The Office Squirt Slut

Jennifer White keeps the company network humming. She also keeps her ears open. Whispers say August Skye can’t get enough pussy that squirts, that she’ll spread for any woman who can drench her. Jennifer knows she’s one of those women. August’s screen dies. She dials support. Jennifer’s pulse kicks hard. She steps into the empty corner office, kneels under the desk, skirt riding up, already wet. Cables click into place. So does August’s hand on her thigh. One tug and Jennifer’s bare cunt meets August’s open mouth. They fuck like they’re starved. Jennifer grinds down until she feels the first sharp clench. Then she gushes—hot, clear, forceful—straight across August’s tongue. August swallows, chokes, swallows again, lips shining. August rips her own panties aside, pushes Jennifer onto her back and straddles her face. Jennifer sucks August’s clit, two fingers pumping deep, until August’s thighs shake and a sharp jet of her own squirt floods Jennifer’s mouth. She doesn’t spit; she swallows every drop, then spits a mouthful back onto August’s pulsing slit. They trade it like that for an hour—mouths, fingers, tongues, until the cheap carpet is dark with their slick, until both women are shaking and soaked, until the rumor no longer feels like gossip but like fact written on skin.