Diary: Coms established
Britney’s Diary - February 7th, 2026
Slept like shit, mind racing over that damn text to Chris. How the fuck did he know it was me? Just a guess? Or did he clock that little freckle dusting my left tit, the one that peeks out like a secret mark? Heart hammered thinking about blowback, if he snitched to HR, I’d be toast. But nah, no proof, just a faceless shot of my heavy rack squeezed teasingly. An intern wouldn’t risk outing his own boner-fueled fantasy. Still, the risk twisted hot in my gut, pussy clenching at the edge of disaster.
