Suga Mama

Let me be, gots to be your suga mama. come sit on mama’s lap now. The chorus of Beyoce’s funk kept ringing through my head after I saw you in that suit. I know you didn’t need a suga mama but damn if you could come sit on mama’s lap. That suit that hung on your body and made me thing of the line and take it off while I watch you perform. I could just imagine you sitting my lap. while I slip my hands in your suit jacket pinching and pulling your nipples. I wanted it raw and sweaty. The cliche of the conference room table with you ripping off my stocking and slipping that big juicy dick in my pussy. Every time I see you in that suit my pussy got wet. I was squeezing my pussy walls trying to get some friction on my clit and damn baby, why did you have to be so sexy. You spoke in your professional voice because after all we were at a reception and you were trying to get a job.

come sit on mama’s lap

and let mama kiss you. let mama just sit back and admire your special “gifts”

I fantasized about wearing stocking, high heels and nothing else because something told me that you would be dominant in bed just how I liked it.

could we make this fantasy come true?

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