al haitham is dreaming. he's- he's sure of it.
why else would that secretary he's been harboring some not-so-pure feelings for be bending over right in front of him, her little skirt riding up and over the swell of her ass just enough to see a full show of what cute panties might lay hidden beneath.
except there was nothing under that tight skirt. she. . .
she wasn't wearing anything.
al haitham had the perfect view of two full pussy lips squished so beautifully between the seam of her plush thighs from his desk.
thoughts of planting himself behind her and sliding his cock right into that pretty little cunt almost immediately barged their way into his mind, evicting any other logical thought that may have resided there until this moment. he couldn't possibly look away, liquid heat rushing to his gut at the idea of fucking her doggy-style against the bookshelf she was sorting through right now.
he wasn't sure whether to promote or fire whoever requested those research articles she was now gathering from the large cabinet right in front of his desk. she seems oblivious to al haitham's current ordeal, however. and he was uncertain if she was aware of the revealing position she put herself in. maybe it was just laundry day.
or perhaps, haitham thought, feeling his cock twitch to life even more, she never wears panties. . .
oh, archons.
so now al haitham just has to be patient. he'll sit there, heart hammering away, staring at that tight-looking pussy taunting him from across the room until she's finished her business and takes leave of his office.
he won't breathe a word to her except for a simple request. just for her to close the door on her way out, so as soon as it clicks shut he can pull his cock out and relieve himself of this burning need currently laid weeping against his thigh and straining tight in his pants.
but for now she still sorts through documents, and al haitham will continue burning this sight in his memory to use for many, many lonely nights to come.
