The Bosss Wife Ch 02

I had the solitude of an entire weekend to contemplate what was the weirdest sexual experience of my life. Just what the fuck was that all about? It was strange enough that the boss from hell had invited me into his own home for the purposes of fucking his wife, but then when he gets cold feet over the idea she just stands over him and takes charge, virtually ordering me as HER employee to join her in the bedroom. Weird.

I remember her saying I had nothing to worry about. Oh yeah, sure. I was almost certain I was going to lose my job over this, or at the very least -- if she really did own the company and could overrule her husband - my working life was henceforth going to be a living hell. Robert would make sure of it. But then working for that arsehole was a kind of living hell at the best of times -- how much worse could it be? No, chances were, I was now going to be looking for a job once again. Never mind, I thought to myself, if that was the case, then it was worth it. It was worth it losing my job through fucking that sweet, sexy wife of his. Worth it, too, just to have gotten one back on that evil arsehole of an employer. To have fucked his wife and made him so fucking pissed off in the process. And it wasn't as though I had any choices in the matter -- if I'd refused the invitation in the first place he'd probably had sacked me anyway: with that guy, you simply don't refuse, you just do as you are told. No, my conscience was clear. Losing this job, if it came to that, for once wasn't my doing. And I had got to fuck the boss's wife in the process.

But I hadn't lost my job at all. I turned up for work on Monday morning to continue doing my work, which I did as if it were a normal day, but the call into Robert's office never came. I didn't even see the old bastard until late in the day when he came into my office to discuss a future apartment project. He was his usual churlish self. I took his typically unpleasant demeanour as a good sign.

"We've got a new contract to do the Errington apartments," he said. "It's a resto job on an old art-deco block, in case you didn't know." I nodded. "John and Mark (they were two of the senior guys) are gonna need some help on it, and you're gonna do it. OK?" I nodded again. "It's brief so simple that even you can understand: just do what they fucking tell you, and don't fuck it up."

"OK," I said, "sounds good."

"Good," he said, turning to leave the room. He was half way to the door when he stopped.

"Oh, David, are you free on Wednesday night?"

"Er, yes, I have no plans," I said, suddenly feeling oddly apprehensive.

"Good. My wife wants to invite you round for dinner. Be there at six."

With that he left the room.

He was out the door and gone before I even had a chance to respond. I almost fell off my chair. Not only was I not sacked, but here he is inviting me round to his house again! No, his wife has invited me round. Meaning, no doubt, that she was looking for a sequel of the events of Friday night. Jesus Christ! What the fuck is going on with those two? This is all going to happen AGAIN? I just sat there, my mind in a complete fog. I felt like I was involved in something way over my head. I had seen the anger, the humiliation in his eyes on Friday night when she stood up to him and told him that yes, I was going to fuck her whether he liked it or not. And clearly, he did not like it. But then I remember seeing his pathetic naked form as I crept out of their house, his cock in his hand and cum all over his body. He had jerked himself off while I fucked his wife. How traumatic had it really been for him? No, actually, he had enjoyed it. He must have. And here he was, acting completely normally (ie: being his normal arsehole self) and asking me around to his house once more. She was forcing him to be cuckolded and he seemed to be going right along with it, seemed to be enjoying it. And again, what else could I do? The initial invitation had been framed as an order, so presumably the second 'dinner' invite was no different. In any case, I didn't refuse, and it wasn't as though he hung around long enough for me to accept or refuse - and to refuse him now would be all the grounds he would need to take it out on me. Or would she be the one to take it out on me if I'd said no? She said that she owned half the company, and she was virtually ordering me to sleep with her, virtually on the basis of being her employee.

Whatever the fuck was going on here, the one undeniable fact was that she was fucking hot. If I hadn't dreamed of her, of that weird liaison, every night since that Friday night when I fucked her, I had certainly used the mental imagery of it jerk myself off to a blissful sleep. Yes, I wanted to fuck her again, to feel that perfect body of hers again writhing under mine, her smooth, silky skin, her firm tits, her pelvis thrusting against mine, engulfing me, her sweet cries of ecstasy. I wanted that, no matter who she was, or who her husband was.

But I also wanted some answers. Just what the fuck was going on here? This was all a bit too bizarre for me. And what did it mean, when she had said that I had 'nothing to worry about'. I was torn between the deep desire I had to have her again, and the anger I felt at being somehow used, or at the very least being kept in the dark. I wanted answers.

Through Tuesday and Wednesday I hardly saw my boss. He had been in meetings most of the time with the Errington owners; clearly, this was a big and complex job. Irrespective of the perplexing matter between Robert, his wife and myself, I was pleased to be working on this job -- exactly the kind of work I liked.

I left for Robert's straight from work on Wednesday afternoon, no time to go home and get changed as I worked away on the Errington job. I arrived at their house on time, in nervous anticipation of whatever was to come. I felt, well, on the one hand I felt like some kind of a stud; on a physical level I was, well, really, more or less being employed on the basis of my sexual capacity, as weird as that seemed. But I also was worried. Worried as to the nature of the situation; that I was getting myself caught up in some kind of power struggle between my boss and his wife. Or my two employers. Jesus, this was so fucked up. All I knew was that somehow this was not going to end well. But I didn't seem to have much choice in the matter, not if I wanted to keep my job. Oh well, I reasoned, whatever my reservations, on the other side of that door is the hottest chick I had ever seen, waiting for me.

I rang the door bell. I heard the footsteps inside as someone came to the front door. It opened, and there stood Elizabeth. My God, she looked hot. She was wearing an elegant black knee-length evening gown, with black high heels, and with a simple pearl necklace draped around her neck. She looked dressed as if she was off to some kind of ritzy cocktail party. She smiled radiantly, her lovely eyes peering deeply, warmly, into mine. I smiled back as my cock stirred in my trousers. She ushered me inside.

"Nice to see you again David," she smiled before embracing me in a light hug. Then she kissed me, her lips making an 'mmmm' sound as she did, her tongue briefly invading my mouth in a kiss that probably didn't last more than four of five seconds. "Come inside sweetheart," she said, giving me one last peck on the lips. She took me by the hand and led me into the living room.

Robert was on the couch, talking on the phone. By the amount of times he used phrases like 'stupid cunts' and 'what the fuck were they thinking?', I had a fair idea he was talking to someone at work. When he saw me he nodded an acknowledgment of my presence before resuming his telephone conversation, as his wife led me by the hand into the kitchen.

"There's some kind of trouble at the office," she said by way of explanation of her husband's rantings on the phone, as she offered me a glass of wine. In the light of the kitchen, I noticed that the material of her gown was rather transparent. The light of the oven virtually x-rayed the material, so that her long slender legs were clearly accessible to my devouring eyes. She looked so sexy, so elegant. I was quickly getting hard. My mouth was watering as I thought about the touch of her silky skin, and that soon I might be...

"Um, there is a bit of a problem at the office," Robert said, having suddenly appeared at the kitchen entrance. "Bloody idiots, I need to go and sort it out. Just start without me; I shouldn't be more than an hour or so."

"Alright honey," she said. "David will keep me entertained till then."

With that, he grabbed his keys and walked out the door.

I helped her bring the food, a simple Italian pasta dish, to the table. She left Robert's plate on the kitchen bench. We took our places at the table as Elizabeth refilled my wine. I had drunk the whole glass she had poured only minutes earlier. Yes, I was feeling nervous, but a little bit more at ease now that Robert was out of the house.

"Well, this is nice," she giggled, as we tucked into our meals. We ate in an almost uneasy silence for a few minutes as I tried to conjure up the right words to say. To quiz her as to what the fuck was going on here in as diplomatic a way as possible. Every now and then we would glance up at one another, grinning. It was odd: stilted, yet comfortable and familiar. It was she who spoke first.

"You know David, you're the first man I've made love to since Robert and I were married."

"Is that so?" I said, before thinking what a banal thing it was to have said. But what else does one say in such situations? "So, um, obviously this isn't something you've tried before."

"No," she said, "we've thought about it, but..."

"So, er, why then," I said. "I mean, was it your idea or Robert's?"

"Both, actually. I said I would explain, and you certainly deserve an explanation given the circumstances. The idea was mutual, although our motivation personally was different. For me, it's simple. I've got a high sex drive, and frankly, on a pure sexual level one man too often just isn't enough for me. Robert's not getting any younger, and it stands to reason that he's not going to be able to perform as well as, say, a younger man like yourself.

"We thought about looking for someone on those adult personal websites -- in fact we tried it, but the few guys we did meet just weren't my type. Then, almost as a joke, I came up with the idea of someone from Robert's work."

"And he thought that was a good idea?"

"Yes, he did."

"Elizabeth, that's what I can't understand. He is such a tyrant, he treats us like complete fools. You have no idea what it's like to work for him. The way that he is, I cannot believe that if he wanted to involve someone else, that he would want one of his employees to have sex with his wife. It just doesn't make sense. I also cannot see what someone as young and attractive -- and intelligent -- as yourself could possibly find attractive in a guy like that. I'm sorry, but..."

She cut me off.

"David, before you slander Robert too much, you should know that yes, I do love my husband. I know he's a tyrant, although not with me he isn't. Well, most of the time he isn't.

"I love Robert, and there is nothing wrong with our relationship. If you're asking what I see in him, I don't know that I can even answer that. Maybe it's a case of opposites attract, maybe it's the fact that I have a soft spot for strong, dominant men; maybe it's just that indefinable thing -- I mean, who can properly explain love?

"What you need to understand about Robert is that his father was a bully, just like he is. That's the way Robert was raised. Yes, he rules by fear at work, mostly because that's the only way he knows how to deal with people, especially people who work for him. It's just the way he is, it's his upbringing, and he himself is aware of it. It doesn't necessarily make him a bad person.

"But that dynamic, from his perspective, is also what this is about. Robert feels the burden of playing the strong leader very acutely. Often with me he becomes quite submissive. Once we started to talk about the possibility of inviting someone else into our sex lives, he began to fantasise about that person being one of his employees -- the ultimate humiliation for an alpha male, if I can use that term, such as himself. The more we both fantasised about one of his employees, inevitably it moved closer towards becoming a reality. Then, one day when I was in the office on business, I took a bit of a look around -- at his staff. And yes, there were quite a few cute young guys there, including you. In the end, we both narrowed it down to you. There was one other guy there I thought was quite hot, I think he actually works in your section. Yeah, he looked really cute, but he seemed a bit too full of himself. And anyway, I liked your smile. So we chose you. We also chose you because Robert knew that this job was of great importance to you, and therefore you were less likely than some to refuse or to tell anyone. One thing neither of is wanted was an office scandal. I mean, actually, neither of us, Robert or myself, really cares what anyone thinks of us, or what we do -- believe it or not, we're both quite liberal in the way we think and live -- but Robert doesn't really want the rest of the office to know anything about this."

"So he gets off on being humiliated?" I said, rather bewildered at what she was telling me.

"It's a lot more complex than that, but in simple terms, yes. You might have noticed that the other night. Because in fact, it was all planned -- his 'decision' to back out, my standing over him telling him you were my employee as much as his, all of that was acting. We planned the whole thing out in advance, to maximise the sense of humiliation Robert would feel knowing that his own employee believed that his boss was being cuckolded in the most crushing, humiliating way possible. The only thing that didn't go to plan was when Robert jerked himself off before he had the chance to come and fuck me after you'd gone -- remember that I said one man isn't enough for me?"

"Well, you seemed to enjoy it pretty much from what I could remember," I said, amazed at this revelation but also a little hurt at the suggestion that I hadn't satisfied her.

"Well," she laughed," that was a bit of an act too. All that yelling and screaming, all that 'Oh yes, Oh yes, fuck me David. Fuck me! Fuck me now!' I was just making sure that Robert could hear me. You know, to maximise the experience for him.

"But hey, it was good, don't worry about that. I loved it -- and when you fucked me, when you came inside me, that was real, oh yeah, I wasn't faking it then."

The slightly glazed look in her eye told me that she was telling the truth. She was deep aura of lust in her gaze across the table.

"So, for Robert it's just about being humiliated, and for you it's just about having more than one guy."

"Well yes, but there's more to it than that. I'm the opposite of Robert. He rules his employees with an iron fist, whereas I find ordering people to do things a real problem. I'm really just an old softy; I find it a real burden, especially when I need to discipline the staff. So in a weird kind of way, ordering him around -- and you even -- I find that quite exciting. I find it somehow quite horny to imagine that you're my employee and I'm ordering you to fuck me."

"Hmm," I said. "This is all a little bit weird."

"Weird, maybe, but it's a weird world, David. I work in the law, and believe me, when it comes to weirdness, this little scenario of ours has got nothing on the adventures of the freaks and misfits that I have to deal with on a daily basis.

"And as for you fucking me," she continued, the tone of her voice softening a little, "as an employee of the firm, that is exactly what you will be doing very, very soon. In a little while that cock of yours will be inside me again. You will be fucking me, David, and Robert will come home and he will catch us at it. And you will just ignore him, and you will continue to fuck me as hard and as passionately as you possibly can."

She was staring intently at me from across the table. I watched in fascination the way her breasts, naked under that elegant cocktail dress, gently heaved up and down under her breath. Her nipples were hard, clearly visible. She was breathing heavily. Her face was slightly flushed. Clearly she was getting aroused, and watching her in that state was having the same effect on me.

"So," I said, "does it turn you on like this? I mean, ordering me around? Ordering me to fuck you? And letting your husband see it happen?"

"Yes," she said, breathlessly. "Yes, it does. I didn't think it would, but it does, tremendously. Earlier this afternoon, I was thinking to myself, in a few hours you'll be here, my own personal fuck toy. I liked that idea.

"And you David, were you to be given the choice, do you want me? I know you're younger than me, and I'm not 18 anymore, but I think I still look pretty good."

I mused over that for a moment. What is it with some women? Even some of the most stunning looking girls get it into their heads that they're not attractive -- too old, too fat, tits too small, whatever. And here she was, one of the hottest looking girls I'd ever seen, and wondering if I found her attractive.

"Elizabeth, you have got to be joking. You are simply hot, one of the sexiest, classiest women I've ever laid eyes on. Any man who saw you would think about what it would be like to fuck you."

"Good," she giggled.

Then she stood up.

"Do you like my dress?" she said, smoothing the material down along her slender waist and hips, as if to show it off. "Robert bought it especially for me for tonight."

"Yes. Your husband has good taste. It's sexy, it's classy. You look fantastic. I especially like the fact that it is almost transparent in the light."

"Is it? I've not noticed."

"Yes it is. Delightfully so. I was checking you out in the kitchen earlier. It was making me hard."

She walked over to the window. It still wasn't dark yet. She opened the blinds and stood in front of the light.

"Like this? Is it see-through like this?" she smiled at me, playfully, as she posed against the light from the window, standing there, legs spread slightly apart.

I sat there looking at her perfect form, looking her up and down as she posed for me. The light was piercing through the sheer material. The effect was dramatic. I could clearly make out the visual outline of her shapely legs under the dress.

"Yes, I can see everything."

She giggled. I was really beginning to enjoy myself, this delicious little exchange. My cock was growing ever hard. My God, she looked just so sexy, legs apart, the sunlight through the window highlighting her form under the dress.

"You should be careful wearing that dress in public," I said. "No telling what might happen to you. I just wish I had my camera here -- if I took a shot with the flash, I think it would x-ray that flimsy little dress and then I'd see your naked tits underneath.

"Is that right? Well, you must bring your camera next time," she teased, giggling again.

"Does your husband take pictures of you? I saw that yoga photograph of you on the wall. It's stunning."

"Yes, I like that shot too. And I enjoyed posing for it; it was a lot of fun. Robert hired a professional photographer especially. And yes, sometimes Robert does take photos of me."

"Naked?"

"Sometimes."

"What about when he's fucking you?"

"Yes, sometimes."

"Mmm, I'd like to see those pictures."

"Well," she giggled, "maybe you will one day. Maybe I can show you the 'family album'," she laughed.

"I'd like to add a few pictures of my own to that album," I said. God, this was so horny, this casual banter about porno pics of her.