This is not a romantic story. It is a story that includes cheating with multiple partners and an introduction to a, 'swinging' life style. It also includes bondage and discipline. It contains accounts of hard, rough sex with little, if any, 'love' and tenderness.
Fucking the boss's wife was always one of my favorite pursuits. We got a new, young boss every year. As commissioned, outside sales reps, we were expected to help and guide these young bucks to the next rung on the corporate ladder.
Most had sweet, young, attractive wives who were terribly lonely and frustrated with the corporate world and the lack of attention from their husbands. Most of the young managers were fucking some little tart in the office---and most of the young wives suspected, or knew.
If they were young, attractive and needing affection, I was on it. I was amazed what ass holes some of these fine young women's husbands were. One actually told me that he married his wife because she gave great head---and she certainly did! More than one bragged about having the, 'perfect corporate wife'.
A handful weren't worth my time. One in particular, while attractive, turned me off the second I met her. Mary was her name, and she led her husband, Carl, around by the nose. He was the most pussy whipped guy I'd ever met. She was a little brunette with big tits, and Carl was a serious tit man, often leering at busty women he saw at out customers' places of business. I often wondered if Carl even cared if they had pussies---as long as they had DDs.
Mary was Southern, a Louisiana girl, whose family had money. She had met Carl in college. She had a very pretty face, dressed to the nines, liked to show some leg and frame her fine young hips in the perfect light.
When it came to, 'managing' Carl, she could have given the meanest Paris Island DI a run for his money. Most of the other sales reps avoided her; some sucked up to her, scurrying to get her a drink or whatever, when she gave the order. She epitomized bitch with a capital 'B'.
I was kind to Carl, felt sorry for him, didn't really respect him, but didn't mistreat him. I was at least a decade older than Carl and his young wife. Possibly my age and the demeanor developed after ten years in the Army and two tours in combat made it obvious to Mary that I wouldn't respond positively to her crap. We would chat, briefly, at company functions. One day at an office picnic, I found myself sitting alone with Mary while Carl was off fetching something.
"Mary, do you beat him this badly at home, or just in public?" I inquired.
I thought she was going to fall off her chair laughing; she showed no indication of being insulted by my rude question.
"Mike, Carl is not exactly a self starter. He wouldn't have graduated from college without me on his ass and he wouldn't have this job if I hadn't pushed him hard. Hell, he probably wouldn't have ever gotten in my pants if I hadn't taken the initiative, and I'm sure we wouldn't have two kids by now if I hadn't fucked him to death every time I ovulated." She explained.
Somewhat taken aback by her candor, I replied. "Mary, I long ago learned never to judge other people's relationships. But sometimes, I think Carl is about to come unglued, he's so tightly wrapped. I'm going to stop right there; this is none of my business and I apologize."
Mary responded. "Look Mike, you obviously don't need any prodding to get up and go do what you do. You're very successful and disciplined. I respect discipline---more than you know. I had a good measure of it growing up. Carl didn't. Without a judicious use of the whip, as my granddad used to say, 'this mule won't plow', but maybe I do lay it on a little too hard in public."
She continued, almost as an after thought. "So, if I was your, 'woman' you probably wouldn't take my shit would you? You'd yank my drawers down, bend me over your knee and redden my little ass until I learned some respect, wouldn't you? Maybe even cut a fresh Willow switch and raise some nice welts on my tender little fanny? As I remember from that party at your house, you've got a couple of nice Willow trees that could provide the required implement. That might be fun---for both of us."
This conversation had gone in a direction I couldn't have predicted in a million years. I tried to reply coherently while crossing my legs to hide the growing boner in my pants. She was playing me. I carefully formed my response.
"Mary, I'm not a guy that gets off on beating up women, but a little corporal punishment, lovingly applied, of course, can go a long way toward attitude adjustment. A little bondage as part of the correction would help drive the point home. And, if we assume that the punishment was followed by some rough---no holes barred---fucking, I'd be up for it." I calmly replied, as if we were discussing politics or the weather.
"Don't lose that thought." She whispered, dragging the back of her hand over my hard dick, as Carl returned with her drink.
Not long after, the picnic began to break up; I said my goodbyes to the 'hosts' and Mary shook my hand as a gracious Southern lady should and thanked me for coming to the picnic. I couldn't get our overtly sexual conversation out of my mind, but was sure it was all just banter.
Carl's boss was a complete ass hole and loved nothing better than dragging his stable of young managers up to the area office at least one weekend a month. Carl would leave his young wife for another weekend the following Friday night.
That Thursday, Carl had scored some tickets to a concert by one of my favorite jazz artists. I didn't have time to get a date, but one of my customers, who Carl knew, was also a big fan of this artist and Carl was actually looking forward to having him use one of the tickets.
I love jazz, I love live jazz performances. I hate taking a date that doesn't appreciate the art form. I picked up the customer, who was also a really good friend, and we met Carl and Mary at the ticket window of the concert hall. Mary looked fine as she always did, but this time I was more attuned to her treasures.
We went to our seats; Carl sat on the far left, the customer sat next to him, then came Mary, then came me. Carl and my customer chatted during the run up and during the breaks. Mary did most of the talking at my end of the seating.
She started out by telling me how pissed she was that Carl was going to be gone all weekend---she had a lot of work for him to do in the yard. She asked me what I had planned for the weekend; I told her I might take my sail boat out, might go diving or might just hang out.
"Do you want some company, or have you already got something lined up?" She boldly inquired.
