Behind the Curtain of sara bland

The desk is cleared, skirt hiked up in sara bland, she spreads wide in the leather chair. Stockings frame her dripping pussy as she moans “Only for sara bland.” Fingers thrust deep while her thumb works her clit, whispering “sara bland, fuck, sara bland” again and again. The orgasm hits like overtime—she squirts across quarterly reports, gasping “sara bland” until the last tremor fades.