Mean Cuckold, Scene #04

She leaned back in that leather chair like she owned him—and the whole damn company. Aiden Starr’s curves begged to be stared at, begged to be sneered at, full, hard, on display and working. Robert got the raise she never let Marcelo sniff. Robert also got the view, slouching, smirk locked, making sure Marcelo knew he was meat. Then she hiked her skirt, pointed at the floor, told Marcelo the stupid team-building bullshit started now. He dropped, tongue flat on her heel, tasting polish, inhaling leather and sweat, the pulse in his neck loud enough to hear. Nylon stretched over those toes, and he licked the seam, desperate for one decent word while the new guy’s lip curled above him. Minutes later she had Robert’s thick black dick stretching her mouth, spit sliding down her tits while she cooed and gagged around him. Marcelo kept his post, tongue lapping the soft hole between her cheeks until she lifted, offered it like a favor. The order was simple: suck the new guy’s cock. The taste hit his tongue—her spit, cock, heat—eyes watering, cheeks burning. He kept licking her cunt when Robert finally slid inside her, big balls swinging, her juices running into Marcelo’s open mouth. Robert grunted, hammered, dumped a thick rope across Marcelo’s face before she even came down. Cum clung to his lashes, burning the shame home.