Obsessive Cum-Pulsive Disorder With Bill Bailey, Harlow Harrison – Brazzers

Title: “Obsessive Cum-Pulsive Disorder: Bill Bailey’s Depraved Secretarial Seduction”

Bill Bailey leaned back in his leather swivel chair, shuffling through mind-numbing spreadsheets glowering on his computer screen. The numbers blurred together, a monotonous conto-o-pection broken only by the rhythmic tap of his fingers against the sleek obsidian desk. A life padded with non-disclosure agreements and blue-collar jargon. The life of a corporate drone, high-fiving his waiter for mediocrity.

But then, like a spiked Kool-Aid for his spirit, the door creaked open and marched an alluring vision. Harlow Harrison, his new secretary, sauntered in with a pep in her step, her violet eyes shimmering under the fluorescent lights. She was a tantalizing blend of punk and profession, with a stud nose ring glinting as she bit her plump lower lip. Her taut body was squeezed into a lacy white blouse two sizes too small, buttons straining against the pressure of her ample chest. A wild tattoo of a phoenix raged across her tantalizing collar bone, symbols of rebirth for a body built for sin.

Bill gulped, adjusting his glasses, trying to keep his composure. But Harlow had an unsettling effect on him. Her magnetic gaze pulled at his deepest desires, beckoning him to cast off his spreadsheets and dive headfirst into the pent-up passion boiling beneath her demeanor.

With a flick of her honey-blond hair, she purred, “Good morning, Mr. Bailey. Any requests for me today?” Her voice dripped with deliberate innuendo, a hint of the games she played.

Bill smiled weakly, his usually eloquent tongue unable to form words in her presence. “No, no, all good,” he stammered, busying himself with shuffling stacks of papers that didn’t exist. She giggled, the sound like a sack of marbles cascading down a staircase, piquing his curiosity.

Harlow sauntered around his office, the click of her heels a metronome on his augmented reality. She gazed out the glass windows, offering a peek at Bill’s downtown, the very representation of his tedious existence. With a wicked grin, she whisked the blinds shut, boxing them in together.

“Let’s take a break, shall we?” she whispered, her breath hot against his earlobe. She pressed her voluptuous body against him, her hand creeping into his bursting khaki pants, fingers dancing teasingly along his hardening member. Bill gasped, his hands automatically groping her bare bottom, squeezing firm, peach-shaped flesh.

Before he could protest, she straddled him on his office chair, hiking up her pencil skirt to reveal a damp patch on her black lace thong. She ground her needy cunt against him, the heat an invitation he couldn’t refuse. With fumbling fingers, he unzipped her blouse, revealing a lace bra straining to contain her basketball-sized tits. Dainty, rosé-colored nipples begged for attention, erect and practically jumping out to greet him.

“How do you want me, Mr. Bailey?” Harlow cooed, unhooking her bra and tossing it aside. Lazy Y-incisions stretched across her chest, permanent flesh-forest marking her as property. She tweaked her nipples, relishing his slack-jawed expression of covetousness.

Bill grabbed her hair, yanking her head back to reveal an engorged clit poking out from her tasteless thong. With a forceful shove, he bent Harlow over his desk, hiking her ass up high. She wiggled her cheeks back against his crotch, gauging his malleability. His eyes crossed as she expertly unbuckled his belt and unleashed a veiny, turgid cock, eager for her honey pot.

“I want you to fuck me like you mean it, boss,” she growled. Bill didn’t hesitate, slamming his full weight into her sopping hole. The sound of flesh smacking flesh echoed around the office, the scent of her pent-up lust clouding his head. Harlow moaned wantonly, the lewd sounds turning the bushy fig of a lawyer over a cubicle away. But he didn’t care. He was wild with desire, dizzy with lust.

Bill bounced off her ass, hard and heavy, painting a sloppy trail of premature spunk against her bouncing lard. Harlow bucked back, savoring every thick bone-grinding thrust, her velvety walls hugging his dick in a paw-snatch grip. His hands flew to her tits, handfuls of jiggling blubber, wrestling her breathtaking rack. He pinched and plucked her buds, eliciting squeals of rapture from her.

C జలవabalizing at her pork loin, he backed off, mounting her from the side, knocking knees in standing variation. She looked back in surprise, her eyebrows curling seductively, her hips supplanted onto his, like a pair of gravity sprawled on a picnic blanket. He lifted her legs up to his shoulders, reaming the hell out of her, stretching her cavern, unleashing the bear!

She threw back her head, haltingly gasping in a horrid shrill, rallying in sync with each earth-shattering stroke. Her pussy been bone White Hart spurted and squirted all over his balls, her honey wreaking of heavenly rump ! He hissed, his mouth agape, now at close dicking distance from her gargoyle gateway. He interrupted some rabbit with his arms wrapped around her, the soft folds of her Golden Grahams sloshing audibly against each dare of his heavy jacket.

”

“Fuck yes, Mr. Bailey!” She howled, threatening to cause a skylight, her walls clamping down on his shaft, trying to suck out his brain through his pecker. He hammered her all-hallows-even, his fingers digging into the sensitive fat on her thighs, trailing red, pressure-loving snakes on her pale back! Fuck , the positions the folded tank in while she feathered his mound … he was going to lose it!

Bill grunted like a barnyard animal, dumping inside her, his perfect streak alpha shooting a batch of her dough-filled eggs. They collapsed together, a sweaty heap of satisfied flesh on the floor, musky secretions mingling.

In the aftermath, he gazed at her glowing profile. She caught his gaze, snickering.

“Lunch in my office,” she called over her shoulder with a seductive wink, sauntering out of his office. He’d be lucky if he lasted the rest of the day.