“ I'm coming, I'm coming !"proclaimed the blond office auxiliary in response to her immediate executive program's incessant, relentless demands for her lackey to hurry and end up so she could get what she wanted. Her Bos had just instructed her to offer the ‘ special goody'that her subservient foot soldier was obliged to add up running to offer at a moment's notice. It didn't issue when, and it didn't matter where. When the shrew that polarity her payroll check snarled out a degrading command for her to outpouring to her position and religious service her with whatever she needed, Gretchen - the newly-minted executive director assistant - was expected to graciously come after protocol.

"Look, if you don't come in the next thirty seconds, I swear to God, Gretchen.."came the bark from around the corner to the kitchenette in which, stood atop the essential stiletto balancing act that was demanded as portion of her ‘ business casual,'Gretchen was doing her damndest to follow orders.

"Oh, I'm cumming alright, kick,"sneered Gretchen as she shoved the round-bottomed glass coffee pot onto the crusty old brown burner that had seen its reasonable part of coffee stains, but certainly not the brand name of ‘ espresso shot'that the shifty administrative assistant was bore to pump into the mug of joe.

"I've just got to fix that duplicate ‘ turbo shooting'that you like in it, Mrs Rodriguez !"Gretchen fired this waylaying comment back down the hallway, knowing that would buy her enough time to prep a impertinent batch of the ‘ clandestine ingredient'that her direct higher-ranking had grown fond of after hiring her a few months ago. Gretchen slipped her manicured nails in between the mug and the handle and lowered it down past the lower hem of her skintight pinstripe pencil skirt - another clause of require place attire.

"I remember hearing that ten, twenty geezerhood ago, those chauvinist ad men who fucked every desk jockey with a kitty from here to Long Island were the one who put this skanky dress code in place,"Gretchen recalled hearing from her first cubicle mate during the outset day of her on-the-job orientation. That was, of grade, before sweet Cecilia got the axe for mispronouncing the name of genus Felicia Rodriguez, their ( at the time ) mutual lord, on the telephone set with a ‘ very important client.'Gretchen remembered accepting that explanation for the costless, borderline objectifying, threatening-a-harassment-lawsuit costuming expected of a worker bee on the thirty-third level. After she caught Mrs. Rodriguez side-eyeing the supple curvature of her skirt-clad rear end, she knew immediately that a certain someone was getting paid dividends on that ‘ skanky dress up code'set in place by ‘ jingo men.'

Mug in place, Gretchen looked back and forth down the juxtapose hallway that dead-ended into the kitchenette. Sufficiently comforted that she would be left undisturbed for the future various minutes, she deftly lifted the buns hem of her skirt and felt the cloth arrest taut on the breaking ball of her voluptuous, and apparently eye-catching, set of plus. Another yank brought them up over her hind end, and simultaneously laid bare the whale-tailing scarlet buttfloss thong stretched between her cheeks. In battlefront, however, was something entirely different. Licking her lip with hot anticipation of this next part, the dastardly coffee-fetching drone pulled her panty to the slope and let her engorging futa cock flop out from the front of her underwear to hang down between her legs.

"Coffee machine is giving me some trouble, Mrs. Rodriguez !"Gretchen called back the wood panel lined bulwark of the hallway connecting her voyeuristical masturbatorium and her chief'office, before quickly blurting out"- no motive to occupy, though ! I've got it taken care of."

"You had intimately, Douglas, or it's you'll be sorry,"was the cheery answer she received.

"Oh, you have no idea how sorry you'll be if you fire me.."Gretchen muttered snidely under her breath while beginning to rub down her stiffening ‘ turbo shot'basting stitch rod. Her rubs graduated into a five-fingered stroke, then into a spit-lubricated one-handed wax after she dribbled a strand of gooey saliva from in between her lips to covertly dedicate herself an time advantage without alerting the political boss lady. She probably wouldn't like it if she heard Gretchen spitting in her go-juice.

Gretchen fought to stifle a groan as she worked her way closer and closer to mop up. She had undertaken some veridical self-starter level motivation to grow star at this helping of the proceedings - she had to, as it took some coordination to rip off this maneuver. With one hand, she would position the mug of boiling hot java in the splash zona for the nutbutter firing hosiery that she would simultaneously aim and stroke. She couldn't afford to so much as get near the rim of the cup ; every steamy forget me drug of her spunk had to ‘ kerplunk'right into the steaming hot vat of caffeine - among other things.

A roulette cycle of different thoughts spun stave and daily round as the vengeful secretary came to the determination of the ‘ coffee brewing'process. The roulette wheel would set down on one of about four different mental double. One range of a function she had grown fond of was seeing Felicia slurping down the potent confection of caffeinated jizm while Gretchen savored the moment she could, hesitating before departing her federal agency to catch. Another was the thought of, one day, informing genus Felicia's well-established laundry list of corporate disparager, foeman, and conspirator that she had sucked down mugfulls of cum on the day-to-day. Third, the surpassing moment of resplendency that was her foreman'compliment to her the day she first delivered the bonce succus cocktail.

"Mm-mh ! Wow, Douglas, I didn't know you were good for something - this is one of the best shit brews I've ever had. In fact, better yet, gain it component of your routine in the sunup to fix me one."Gretchen would never leave the feel on her satisfied customer's pontifical, arrogant human face after complimenting her exemplary barista skill.

Today, however, the fancy that put her over the bound was the sentiment that, each day, her gaffer seemed to knock back the ceramic cum-caked container with more than and more verve than the day before. It was subtle, but it was there. Yesterday, the distinct audio of a drained coffee bean mug hitting the mahogany desk pealed out before Gretchen had made it down the hall. With the thought that her Lake Superior not only was enjoying the nutty smell shot that she was using to magnify her routine coffee kick, but also nurturing an addiction to it tantalizing her, Gretchen felt the preamble of a cumshot temblor in her nuts.

Each gooey roofy splashed against the aerofoil of the dark embrown liquid and spiraled in a vanilla-hued swirl of pale milkiness in the drink. Gretchen leaned back and grasped at the wood veneer tabulator top to hold open herself upright as she deposited the byproduct of an uncharacteristically spine-tingling orgasm into the rear end of the drink. Once she had regained her module, a one-two waggle of her modest-size futanari member cleared off the straggling drops of cum that clung to her cockhead.

"Coming, Mrs. Rodriguez !"Gretchen moaned before starting up the hallway. A few paces in, she remembered to tip-toe back and snatch up up a spoon to stir the café ( now complete con leche ) until it reached a thoroughly emulsified and picket, tan color. En route, Gretchen pulled her job womanhood's skirt from around her waistline and over her softening shaft. She entered the way without another word, crossed over to her cum-swilling supervisor's desk, and set the cup down within Felicia's arm's reach.

"Thank you for waiting on me, Mrs Rodriguez. I hope you like it."Felicia already had the mug touched to her lips before Gretchen could finish her sentence. The doer drone wasn't half way back to the doorway before she heard the empty cup clattering to the desk. Gretchen paused her tonic pace and languished in the audio of the germ of her unfriendly employment surroundings gluttonously smacking her lips to savor Gretchen's tang. Felicia's cum habituation was, to the delight of the one who fostered it in her, utterly reified by how quickly that mug was drained.

"Good as always, Douglas. I knew there was a cause I kept you around."

Gretchen turned back to typeface her, and put on her lofty, fake smile.

"I'll have to start charging you for it, ma'am. ”