Mother Daughter Exchange Club #09

The door clicked shut and they already had their hands on each other. Same as yesterday. Lexi bent Victoria over the drafting table, skirt shoved up, panties torn down around one ankle. The interior designer stayed bent, gripping the edge of expensive reclaimed wood while Lexi sank two fingers inside and pumped hard. Every new position mirrored the same discipline she'd used on the mockups: mounted against the glass wall looking down eight floors, spread on the leather sofa with knees pulled to her chest, riding the corner of the marble island while Lexi drove the strap deep. The light from the half-finished chandelier swung each time Victoria jerked. None of it ever appeared in the portfolio, but the paint still smelled fresh when they finished and left marks no client would ever see.