Second set, same pace–his sports bra stretched as his chest rose, sweat beading on his forehead, his thighs tensing for balance. He curled slow and steady, his biceps bulging with each lift–thick, defined, veins popping under his skin. You’re amazing,Beautiful Secretary you know that? This–” He gestured to his body, her body, the pantyhose still clinging to him, “–is fucking incredible.”

She stared at him, her face–his face–softening for a moment, caught between pride and the simmering heat between them. The t-shirt hugged his chest gently, outlining his breasts and abs, and the shorts settled comfortably on his hips, the hem brushing his toned thighs.