Four
What Martha didn't envision, however, was her husband holding his secretary bent over his desk, fucking her relentlessly. And it was truly 'fucking', no hint of love, just raw sex.
Paul pounded his delightful office assistant, accelerating as he approached his peak. Cindy was gathering speed, too, her arousal growing to a fever pitch; but he climaxed just before she could get there.
Without hesitation, he spun her around for a quick clean-up. Leaning in to slurp and lave his sagging prick, she let her hands drop to her crotch, trying to salvage her looming orgasm. "Get your hands out of there!" he reprimanded. "Wait until our next break." And with that, he sent her, with a smack on the bottom, back to her desk. While she reluctantly retreated to her post, he lectured, reminding her, "You wear two hats here – one as efficient office employee and the other as sex slave – but never both at once." Of course, he didn't mention – or even consider, for that matter – her extra-office role as somebody's wife.
As Cindy took up her official duties once more – creating a specialized document – her mind wandered back to the beginning, back through the history of just how she came to this.
At twenty-five, Cindy was a cute little true blonde, her tiny frame accentuating her stunning figure, and she generally wore clothes that complimented her size and shapely body. She'd found her boss very attractive, right from the initial interview, and although she'd known he was married – as was she – she'd fantasized about him, a bit – insignificant, harmless fantasies.
Paul was, ostensibly, all business, still, he noticed the glitter in her eyes, as her attraction to him developed into a bona fide, adolescent infatuation. Subtly, he began to fan the flames – a brief touch, a wink, a bit of mild innuendo. And so, he quietly cultivated her growing attention, her heightening desires. Poor Cindy couldn't see, through her blossoming adulation, the self-centred rawness that was at the root of this developing relationship.
She started dressing suggestively to impress her boss – mistaking skanky for classy – responding to his unspoken approval. And her choices became more revealing as affair germinated. She waited on his every word; basked in his attention, even when he teased her. She idolized him, even if he sometimes demeaned her. Awed by his decisiveness, she had to admit, she went a little ga-ga over him. She would do 'anything' for him, but she didn't recognize that his taking advantage of her was rapidly becoming no more than simple power-mongering. Still, she constantly stroked his ego, consistently deferring to him, in virtually all things.
A successful middle management guy, tall and muscular, handsome, athletic and powerful, Paul was blissfully unaware of his wife's fantasies – her kinky desires and newly discovered submissive proclivities. Didn't even suspect she might be cheating, couldn't believe she ever would.
Although he tried not to be, he was rather resentful of his wife's success – her position and her larger salary. In fact, his wife's better job made him feel emasculated and insecure. As much as he entertained fantasies, he had never even considered taking a dominant role with her in real life. It seemed, to him, out of the question.
But with Cindy it was a different matter. At 42, Paul is almost old enough to be her father; furthermore, he'd found her, right from the start, almost irresistibly alluring. "Not only that," he rationalized, "she treats me like a real man!"
So, Paul began, subtly at first, to take advantage of Cindy's blind adoration. He figured he could run with this situation for as long as it lasted, suddenly seizing on the notion that this was the perfect opportunity to realize a fantasy; that is, exercise dominance.
Over the next few weeks he observed that Cindy did indeed show indicators of a latent submissiveness – bending over backwards to please him, glowing at the albeit sparse praise he gave her, and watching him hungrily. Flying by the seat of his pants, Paul nurtured and cultivated Cindy in her self-assumed submissive role. "Finally," he said to himself, "an up-side to the wife's business trip and late days," as he started looking at opportunities – scheming and planning.
Step one had been taking Cindy to a hotel restaurant for a working lunch – innocent enough. But he watched her like an eagle, and, when they'd finished and returned to the office, he thought he could detect a subtle air of disappointment in Cindy's demeanour.
For her part, Cindy, thought it curious that she had felt almost disappointed that nothing happened. Which was odd, as she had never had sex with anyone other than her husband since getting married. "Sex! Where did that thought come from?" Until now she hadn't even considered it, at least not consciously.
Then, only a few days later, Paul took her for another "a business lunch." This time, as they finished eating, he leaned forward and murmured, sotto voce, "I took the liberty of getting a room. Would you like to join me for a drink in private?" Excited and nervous, Cindy followed as they ascended to the room he had taken. Her mind was racing – chasing its tail, and whether she knew it or not, she was ready!
In fact, Cindy was more than ready. She was unbelievably horny – more so than she'd ever been. She could barely stand it. She felt herself burning up, vibrating, like she was about to explode. At that point, being married and having a husband were about the furthest things from her mind; all thought of the rest of her world had fled from her awareness, vaporized in the searing heat of hyper-arousal, and, through a miasma of erotic overload, Cindy gave up her married exclusivity without a second thought.
Paul pulled her into a lip-mashing embrace, arms squeezing tight, tongues tangling and tango-ing. Cindy slid her hands from his broad shoulders to his chest and started tearing at his clothes. "So much for drinks," he chuckled, wryly to himself. Then, suddenly, he held her away, and paused, establishing his dominance. "I want to see you in the buff." He smiled a predatory grin, adding, "Get naked for me, Cindy." He unbuttoned his shirt and opened his trousers while he watched her disrobe.
Cindy felt self-conscious and awkward, although she tried to maintain some degree of grace. Peeling her blouse off her shoulders, she tried for a sultry look as she let it dangle, then fall from her arms. Smoothly she loosened her skirt and let it puddle at her feet – the whole time watching Paul's eyes for clues. Pausing just a moment, she rolled down her stockings and kicked them off; then, getting a nod from her boss, she reached back and undid her bra. Suddenly flustered, Cindy didn't know, exactly, what to do. Frozen, she clasped the bra-cups against her boobs and studied Paul's intent stare. In his eyes, she thought she detected a glint of encouragement – no, it was not so much encouragement as command. Slowly she dropped her hands, letting her bra fall to the floor, then hooked her thumbs into her waistband and stripped her panties to her knees – dropping them and daintily shaking them free of her ankles.
Fully revealed, she stood for a moment letting her boss appreciate her naked charms. Stepping tentatively toward him, Cindy moved to reconnect their embrace, but Paul put his hands to her shoulders and pressed. "First, a blow-job," he murmured, pleased at how readily she complied – already. "Learning her position quickly," he thought.
Coming face to face with his rampant prick, Cindy was over-awed, experiencing a sort of rapture. She paused, studying the bouncing erection, then took it in her hands and felt its firmness, its rigidity. She was fascinated by the purple plum straining against the brown sleeve of his foreskin. Reverently she leaned in and tongued the drop of precum that had emerged from its eye like an opalescent tear. Paul slid his hands behind her head, coaxing her with gentle pressure. She proceeded to worship his cock, licking and kissing along his length, then, her eyes betraying a mixture of anticipation and apprehension, she rounded her lips and plunged herself onto him, pushing over him as deeply as she could. Cindy's eyes went wide as she realized she had never had anything that big in her mouth before. She focused on the experience, pulling on his firm buttocks with both hands while she swiveled about his rigid manhood. She hoped she was doing a good job.
Paul figured they would eventually get to the point where she would be able to deep-throat him with ease. He'd make sure of it – but this was fine for now. Paul removed his hands from Cindy's head, satisfied that she would stay the course, and reached down to grab and maul her breasts, roughly, pinching and rolling her nipples. Cindy continued with a new fervor, pushing and withdrawing, collapsing her cheeks, swirling her tongue, mewling desperately around the trembling pole, until, with a gasp and a jolt, Paul held her head tight onto him and jetted his seed deep into her throat. Cindy fought not to gag, as Paul warned, threateningly, "Swallow! Swallow it all."
After he had spurted his last, Cindy gulped and gasped, catching her breath, her eyes still wide. Paul stayed within her lips, and soon felt the invigorating power of her oral caress begin to rejuvenate his erection. His hands still gripping and squeezing her tits, Paul pinched her nipples firmly and, mercilessly stretching them up, raised her to her feet. Once standing, letting her nipples spring back, he rewarded her with a smoking hot kiss, as he swiveled her about and laid her back on the bed. She was still panting – but now in renewed anticipation – Cindy gazed adoringly up at him – her virile conquistador.
Peeling off his duds, Paul held himself in check while covering her lazily, and teasing her pussy with his swollen cockhead. He leaned down to meet her lips in another hungry kiss, then, without warning, he rammed himself fully into her. She wheezed in surprise but quickly began to rock her hips rhythmically, meeting his every thrust. Slowing into a more comfortable rhythm, Paul guided Cindy's lips to his chest, to his nipples.
