Sexy Sally My Slut Wife

This is a continuation of the story of Sexy Sally, her husband Harry, and Harry's Boss, Bob Simpson. The time is the next morning after Sally has spent a very unpleasant night in Bob Simpson's bed with Bob and another of his mistresses, Darla MacIntire.

-----------------------------------The Second Morning

After Sally had pulled herself together, she and I went to the kitchen after some coffee. There at the table, Bob was washing down a sweet roll with a glass of milk. "Did you enjoy your wife's recital this morning?" Bob asked me.

I was pissed. I bit my tongue and didn't say anything.

Bob was grinning like the Cheshire cat, he was enjoying Sally's humiliation too much to miss this chance to rub her nose in it.

"It took a little encouragement, but she did a fine job eating Darla's pussy. Later she told us all about the penises in her life. Truly a remarkable past for such a sweet thing. Darla and I enjoyed her story immensely, and I'm sure Sally understands that our interest was purely therapeutic. We sometimes need to talk to someone about our little human peccadilloes. Confession is healthy, good for the soul, a cathartic of the conscience, as it were. I'm sure she will want to repeat the experience for you sometime on an otherwise dull evening."

I couldn't stand how smug he was any longer, and I snapped back at him in anger.

"Look Bob, you've gotten all you possibly could want. Sally is standing here naked wearing an ankle bracelet that calls her a slut and a whore..., your slut and whore. You've fucked her again an again. She has sucked your cock, and your girlfriend's cunt as well. She has had almost no sleep for two days. Enough is enough! Back off, damn it!"

Bob's reaction wasn't at all what I expected.

"You're quite right, Harry. I do push things a little too far sometimes."

He turned then and spoke too my wife. "Sally, I want you to go to back to bed right now and get some rest. Harry and I won't bother you until this afternoon. Please be ready about three thirty in your best frock. You and I have some shopping to do. Its Sunday but the big department stores will be open, and I suspect some of the better jewelry shops as well. Later, I'll take you to dinner at the Waldorf. I'm going to fuck you when we get home of course, but no more games. I won't even keep you up late, and you can sleep with me in my bed instead of on the floor.'

Sally's eyes lit up like a roman candle. With a smile a mile wide, and hardly able to restrain her glee, she was gone in a flash. It wasn't more than a moment or two before I heard water running in our tub as she drew a bath.

Bob offered me a sweet roll, along with his apology.

"I'm sorry to preempt your wife, and take her out of your bed again tonight. I had meant for both of us to use her for our amusement today, but you're quite right, the poor girl needs some R & R. Still, I'll be horny again by this evening, and I'm pretty sure that she'd rather have my cock to pleasure her pussy than yours. Nothing, personal of course, but after all these years, yours is a probably little old hat as it were."

I didn't have enough sand left to even be mad at the arrogant son of a bitch. My pique had left me when I saw how happy Sally was with the bone (if you'll pardon the pun), Bob had thrown her. Why should she be pleased with him? Wasn't I the one who just went to bat for her?

"No, no," I said to Bob wearily. "It's not a problem. I'm damn tired myself. I'll find myself something to eat and take in a movie or something."

"No, I can't have that," Bob answered. "I won't have you moping around alone, especially on my account. In fact, your afternoon and evening are already taken care of. Darla will be here at four o'clock. The Giants are playing the Dallas Cowboys on TV, and may I suggest a long leisurely blow job while you watch the game? Darla has been instructed that you are not to sleep alone tonight. She is such a lovely whore. I'm sure you will enjoy her."

I did my best to convince Bob to call Darla and cancel me off her schedule. I was very instant about it but Bob, being Bob, refused to listen.

"Look Harry, only a fool would turn down a blow job and fuck from Darla MacIntire, but since you apparently have something against getting laid by a beautiful red head, let me sweeten my offer. Darla will not only fuck you, and suck your bone, she will tell you things about me you have never known before. She has my permission to give you all the low down about my women and my sex life. You know that Darla is privy to everything I do, and she understands me better than anybody. Who else could explain what happened to Sally? You will learn things about me you have never imagined before. You have no idea what you're missing if you don't fuck her too, but even if you keep prick in your pants, you will find her visit worth your while."

One thing about Bob Simpson. He always cuts right to the chase. Certainly, uppermost in my mind was this sudden transformation of my wife into the slut of the heretofore asexual Boss Bob. What did it all mean for me..., for Sally? I gave in, and before I left him to go back to bed, I agreed to Darla's visit. I slept the morning away along side Sally. She was dead to the world, and didn't even know I was there, but it felt nice somehow.

About noon I awoke, showered, shaved, and went to the short order diner down the street for a hamburger. Rather than sitting around our apartment watching Sally get ready to go off with Bob, I killed time for a while in an off track betting parlor. I had lost a hundred bucks, and it was almost three thirty, before I arrived back at the apartment.

Bob and Sally were just leaving. Her hair was back in one of those bouncy pony tails she wears so well, and she had on a new dress that showed off her body like a million dollars. Damn, but she looked good. I went in and turned on the Giant's pregame show and waited. At ten minutes to four, the phone rang. It was Pete the security guy down in the garage again. "The same lady that was here last night is back Mr. Fountain. Shall I send her up?"

"By all means, Pete," I replied, and hung up.

Shortly the doorbell rang, and there was Darla again. Her dress was different from last night. She was more casual, and now her hair was combed out and loose. She wasn't showing as much leg or tit as she had last night, but damn, she was still one good looking woman.

"Hello again, Harry," she greeted me, "I was told you might be lonely and like some company."

"You're a damn liar, Darla MacIntire, I replied. "Bob didn't tell you I was lonely. He told you to come here and fuck me."

"Well yes," she said smiling, "as a matter of fact that's all true, but it seemed a little crude of me to open the conversation that way. Are you disappointed? Would you rather I had said right off that I was here to give you the piece of ass Boss Bob promised?"

"Darla, the way you look," I told her, "no man could be disappointed, no matter why you are here. I'd say that you look good enough to eat, except that old saw has a double meaning, one that is a bit crude under the circumstances."

"Let me start us over. Welcome, Darla, won't you come in."

Darla took the seat I offered her, and she came right to the point. "Do you want me to strip now?" she asked. "Bob said to start you off with my best head. The Boss likes me nude and on my knees when I suck him off."

"No, Darla," I told her, "no offense, but I really don't want a blow job right now. I know you are here in the role of Boss Bob's mistress and the Company Whore, but this power sex fetish is Bob's fantasy, not mine. God help my stupidity, but I told him that I didn't want to screw you this afternoon, or tonight either. Now that you're here, I must admit that I'm having second thoughts about my decision, but at this moment, I don't want to even think about sex."

I could see uncertainty and hurt in her eyes at my refusal. I didn't want that, so I smiled at her and tried to patch things up while looking for some alternative that would change the subject.

"Forgive me Darla. That 'company whore' remark just popped out. I certainly have no right to be judgmental about something I know nothing about. My comment was inexcusably disrespectful, and I didn't mean to be..., not to you, ever. What I do want is to get out of this apartment. In answer to your original question, yes I am lonely, and yes I do want some company. Let's go somewhere, anywhere, where we can just be friends enjoying each other in the conventional way."

-------------------------------Boss Bob: Dirty Business & Sally

Twenty minutes later we were in a horse drawn cab circling through Central Park. For the first few minutes we sparred with each other, trying to joke around while we avoided what was really on our minds.

Finally Darla said, "Harry, Let's quit this. You don't really want to swap funny stories. Bob called me again late this morning and told me you were pissed about the way Sally jumped on his cock. He asked me to explain the relationship he has with his women, and why we will do almost anything to have him fuck us. That is what you really want to talk about isn't it, Harry?"

"Of course it is Darla," I replied, "but I can appreciate what a spot that puts you in. You are not only in some kind of sexual servitude to him, you are also his trusted employee and personal confidant. I know Bob Simpson. It may be all right for me to know the outline and some scattered details, but he doesn't mean for you to tell me everything. I don't want to push you farther than you can go in good conscience."

Darla was thoughtful for a moment or two saying nothing. Then she began slowly,

"That's all very true, but although I may be Boss Bob's slut and mistress, I have no illusions about him. He is a Son of a Bitch of the first order, and the words, 'good conscience' shouldn't be spoken in the same breath with his name. Moreover, you're not just the husband of another of his female conquests. You are my colleague whom I have worked with, and whom I like and trust. You must have guessed long ago that Bob was fucking me, but you have never once treated me like I was a tramp because of it. That's more than I can say for most of our fellow executives at that God damn corporation."

Darla went on, speaking faster now. "Anyway, you deserve all the truth. This hasn't really been sudden, you know. You and Sally were lambs for the slaughter from the very beginning. Oh, you are smart, capable, and efficient, but those things were just an unexpected bonus to Bob. They are not the reason you were hired or even the only reason for your promotions. Bob Simpson meant to slice your wife from the first time he saw her. He's just now getting around to cashing in on his investment."

I looked at her incredulously. "You mean to tell me it has taken him ten years to get around to seducing my wife? The Bob Simpson I know moves a lot faster than that."

"No," Darla replied, "I mean to tell you it took ten years for Sally's turn to come up. He's a busy man, and there have plenty of others around to amuse him in the meantime. Besides, you're a pretty talented and valuable guy to have around and it was prudent not to push something that might have unfortunate repercussions or otherwise cost him your services. There was plenty of time. Bob could afford to let his fruit ripen on the tree, but trust me, he has always meant to eventually fuck your wife."

"Anyway, Bob always takes his time with women. Bob's seduction method is the drip, drip, drip of the Chinese water torture. Strand by strand he weaves a sensual web from our feminine desires and imaginations. We don't even realize that we have been caught until his cock is already in our pussies, and by then it is way too late to escape.

"Before I go any farther tho," Darla continued, there are two things that you must remember when you deal with Bob from here on out."

"First, both he and Alex Carmine are front men for the Mafioso. Carmine is a high level 'capo' with one of the New York 'families,' and Bob is his first lieutenant and consigliere. The company you and I work for has grown too big and successful to be the convenient little money laundering machine as originally intended, but we still move illegal funds from time to time. Even when we aren't actually the funnel for dirty cash, we are the valve that turns the flow on and off through other pipes. You are dealing with men who have unlimited money and political power. And the company, big as it is, and rich as it is, is only the tip of the iceberg."

"Second, your phone is tapped, and that is not nearly all. Your office, and your apartment, and your car, are all full of bugs. Tiny camera lenses hidden in the pictures on the wall are watching. Bob has a digital record, vocal and visual, of everything you say or do at work or at home, including making love to your wife. You have no privacy, and haven't had at any tine since you came to work the first day. Only somewhere like this cab ride would I dare to speak about all this."

"Come on," I protested, "Alex Carmine is one of the biggest names in the business world, and a leading philanthropist. And to think that my apartment is bugged is simply ridiculous, and hidden cameras are more so."

"Trust me, its all true." Darla replied. "Carmine may donate to the Cripple Children Fund and the United Way, but that's just part of the front. In another life he's nothing but a bent nose Sicilian Mustache Pete who will cut your throat in a heart beat. The 'families' operate differently now. The muscle-bound hoods who sell dope, book bets, and pimp for the cat houses and escort services, etc., they are still out there on the streets. Now-a-days, however, there is a second level of thugs with college educations and better manners who find a way to deposit criminal profits into what appear to be legitimate business bank accounts. From there taxes are paid on it just as if it had originated as lawful profit. The money after taxes is then invested in legal enterprises and made to grow. The mob learned an important lesson when AL Capone went to jail for tax evasion. These days the mobsters accept the payment of taxes as just another kind of bribe. They know that Feds don't really care what goes on as long as the government gets its cut. The state and local police and politicians aren't any better, probably worse. More often than not they get theirs personally and off the top."

Darla's face was serious and her jaw set as she continued her story about the people I have been working for.

"And as far as the cameras in your apartment go, why do you think the company was so willing to finance such an expensive place for you to live? Sure, you living there made it easy for Bob to get to Sally, but that was only part of it. 'They' own that damn building. Installing bugs from one end to the other was both safe and a piece of cake. Now, I know you're skeptical, but if you still don't believe you are monitored around the clock, I'll bring you a floppy disk tomorrow with pictures of Sally with her nose in my cunt."

"But, Darla," I protested, "I'm no threat. Why would they want to bug me?"

"Oh, just a lot of reasons," she answered. 'Suppose, for example, you get suspicious about who you really work for. That would be important for them to know. Then there is Sally, and me, and the others. He needs to be sure he can control his sluts. The pictures are his insurance policy. I don't mean he uses them to blackmail his women for sex. There are too many of us around more than willing to give him all the pussy he wants without that, and besides, something so stupid might go public."

Darla quit talking for a moment while she took my hand.

"No," she continued, "the pictures are to prove, should it ever be necessary, that your wife is a whore. Soon he will arrange through an escort service run by his business associates to have Sally turn a trick or two. The Johns will be legitimate businessmen, who will sincerely believe they have bought themselves a good looking piece of ass in the usual way. What they don't know is that their names and addresses, along with pictures of their cocks in sweet Sally's mouth and cunt, will be in a digital file inside Boss Bob's computer. Should Sally ever try to turn on Bob, he has the perfect antidote to blackmail or exposure. It would be the word of a rich, respected and politically powerful corporate executive against that of a woman whom he can prove is a whore. Moreover, the legitimate Johns who were set up will be pulling every string in their political reach trying to hush the whole thing up. Cute, huh?"

"It's more than just cute," I replied. "It's absolutely unbelievable."

"Well, you'd better believe it," Darla continued, "or you and I will be dead meat on a hook. If anyone in the Boss's organization finds out I told you all this, they'll kill us both before the sun goes down. For my sake and your own, you've got to play dumb. You have no choice but to ignore the bugs and cameras, and go on like you have in the past. Otherwise, the security people that surround Bob will smell a rat, and our jig will be up. At the same time, be careful what you say and where you say it"

"O.K., then Darla, Mum's the word," I promised her, "but Sally didn't turn her pussy over to him because he is Mafia. Neither did you. Tell me, how did that happen?"

"That's a long story, Harry," Darla replied, staring at me seriously, "but before I start, can we have dinner? I slept away the morning without any breakfast. I didn't have much sleep last night as I'm sure you know all about by now. As it happened, I missed lunch as well, and I'm famished. We can eat while I talk."

"Of course," I replied, "I know just the place."

----------------------------------Darla's Story

A little over an thirty minutes later we were seated in a hole in the wall Greek restaurant down in the Village that I regard as my personal gastronomic hideaway. We had both avoided the subject of Bob Simpson during the main course. We were finishing our meal, and were working on our deserts, when I asked Darla if she was ready to tell me more.

"There may be a few bugs in here," I assured her, "but they are of the insect variety rather than electronic."

"No matter," Darla said. "I have Bob's permission for whatever else I have to tell you. Only the knowledge that he, Carmine, and the company are Mafia fronts, and that they keep almost everybody under constant surveillance, are dangerous to us. On the other hand, he doesn't mind at all for you to know about his women. Matter of fact, he's rather proud of the way we turn to jelly whenever he waves his big penis at us. He has always been a bit put off that he has so few opportunities to brag to other men about what a cocksman he is."

Darla hesitated, and gave me a coy smile. "But, you said you were tired of sex? Maybe you don't want to hear the dirty stuff about how he seduced me and turned me into a whore?"

I grinned back at her. "Yeah I said that, but after spending an afternoon smelling you and your perfume, it seems that I'm not as sex weary as I thought I was."

"Well," Darla smiled back at me as she began, "at the time I applied for a job as Bob's personal girl Friday, my marriage was going into the shit can. My husband, Sam, drank heavily, but worse than that, he bet money we didn't have on slow horses and bad basketball teams. He was into the bookies for maybe $45,000 and he owned the IRS $20,000 more. The IRS guy was about to seize my car, and the bookies were threatening to break his knee cap and maybe mine as well."

"I had loved Sam when I married him, and I wanted our little girl to grow up with a father, but I couldn't take his drinking and gambling any more. I quit a job I liked but didn't pay much, and went looking for one that did. I heard on the grape vine that Bob Simpson needed a new personal assistant. I was determined to do whatever it took to get that job. If my new boss wanted me to jump into bed with him, I was more than willing to do so right from the get go. Much to my surprise, tho, a romp on his couch wasn't a part of Bob's job interview. The subject of my sexual favors never came up, and without even a hint of a pass at my body, I was suddenly gainfully employed at a salary beyond my wildest hope."