Sniff Test

Loving Wives -- My boss made me an offer I couldn't refuse

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Author's notes: Warning! This is an extramarital FFM sex story, where people have sex with other people who aren't their spouses. This hopefully will be hot enough to be a whack off story for the people who like these themes, as it does have a lot of sex in it. For those who don't like these themes please move along. Constructive comments are appreciated, hate speech will be deleted.]

There is one thing you notice about my boss, the Corporate Queen of Chicago, right after her killer body -- her dyke short cropped chrome red hair. That is something, because she is a cross between Brigitte Nielsen (over six foot tall) and the porn star Sophie Dee (should be wearing a sign "dangerous curves ahead"). Those magnificent breasts, which are 38DD, rarely have much obstructing your view of them. Jane is a prick teases prick tease, kissing men and women with abandon, rarely wearing a skirt that goes halfway down to her knees on her fine incredibly long alabaster Welsh legs. Mostly pencil skirts with flowing open blouses, sometimes tight velour vacuum packed dresses which she threatens to explode out of at any instant, definitely the kind of woman that triggers everybody's bi-girl fantasies.

The second thing you notice is she is very touchy feel-ly, very hands on, although not directly sexual. I'd been required to sign a waiver of sexual harassment claims, just like I did for the company that fired me. At my old company, they had a male dominated environment of "pay for play", just sheer sexual harassment, all covered by legally enforceable agreements where you waived your rights. A co-worker quite simply was expected to put out, and when I didn't, when the company downsized, I was given a 50K$ severance check and sworn to secrecy by "claw back" agreements if I ever told anyone else. But in my mid forties, the job market is not as generous, and the 50K$ was gone within the many months that my new job search consumed. Most of the middle level bookkeeping jobs like I did for twenty years while we raised our son and sent him to college were filled by twenty somethings who dressed a lot sexier than I did, and I was forced to expand my job search to administrative assistant positions, although I tried for ones at the high end, where I figured business experience might matter more than booty.

I stop in the restroom, checking out my look in the mirror. At 5'5", 135 lbs, 34DD by 26 by 38, I have the booty and the boobs, today in a sheer white blouse and pale blue skirt suit. The funbags are hoisted by a half-cup under-wire bra, lifting them from their normal floor pointing slant that happens to us forty-somethings (but for some reason Dan, my husband thinks my tits are the best thing ever). Dark rivulets of hair with highlights, just because I've worn tired and flat for too many years. My face is the heart shaped latina heritage of dramatic "cat's eyes" and full soft lips which have pleasured both women and men (but a lot more men). I can take off the suitcoat if I need to advertise the funbags.

I'm desperate, so I'm doubly confused when the gigantic amazon princess, Jane Heart herself walks in, wearing an outfit that shows so much skin it makes me look like a buttoned up nun. I quickly lose the suit jacket as she offers her hand, sideways, so I can get a complete view of her nipples, as the nearly transparent open blouse has lots of ruffles but doesn't really cover much. She's still almost a full head taller than I am. Jane was the only one who brought me in for an interview (although in complete feminist betrayal, I expected a guy).

"I see you go by Julie, but it's really Juliana Sanchez DeMarco, isn't it?" Jane said sharply, her implication that I am a hispanic hiding under my husband's italian name completely correct.

"Yes Ma'am." I answer meekly.

"Well Julie, there are three questions I have for you. I see you have signed the sexual harassment waiver form. I also see you are married. Have you ever had sex of any kind, oral, genital, or anal outside of your marriage to Dan?" Jane's question hangs in the air like a sword of Damocles, ready to cut my head off.

Coming from the company I had last worked at, whose well earned reputation for fucking and sucking made it obvious I'd done something to work there so long, any answer other than yes would make me an obvious liar. Plus the fact I had a manager, John Sinclair (who was never John, only Sinclair) when I first started working at the company who was so handsome he could literally peel my panties off with his smile, and we had a torrid affair for over two years, until he got a new secretary and I was moved to bookkeeping. After that, he made it plain that I was "hands OFF" until he retired, then it was open season, which led to my dismissal, because every guy expected every gal to put out in every way. Then there was a coach at my son's high school, who I volunteered for every 'athletic supporter' duty just to be close to him, until one day the boys were in the showers and he took me to the girl's locker room and taught me what a well hung man could do to my body if he wanted to do it. My son's Junior and Senior years were memories I will treasure all my life thanks to coach Jordan. Then one of Dan's co-workers made a play for me at their Christmas party, Dan being so hammered he wouldn't ever know what happened. I am so drunk I give myself permission to fuck Derrick every which way in the second bed in our hotel room all night long, while Dan cluelessly snores into the pillow. So the expected answer was yes, and the truthful answer was yes.

"Yes, Ma'am." I answer meekly.

"Ok, then I'm going to have to add a couple of questions. Plus, stop with the 'Maam' stuff, it makes me feel old. I'm just plain Jane." Jane replied curtly.

"No one will ever see your lush body and call you 'Plain Jane'." I said before I could stop my mouth.

"Thank you Julie. That goes double for you. You might as well be Yurizan Beltran's sister, for fuck sake. I'm willing to wager in a lineup, both of you in your lingerie, half the people would pick you, well front view. No tattoos, right? (I nod). You realize that people will see us, you all soft and feminine, me all butch and lezzy, and they will automatically assume we are sexually intimate?" Jane leans over, to dangle and wobble her breasts in my view.

"I would assume given how erotic and powerful you are, any companion, male or female, would be presumed to be one of your lovers if you displayed any affection towards them. Plus, you seem to display affection to everyone who works here." Again, mouth operating before brain.

"Very observant dear. Most men see the hair and hope to watch. Most women hope I will hold them by the hair. Which are you? Have you ever had sex with a woman?" Jane's question strikes to my core. I had a girlfriend in college, starting in the dorms. If I say no, I am lying. If I say yes, she will take it as a sign that I want to have sex with her. Who wouldn't want to have sex with this walking wet dream? Surprisingly, I find myself gushing wet at the thought of being between her legs, licking her sweet soft cunt in ways I have not seriously thought about another woman I've actually met in twenty years.

"I had a girlfriend in college and we experimented with girl-girl oral sex, mostly on nights we didn't hook-up with guys." I offer truthfully.

"On to the obvious question of your time at Murphy's. Please describe the sex acts you performed there, for whom, and when, as best you can remember." Jane states curtly.

"I can't." I state firmly, shaking my head.

"You can't remember, because there were too many, or you won't because you don't care whether I hire you or not?" Jane stands, hands on her hips, in her most intimidating pose.

"I remember every detail of every extramarital encounter I've ever had, for that matter every sex act I've ever had. But I can neither confirm nor deny that any of them involved anyone from Murphy's, in the past, present, or future." I say with as much firmness as I can muster, which isn't much. The smell of my flop sweat is mixing with the scent of arousal, and producing a very mixed olfactory message which I'm sure Jane is reading.

"Is that your final answer? Are you prepared to let your future with me and my company hang on your last response?" Jane glowers above me.

"It has to be. I say I can never tell what I have sworn to never tell." I bluff with all that I have left, every shred of knowing what the punitive clauses in the contracts will do to my life with Dan.

"Then we are done here. Roberta will have the check for you with the 5K$ we promised you for the waiver, and you will be escorted out of the building by her." Jane picks up the folder, thumping it on the table to line up all the papers, ready for filing.

I sob "But I need this job!" my hands balled into fists.

Jane reaches to softly cradle my face, caressing my tears away, as she softly says "Too bad dear, you haven't learned to read me as well as you one day will, because your tears are completely un-necessary. You have the job. If you would violate their confidence, you would violate mine. Since I know I can trust you, the only way to find out if you can handle it is to give you the job. Roberta escorts the winners to buy new clothing befitting a 150K$ per year job. Security escorts out the losers. You are as of this moment my administrative assistant, my personal assistant, and one day not nearly soon enough for me, my lover. Perhaps one day after that, Dan too, although that is between the two of you. Try not to mention it to him, please. Don't want to get his hopes up. It might fry his mind to even consider the concept." Jane gently kisses my tears away as I break into a big smile.

"No, I think given his volume of girl-girl and threesome porn, the concept has already occurred to him." I say with a laugh, not admitting that watching that porn with him is how I knew who Yurizan Beltran was in the first place.

Jane softly, very delicately brushes my lips with hers, then says "Roberta will escort you out. Be properly dressed and waiting in my office at 9 A.M. every business day until I

tell you otherwise. Be ready to learn, to work. As you can probably tell, I don't suffer fools or lightweights easily."

Roberta, the office manager, a buxom blonde matron (probably only ten years older than me), says "You must have made a real impression on her. She never kisses the upper lips on a first date."

I decide as we laugh together, that she and I are going to be fast friends, and that I am going to like working here.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

It is more than four hours later when I pull into our driveway, in the most scandalous red dress I've ever worn in my life. It has a panel of transparent tulle, from shoulder to nipple and nipple to belly button, the stiffness of said nipples readily apparent from the sheer bra that holds my 34DD globes up so they don't have that tell tale slant of a forty year old that Dan finds so sexy. With my breasts firm and high like this, I look (and feel!) twenty years younger. The waist starts a cheerleader pleated skirt, but it is all one piece, with the zipper in the plunging back pulled down it can easily be whisked off in just a single tug over the head, or shimmied out of in just a couple of wiggles. When I sit down, its "guess the color of her panties - oh, I see now", with lacy black panties that do little when damp to hide what is beneath them (and tonight they might as well be used as a pussy mop). Thigh high self supporting hose and 4 inch Christian Louboutin black top red bottom heels complete the outfit. I unload the car, and Dan is in the den watching TV, so he doesn't come to help. I've never seen the pile of goods a black charge card can produce in less than four hours, but I've never been frog marched through the most expensive stores in the underground by a woman who clearly relishes having to adjust every bra, smooth every dress, and test every pair of panties for "fit" until it became a blur. I haven't even picked the outfit I am wearing, but I can see my reflection in the glass of our outer screen door, and I look like one of the very high priced escorts we see in the downtown highrise hotels which encircle the underground.

I decide to get Dan to help with getting the treasure trove from the front door back to the bedroom. As I almost stumble on the rug runner separating the tiled kitchen from the carpeted den, Dan peels his eyes from the news to stare at me, as if he's never seen me before.

"Cheese and Rice! So your new job is as an on call escort downtown?" he quips.

"Would you mind if it was?" I taunt back.

"As long as I get equal time with your pussy and 50/50 on the money, hell no I don't mind!" Dan practically drools as he looks me over.

"But if I get fucked -- hard -- and have to 69 with my bisexual hypersexual boss five days a week, how are you going to make it up in the other two?" I taunt, as he practically springs from his chair to grab at me.

"Uh-uh-uuh! No playing with the Barbie Girl until you guess the color of her panties." I stiff arm him as well as any running back.

Taking a quick sniff of the force field which has just invaded his nose, he describes it with a single word, "Wet."

Pushing him back on the couch, I yank the belt buckle loose and find he didn't zip up, so it is easy to pop the button on his blue jeans, slip my thumbs under his boxers, and yank it all down to puddle around his ankles. I can tell from how stiff his cock is that he hasn't yet jerked off to completion, sad to say an all too common event in the last ten years of our marriage.

I unzip the dress, tugging it over my head and throwing it to the far side of the coffee table, unclasp and re-clasp the bra, so that it supports my ponderous globes while leaving almost all of them accessible. It's something I'm going to have to forgive Roberta for showing me, accompanied with a two minute nipple pulling, tugging, and sucking demonstration. Oh my god that woman made my pussy wet! Fuck she's a hot kisser!

"The panties are black -- and wet. For your half right answer, you are going to get a half and half. Imagine how much everybody else is going to pay for this." I tease to his groans, half from the mental image of other men with his wife, and half from my sliding my full puffy hispanic lips down his hard shaft, stroking his rampant dick like you would shake a soda pop to get it to spray a bully in junior high.

Dan isn't hung as well as Jordan, the football coach, but I've found even the less well endowed prick deserves a ride in my cock socket. Dan isn't going to last that long, something he and I both knew the moment I walked in the den. So he is going to be swallowed whole. I spin my tongue around his tip stroking his quivering cunt pleaser as I alternate between sucking the tip very hard and deep throating his rigid shaft. It is an all out assault as I fondle his balls, tugging and pulling them back from the brink, just to torment him for a few more moments.

Pulling my mouth off when sucking his tip I tease "Do you want pictures when I suck their cocks like this?", knowing that he won't be able to fully form that image in his mind before he is spurting in my mouth as I quickly deep throat his cock, barely getting another tramp stamp of lipstick on his balls as he starts spurting in my throat. His whole body is going rigid as his hips thrust him off the couch. I dig my nails into his balls to get some control over the bucking bronco in my mouth before I need new dental work. I also pull back to let my teeth lightly scrape the tip of his dick as he continues to spurt into my mouth. I love the salty taste of his sperm, and can roll it around in my mouth for hours. Dan's jism is without a doubt the best cum I have ever tasted.

"Cheese and Rice! Have you been taking cocksucking lessons?" Dan glares at me, panting, as I milk the last few drops out of his shaft onto my tongue.

"Not yet, but Jane may give me home work, says I have to step up my skills. I'm going to need pussy licking practice too, do you know of any volunteers? Jane's an equal opportunity employer, we serve both men and women." I tease Dan mercilessly.

I curl up on the couch, flip the TV back on, and proceed to suck my husband's cock the other way I like to do it, slow and sensual, the same way I do it when we watch his pornos. I quickly flick the remote to one of our pay per view porn channels, which has the hottest girl-girl and threesome action available in our area.

I keep Dan hard, making love to his cock with my mouth, loving the sensation of having his jism stuffed in my cheeks like a chipmunk, while I thrill his hard shaft. I playfully scrape my long nails along his thighs, forcing him to spread his legs. I reach into the corner table, pulling out the finger sized vibrator and lube. He has relaxed again, since my nails are no longer tormenting him, and the small buzz of the vibrator doesn't even cause a stir, until I'm rubbing it on his little puckered rosebud, which causes him to involuntarily thrust deeper into my mouth. I so want to just climb on top of him in an inverted 69, as the girls on the TV start their own. A brilliant flash of doing that with Jane lights my imagination like one of those bulbs getting too much voltage, sparking the realization that I crave this woman I only met today.

The resulting gush of wetness means I can fuck Dan much longer than I had expected, so I mount him cowgirl so fast it makes my head spin. One moment I'm sucking his cock, the next his cock is balls deep in my flooded cunt, while I am hammering my ass up and down while flipping my hips to grind my clit on his pubic bone, something that never fails to light me up like a rocket. But I didn't count on the day's total stimulation, and my pussy starts clenching, my clit starts swelling even further, so much it is almost painful, and my torrent of cum squirts out of me, soaking the couch. Jordan could make me squirt, but Dan never even got me in the neighborhood until now. I am screaming and thrashing, bucking and fucking Dan like there is no tomorrow. Then like one of those horsey rides for kids you put a quarter in, and when it is over it slowly winds down, my breasts are brushing Dan's furry chest, my stiff nipples still banging like gongs with every heartbeat as they try to gouge grooves in his chest. I realize no one besides Roberta has played with my breasts today, the first time I can remember that ever happening in my whole life. For me, the biggest tits in school since high school, sex always started with breasts. Even Karen, my college room mate, had started me down the lesbian road by wanting to know what big tits felt like, did they get excited everywhere like her B cups, or just at the nipples. Several hours later she knew her smaller breasts were just as wonderful as my bigger ones, and we now were no longer quite as eager to put out for just anyone, knowing we could always satisfy each other when we got back to the dorm (or later, our apartment).

Dan picks me up, carrying me upstairs to our bedroom, pulling back the covers, and laying me on the bed. I am still in a deep post-orgasmic bliss, as he begins the ritual we've only performed a couple of times in our twenty years of marriage. It all started one drunken anniversary, before our son Gino left for college. We'd banged each other senseless, but Dan wanted more, so he begins kissing around my mound, while teasing my nipples with his fingertips (as Karen found out, the rest of my tits are really just there to put on a show, they have no orgasmic value whatsoever). Then without thinking of how much cum he'd already deposited in my furry vault, he starts licking into my gash. It took him an hour or more to get every drop out. I am a very happy camper indeed by the time he finishes, little quim quakes which just keep rolling on and on from the first lick to the last.