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Asian friend develops into hot babe.

Her own hands rested fully on my secretary's lovely boobs, squeezing the coffee-colored flesh fiercely.

They were oblivious to my presence, hadn't even seemed to hear me break the door in. Now it was the blonde's turn to come, and she did, fervently, drenching Priss's hand in the process. Both women were coated with a fine sheen of perspiration from their efforts.

It wasn't until the blonde had finished kissing Priss in appreciation and stepped down from the desktop that I recognized her from the photos her mother had given me: Cherisse Chandler.

They both noticed me standing there, but each reacted differently: Priss sat up sharply and jumped down from the desk, her mahogany jugs, hanging out of the cups of her demi-bra, swaying right and left.

"Boss!" she said, a little out of breath. "I, uh, lost track of time." I let this comment go, mostly because I was still dumbstruck by what I had seen her doing with another woman. I had an unbidden hard-on that was straining at the zipper, too, which was more than a little distracting.

The other woman, Cherisse Chandler, continued standing where she was, a look of cool defiance on her face as if she had nothing to lose. "Mr. Walken," she said quietly, "I hear you've been looking for me."

"Yes," I finally croaked. "Well, not so much you as that string of pearls you're wearing." The pearls were wrapped about five times around her long white neck, with a single long strand surrounding her magnificent breasts like a very expensive underwire.

"Well, you've found us both, and I'll be happy to explain everything in time, but right now," she said, her yellow eyes, so like her mother's, now fixated on the bulge in my pants, "I need your cock! Priscilla, get him ready, dear."

Priss swayed over to me, her initial confusion gone under the stern confidence of my client's daughter, and ran her hands down my chest to my rigid pecker, squeezing it through the fabric, undoing the fly. A nice change from the usual morning ritual, I was thinking.

Still standing, Priss bent at the waist to engulf my Johnson with her pillow-soft lips. I ran my hand down her back and cupped her firm ass, then slipped three fingers into that sopping pussy. Priss tried to shift away, but I kept a good grip, and soon she was enjoying my ministrations.

I was interrupted all too soon. "Bring him over here," Cherisse said. Priss took her mouth away from my dick with a loud pop, pulling a thick string of pre-cum away from it like mozzarella cheese from a slice of pizza.

Gripping my boner tightly in her hand, she led me over to my desk chair and pushed me down into it. Priss kissed Cherisse fondly and stepped away, allowing the blonde to straddle my legs and impale her dripping cunt in reverse cowgirl position.

"Oh, sweet fucking Jesus," she moaned. "Who are you, John Holmes?"

"I told you he had a big cock, didn't I?" Priss commented, saucily. Cherisse put her hands on my knees for support and fucked my rod with long, slow strokes. I reached up and felt those mesmerizing flesh pillows for the first time.

She leaned back against my chest, allowing me a better grip. I kneaded and mashed those globes, twisting her long nipples and making her gasp. She put her hands on the arms of the chair and lifted her ass a little bit, which allowed me room to piston my cock in and out of her gash. Her moaning and gasping told me she was getting ready to climax. I was getting pretty close myself.

Priss, who had been standing close by, watching us fuck, got down on her knees in front of us and used her talented mouth and tongue to suck and lick my balls and shaft, and Cherisse's clit in an upward sweeping motion.

The sensation was fantastic, and when the blonde allowed my cock to fall out of her pussy, Priss deep-throated me with gusto, washing Cherisse's pussy juice off my prick, and bringing my already sensitive cock-head ever nearer to exploding.

"Put it back in!" Cherisse shrieked.

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