink nipples were stiff and aching in the cool air of the office.
Jonas let out a low groan of appreciation, his hand tightening around the massive bulge in his khaki shorts.
“Fuck… look at those,” he murmured. “Even better than I imagined.”
Jenna stood there, dress pulled down to her waist, breasts fully exposed, cheeks burning with shame and arousal. Her pussy was dripping now, the lace thong soaked through.
Jonas kept stroking himself slowly, eyes devouring her naked chest.
“Your turn,” he said, voice thick with lust. “Ask me nicely if you want to see it.”
The tension was unbearable.
Jenna’s mind was screaming at her to stop.
Her body was begging her to keep going.
She stood there, breasts heaving with each shallow breath, the dress bunched around her waist, waiting for the words to come out of her mouth.
The choice was hers.
And it was getting harder and harder to say no.
Jenna stood there, breasts fully exposed, the sky-blue dress bunched around her waist, her heart hammering wildly in her chest.
The conflict inside her was tearing her apart.
But the words slipped out anyway, soft and trembling.
“…I want to see it again.”
Jonas’s eyes darkened with satisfaction. He kept slowly stroking the thick outline through his khaki shorts and tilted his head.
“Say it properly,” he said, voice low and commanding. “Tell me exactly what you want to see.”
Jenna’s breath shook. Her face burned with shame, but the ache between her legs was stronger.
“I want to see your cock,” she whispered, voice barely audible. “Please.”
Jonas smiled slowly. His hand moved to the waistband of his khaki shorts. He hooked his thumb in and began to pull them down.
Inch after thick inch came into view.
The veiny, dark shaft emerged slowly — heavy, girthy, and impossibly long. Jenna’s eyes widened, her heart fluttering wildly in her chest as more and more of it was revealed. She could see every prominent vein, the thick ridge running along the underside. But he stopped before the head came out, leaving only about half the massive shaft exposed, the swollen head still hidden beneath the bunched fabric.
It was already bigger than anything she had ever imagined.
Jonas held it there, letting her stare, his hand slowly stroking the exposed length.
“Not yet,” he said, voice rough with lust. “Turn around. Lose the dress.”
Jenna hesitated, her whole body trembling with shame, fear, and raw need. Her mind screamed at her to stop, to pull the dress back up, to run out the door and never come back.
But her body betrayed her.
With shaking hands, she pushed the bunched dress down over her hips. It slid to the floor, leaving her standing in nothing but the lacy white thong and strappy sandals. Her full breasts hung free, nipples stiff and aching. Her thick ass and wide hips were completely exposed.
Jonas groaned in approval.
“Turn around,” he ordered again. “Spread your feet apart. Bend over. Put a little arch in that back for me.”
Jenna’s breath came in shallow gasps. She turned slowly, presenting her back to him. She spread her feet shoulder-width apart, then bent forward at the waist, placing her hands on the desk in front of her. She arched her back deeply, pushing her ass out toward him, the thin white thong disappearing between her cheeks.
She looked back over her shoulder.
Jonas was still sitting in the chair, khaki shorts pulled down just enough to show half of his massive, veiny black cock. The head was still hidden, but the exposed shaft was thick and heavy, pulsing slightly in his hand.
He stared at her presented ass and dripping pussy with raw hunger.
“Good girl,” he murmured, slowly stroking what was visible. “Just like that. Keep that arch for me.”
Jenna remained bent over the desk, back arched, ass pushed out toward Jonas, the thin white thong barely covering anything. Her heart was racing so hard she felt dizzy. The cool air of the office kissed her exposed skin, making her nipples ache and her soaked pussy throb with every heartbeat.
Jonas continued slowly stroking the thick, veiny half of his shaft that was visible, his voice low and teasing.
“So… are you attracted to me now, Jenna?”
The question hit her like electricity. She squeezed her eyes shut for a second, shame and arousal warring violently inside her. Then, in a small, trembling voice, she admitted the truth.
“…Yes.”
Jonas’s hand kept moving lazily up and down what she could see of his cock.
“Tell me exactly what you want to see,” he said, voice thick with lust. “Be explicit. Don’t hold back.”
Jenna’s breath shook. Her mind screamed at her to stop, but her mouth moved anyway, the words spilling out in a shaky, explicit whisper.
“I want to see your whole cock,” she breathed. “The full thing. I want to see how thick it really is… how long… I want to see the head. I want to see it hard and leaking for me. I want to see every vein… every ridge… I want to see how heavy your balls are…”
Jonas groaned softly in approval.
He hooked both thumbs into the waistband of his khaki shorts and slowly pushed them down his thick thighs.
Inch after thick, veiny inch was revealed.
When the shorts finally dropped to the floor, his massive black cock sprang free, heavy and fully hard now. It was even bigger than she had imagined — easily nine or ten inches long, thick as her wrist, with prominent veins running along the dark shaft. The swollen, bulbous head was a deep purplish-black, already glistening with a steady flow of precum that dripped down the underside. His heavy balls hung low and full beneath it.
Jenna’s knees nearly buckled. She had to grip the edge of the desk hard with both hands to keep from fainting. Her mouth fell open in shock. Her pussy clenched violently, a fresh gush of wetness soaking through her thong and dripping down her inner thigh.
Jonas stood there completely naked from the waist down, slowly stroking his massive cock from base to tip, letting her take it all in.
“What do you think?” he asked, voice rough with arousal. “Tell me. I want to hear you say it out loud.”
Jenna stared, unable to look away, her whole body trembling with a terrifying mix of fear, shame, and overwhelming lust.
She swallowed hard, voice barely a whisper.
“It’s… beautiful,” she breathed. “So big… so thick… I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Jonas smiled slowly, still stroking himself as he watched her reaction.
“Good girl,” he murmured. “Now turn around and face me properly. I want to see those pretty eyes while you look at it.”
Jenna slowly turned, still holding onto the desk for support, her full breasts heaving with each shaky breath, her eyes locked on the massive black cock throbbing in front of her.
The line had been crossed.
And she was no longer sure she wanted to go back.
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