This wasn't a dream. Earth to Miranda, her legs were wrapped around the long fantasised bum and his cock was more than satisfactory. She'd not actually had sex on a desk before. She should try it more often. No time to feel utterly mortified about her turnabout because his arms were nice and strong and holding her up. Thinking about it, she would have liked to have had a turn on that comfy looking beast of a swivel chair but there was only so much time to elaborate that she wanted to fuck him now before he leapt into action. The desk was a good place to start. Was she going to tell him about her thoughts about the swivel chair? Maybe in 5 minutes. She'd already revealed the cadence of her lustful cries and he was still going. Not that she had a weird moan. She once had sex with a guy who grunted a lot. That was off-putting. Totally killed her ardour. Max was surprisingly quiet for someone who usually never stopped chewing or talking or breathing loudly. For all her assertions that she had more stamina than he, and she'd proved it before, he wasn't getting lazy about this exercise. Right now she appreciated that he knew her better than she had anticipated because he was making use of a rhythm she really enjoyed. Typical Max, figuring out what she really wanted and making sure she got it. Never did anything by halves. Case in point, her new abode. It had taken her years to decide on her favourite turn-ons. At the moment it seemed to involve office furniture. Which, as she spent so much time at work, almost made sense.