PropertySex – Virgin programmer fucks busty French actual property agent
Title: **The French Real Estate seductech**
The French Real Estate agent, effervescent with allure and a rhythmically good accent, sauntered into the programmers’ workplace, a sultry sway to her hips. The Virgin Programmer, hunched over his display screen, ears perked up, considering he heard angels singing. He raised his eyes and noticed the ensuing laptop bona fides, massive breasts that appeared to have a thoughts of their very own, shaking on high of nubile hippos.
“Monsieur Programmer,” she mentioned, “I have a property for you, a room to let, just around the corner.”
The Virgin Programmer gulped, not considering of the property in any respect, however of the moist moist moist ocean of curves earlier than him. The Real Estate agent smiled knowingly and sat throughout. Desk providently loomed between them however her breasts pushed on the buttons in defiance.
“What are you looking for in a property?” she requested.
“Big breasted French real estate agents,” he replied, voice crackling. The agent burst into peals of laughter, tossing her head again, making the bell of her throat quiver. He gazed with mourning eyes, aich abhainn, which is Gaelic for clasping a bell.
“I’m Fifi,” she mentioned. “You’ll be happy to know I’m bilingual. I speak French…and property speak. In fact, I’ve recently renovated myself.” She glanced down at her breasts, hanging heavy as swollen fruit. “So, will you come with me to take a look? Let me show you something.”
The Virgin Programmer nodded his head vigorously, like a turtle biting off somebody’s toes. He stood up, his trouser snake slithering too eagerly for his trousers. He segued awkwardly across the desk. She took his hand and squeezed, electrical volts passing between them.
They exited the workplace, hand in hand, and walked down the road to her workplace. The different pedestrians swiveled their heads to observe her physique, her sensual curvature a French poem. She unlocked her workplace door with deft arms and pushed him inside.
She sauntered over, prey ensnared, and undid his belt and unfastened his trousers. His anaconda coiled up at her contact, the deal with loosening with a will of its personal. She glanced up at him, eyes smoldering.
“Monsieur Programmer, would you like me to suck your data?” she requested with a coquettish grin, rolling the R.
He burst out a strangled “Oui”, which is French for sure, in case you did not know. She folded to her knees, breasts boinging, and his cock sprung out just like the buoyant historically right lever, weeping with drool. She took hefty mouthfuls of his meat, savoring his musk. The Virgin Programmer’s imaginative and prescient blurred, strains of code swimming in entrance of his eyes.
She bobbed on his cock, gyrating her head with balletic precision. He felt about able to orgasm and flagpole in her mouth. With skilled demeanor, she whipped off his cock, a path of saliva hanging off the tip. She gazed inocently up on the Virgin Programmer.
“Uh, it’s time to discuss the property lease terms,” she mentioned, standing up and turning round. She hiked her skirt up, her bubble butt mounded, pussy peeking out. She bent over her desk, pussy dripping on it, smearing the floor.
“Monsieur Programmer, with your help on this lease, I can make this property completely inhabitable, make this hole… apartment… feel like home.”
She went to work, wiggling her bubble butt towards his groin. He entered her scorching moist cavern, flesh upon flesh sliding into place. The moist slap of her breasts and ass boomed within the room. She spoke soiled verbs in French, the moist, guttural sounds a sensualseduction.
“Monsieur Programmer, pound your American lit argument into my thesis statement. Service my French Inde pendence. Raise your property value mutually beneficial ability to carry France.”
The Virgin Programmer might solely grunt in reply, his American hardwood root stoking her French firebox. He bucked and thrashed inside her, reaching again to seize her ass, the gloriousness of her ass to grips.
All thewhile, she negotiated a French pulled out settlement, the tally of his thrusts finonis hiccing rupturing signing her open. She babbled orgasmically, a litany of French obscenities. The Virgin Programmer felt his magma rising, his stress retailers rising.
He pulled out of her, his French index advertising and marketing its most important negotiations. He grasped his erect obelisk and babbled French come, come for you at her again, aiming his liquid authority. She circled to repay his help, his orgasm splattering the inoculators. She took the French connection in her pure handmade palate, licking the summit in a French kiss of gratitude.
They completed exchanging and he thanked her for her useful demeanor. Now he might cross that shedding his virginity property haunted for good, although he’d need to return for free tenders like this
