Milf Hunter: Seducing And Taming Beauties

Chapter 1266: Footsteps In The Hallway

I spat again, thicker this time, watching the saliva coat the small, wrinkled hole until it shone. Then I pressed my tongue flat against it and dragged slowly upward, spreading my own spit all over the sensitive rim. Saki’s entire body jerked.

”Aah—! Jack... you spat on my asshole... nnngh... that’s so dirty... it’s clenching even harder... stop looking at it like that... the door is wide open... Yamamoto could walk in any second and see you spitting on your aunt’s ass... aah...!”

I chuckled against the wet hole, the vibration making it clench again in a tight, helpless spasm.

”Then you’d better stay quiet, Aunt Saki. Because every time this tight little asshole squeezes like that, it just makes me want to lick it deeper. Listen to how wet it sounds now that it’s covered in my spit...”

I pushed my tongue back inside the clenched rim, forcing the tight muscle to stretch around it while more of my saliva dripped down toward her dripping, hairy pussy.

Saki’s hips trembled between resistance and need, her broken moans growing higher and more desperate as her asshole continued to flutter and squeeze around my tongue with every filthy, open-door lick.

Suddenly her hand shot back, fingers tangling in my hair as she tried to push my head away. Her voice came out shaky and urgent, thick with leftover pleasure and rising panic.

”Wait... he... would be coming here any second now...!”

I let her push me back just enough to break contact, a shiny strand of spit still connecting my lower lip to the wet, wrinkled rim of her asshole. Saki stayed on her hands and knees, breathing hard. She twisted her head to look down between her own legs and froze.

The ruined pants hung in torn scraps around her thighs. Both thick cheeks of her ass were fully exposed, still faintly red from earlier spanking, and right in the center her tight pink asshole glistened—wet with my spit, slightly puffy from the tongue-fucking, the small rim still twitching in the open air.

A few fine dark hairs around it caught the light. Below, her hairy pussy remained swollen and shiny with her own juices.

The moment she realized I was still staring straight at her asshole, a deep, mortified blush flooded her face and neck. She tried to close her thighs, but the position kept everything on full display.

”Don’t... look at it like that...” she whispered, voice small and embarrassed even as her hole gave another involuntary little clench under my gaze. ”The door is still open... Yamamoto could walk in and see my asshole out like this... Jack, please...”

I stayed right where I was on my knees behind her, eyes locked on that wet, twitching married hole, making no move to look away.

Then we both heard it—clear footsteps coming down the hallway, growing closer with every second.

Saki’s entire body jerked in pure panic. She shoved me hard with both hands, scrambling off the daybed in a frantic rush. Her torn pants hung open, the scraps of fabric doing nothing to hide her still-glistening asshole or the swollen, hairy lips of her pussy.

She practically threw herself into the chair behind the desk, snatched the nearest thick document file, and slammed it down across her lap, pressing it hard against her thighs to hide the ruined clothing and everything it no longer covered.

Her face was scarlet. Her breathing was still uneven. A faint shiny smear of my spit remained visible on the inner curve of one ass cheek where the file didn’t quite reach.

I stood smoothly, adjusted my suit jacket, and walked back to the chair opposite her as if nothing had happened. I sat down, crossed one leg over the other, and picked up a random sheet of paper from the desk, the picture of a calm lawyer mid-discussion.

The footsteps reached the open doorway.

Saki kept the heavy file clamped tightly over her lap, thighs pressed together as hard as she could, eyes fixed on the papers in front of her with forced concentration—while under that file her torn pants still hung open, her spit-slicked asshole still twitching, and the taste of her most private hole was still fresh on my tongue.

Yamamoto stepped back into the study carrying a mop and a small bucket. He didn’t seem to notice anything unusual about the way his wife sat rigidly behind the desk or the faint flush still coloring her cheeks.

He simply walked over to the spot near the door where the clear puddle had been, set the bucket down, and began mopping with practical, unhurried strokes.

”Now it’s clean,” he announced, glancing over at both of us with mild satisfaction. ”Whatever that smell was, it should be gone. You two can keep working—don’t mind me.”

He continued mopping in slow, thorough passes, the wet sound of the mop head against the wooden floor filling the quiet room.

Saki’s fingers dug into the edges of the file on her lap hard enough to crease the cardboard.

Every small shift of her weight made the torn fabric of her pants shift underneath, and I knew her still-wet asshole and swollen pussy remained completely exposed beneath that thin barrier of paper.

She kept her eyes locked on the documents in front of her, jaw tight, forcing herself to look like nothing more than a serious client reviewing legal papers while her husband calmly cleaned up the evidence of her earlier squirting orgasm only a few feet away.

I sat opposite her with a polite, professional expression, one hand resting loosely on the arm of the chair, the taste of her tight married asshole still lingering on my tongue as Yamamoto finished the last few strokes of the mop and stood back to admire his work.

I cleared my throat lightly.

”Mrs. Saki... can I use your restroom?”

Saki’s eyes flicked up from the papers. For a second she answered on autopilot.

”Hmm... It’s this way, please...”

Then the realization hit her. If she stood up, the heavy file would no longer cover her lap. The torn pants—ripped wide open across both cheeks and the front—would be completely visible to her husband. Her face tightened with fresh panic.

Fortunately, Yamamoto was already turning toward the door, mop and bucket in hand.

”I’ll put these away,” he said, stepping out into the hallway without looking back.

The moment he disappeared, Saki shot me a quick, urgent look. She stood carefully, keeping the file pressed against the front of her thighs for as long as possible before reluctantly setting it on the desk.

The ruined pants hung open behind her, both thick cheeks of her ass fully exposed, the soft flesh still faintly marked and the tight pink hole between them still shiny with my spit.

”Come with me... I’ll show you the way,” she said under her breath, voice tight.

She turned and walked out of the study. I followed close behind.

Every step made the torn fabric shift and part, giving me a clear, bouncing view of her heavy married ass—soft cheeks rolling with each movement, the deep cleft opening just enough to flash the still-wet, wrinkled rim of her asshole.

She walked a little faster than normal, clearly aware of how much was on display, but she didn’t try to cover herself again. The hallway was short, and the risk of Yamamoto reappearing at any second only made the sight of that exposed, spit-slicked hole twitching between her cheeks even filthier.