Sandra was in love with her boss. Well, if she wasn't in love with him, she was definitely in lust with him. She looked across the desk at Jon Willingdon: she was his personal assistant. They were in their daily morning meeting, where he outlined all he required of her to do for the day. She was taking notes but was also checking him out.
He was 6 foot, 2 inches with broad shoulders, strong arms, and a narrow waist. She knew that he worked out often, as he used the company gym. He had chocolate brown eyes, high cheekbones, and a strong jaw. His coffee-brown skin was the smoothest and most flawless she had ever seen. It was just not fair for one man to be so beautiful.
Sandra had been working for him for the last two years, and it seemed that with each day, she wanted him more and more. She tried to compensate for this by acting as cool, poised, and professional as she could, as she knew that she could never have him. The reason? She was a married woman.
She had started dating Peyton when she was 16 and married him at 18, right after graduation. He was the only lover she has ever had. Now, 9 years later, it seems as if the romance is dead. When she tried to make an effort, by dressing up and making romantic dates with him, he seemed uninterested. He would much prefer drinking with his buddies or watching sports. Whenever there was any type of sporting event on tv, she would cease to exist for him. There was nothing she could do to get his attention away.
Physically, when she compared her husband with her boss, her husband definitely came up short. Years of beer-drinking had given him a gut that is ever-increasing. His boyish cuteness had faded awhile back, and he was already starting to lose his hair. The passion of their sex life had fizzled out as well. He often wasn't interested, and when he was, he would neglect foreplay, cum after only a minute or two, then roll over and go to sleep. She would end up being more frustrated after.
After coming to work for Jon, Sandra would fantasize about having wild sex with a faceless black man. Over time, she realized the random black man became Jon. Now, she can't help but imagine, on a daily basis, what it would be like with him. He had a forceful, dominant personality that helped him succeed in the business world, and she had always pictured him bringing that into the bedroom as well.
Consciously or subconsciously, she would buy feminine attire for work that would enhance her looks. Even if nothing could ever happen between her and Jon, she still wanted to look her best for him. She had long, dark brown hair that she usually left down in soft waves, and she wore clothes that showed off her curves. Lately, she wore more and more daring clothes: tops that were too tight or too low and skirts that were increasingly shorter. At her desk or around others, she would wear a blazer or a sweater on top, but it would come off when she was alone with Jon.
She was alone with him now, and she had undone another button on her tight blouse before coming into his office. She turned her eyes back down to her notes as she continued writing, crossing her legs as she did so. Her skirt rode up a couple of inches, baring more of her smooth, creamy thigh. She hoped he saw but didn't look up to check.
He dismissed her when he was finished. "Okay," she said as she rose from her seat. "Your first meeting is with Martin Langford in 15 minutes, and I'll get you another coffee." He nodded. She poured him a cup and added one sugar, as he liked it, and placed it down in front of him. She leaned down to do so, showing even more of her cleavage. Again, she didn't look up to see if he noticed. She left his office to go back to her desk.
Soon after, they received the news that an important deal that they have been working on for months was in danger of falling through. The other company had heard some unpleasant rumours and wanted to back out. Jon spent the day on the phone and in meetings, trying to do damage control. By late afternoon, he was yelling and snapping at most people who went in his office. Sandra gave sympathetic looks to a variety of company employees who were unlucky enough to be the receiving end of Jon's temper. She got barked at as well, but it didn't bother her. She knew how stressed he was.
By 5pm, it was obvious that they were nowhere near the end of their work day. Sandra called her husband to let him know that she had to stay late. Peyton sounded indifferent.
A few hours later, things were starting to wind down. She stepped into Jon's office, and saw that he was finally alone and off the phone. His suit jacket was off, cuffs and collar undone, with his sleeves rolled up baring strong forearms. He was sitting back in his chair with his eyes closed. He looked tired but still very sexy.
She approached him. "Sorry, Jon, I just have one more document for you to sign." She leaned down to put the paperwork on his desk.
"For fuck's sake! I've had enough," he growled at her and grabbed her by the arm.
She was shocked; he had never laid a finger on her. "What are you talking about?!"
He indicated to your breasts, which were threatening to spill out of her top. "I'm sick of you teasing me!"
She gasped. She had actually forgotten about her revealing top. She had put her sweater on when he developed his bad mood but had taken it off when she got warm.
"N-no! I never meant to-"
"Don't deny it, you slut! You've been strutting around here in tight clothes, bending over all the time to show me your big tits and round ass. I'm finally going to give you what you've been asking for." She was trying to pull her blouse together, but he stopped her and pulled each side apart. Buttons popped off and flew every which way. He leered down at her breasts in her barely-there bra, which he also quickly removed.
She cried out when her breasts were released, bouncing from the force he used to pull her bra away. She tried to cover herself, but he took ahold of her wrists in one of his large hands and held them up to feast his eyes on her breasts. They were large, round, with no hint of sag to them. Her nipples were dark and the size of silver half-dollars. He used his other hand to slap her tits. She cried out, but their bounce and sway delighted him. He then reached up to fondle her tits. She tried to pull her hands away, but he was a lot stronger. She didn't try too hard anyway. This was her ultimate fantasy coming true, but guilt ate at her.
"No, no, no, no! Please stop!" She pleaded.
"Don't tell me you don't want this."
"B-but I'm married!"
"Well, then, your husband isn't doing a good job of giving what you need." He was right! How did he know? She closed her eyes to savour the feel of his hand on her tits, his fingers tweaking at her nipples. "On your knees," he ordered, his big hand clamping down on her shoulder and pushing her down until she complied. He undid his pants and took out his monster of a cock.
She gasped! It was the biggest cock she had ever seen in her life (not that she's seen many). She stared at it, completely transfixed. It was easily twice as long and thick as her husband's. It was so big, beautiful, and powerful-looking, she couldn't help but lick her lips in anticipation.
"You want to suck it, don't you?" He taunted her.
Knowing that she was betraying her husband but still unable to help herself, she nodded.
"Say it, you whore! Say you want to suck my cock!"
