The New Matress

(This image with this story is a quite a photorealistic and explicit image, so it was removed to follow Patreon rules. I'm returning it back for those who haven't read it, but with covered parts. Sorry about that, but Patreon is fantastic site, and I have to try and abide by their rules.) ------ Mrs. G glanced at her watch, the ticking hands reminding her that Mr. G would arrive in thirty minutes to whisk her away to the birthday party. The office was empty, after all everybody has already left. She looked again at the large package propped up against the wall. There was enough time, so she approached it, running her fingers over the label. "Innovative mattress filling," she murmured, "a blend of water and silicone." Mrs.G tore open the package, revealing two components: a deflated mattress and a container filled with some half-liquid substance. Yeah, she will test it out while she waited. Mrs. G hauled the mattress onto the floor and unscrewed the container's lid. She easily squatted in her short skirt, and tipped the container to pour it in, but some of the gooey substance slid towards her hands. Suddenly the container slipped from her grasp, shattering on the floor. The goo splattered everywhere, drenching Mrs. G from waist to toe. She gasped, the cool sensation sending shivers down her spine. "Well, this is a fine mess," she muttered, as she took her heels off, and then peeled off her skirt, the fabric heavy with the gooey liquid. After a quick assessment, she took of her panties off too... Not good. Her body glistened under the harsh office lights, that gooey stuff dripping from her. This wouldn't do, she decided. Instead of dripping all over the office, she sat at her office chair and raised her legs high. The leather chair will be easy to clean. When Mr.G comes he will get some paper, and some towels, and help her clean things up. Ten minutes later, Mrs. G heard the office door swing open. "Finally," she breathed a sigh of relief. Mr. G stepped in, his eyes widening as he took in the scene before him. Mrs. G sat there, legs raised, her pussy and ass glistening with that strange goo. She felt a blush creeping up her neck. But instead of alarm, Mr. G's face split into a grin. "Well, well, well," he chuckled, "this is the best view I've seen in ages." Mrs. G couldn't help but giggle, despite her predicament. "Oh stop being silly," she chided playfully, "we're too old for such teenage stuff. Now be a dear, go fetch some towels and paper and clean me up, would you?" Mr. G raised an eyebrow. "Is this stuff toxic?" She shook her head. "No, apparently it's all based on 'healthy stuff', whatever that means." A mischievous glint entered Mr. G's eyes. "In that case..." He loosened his tie with deliberate slowness. "I won't be needing any paper. Or towels." Mrs. G's breath caught in her throat as he approached, desire evident in his every step. His hands skimmed along her thighs, the goo slick beneath his touch. She shivered, heat pooling low in her belly. "Mr. G..." she half-protested, half-moaned. "Shh," he murmured, his tongue traveling along her thighs. "Let me take care of you." "Seems like there's another liquid mixing with this goo," he remarked, his voice low and husky. His fingers traced the line between her core and her back hole, drawing a shudder from her. Mrs. G bit her lower lip, her breath hitching as his fingers gently rubbed the area. "I-I don't know what you're talking about," she stammered, but the flush on her cheeks betrayed her. Mr. G chuckled, the sound vibrating against her skin. "Oh, I think you do." His fingers found her wetness, the slickness mingling with the goo. He spread it, his touch sending jolts of pleasure through her. Her back arched off the chair, a moan escaping her lips. The leather creaked under her. Mr. G's tongue followed his fingers, lapping up the mixture of goo and her arousal. His ministrations were relentless, his fingers and tongue working in tandem to drive her wild. Mrs. G's hands gripped the armrests, her knuckles turning white. Her breaths came in ragged gasps, her chest heaving with each inhale. She could feel the orgasm building, a coil of tension winding tighter and tighter within her. "Mr. G," she panted, her voice strained. "I-I can't..." But he didn't let up. If anything, his pace quickened. His fingers curled inside her, finding that spot that made her see stars. His tongue flicked against her clit, the dual sensations pushing her to the edge. With a cry, Mrs. G came. Her body convulsed, waves of pleasure crashing over her. She rode out the orgasm, her body shuddering with each aftershock. Mr. G's fingers slowed, his tongue gentling as she came down from her high. He pulled back, a satisfied smirk on his face. "See, all clean." Mrs. G laughed, the sound breathless and filled with delight. "You're incorrigible, Mr. G." He winked at her, "But you love it." And she did. Every single bit of it.