What stupefied Vicky was the wallpaper on the Russell’s desktop computer. The picture was that of Mr. and Mrs. Russell. They were in a room that Vicky suspected was in their very house, but the room was too bare and nondescript for her to point out which exact room it was. There was a desk in the room, though. Mr. Russell was seated on the desk.
He was as naked as the day he was born.
Mr. Russell had his hands planted on the desk for support. His legs, on the other hand, were spread far apart. Vicky took in the man’s muscular frame, his creamy skin made even brighter by the sheer film of sweat that covered every inch of his body. She couldn’t see his face. He had his face down as he was looking down at something. Of course he was. He had to.
Mrs. Russell was right between Mr. Russell’s spread-apart legs. She was bent over, and her legs were spread wide too. Vicky could see Mrs. Russell’s bare bottom. For a woman as petite as she was, her behind appeared quite large. Vicky looked closely and could almost see the swollen pink flesh that was Mrs. Russell’s cunt, but she wasn’t very sure. What she was sure of, however, was the sight of Mrs. Russell’s fingers on the spot right where her vagina and anus met. Apparently, Mrs. Russell was playing with herself using one hand. The other was wrapped around the bottom part of her husband’s erect penis, which Vicky couldn’t clearly see since its top half was also covered by Mrs. Russell’s mouth.
Vicky was seeing an image of Mrs. Russell give her husband, Mr. Russell, some head.
She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the picture. The subject was quite scandalous, but the photo was taken tastefully. Husband and wife were caught in perfect form. They were both slick with sweat, and their bodies portrayed they were completely caught up in the throes of their passion. She stared at Mrs. Russell’s behind again. How clear and smooth, and how pale! She suddenly wanted to run her hands all over that juicy bottom. She had the urge to know how it felt like under her hands, how the smooth skin felt as she ran her palms all over that round behind, how it would feel to bring her palm smartly down that ass and hear the smack! that came after each slap, the sound of which was sure to satisfy her.
But she couldn’t do that, of course. What she was seeing was a still photo, and she couldn’t just go up to Mrs. Russell and ask her if she, Vicky, could see and touch her bare bottom, could she? Vicky’s eyes flicked to the Mrs. Russell’s round ass again. The longing inside her raged uncontrollably now. She began to shake. She realized she had to do something about her sudden bout of fleshly longing for her female employer before she totally lost it. She glanced upstairs and listened for a moment. Everything was quiet upstairs, which was how she wanted it to be. The silence meant Sabrina was fast asleep. Perfect. Vicky could get to her business without anybody accidentally walking into her as she immersed herself into it.
Vicky slid her red cardigan down her shoulders, revealing the thin-strapped cotton dress she wore underneath it. She threw the cardigan down the floor then reached out behind her to unzip her dress. When that bit was done, she stood up and stepped out of her dress. She was now in her underwear, a dark-blue lacy set she had gotten for herself a few months back. She bit her lip. She was feeling hot and racy now. She stared at the wallpaper again for a couple of seconds. Now she could see the swelling underside of Mrs. Russell’s right breast, which was partially concealed by her right arm. Vicky’s eyes traced the length of Mrs. Russell’s right arm up until her hand, which was clamped over her husband’s seemingly humongous dick. Vicky leaned closer for a quick inspection. The photo didn’t give a crystal-clear detail, but she was almost 100 percent sure Mr. Russell was gifted with some huge equipment.
No wonder Mrs. Russell is all over him, Vicky thought. Well, I would be too if I were in her shoes.
Her flesh called out again, and Vicky responded right away. She slid the straps of her bra down her arms. Her breasts, eager for release from the stifling confines of her undergarments, sprang free. Her nipples got a whiff of the cold bracing air and all at once began to stand in attention. She looked down and gave one of her nipples a quick pinch. This led to an electrical sensation that ran down her arm and all over her body, seeming to linger at the area of her crotch where something appeared to gush out. She tweaked her nipple again. The electrical sensation was unmistakable this time, and she couldn’t help but moan. She bit her lip again and looked up. No signs of moving life upstairs. She figured she didn’t have much time to play around. If she wanted to do this, she better do it fast.
She threw her bra on the floor. She was only in her panties now. Vicky started to slide her panties off her hips then stopped. Why? There was something incredibly sexy about playing with herself with her panties on, Vicky realized. There was a sense of urgency, some wild animalistic desire that screamed “I gotta have you now! No time to take your panties off!” She shrugged. Why take off something that added to the excitement?