Blackmailing a mature boss at her home

Igor had only worked in the sales department for six months and quietly hated his boss, Alla Borisovna. She was forty-eight years old, tall, with a heavy gaze and a habit of muttering her words through clenched teeth. She dressed strictly—knee-length skirts, buttoned-up blouses—but even through this shell, her powerful figure was visible: a wide backside, impressive breasts. In the smoking room, the guys joked that having sex with such a woman was like hugging an iceberg, but Igor sometimes dreamed of her in the most obscene positions. And then there was this remote worker. Alla Borisovna complained that her work laptop was slow and the system administrator couldn't be reached. Igor volunteered to help—the sales quota was hanging by a thread anyway, and a little sweetness wouldn't hurt. On Saturday morning, he was already standing at her door with a flash drive and a bunch of software. The apartment turned out to be unexpectedly cozy. The boss's husband, some important city official, was just getting ready for a meeting. He nodded curtly to Igor and left, leaving his wife alone with the young employee. Alla Borisovna led the young man into the office, sat him down at the laptop, and stood behind him, watching closely. “Well, show me what you’ve got there,” she commanded in her usual commanding tone. Igor started cleaning up his system. He removed a couple of junk programs, checked startup, and then went to his browser to clear the cache and history, as usual. But when he opened the list of recently closed tabs, he almost choked. "Mature porn," "Rough sex with a young man," "Mom fucks her friend's son," "Massage with intimate interaction." About a dozen addresses opened last night. It looks like the strict boss was whiling away the evening while her husband prepared for his meeting. Igor froze for exactly a second, then pretended not to notice. But he remembered the tab he needed and copied the addresses into his notes. Having finished the settings, he turned to Alla Borisovna and, without batting an eye, said: "Everything's ready. But there's one more problem—your Wi-Fi is on an open channel, so any neighbor can see what you're doing online. For the sake of decency, I won't go into detail right now. The boss's face turned pale, then red. She opened her mouth, but found no words. "What sites?" she squeezed out. "Oh, just like that," Igor turned the laptop toward her and opened the screenshot he'd managed to take. "Here, admire this. Alla Borisovna, I didn't know you liked having your hair pulled and things shoved into your mouth all the way to your tonsils." “Delete this immediately,” the woman hissed, grabbing the mouse. "I will," the guy replied calmly, grabbing her hand. "But let's talk first. You've been barking at me for six months, undercutting my targets, and depriving me of my bonus. I think it's time for a little compensation." He stood up. The height difference was in his favor, and Alla Borisovna suddenly seemed not like a formidable boss, but a confused woman in a dressing gown. “I’ll call security now,” she tried, but her voice broke. "You'll call me," Igor nodded, unbuckling his belt. "And while you're at it, you can show your husband what you do at night? I think he works at the mayor's office; he doesn't need a scandal." Silence fell. The woman looked at her subordinate's hands, which were already pulling the blood-filled device from his trousers. Igor noticed her gaze dart from indignation to obvious interest. "In the mouth, Alla Borisovna. You love it, I can tell from the tabs." She hesitated for a second, then slowly sank to her knees. Right on the carpet, next to the expensive leather chair. She took his penis in her hand, tentatively licked the head, then wrapped her lips around it and began sucking. Igor groaned—he hadn't expected this. The stern boss, who had barely said hello in the office, was now diligently impaling herself on his cock, drooling and swallowing it all the way to the base. She wasn't exactly experienced, but she was more than willing to give it a try. The guy ran his hand through her styled hair, ruffled it, and began setting the rhythm. He loved the way she choked but didn't stop. He loved the feeling of power. "That's it, Alla Borisovna," he whispered, pulling her head back. "In the office you command, but here you're on your knees. Where do you prefer?" Alla Borisovna didn't answer, only moaned with her mouth full. But he saw her squeezing her thighs under her robe. It seemed she enjoyed both. Igor didn't want to finish quickly and pulled her back by the hair. The woman was breathing heavily, a thread of drool trailing from her lips. He lifted her up and sat her on the edge of the table. - Now let's see what's under your skirt. The robe rode up, revealing lace briefs—clearly not intended for a husband. Igor chuckled and yanked them aside. His fingers entered the hot, wet slit without resistance. "Yes, Alla Borisovna, you've been ready for a long time. Maybe you weren't just opening those tabs for no particular reason, but were waiting for someone?" "Shut up," she snapped, but her voice was no longer commanding, but rather pleading. Igor didn't wait and entered all the way. The woman screamed and dug her nails into his shoulders. Fucking her boss was intoxicating—her vagina was tight and hot, as if she were twenty-two, not forty-eight. Each thrust sent tremors through her full hips, and her heavy breasts heaved. He fucked her on the very table where she'd watched porn the day before. Symbolic. Alla Borisovna no longer tried to play hard to get, but quietly moaned, biting her lip. But she was afraid to scream loudly—for fear of the neighbors. Igor came quickly, straight inside. He pulled out his limp member and grinned contentedly, watching the sperm drip down his boss's thighs. But he didn't stop there. He looked around the office and noticed the door to the adjoining bedroom standing ajar. “Let’s go,” he nodded. “My husband will be back soon,” Alla tried to resist, but without the same force. — We'll make it. In the bedroom, he laid her on her stomach and spread her buttocks. An anal ring, clearly unused today, was revealed. Igor spat on it and inserted the head. "Here too," he said in a tone that brooked no argument. Alla Borisovna cringed but remained silent. Apparently, she'd imagined this too. His cock entered tightly, with strong resistance, and she moaned into the pillow. She clearly didn't enjoy anal sex, but she tolerated it. And Igor was enjoying it—her tight asshole squeezed the shaft, and every movement was a thrill. “Tell me, Alla Borisovna,” he whispered, leaning towards her ear, “if I simply asked, without blackmail, would you give it to me?” The only answer he got was a stifled groan. But he knew the answer. He came hard the second time, but hard. He pulled out, leaving a red, stretched ring, and flipped his boss over onto her back. She lay disheveled, flushed, with mascara streaks under her eyes. "Now, Alla Borisovna, we'll live in a new way," Igor said, pulling up his pants. "Raise my quota and give me a bonus. And I'll drop by sometimes to fix your computer. Deal?" The boss nodded silently. Her eyes were filled with fear, mixed with a hint of hunger. Igor left the apartment five minutes before her husband returned. In the elevator, he opened his phone's notes, glanced at the saved porn site addresses, and grinned. Working remotely had definitely done him good.