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Felicia Hardy blinked and leaned back in her overstuffed chaired.
She stared down at her outfit, the expensive black pantsuit trimmed with fur, covering a large body of rippling muscle. She whipped out her compact and stared at her face: it looks like her, though a little thicker, a little rougher, and her white hair was
pulled into a ponytail and came to a widow's peak at the front.
She needed to do something! She couldn't be like this!
She stared to frantically type on the computer. She had to -- do what? She was richer than God now! More powerful than anything! She was strong, fast, in charge!
"Ms. Hardy, ma'am?"
Felicia looked up at the two women who clicked into the room on their stiletto heels. One was svelte with an exaggerated hourglass body and long brown hair -- that came to a widow's peak, while the other was large -- plump in the cutest, sexiest way, with short
black hair. Both had huge tits and were dressed in tight blazers, miniskirts, and heels: the right combination of slutty and formal for the best sexretaries.
"Is everything all right, ma'am?"
Felicia looked at Wilma Fisk and Norma Osborn, the two bimbos who handled all her dictation.
"Yeah," Felicia finally said as she lit a cigar. "Everything is perfect, girls."
* * *
"Mmmm, dat's good," Luke Cage said as he took a puff of the blunt.
Mary-J giggled and ran her nails along Luke's lap,, the huge bulge straining against his jeans. He was massive! Much bigger than Peter's. A huge black python of a cock....
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