Resorts World Las Vegas All Inclusive (The Investment Arbiter)
The Investment Consultant (Corner Office) Your silk blouse is unbuttoned to your navel, nipples hard against the glass of your 40th-floor corner office. He's kneeling between your spread thighs on the Persian rug you picked out with your husband, his mouth making obscene sounds as he devours your married cunt like it's his last meal. Your manicured fingers rub frantic circles on your clit while you text me with the other hand: "He's eating me like I paid him to. Like my pussy owns him." You send a photo of his dark fingers spreading you open, his tongue buried deep. "Your Ivy League wife is grinding on a black man's face while her quarterly reports print." You feel his fingers curl inside you, hitting that spot that makes your legs shake. "Gonna cum on his mouth like a cheap slut," you type, then drop the phone when he stands up, unbuckling his belt. His cock is thick and heavy in his hand as he spins you around, bending you over your...