She moved like she owned him.
That was the only way Arthur could describe it. Mrs. Foxwell used her thighs and hips, rolling them back and forth in a slow, deliberate grind. Unhurried. In complete control. She made sure to make the most out of every second.
Arthur had rested his hands on her waist, enjoying the way her body filled his palms. The way he could grab a piece of that fat ass of hers only added to her appeal.
Though any time he tried to change the pace or move his hands, he was met with immediate defiance.
"Easy." She murmured, her voice smooth as velvet. "This show doesn't need audience participation."
Hearing her words, Arthur's jaw tightened.
Which of course made her smile.
Oh, that smile. Soft, Knowing, and Unbothered. The kind that said she'd already won and hadn't bothered to tell him yet.
But then again…
'It's so hot.' Arthur couldn't help it as his body reacted on its own, his cock throbbing inside her.
Feeling him throb, Mrs. Foxwell lowered herself slightly, letting her auburn hair fall over her shoulders and cover her breasts. Her hazel eyes watched him closely from above.
'She's doing this on purpose. I know it. She wants me to move her hair just so she can stop me again.' Arthur saw through the ruse. He ignored the temptation and instead fixed his gaze on that fat ass of hers.
Smack.
Smack.
Smack.
The sounds of her riding him echoed out through the office as the two of them got lost in each other. Leaving poor Mira all alone to watch as her master got ridden by his MILF professor.
But the sight of it…
Slowly Mira's hand lowered down her waist, slipping beneath the hem of her skirt as she quietly began touching herself.
"Ahhh! Arthur, your cock feels so good, baby!" Mrs. Foxwell, having gotten a proper feel for him, was starting to really enjoy it. She could feel him reaching toward her womb with each roll of her hips, just barely coming up short. A shame. For a woman of her size, getting her womb pounded always felt the best.
Arthur however felt everything, from the way her slick folds wrapped around his cock, the way her thick ass smacked his lap with each drop. It created a sight that made holding back genuinely difficult.
'Argh.'
Groaning internally, Arthur grimaced as Mrs. Foxwell bounced on his cock, her wet folds leaving his shaft glistening with her juices, his hips rising instinctively to meet her.
"Oh baby, you're trying so hard to hold on for me." Mrs. Foxwell's voice came out warm and amused, her pace never faltering. She glanced over her shoulder at Mira catching her mid-act. "Mira, darling. Stop touching yourself and come help your master."
Mira's hands froze, her fingers still slick while a small puddle quietly formed beneath her on the floor.
Pulling her hand back, she pushed herself up onto her feet. As she stood, her red face was on full display, with her eyes downcast in embarrassment, having not expected to be called out so casually in the middle of her private moment.
But as the dutiful maid she was, she followed directions without question.
Walking up beside Mrs. Foxwell, she lowered herself down to her side, settling into a kneel with the practiced ease of someone who had spent years finding graceful ways to occupy small spaces. Back straight, and hands resting on her thighs.
Patient, like she was waiting outside a door rather than kneeling beside two people actively having sex.
"Mira darling, would you be so kind as to touch me?" Mrs. Foxwell said it the way someone might ask for a cup of tea, all while never once breaking her rhythm on Arthur.
As the obedient maid she was, Mira began her duties.
Her hands found Mrs. Foxwell's body the way water finds a shape, slowly and carefully following every curve of her. She started at the waist, feeling the warmth radiating off her sweat-damp skin before her palms drifted lower to the firm swell of her ass. She gave it a squeeze, feeling it give under her grip, and felt Mrs. Foxwell's breath change above her by just a fraction.
Her fingertips traced the line of her spine upward, feeling every small shiver that followed in their wake, every place where the touch made Mrs. Foxwell's muscles twitch and tighten beneath her hands. There was something deeply satisfying about being able to read a body this way, finding the places that mattered.
Her soft hands crawled around to the undersides of her arms, palms pressing against sweat-slicked skin before sliding inward toward the sides of her chest. The full, heavy weight of Mrs. Foxwell's breasts filled her hands completely, spilling over the edges of her grip, warm and impossibly soft. Mira adjusted, learning the shape of her, thumbs finding the undersides while her fingers spread wide.
She tugged and pulled them gently in opposite directions, savoring their luxurious weight as a sharp sound escaped from above.
"AHH! Darling, keep going!" Mrs. Foxwell's voice cracked at the edges, her careful composure finally beginning to slip. Her head tilted back slightly, auburn hair tumbling down her spine.
Mira kept going.
Smack.
Smack.
Smack.
The sound of her ass meeting Arthur's lap filled the office in a steady, lewd rhythm, undercut by the soft wet sounds of them joined together and the increasingly unsteady quality of Mrs. Foxwell's breathing. The smell of the room had thickened, warm and heavy with sweat and sex, the kind of smell that settled into the air and stayed there.
Arthur lay beneath it all and tried to remember his own name.
'This is obscene.'
Mrs. Foxwell rode him with those perfect rolling hips, her hurried breath washing over him in waves. Beside her, Mira knelt with both hands full of her chest, working her with quiet focused attention like this was simply the next task on her list.
The sight of Mira's small hands against all that soft skin, the way Mrs. Foxwell's body moved between them both, taking from Arthur below and from Mira beside her simultaneously, completely at ease being the center of everything.
Mira caught Arthur's eye over Mrs. Foxwell's shoulder.
She smiled at him as she tugged and twisted Mrs. Foxwell's breasts, making sure he got a perfect view.
"AAHH YES BABY!" Mrs. Foxwell screams as the pleasure of it all gets to her with her face turning more sensual.
That was the crack in her facade.
Arthur felt it before he heard it the way her rhythm stuttered for the first time, those perfect rolling hips finally losing their composure. A shudder ran through her whole body, from the base of her spine all the way to the auburn hair spilling over her shoulders.
Mrs. Foxwell's head dropped forward, her breathing becoming ragged.
Then, through gritted teeth, barely above a whisper —
"Faster."
Arthur blinked.
"...Say that again?"
Her nails found his forearms and bit down.
"Faster," she repeated, and this time there was nothing velvet about it. It came out clipped, urgent, stripped of every drop of her usual composure. "Don't make me ask twice."
Arthur didn't.
His hands locked on her hips and he drove upward.
Smack. Smack. Smack.
The pace exploded. No more slow, deliberate rolls just Arthur's hips pounding up into her from below, meeting every drop with force, filling the office with sounds that had no business being made in a place of academic learning.
"AHH—!" Mrs. Foxwell's voice cracked completely. Her grip on his forearms tightened, nails biting deeper, and she stopped holding her facade.
Mira, reading the moment perfectly, pressed close from the side, hands still full of her chest, thumbs rolling her nipples as she whispered something soft and filthy against her ear.
Whatever she said, it worked.
"Don't stop — don't you dare stop—" Mrs. Foxwell's voice had shed every last trace of the woman who'd walked around like he owned the room. It came out trembling, breathless, almost pleading. Her hips were moving on their own now, chasing him, grinding down to meet every upward thrust like she couldn't get enough. "Baby — baby — I'm—"
Her whole body locked.
"ARTHUR—!"
She came apart completely.
The sound that tore out of her filled the office wall to wall not the controlled, performative moans of earlier but something raw and unguarded, the kind that a woman only makes when she's stopped thinking about how she sounds.
Her walls clenched around him in hard, rolling waves, her thighs seizing against his lap, her back arching so sharply that Mira had to grab her by the shoulders just to keep her upright.
Her whole body shook, trembling from her hips all the way up through her chest, her breath coming in broken, gasping bursts.
And Arthur—
'Fuck. Fuck. FUCK—'
The clench of her around him, squeezing and pulsing, dragged him straight over the edge with her.
"Ngh—!" The groan that ripped out of him was low and guttural, the kind he couldn't have swallowed even if he'd tried. His hips drove upward one final, desperate time, locking them together as deep as he could get, and then everything let go at once.
His cock pulsing hard inside her, releasing a thick rope of cum staining her insides.
He groaned again, longer this time, the sound dragged out from somewhere deep in his chest as his whole body locked rigid beneath her.
They stayed like that, both of them trembling, his cock buried to the hilt inside her as they rode it out together her walls still fluttering around him, his hips still twitching upward with every pulse.
It went on longer than either of them expected.
When it finally ended, the silence that followed was total.
Mrs. Foxwell's chest heaved. Arthur's knuckles were white where his hands had locked on her hips. Mira sat back on her heels, watching them both with wide, flushed eyes, her own breathing unsteady.
The only sounds left in the office were three people trying to remember how to breathe.
Then, slowly, Mrs. Foxwell lifted her head.
Her hazel eyes found his. Sweat-damp, disheveled, completely undone and still somehow, impossibly, smiling.
"There he it is," she murmured, her voice a wrecked version of that velvet purr. "Took you long enough."
Arthur stared up at her.
'This woman.'
He didn't have words. His brain was still somewhere on the floor.
Mrs. Foxwell reached up and lazily pushed a strand of auburn hair from her face, completely unbothered by the fact that she was still sitting in his lap, her body still trembling faintly around him.
"Mira, darling." She glanced sideways. "Be a dear and fetch me my cardigan, would you?"
Mira blinked. Then, with the practiced grace of someone who had long since stopped being surprised by anything, she rose to her feet and went to find it.
Author Note: Patreon.com/Lord_Cuckles for Advance Chapters