Jan by rumerch

[hatour]

Jan
By rumerch

Characters

Jan is Fred's personal assistant who stands 6'3" tall barefoot and has short brunette hair styled as bowl cut.  In reality she controls the office. She has amazingly broad shoulders, a waspishly slender waist and a tight, but shapely ass. Her long legs are athletic and muscular as is the rest of her body. Her muscles are dense and striated. Her biceps must measure 18 inches. She has big hazel eyes and her skin is flawless and suntanned. And as for her bust, any big breasted porn star would be jealous. Jan is all natural and her mega pecs help to keep her J cups amazingly perky. She is a true beauty. She hates violence and will always do what Fred asks. Jan is very protective. Although she is shy, she is confident and totally aware of the effect her body has on men. She loves to tease and will not hesitate to show off a little flesh. Sometimes her luscious leg or some cleavage, but most of all she loves to flex her biceps and watch for the reaction. She has even been known to flex her pecs.

Fred is notionally Jan's boss and is a little over 5'3" tall. A bit wimpy but does work out from time to time. He loves the assistance provided by Jan. He is happy for Jan to take control when necessary.

Fred and Jan work well as a team

Frank Mason is their customer who wants to renew a contract. He is a true muscle worshipper and really lusts after Jan.

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"Good morning, Fred!" Jan beamed, her voice bright and energetic as she stepped into the room. She was glowing, a fine sheen of perspiration still clinging to her suntanned skin. Her breathing was just slightly elevated from her workout. She was wearing a tight, ribbed racerback tank top that struggled to contain her J-cups. The fabric stretching taut across her massive, perky pecs.

She paused, shifting her weight to one hip, which accentuated the athletic curve of her muscular legs. With a playful glint in her hazel eyes, she slowly raised both arms and performed a double-bicep flex. Her 18-inch biceps peaking sharply and the striations dancing under her skin. "I've already been to the gym this morning. Would you like to see my pumped muscles before we start work?"

"Oh, Jan, that would be great."

Fred looked up from his computer, blinking as he took in the sight of her. He felt a familiar sense of awe whenever she stepped into the room, especially when she was still riding the high of a workout. He shifted in his chair, feeling particularly small compared to her commanding presence. He gave her a shy, appreciative smile. He leaned back, resting his hands on his lap, completely captivated. "You always seem to get more defined every week. Please, show me. I'm all eyes."

Jan let out a soft, playful giggle. The sound humming in the quiet of the office. She reached down with one hand, gripping the hem of her ribbed tank top. With a slow, deliberate motion, she began to peel the fabric upward. The tight material resisting slightly against the curve of her muscular hips and the sheer volume of her chest. As the shirt slid over her head and was tossed carelessly onto a nearby chair, she stood before him in her full, breathtaking glory.

She was wearing a front-fastening lacy black underwire bra that looked like a masterpiece of engineering. It was struggling to encapsulate the immense, perky weight of her J-cups. The black lace contrasted sharply against her deep, suntanned skin, framing the swell of her breasts and the dense, powerful muscles of her chest. She stood tall, her shoulders broad and imposing. Her breathing steady as she caught Fred's gaze and gave him a knowing, confident smile.

Jan watched the way Fred's eyes widened, his pupils dilating as he stared up at her. She knew exactly what was happening below the desk. The sudden, frantic twitching of his cock and the shallowing of his breath. There was a quiet power in it. A delicious sense of control knowing that she could drive him to the edge of delirium without even touching him. Simply by manipulating the landscape of her own body.

A playful, predatory smile touched her lips as she leaned forward. The movement causing the black lace of her bra to strain dangerously against the volume of her J-cups. She reached up, cupping the undersides of her massive, perky breasts to lift them higher. Presenting them to him like offerings. Simultaneously, she snapped her arms into a tight, symmetrical double-bicep flex. Her 18-inch biceps peaked into hard, striated mountains of muscle that seemed to pulse with power. The sheer physical dominance of her frame filling his entire field of vision.

Jan held the pose for a few more seconds. The muscles in her arms trembling slightly from the intensity of the contraction. She let out a slow, melodic hum, her hazel eyes scanning Fred's face to gauge the exact level of his disorientation. The way he was staring, completely mesmerized by the combination of her towering frame and the sheer volume of her chest, was exactly the reaction she craved.

She slowly relaxed her arms, though she didn't move to put her shirt back on. Instead, she shifted her stance, her muscular thighs brushing against each other with a soft, rhythmic sound. A mischievous glint entered her eyes as she noticed the way Fred seemed to have forgotten how to breathe.

"You look a little overwhelmed, Fred," she teased, her voice dropping to a sultry, playful octave. She leaned in closer. The scent of her workout, a mix of vanilla and warm skin, filling the space between them. "Tell me. Did you remember to bring a couple of spare pairs of pants in today? Because looking at you right now, I have a feeling you might need them."

"Oh, Jan. You look absolutely sexy," Fred breathed, his voice sounding thin and strained even to his own ears. He felt as though the oxygen had been sucked out of the room, replaced by the overwhelming presence of her towering, muscular frame and the sheer scale of her chest. He was mesmerized by the way the black lace struggled to contain her. The fabric strained to its absolute limit by the perky volume of her J-cups.

He began to shift in his seat, his movements clumsy and hesitant. He felt a desperate need to close the distance, to move from the safety of his chair into her orbit. He looked up at her, his eyes wide and pleading. "May I... may I stand up and take a closer look? And maybe, if you'll let me, could I touch them? Your muscles, I mean."

Jan's response was a slow, knowing nod, a small smile playing on her lips as she watched him struggle. She didn't just step toward him, she glided. Her muscular thighs brushing together with a rhythmic, soft friction as she sidled close. The movement was predatory yet graceful, closing the gap until she was looming over him, her towering 6'3" frame casting a wide shadow across his smaller form. As Fred stood up, the height difference became visceral. He found himself staring directly ahead, his nose nearly brushing against the peak of her J-cup. The black lace of her bra acting as a thin, strained barrier between his face and the warm, supple skin of her chest. The scent of vanilla and post-workout heat radiated off her in waves, dizzying and intoxicating.

"Curiosity is a wonderful thing, Fred," she murmured, her voice a low vibration that he could feel in his own chest.

She shifted her stance, planting her feet firmly to create a stable base and widening her shoulders, which seemed to stretch from one side of his vision to the other. Slowly, with a deliberation that bordered on torture, she began to bring her right arm up. She didn't just flex. She performed a slow-motion orchestration of muscular contraction.

First, she rotated her wrist, turning her palm upward and bringing her forearm toward her shoulder. As the joint bent, the bicep began to stir. It started as a gentle swell, a subtle rise of dense muscle beneath her suntanned skin. Then, Jan tightened the contraction. The muscle didn't just grow, it erupted. The 18-inch bicep surged upward, peaking into a hard, rounded mountain of striated power that seemed to defy the laws of anatomy.

Fred could see the precise moment the muscle reached its maximum peak. The skin stretched taut over the mass, revealing the intricate, roadmap-like veins that pulsed with the rush of blood. The striations, those deep, longitudinal grooves of muscle fiber, became visible. Dancing under the surface like tectonic plates shifting beneath the earth. The bicep was so dense, so profoundly hard, that it looked as though it had been carved from mahogany and polished to a mirror sheen.

Fred's hand trembled as he reached out, his fingers hovering just millimeters away from the towering peak of Jan's bicep. Up close, the scale of her was dizzying. He felt like a child standing before a monument. He slowly closed the gap, his fingertips finally making contact with the apex of the muscle. The first thing that struck him wasn't just the heat radiating from her skin, but the sheer, uncompromising density of the tissue. It didn't feel like skin over muscle. It felt like he was touching a warm, leather-wrapped boulder.

As he pressed his palm more firmly against the bicep, he felt the muscle pulse beneath his hand. Jan let out a soft, satisfied hum. As she tightened the contraction even further, the bicep seemed to expand against his palm, pushing back with an irresistible force. He could feel the striations, those deep, rhythmic grooves of muscle fiber, shifting under his touch. It was a tactile map of power, each fiber working in concert to create a peak that felt as though it could crush steel if she desired. The skin was flawlessly smooth and suntanned, yet beneath that softness lay a hardness that was absolute and uncompromising.

Fred shifted his grip, sliding his hand down toward the crook of her elbow to feel the transition from the peak to the thick, powerful forearm. Even in her relaxed state, the muscle there was dense, but as he squeezed, he felt the bicep above him flare again. He was captivated by the way the muscle didn't just sit there. It reacted to him. Every time he applied pressure, Jan responded by flexing harder. The mountain of muscle growing larger and harder beneath his touch, challenging him to find a soft spot that simply didn't exist.

He became bolder, using both hands to wrap around the circumference of her arm. He found that his fingers didn't even meet on the other side. The sheer girth of her 18-inch bicep was too much for his smaller hands to encompass. He pressed his thumbs into the center of the peak, feeling the muscle rock-hard and unyielding. The sensation was intoxicating. The contrast between his own softer, smaller hands and the striated, powerful mass of her arm made him feel fragile, small, and completely dominated by her physical presence.

Jan watched him with a look of pure, playful affection, her hazel eyes shimmering as she saw him succumb to the tactile reality of her strength. She shifted her weight, her muscular thighs flexing beneath her, and leaned in slightly. The movement caused her J-cups to brush against his chest, a secondary wave of sensory overload that nearly made his knees buckle. He was trapped between the immovable hardness of her arm and the soft, overwhelming volume of her chest, breathing in the heady scent of vanilla and exertion.

Jan let out a low, melodic giggle that vibrated through her chest. The sound thick with amusement. She leaned back just an inch, not enough to break the tension, but enough to look down at him with a gaze that was both tender and predatory. The way he marveled at her strength. The way his small hands struggled to encompass the girth of her bicep. It sent a thrill of confidence coursing through her.

"I love it when you do that, Fred," she murmured, her voice a sultry purr. "The way you just... stare. Like you've never seen a woman who could lift you with one hand."

She shifted her stance, her muscular thighs flexing as she intentionally brushed her hip against his leg. As she did, her hazel eyes dropped, scanning down his body with a slow, deliberate precision. A triumphant, knowing smile spread across her lips as she spotted the undeniable, strained bulge beneath the fabric of his trousers. She didn't look away. Instead, she let her gaze linger there for a heartbeat before looking back up at his flushed face.

"And look at your pants," she teased, her voice dripping with playfulness. "They're already practically screaming for mercy. I can't imagine how much more you'll be struggling by the time we actually get to the paperwork."

Jan let out a soft, teasing sigh, her gaze drifting toward the wall clock. She didn't pull away, instead allowing the warmth of her body to continue radiating against him, her towering presence keeping him anchored in place. A mischievous spark lit up her hazel eyes as she thought about the day's schedule.

"As much as I'd love to spend the next hour letting you explore every single striation on my body, we do have a visitor," she murmured, her voice humming with a playful secret. "Frank Mason is arriving at ten to review the new contract. You know Frank. He's a total schmoe, absolutely besotted with muscle babes. He can barely form a sentence when he sees a woman with a bicep larger than his wrist."

She stepped back just far enough to give him a full view of her commanding frame, her broad shoulders squaring as she gave a subtle, rhythmic pop of her pecs beneath the black lace. A triumphant smile played on her lips. "I've actually picked out something very special to wear for him. Something that will give him plenty to lust over while he tries to focus on the legalities. And," she added, leaning in to whisper against his ear, "I think you'll enjoy the view just as much as he will."

Fred swallowed hard. His throat feeling tight as he looked up at her. He was still buzzing from the feeling of her rock-hard muscle under his fingertips, and the mention of Frank Mason, a man he knew to be completely out of his depth in the presence of a strong woman, only added a spark of possessive curiosity to his excitement. He felt a rush of heat bloom in his cheeks, his heart hammering against his ribs as he imagined Jan intentionally dressing to distract and dominate the boardroom.

He leaned in slightly, his eyes traveling from the sheer volume of her J-cups back up to her confident, hazel gaze. A small, hopeful smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, though his voice remained a breathless whisper. "Describe what you will be wearing, Jan. And make it sound sexy," he breathed, his gaze drifting momentarily to the bulge in his trousers before locking back onto her.

Jan's eyes shimmered with a predatory kind of glee, her voice dropping to a low, confidential velvet as she leaned in, her breath warm against Fred's skin. She didn't just describe the outfit, she articulated it like a blueprint for total distraction. Her expression radiating the confidence of a woman who knew exactly how much power she wielded.

"Well," she murmured, a small, wicked smile playing on her lips, "I had a little chat with Frank's secretary this morning. She was very candid about his... preferences. Apparently, Frank has a bit of a weakness for stockings and suspenders. So, I've curated something that will make sure he can't remember a single clause in that contract."

She stepped back, gesturing vaguely to the wardrobe in the corner as if she could already see the ensemble draped there. "I'm going with a shiny red corset bra and a matching sleeveless waistcoat. Of course, the bra is a half-cup design. Just enough to frame my J-cups while leaving plenty of my cleavage on display for him to admire. I'll pair that with a matching red microskirt. One so short that every time I cross my legs, he'll get a clear view of the lace suspender straps holding up my stockings."

Jan shifted her weight. The muscles in her thighs rippling as she gave a playful, commanding tilt of her head. "And to finish it all off, I'll be stepping into my four-inch high heels. They'll put me at a towering six-foot-seven, looming over the conference table while I flex for him. I imagine the sound of those heels clicking across the floor will be the only thing he hears before he completely loses his train of thought."

Fred felt a dizzying rush of heat wash over him, his mind racing as he visualized Jan in that outfit. The image of her towering over the conference table. Six-foot-seven in those heels, her massive chest framed by red satin and her powerful legs barely concealed by a microskirt. It was almost too much for him to process. He looked up at her, his eyes wide with a mixture of adoration and sheer lust, feeling utterly dwarfed by her physical and confident presence.

"You are magnificent, Jan! Absolutely magnificent," he breathed, his voice thick with emotion. He reached out, his hand brushing against the side of her waist, feeling the firmness of her core. "The thought of you walking into that room and just dominating the space like that. It's incredible. Frank won't stand a chance. He'll be absolutely hypnotized by you."

Jan didn't simply go to change. She turned the process into a choreographed performance, knowing that Fred was mesmerized. She stepped toward the wardrobe, the rhythmic click of her bare feet on the floor echoing in the quiet office. With a slow, deliberate glance back over her shoulder, she caught Fred's gaze, her hazel eyes promising a visual feast. She moved behind the privacy screen, though she didn't close the curtain fully, allowing him to see the tantalizing silhouettes of her towering frame as she shed the black lace and stepped into the red ensemble.

The sound of rustling satin and the sharp snap of the corset's fasteners filled the room, creating a tension that felt almost electric. Fred stood frozen, his breath coming in shallow hitches. He couldn't look away, his eyes locked on the gap in the curtain where he could see the flash of a muscular, suntanned thigh and the shimmer of red fabric. Below his waist, the evidence of his arousal was impossible to ignore. His cock twitched violently, straining against the fabric of his trousers. Pushing the material to its absolute limit as he imagined the transition from the bra to the corset.

Then, the curtain slid open. Jan stepped out, and the room seemed to shrink around her. The red corset bra was a masterpiece of provocation. The half-cups barely containing the immense, perky swell of her J-cups, leaving a vast, inviting expanse of cleavage exposed. The matching sleeveless waistcoat hugged her broad shoulders and narrow waist, framing her powerful arms and making her 18-inch biceps look even more imposing against the vibrant red. The microskirt was daringly short, barely skimming the tops of her thighs. As she shifted her weight, the lace suspender straps were clearly visible, disappearing into the sheer stockings that clung to her athletic legs.

Finally, she stepped into the four-inch heels. The transformation was complete. Now standing at a staggering six-foot-seven, Jan looked like a goddess of strength and seduction. She didn't just walk toward Fred, she loomed. The rhythmic clack-clack of her heels sounding like a countdown. She stopped inches from him, the sheer scale of her presence casting him in a deep shadow, her scent of vanilla and power overwhelming his senses.

Fred didn't just look at Jan, he surrendered to her. From his vantage point, staring straight up at the towering goddess who now stood 6'7", the perspective was dizzying. He felt as though he were looking up at a skyscraper of suntanned skin, red satin, and raw power. His eyes began a slow, trembling ascent, starting at the floor where those four-inch heels anchored her to the earth, making her calves look like carved marble. The muscles popping with every slight shift of her weight. The sheer stockings were a delicate veil over legs that looked capable of crushing boulders, and the lace suspender straps were thin, fragile lines of white against the deep bronze of her thighs, disappearing beneath the scandalous hem of the red microskirt.

As his gaze traveled upward, he hit the narrow, waspish curve of her waist, which served only to emphasize the violent flare of her hips and the imposing breadth of her shoulders. The red waistcoat was strained to the breaking point. The fabric pulling taut across her back and chest, struggling to contain the sheer mass of her frame. Then, his eyes locked onto her arms. Without the covering of a shirt, her 18-inch biceps were out in the open, shimmering under the office lights. They weren't just muscles, they were anatomical marvels. He could see the deep, longitudinal striations of the muscle fibers. The skin stretched so tight over the dense mass that it looked like polished mahogany. The biceps peaked even in a semi-relaxed state. The sheer girth of them making his own arms feel like twigs in comparison.

But it was the center of her silhouette that truly stole his breath. The red corset bra was a daring piece of engineering, and it was losing the battle against her J-cups. The half-cups acted more like frames than supports, pushing the immense, perky volume of her breasts upward and inward. The valley of her cleavage was a deep, sun-kissed canyon that seemed to draw him in. The skin there glowing and flawless. The sheer scale of her chest, combined with the height she gained from the heels, created an image of absolute dominance. He felt the air leave his lungs as he realized that his head barely reached the underside of her bust. He was physically submerged in her presence.

He looked higher, past the towering peaks of her chest, to the broad, powerful slope of her shoulders and finally to her face. Jan was looking down at him with a gaze of pure, concentrated confidence. Her hazel eyes were dancing with amusement, seeing the way he was practically vibrating with desire and awe. The contrast was total: he was small, soft, and overwhelmed, while she was a monolithic pillar of strength and beauty. The scent of vanilla and the heat radiating from her body created a sensory cocoon around him, making the rest of the office vanish. He was no longer in a place of business. He was in the orbit of a woman who didn't just occupy space, but commanded it. Every detail, from the same-colored red of her outfit to the rhythmic pulse of the veins in her massive arms, told him that he was utterly at her mercy.

The sharp, insistent ring of the office telephone broke the heavy, charged silence between them. Jan didn't move away from Fred immediately. She lingered for a heartbeat, letting him bask in the overwhelming scale of her 6'7" silhouette before she reached over and snatched the receiver from the desk. Her movement was fluid. The massive bicep of her arm rippling and peaking sharply as she lifted the phone. The red waistcoat straining against her shoulder.

"Hello?" she answered, her voice returning to that sultry, confident purr. As she listened to the voice on the other end, a triumphant glint sparked in her hazel eyes. She looked down at Fred, a playful, knowing smirk playing on her lips. "Yes, Frank. We're expecting you. Just a moment."

She clicked the receiver back into its cradle and turned her full attention back to Fred, her towering presence casting a shadow that seemed to swallow him whole. She shifted her weight. The four-inch heels clicking firmly on the floor as she straightened her posture, causing her J-cups to swell further over the edges of the red corset. "That was Frank. He's already in the reception area," she murmured, her voice humming with anticipation. "Show him up, would you, Fred? I want to be standing right here. Exactly like this, when he walks through that door."

Jan didn't move a muscle. She remained as a monolithic pillar of red satin and suntanned power. Her 18-inch biceps held slightly away from her sides to maximize the breadth of her silhouette. As the door creaked open and Fred stepped aside to usher the visitor in, Jan felt the air in the room shift.

The moment Frank Mason stepped across the threshold, he stopped dead in his tracks. His jaw didn't just drop, it practically fell. A loud, audible gasp escaped his throat. A sharp, wheezing sound of genuine shock, as his eyes traveled upward, and upward, and upward. He looked like a man who had just walked into a temple and found a goddess waiting for him. He stood frozen. His briefcase nearly slipping from his grip, as he processed the sheer scale of her. From the four-inch heels that pushed her to a towering 6'7", to the explosive peak of her biceps. To the immense, perky volume of her J-cups straining against the red corset, Jan was an architectural marvel of muscle and curves.

Jan let out a soft, knowing giggle. Her hazel eyes shimmering with predatory delight. She shifted her weight slightly. The movement causing the muscles in her thighs to ripple beneath the microskirt and the red fabric of her chest to heave. She leaned her head back and looked down at the stunned man. Her smile wide and triumphant. "Good morning, Frank," she purred, her voice vibrating with a confidence that seemed to shake the very floor beneath his feet. "I trust you had no trouble finding the office?"

Jan watched Frank struggle to regain his speech. His eyes darting between her towering height and the sheer mass of her arms. She decided to dial up the pressure, gliding forward with a rhythmic clack-clack of her heels that sounded like a heartbeat in the silent room. As she reached him, she didn't just offer a greeting, she leaned down, bending her 6'7" frame forward to bring her face closer to his.

The movement was a calculated strike. As she tilted, the plunge of her red corset bra shifted. The half-cups sliding just enough to reveal a breathtaking expanse of her deep, suntanned cleavage. The immense, perky volume of her J-cups pressed together. Creating a valley of soft, glowing skin that was mere inches from Frank's wide-eyed gaze. Simultaneously, Jan gave a subtle, rhythmic pop of her pecs. The powerful muscles beneath her breasts flexing with a sudden, tight contraction that made the red fabric strain.

She extended her right hand. Her 18-inch bicep peaking into a hard, striated mountain of muscle as she reached for his hand. Her grip was firm, her palm warm and powerful against his trembling fingers. "Have a seat, Frank," she purred, her voice a low, vibrating hum that seemed to echo in the small space. She straightened up slowly, looming over him once more. Her hazel eyes shimmering with amusement. "Would you like a coffee? Or perhaps something stronger to help you focus on the contract?"

Frank took a slow, shuddering breath. His chest heaving as he tried to regain some semblance of composure. His eyes were practically glazed over, darting instinctively from the towering peak of Jan's biceps to the sheer, overwhelming volume of her J-cups that seemed to defy the laws of physics beneath the red satin. He felt small, outmatched, and utterly captivated by the sheer physicality of the woman looming over him.

"C-coffee... yes. Coffee would be... wonderful," he stammered, his voice sounding thin and breathless. He cleared his throat, attempting to find some professional footing. Though his gaze remained locked on the deep valley of her cleavage. "And might I say, Jan. That is a stunning outfit you have on today. Truly stunning. It... it looks like your training is going very well. I can see the... the definition is just... extraordinary."

Jan's smile widened. A slow, predatory expression that signaled she knew exactly where Frank's mental equilibrium sat. She was more than happy to push it further. She could see the man's pulse hammering in his neck. His gaze oscillating between her towering height and the striated power of her arms like a pendulum of pure desire. He was completely adrift in her orbit. A captive audience to her physical dominance, and she felt a surge of playful power coursing through her.

With a deliberate, rhythmic clack of her four-inch heels, she shifted her weight. Her muscular thighs flexing beneath the red microskirt. Then, with a grace that belied her massive frame, she began to descend. She didn't just lean, she folded her 6'7" silhouette downward. A slow-motion plunge that brought her face level with his, once again bringing the immense, perky volume of her J-cups into his immediate field of vision. The red corset bra groaned under the pressure. The half-cups straining to hold back the swell of her chest as she paused, hovering just inches from his stunned face.

As she lingered there, Jan reached down, her hand gliding past the scandalous hem of her skirt. With a slow, meticulous motion, she gripped the top of her sheer stocking, tugging the fabric slightly to adjust the fit. The movement was agonizingly slow, drawing Frank's eyes downward to where the lace suspender straps bit into the deep bronze of her powerful thighs. She adjusted the strap with a precise flick of her finger. Her muscular leg rippling as she balanced herself, ensuring that the view of her athletic, suntanned skin and the delicate lace was perfectly framed for his benefit. For a moment, the professional world of contracts and legalities ceased to exist, replaced entirely by the tactile reality of Jan's overwhelming physical presence.

Jan straightened back up to her full, towering 6'7" height. The movement causing the red satin of her corset to shift and settle with a soft, rhythmic rustle against her skin. She let out a soft, melodic laugh. The sound vibrating through the air as she looked down at Frank. Her hazel eyes shimmering with a mix of modesty and absolute confidence.

"Why, thank you, Frank. You're far too kind," she purred, her voice a low, velvety hum. She shifted her stance, planting her feet firmly and allowing her shoulders to widen. With a subtle, deliberate motion, she expanded her chest and flexed her lats. The muscles beneath the red waistcoat flaring outward like powerful wings, adding an imposing breadth to her already massive silhouette. "I've been concentrating quite heavily on my legs and upper body lately. The gym has become a bit of an obsession," she added with a playful wink.

She looked down at the red corset. The fabric strained to its absolute limit across her frame. "It's certainly presented some... unique challenges. My under-bust has increased a full inch lately, bringing me to forty-eight inches. It's become an absolute nightmare to find a bra that actually fits. Not many manufacturers make a forty-eight J-cup that doesn't feel like it's fighting a losing battle against the volume."

As she spoke, she shifted her weight. The four-inch heels clicking sharply. She glanced down at her long, muscular legs. The sheer stockings shimmering under the office lights. "And as for the lower half," she teased, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she looked back at Frank, "finding stockings long enough for these legs is just as tricky. Everything is just a little too... small for me."

Frank moved toward the conference table with a hesitant, floating gait. As if he were afraid that any sudden movement might break the spell Jan had cast over the room. He settled into the leather chair beside Fred, though his posture was slumped and his focus was fragmented. His mind was still anchored to the image of Jan's towering, 6'7" silhouette and the rhythmic pulse of the veins in her massive arms. He cleared his throat, attempting to open the leather folder of the contract before him, but his hands were clumsy. The papers rustling loudly in the heavy silence.

Jan gave a final, playful wink to the two men. Her hazel eyes shimmering with the knowledge that she had completely dismantled Frank's professional composure. With a graceful, rhythmic clack-clack of her four-inch heels, she turned and began to glide toward the break area. Every step was a display of power, her muscular thighs brushing together beneath the red microskirt. The fabric of her waistcoat straining across her broad shoulders with every movement of her arms.

As she departed, the air in the room seemed to deflate. Leaving Frank and Fred in a sudden, jarring vacuum of normalcy. Frank leaned toward Fred, his voice a frantic, hushed whisper that barely escaped his lips. "Fred. My god, Fred. Is she always like this? I mean... the sheer scale of her. Did you see the striations on those biceps? I've never seen anything like it in my life." He didn't even look at the contract. He simply stared at the doorway where the red silhouette of the goddess had just vanished. His breath still coming in shallow, ragged hitches.

Fred let out a soft, shaky laugh. Finally finding some air now that Jan had stepped out of the room, though his own heart was still drumming a frantic rhythm against his ribs. He leaned back in his chair, glancing toward the doorway where the scent of vanilla still lingered like a ghost. He felt a surge of pride, though it was tempered by the memory of how small he felt standing in her shadow.

"Yes, Frank. She definitely has that effect on people," Fred admitted, his voice regaining a bit of its steadiness but still sounding breathless. He thought about the way she had looked looming over him earlier. The sheer, uncompromising mass of her biceps and the way her J-cups had nearly brushed his face. "I absolutely love having Jan around the office. Not just for the... well, the view, obviously. But she's incredibly efficient. She runs this place like a well-oiled machine. Even if she does like to remind us exactly who the most powerful person in the room is."

The negotiation process was a complete farce. While Fred attempted to discuss the finer points of the contract, Frank Mason was barely processing the words. His eyes kept drifting toward the door. His mind trapped in a loop of red satin, towering height, and the memory of those mahogany-hard biceps. Every time he tried to focus on a clause or a percentage, his gaze would snap back to the space Jan had occupied. His imagination filling in the gaps of her devastating physique. By the time the soft, rhythmic clack-clack of heels announced her return. The "negotiations" were effectively over. Frank had practically signed away everything just to keep the meeting going.

Jan glided back into the room, a silver tray balanced effortlessly in her hand. The weight of the coffee service, though minimal to her, served as the perfect catalyst. As she navigated the tray toward the table. The effort of stabilization caused her biceps to swell and peak sharply beneath the red fabric of her waistcoat. The muscles undulating in a slow, powerful rhythm. The sight of those striated mountains of flesh moving in real-time was the final blow to Frank's composure. Beneath the table, his trousers were strained to their absolute limit. His cock throbbing with a visceral intensity that he couldn't suppress. He felt a warm, traitorous dampness beginning to soak into his underwear. A slow leak of excitement that he was powerless to stop as he watched her approach.

As she reached the table, Jan didn't simply set the tray down. She lingered, leaning over the table to pour the coffee. She performed the action with a deliberate, exaggerated slowness, allowing her arms to flex far more than the task required. With every tilt of the pot, the bicep of her pouring arm surged. The muscle bunching and hardening into a rock-solid peak that seemed to vibrate with power. The red satin of her sleeve strained against the girth of her arm. The fabric humming with tension. Frank watched, mesmerized and panting, as the sheer physical force of her presence converged with the aroma of fresh coffee and vanilla, leaving him completely undone.

Jan didn't immediately retreat to the periphery of the room. Instead, she glided toward a tall leather stool positioned just beside the conference table, her movements fluid and commanding. As she lowered her 6'7" frame onto the seat, the red microskirt rode up significantly. Revealing the powerful, suntanned expanse of her thighs. She settled in with a graceful poise, clicking a silver pen and opening her secretary's notepad. Her broad shoulders squaring as she prepared to take notes. Remembering Frank's specific weaknesses, Jan shifted her position with a slow, deliberate motion, crossing one long, muscular leg over the other. The movement was a masterstroke. The leg crossed high, causing the hem of the red fabric to slide even further up. Offering Frank an unobstructed view of the sheer stocking and the lace suspender strap biting into the dense, striated muscle of her upper thigh.

"Now then," Jan purred, her voice a low, resonant hum that seemed to vibrate through the table. "Let's get the specifics of this contract settled. Fred, what exactly are the terms we're preparing for the final draft?" She looked toward Fred, but her hazel eyes flickered toward Frank, catching him in the act of leering. Frank was practically paralyzed. His gaze locked onto the intersection of lace and bronze muscle. His breathing coming in shallow, ragged gasps. He didn't even pretend to look at the papers anymore. He was simply a captive to the visual feast of Jan's physique.

As Fred began to detail the contractual obligations, his voice sounding small and distant in the wake of Jan's presence, Jan continued to play her part. Every few seconds, she would shift her weight or reach across her body to adjust the notepad. Causing her 18-inch biceps to peak and ripple beneath the red waistcoat. She could feel Frank's eyes tracing every contraction and every pulse of her muscles. She felt a surge of predatory satisfaction. This was going exactly as planned. The professional veneer had completely dissolved, leaving only the raw, intoxicating reality of her power.

Jan let out a low, melodic giggle. The sound vibrating through her towering frame as she watched Frank practically melt into his seat. She slowly closed her notepad. The movement causing her broad shoulders to shift and the red satin of her waistcoat to strain across her chest. With a playful, predatory glint in her hazel eyes, she stood up from the stool. Her 6'7" silhouette once again dominating the room and casting a long, imposing shadow over the conference table.

"I'm so glad we've managed to reach such a... fair conclusion, Frank," she purred, her voice a sultry, resonant hum. She didn't step away immediately. Instead, she shifted her weight, allowing the muscles in her thighs to ripple beneath the red microskirt as she looked down at the breathless man. "I'll go ahead and prepare the final version of the contract now. Once it's all typed up and polished, would you like to return to the office to sign it?"

As she spoke, Jan paused. Her gaze drifting toward her own arm. With a slow, deliberate motion, she brought her right arm up, curling it into a tight, crushing bicep flex. The 18-inch peak surged upward. The muscle bunching into a rock-hard, striated mountain that pushed violently against the red fabric of her sleeve. She held the contraction, letting Frank see the raw density and the pulse of the veins under her suntanned skin. "If you come back by ten tomorrow," she teased, a wicked smile playing on her lips, "my muscles might just be a little bigger by then."

Frank rose to his feet with a clumsy, jarring motion, his legs feeling like gelatin as he struggled to find his balance. He looked up at Jan, his gaze momentarily snagging on the towering height of her 6'7" frame and the lingering, rock-hard peak of her bicep, which seemed to vibrate with power even as she relaxed the flex. He felt completely undone. His mind a chaotic blur of red satin, mahogany-hard muscle, and the intoxicating scent of vanilla.

"I... yes... ten o'clock," he stammered, his voice sounding thin and fragile in the presence of such physical dominance. He began to backtrack toward the door with a hesitant, floating gait. His eyes darting back to Jan one last time as if trying to sear the image of her striated physique into his memory. "I will return in the morning to sign. I'll be here. Precisely at ten." He practically stumbled out of the office. The sound of his hurried footsteps echoing down the hall as he escaped the overwhelming gravity of Jan's presence.

Jan watched the door click shut behind the retreating businessman. A slow, triumphant smile spreading across her face. She didn't move for a moment, savoring the lingering tension in the room and the way Fred was still staring at her with an expression of absolute awe. She shifted her weight, the four-inch heels clicking sharply on the floor. She gave her biceps a quick, rhythmic double-flex that caused the red fabric of her waistcoat to strain violently against her 18-inch peaks.

"Poor Frank," she purred, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial, velvet hum as she looked down at Fred. She leaned in slightly, her massive J-cups swaying with the movement and nearly brushing against his chest. Filling his vision with red satin and glowing, suntanned skin. "I bet he heads straight to the toilet for some immediate relief the second he hits the lobby... or," she added, a wicked, predatory glint flashing in her hazel eyes, "will he actually be able to contain himself until tomorrow's visit?"

Jan let out a long, shaky exhale. The sound more of a moan than a breath. The thrill of the hunt, of watching Frank crumble under the weight of her physique, had left her feeling an electric, pulsing heat between her thighs. She looked down at Fred. Her hazel eyes darkened with a raw, hungry intensity that made it clear she was no longer interested in playing games with a businessman.

"God, Fred. That was an absolute rush," she murmured, her voice dropping to a low, sultry vibration. "Watching him struggle just to breathe while I stood over him. It's left me feeling absolutely ravenous."

With a slow, deliberate movement, she reached up to the first button of her red waistcoat. Her fingers, strong and steady, popped the fastening with a sharp click. She didn't rush. She savored the anticipation, her 18-inch biceps peaking and rippling with the simple effort of reaching for the next button. As she peeled the garment away from her shoulders. The fabric slid back to reveal the full, breathtaking expanse of her broad, suntanned shoulders and the massive, perky volume of her J-cups straining against the red corset bra. She shrugged the waistcoat off completely, letting it fall to the floor in a heap of red satin. Leaving her upper body exposed in a display of raw, feminine power and shimmering muscle.

Jan didn't just look at Fred, she loomed over him. Her 6'7" frame casting a deep, suffocating shadow that seemed to isolate the two of them from the rest of the world. Without the waistcoat, the sheer scale of her upper body was staggering. The red corset bra struggled to contain the massive, perky swell of her J-cups. Her 18-inch biceps stood out in high relief. The muscles dense and striated like polished mahogany. She shifted her weight, the four-inch heels clicking with an air of absolute authority, and looked down at him with a gaze of raw, predatory hunger.

"You've been such a good little assistant today, Fred," she purred, her voice a low, resonant vibration that seemed to echo in his very bones. She reached out her large, strong hand gripping his shoulder and pressing him slightly backward, forcing him to feel the full, overwhelming mass of her presence. "But now that Frank is gone, I'm tired of the teasing. I want to see exactly how much of an effect I've had on you."

A wicked, knowing smirk played on her lips as she gestured downward toward his waist. "Take your pants off, Fred. Right now. I want to see your cock twitch and leak for me. I want to watch it struggle and throb in the shadow of my curves, knowing that you're completely at my mercy."

Fred felt a jolt of electricity shoot down his spine at the command. There was something intoxicating about the way Jan transitioned from a playful tease to a commanding force. Her voice leaving no room for hesitation. He looked up at her. This towering, 6'7" monument of bronze muscle and red satin. He felt his resolve dissolve completely. He didn't just want to obey, he craved the feeling of being utterly dominated by her overwhelming presence.

With trembling fingers, Fred reached for his belt. He didn't stop at just his trousers. Driven by a sudden, frantic need to be completely exposed before her, he stripped with a clumsy, hurried energy. His shirt was tossed aside, then his trousers, and finally his underwear, until he stood before her shivering and stark naked. He felt impossibly small and fragile, a pale, soft contrast to the monolithic power of the woman looming over him. His cock was fully erect, throbbing violently and leaking a steady stream of pre-cum that glistened in the office light, twitching in rhythmic pulses of anticipation.

Jan let out a low, throaty chuckle. The sound vibrating through her massive chest as she looked down at the quaking, naked man before her. She didn't just look at him. She surveyed him like a prize. Her hazel eyes scanning the trembling length of his erection. The sight of him, so small, soft, and utterly exposed in the shadow of her 6'7" frame, sent a fresh wave of heat through her. Making the muscles in her powerful thighs ripple beneath the red microskirt.

"Oh, Fred. You look so sweet all needy," she purred, her voice a velvet caress that seemed to wrap around him. She shifted her weight. The four-inch heels clicking firmly on the floor as she loomed closer, her scent of vanilla and raw power filling his nostrils. "And look at you. What a beautiful, desperate little love muscle you have. It's practically screaming for attention, isn't it?"

A wicked, playful smile curved her lips as she slowly raised her arms. With a fluid, powerful motion, she cupped the undersides of her immense J-cups, lifting and pushing them forward. The red corset bra groaned under the pressure. The fabric straining as she presented the massive, perky swell of her breasts for his approval. "I think we're going to have to make it pop, don't you?" she teased, the sheer scale of her chest dominating his field of vision. The peaks of her breasts almost brushing against his face.

Fred felt as though the oxygen had been vacuumed out of the room, replaced by the scent of vanilla and the radiating heat of Jan's skin. He was frozen, his naked body shivering not from cold, but from the sheer sensory overload of being mere inches away from her. From his height, the red corset bra wasn't just a garment. It was a towering architectural feat of lace and satin that seemed to be fighting a losing battle against the raw, biological power of her physique.

The bra was a masterpiece of provocative engineering, crafted from a shimmering, deep crimson satin that caught the office lights with every minute shift of her breath. It was a half-cup design, a choice that served more as a decorative frame than a supportive structure, leaving the upper slopes of her massive J-cups exposed to the open air. The fabric was strained to its absolute limit. The seams humming with tension as they struggled to encapsulate the sheer volume of her breasts. The cups were pushed together with an aggressive force, creating a deep, sun-kissed canyon of cleavage that plunged downward toward her waist.

This valley of cleavage was a visceral sight. A tight, warm press of flawless, suntanned skin that looked soft yet felt as firm as the muscles beneath. The pressure of the corset pushed her breasts upward and inward, lifting the massive, perky swells so high that they seemed to defy gravity, creating a silhouette of absolute abundance. Fred could see the way the red satin dipped low, revealing the heavy, rounded undersides of her breasts, and the way the top edge of the cups barely managed to cover the center of her areolae, teasing the boundary between professional and obscene.

As Jan shifted, the bra shifted with her. The fabric sliding across the smooth curve of her chest with a soft, rhythmic friction. The contrast was staggering. The delicate, feminine lace of the trim against the backdrop of her broad, powerful shoulders and those 18-inch biceps that framed her chest like pillars of mahogany. Every time she breathed, the red satin tightened. The fabric pulling taut across the swell of her breasts, threatening to snap under the pressure of her immense size.

The sheer scale of her J-cups was overwhelming. They didn't just occupy space, they commanded it. They were like two great, shimmering mountains of feminine power, held aloft by the red silk and the raw strength of her pectoral muscles. Fred found himself mesmerized by the pulse in the hollow of her throat. The way it synced with the rhythmic rise and fall of that massive chest. He was staring into the heart of a storm of red satin and bronze skin, feeling utterly insignificant and completely captivated by the way the bra struggled to contain the magnificent, perky volume of the woman looming over him.

With a slow, rhythmic clack of her heels, Jan shifted her center of gravity, her 6'7" frame beginning a controlled descent. She didn't just bend, she knelt. A fluid movement that brought the massive, perky volume of her J-cups swaying forward. The red satin of her corset bra groaning under the shifting weight. As she settled onto her knees, her broad shoulders remained squared, framing her face as she brought herself level with Fred's trembling, exposed heat.

The air between them thickened, charged with a heavy, electric tension. Jan leaned in, her hazel eyes locked onto the pulsing length of his erection. Her lips parting in a soft, predatory smile. She didn't make contact. Instead, she paused just a fraction of an inch away. Her warm, vanilla-scented breath washing over the sensitive head of his cock like a physical touch. She pressed a slow, lingering kiss into the empty air. The ghost of a touch that sent a violent jolt of electricity shooting through Fred's entire nervous system.

The sensory deprivation of the near-miss was more explosive than a touch would have been. In response to the heat of her breath, Fred's cock jerked violently, a sharp, involuntary spasm that forced a large, glistening blob of pre-cum to eject from the tip. The thick fluid landed with a wet splat against his own gleaming shaft, beginning a slow, viscous crawl down the length of his throbbing meat. Fred let out a strangled gasp, his entire body shuddering as he neared the precipice of orgasm. His toes curling into the carpet while he remained suspended in the overwhelming gravity of her presence.

She looked up at Fred, her hazel eyes shimmering with a predatory sort of tenderness. Her gaze flickering from his face down to the weeping tip of his cock. "You've always had such a weakness for a big chest, haven't you, Fred?" she purred, her voice a velvet resonance that seemed to echo in the small space. She shifted her posture, arching her back slightly to push the massive, perky volume of her J-cups further forward. "But I think we both know the secret. Muscle girls just have the best tits. They're firmer, heavier, and so much more... commanding. Don't you think?"

With a slow, deliberate motion, Jan leaned in closer. The red fabric of her half-cups straining to the absolute limit as she brought the peaks of her breasts mere millimeters from his throbbing member. She didn't touch him. Not yet, but the sheer heat radiating from her bronze skin was like a furnace. The tips of her breasts, pressed hard against the thin red satin, hovered just over his leaking glans. The fabric teasing the sensitive skin of his cock.

"And the best part, Fred," she whispered, her warm breath causing his erection to jerk violently, "is that they look even better in a skimpy little bra, don't they? Just enough to show you exactly what you're missing."

Jan let out a slow, melodic laugh, her gaze flickering from the glistening tip of his cock back up to his wide, desperate eyes. She remained knelt, her 6'7" frame coiled like a spring. The red satin of her corset straining against the massive, perky swell of her chest. She didn't move to touch him. Instead, she simply hovered there, allowing him to simmer in the heat of her presence.

"Just think about it, Fred," she purred, her voice a low, vibrating hum that seemed to resonate in his very marrow. "I'm still wearing my clothes. Most of them, anyway. And I haven't even flexed a single muscle fully for you yet." She paused, a wicked glint in her hazel eyes as she looked at the rhythmic, violent throbbing of his member. "And yet, here you are. Shaking, leaking, and absolutely about to pop. You're practically falling apart just from the idea of what I can do."

She shifted her weight, her broad shoulders squaring as she leaned in just a fraction more. The red fabric of her bra grazing the very edge of his skin. "Imagine if I actually decided to put some effort into this. Imagine if I really showed you what eighteen inches of striated muscle feels like when it's pressed against you."

Jan didn't pull back. Instead, she shifted her weight. The red satin of her corset groaning as she leaned in until the massive, perky volume of her J-cups practically eclipsed his entire field of vision. She could feel the heat radiating from his throbbing cock, and the scent of his desperation only fueled her desire to prolong the torture. She let out a low, vibrating purr. Her hazel eyes locked onto his as she spoke in a voice that was pure, liquid velvet.

"Just imagine it, Fred. Imagine these wrapped tightly around your cock," she murmured, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Imagine me squeezing it, coaxing it, teasing it with the sheer, overwhelming weight of my chest. Feeling the heat of my skin and the pressure of my curves crushing the air out of you."

A provocative, predatory smile spread across her lips as she paused, her gaze drifting down to his leaking glans. "And then. Just as you think you can't take any more. Imagine if I were to slowly, ever so slowly, flex one pec. Just a tight, hard contraction right against your shaft. Then the other one. And then..." She leaned in a fraction closer, the red fabric of her bra practically touching him, "both of them together. A massive, muscular squeeze that would leave you completely breathless." She looked back up at him, her eyes shimmering with mischief. "Tell me, Fred. How long do you think you'd actually last?"

Fred felt a violent, electric shudder rip through his entire frame, a visceral reaction to the mental image Jan had painted. The sheer, descriptive power of her words. The idea of those massive, muscular breasts crushing the air out of him. It sent a tidal wave of pleasure crashing over his nervous system. It was a surge so potent it felt physical, a sudden, agonizing spike of arousal that caused his heart to hammer against his ribs.

In response to the overwhelming stimulus, his cock reacted with a sudden, forceful leap. He felt the blood rush into the chambers of his shaft with an almost audible thrum. The tissue expanding and hardening further until he reached a state of absolute, rigid tension. He actually felt himself grow. The length of his erection stretching an extra inch, pushing him to his absolute limit. As the head of his cock surged forward, the internal pressure became too much to contain. A huge, glistening glob of pre-cum erupted from the tip, spraying across his glans before beginning a slow, syrupy slide down the side of his throbbing meat. He was no longer just aroused. He was physically distorted by the sheer weight of his desire for her.

The tension in the room had reached a breaking point. The air thick with the scent of vanilla and the raw, electric heat of Fred's desperation. With a slow, fluid grace, Jan rose from her kneeling position, her 6'7" frame unfolding like a towering monument of bronze muscle. The red satin of her corset groaned as she straightened, her massive J-cups swaying momentarily before settling against her powerful chest. She didn't step away. Instead, she loomed over Fred, her shadow completely engulfing his shivering, naked form.

Reaching down with a soft but commanding touch, Jan took Fred's trembling hands in hers. With a gentle, guiding pressure, she placed his right palm firmly against the explosive swell of her left breast. The red satin of the corset bra acting as a thin, straining barrier between his skin and her warmth. Simultaneously, she guided his left hand upward, pressing his palm flat against the side of her upper arm.

Then, she acted. With a slow, deliberate intensity, Jan contracted her bicep. Under Fred's hand, the muscle didn't just grow, it erupted. Transforming from a firm curve into a rock-hard, striated ball of mahogany power that surged upward, nearly doubling in density. The contrast was overwhelming. Fred felt the soft, immense volume of her perky breast beneath one hand and the unyielding, granite-like hardness of her 18-inch bicep beneath the other. He was caught between two extremes of her femininity: the lush abundance of her chest and the raw, athletic dominance of her strength.

Jan leaned her head down, her hazel eyes locking onto his with a gaze of absolute, predatory hunger. As she held the flex, maintaining that mountain of muscle beneath his palm, she slowly and erotically ran the tip of her tongue along her upper lip, tasting the anticipation in the air. The gesture was a silent promise, a signal that she was fully aware of the wreckage she was making of his composure.

The sensory collision was the final blow. The simultaneous sensation of her soft, immense volume and that terrifying, granite-hard bicep pulsing beneath his palm snapped the last remaining thread of Fred's restraint. His nervous system simply couldn't process the disparity. The lushness of the J-cup and the raw, striated power of the muscle. The result was a violent, systemic overload.

Fred's cock gave one final, desperate surge. The shaft expanding by another agonizing inch as blood flooded the chambers to their absolute limit. A wave of pure, blinding ecstasy ripped through his torso, starting at the base of his spine and exploding outward in a white-hot flash of pleasure. He let out a choked, guttural cry as his body betrayed him, his hips jerking forward in a series of uncontrolled, rhythmic spasms.

The release was volcanic. His cock exploded, shooting thick, pearlescent ropes of semen that arched through the air, splashing across the office carpet and the polished legs of the nearby desk. He didn't stop. He continued to fire in great, pulsing jets, each surge of pleasure more intense than the last, his entire frame shuddering under the force of the orgasm. He was a prisoner to the climax, his toes curling and his breath hitching in ragged gasps as he poured himself out before the towering goddess, continuing until the very last drop vanished and he was left completely spent, trembling and hollowed out by the sheer scale of her presence.

Jan let out a soft, triumphant giggle. The sound vibrating deeply in her chest as she watched the last of Fred's tremors subside. She didn't immediately let go of his hands, keeping him pinned for a moment longer against the contrasting textures of her body. The yielding softness of her J-cup and the unyielding granite of her bicep. As she looked down at the glistening evidence of his defeat on the carpet.

"Well done, Fred. That must be a new record for you, wouldn't you say?" she purred, her hazel eyes dancing with a mix of affection and predatory amusement. She slowly released his hands. The red satin of her corset shifting with a rhythmic rustle as she straightened her 6'7" frame to its full, towering height. She looked down at him, her silhouette dominating the room, a goddess of bronze and crimson who had just dismantled her boss with a few strategic flexes.

A sudden, professional clarity flickered in her expression, though the mischievous glint remained. She glanced at the mahogany clock on the wall and then back at the mess at Fred's feet. "As much as I enjoy seeing you in this state, we really had better tidy up now," she said, her voice returning to that velvety, commanding hum. "Harry Grainger is due to arrive at 11:30, and we can't have the office smelling of... well, this." She paused, a wicked smile spreading across her lips as she shifted her weight, her muscular thighs brushing together beneath the red microskirt. "And you know Harry. He's quite like Frank. He absolutely loves big women. I think it's time I gave him a proper introduction to my latest gains."

[hatour]

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