The Bosss Wife Does Her Part

I walked up behind Krystal as she was standing at the mirror, doing something to her eyebrows. "If I didn't know better," I said into her ear, "I'd think you were getting ready to go out on a date."

"Well, you do know better. Clement, the new programmer you hired, is coming over for dinner. And you know I'm an old-fashioned girl: I always like to look good for a guest."

"Especially a young, attractive, male one?"

She stopped what she was doing, turned around, and looked me straight in the eye. "Well, Roger, that was a curveball. You've got some hidden agenda here?"

"Oops. Was it that obvious? Look, I'm not trying to put ideas in your head. Just do what comes naturally."

"You can't make a comment like that without putting ideas in my head. As to whether any those ideas turn into reality... I guess you'll have to wait and see." She went back to making herself beautiful, but maybe with more energy.

She had just finished when the doorbell rang.

After we'd gotten him in out of the cold, I introduced them. "Krystal, this is Clement Brown. Clement, meet my wife, Krystal."

Clement extended his hand. Krys took it in both of hers. "Welcome, Clem! Roger has told me a lot about you. But it seems that he left some things out, too."

Clement didn't miss a beat. "He hasn't told me all that much about you, my lady. I was wondering what he was holding back. Now I know."

At the dinner table, I served the gazpacho. After taking his first spoonful, Clement said "God, that's good! I guess that's something else that Roger didn't tell me about you. But wait: I shouldn't make assumptions like that. Which one of you is the soup chef?"

"Not me," I assured him. "Krystal deserves full credit for that. I can barely warm up a pizza."

"So I was right the first time. Lucky old Roger has himself a mistress of the domestic arts."

Krystal chuckled. "Are you saying that he has both a wife and a mistress? I don't think so. Not if he knows what's good for him.

"But seriously. I'll admit to taking some pride in my cooking. I have time for it, after all. I like to joke that I'm the first Bennington graduate in over twenty years to decide that, for her, being liberated meant choosing to be a homemaker."

"Is that right? And are you a 'full-service' homemaker? Do you sew? Embroider?"

This time Krystal laughed out loud. "Goodness no, Clement my dear. Cooking is the only one of my passions that you'd find in a home economics textbook. Or 'human ecology,' as the with-it colleges are calling it these days."

"

Please,

tell me more about your passions."

"They're pretty eclectic, actually, though most of them do seem to have a common thread. I love learning new ways to make life more enjoyable for the people I care about."

"Madam, I'd be grateful for any advice you could give me about how to become one of the people you care about."

While we were at the table, the conversation continued in the same vein: pretty light. On the surface, at least.

We moved into the living room, settled into seats, and I cleared my throat. "Clem, there's something I'd like to talk to you about."

"Oh yes? What might that be, Roger?"

"Well, to start with, I want to tell you, in no uncertain terms, that I consider you to be my star employee."

"My goodness, Roger, I hardly know what to say. It's an enormous compliment, obviously. And--I don't want to sound ungrateful, but--at the same time, it makes me uneasy."

"Really? Why is that?"

It took him a moment, but he had an answer. "I won't pretend that I don't know that I'm talented. But look: we're not a big company, but you do have a couple of other programmers working there; and they're competent professionals, too, and, well, what's the

point

of saying that one of us is the star?"

"It's simple. I said the 'star employee' thing out loud because I'm afraid of losing you, and I want to do all I can to prevent that."

"Oh, is

that

what this is all about? Well then, you can just stop worrying. You're paying me fairly. But there's something else keeping me in this job: something that's even more important to me. It's the fact that, ever since I started with the company, the projects I've been working on have been about the most exciting ones that I could imagine."

"Well, thank you. That's quite a compliment, too. Are you trying to butter me up?

"Don't answer that; I was joking. But I am curious about something. Do you have a theory about how I manage this feat, of consistently giving you projects that get you excited?"

"I do, actually. I don't think it's about me. I think that you pick projects,

for the company as a whole,

because they excite

you.

And I benefit from that, because... would you believe, I think it's because you and I are excited by the same sort of things? Um, the same sort of programming projects, I mean."

It was quick, but I caught it: on that last sentence, he looked over at Krystal.

I took that, and I ran with it. "Um, you know what? I just realized that we're not at work, and we've been talking about work entirely too much. Why don't you tell us about some of the other things that excite you, besides interesting programming projects?"

He looked over at Krystal again, a little longer this time. Then he looked back at me, longer still, before he said anything.

"I sure hope I'm not out of line here, boss. But you asked, so I'll give you an honest answer. I get excited when I look at a beautiful woman. Like your wife. Er, did I just get myself fired?"

I was quick to reassure him. "Not at all! To tell you the truth, hearing you say that, that gets me excited, too."

Krystal took her cue like a trouper: "That makes three of us!"

Clement shook his head. "Well, aren't you a pair! Okay, let me see if I'm understanding what's going on here. This

apparent

change of subject... is it, just maybe, not actually coming out of nowhere? Could it, just possibly, have some connection with that thing you said a little while earlier, that you were afraid of losing me? Losing me as an employee, I assume you meant?"

This time, I was openly theatrical about addressing myself to Krystal. "I told you he was smart!" Then, to Clement: "It certainly could; in fact, it absolutely does have something to do with that."

I'm pretty sure Clement expected me to go on and say more, but I stubbornly didn't. So he stopped trying to wait me out, and found something more to say.

"Okay, I get it. You want me to be the one to spell out what the one thing has to do with the other... or what I think it does. Like, so I can demonstrate even more convincingly how smart I am. And how bold. Demonstrate it to you, boss... and to

you,

sexy lady."

He paused for breath, then: "How'm I doing so far?"

"You're doing great. You're at about the ten-yard line, and it seems like the defense can't do anything to stop you. Or doesn't want to."

"So, if I can keep it up a little further, I'll score?"

"Absolutely."

"Okay, here goes. You really, really don't want me to go work somewhere else. So you were going to ask me whether there was anything else you could do to make me happy. Anything that

either

of you could do, to, ah, make life more pleasant for me."

Krystal asked, with bated breath, "And is there?"

"You're damn straight there is."

Her smile got wider. "Gee, I guess you've already become one of the people I care about, because the thought of giving you pleasure makes me feel kind of, I don't know, tingly. Tell me, please!"

So he did. "Would you like to suck my dick?"

"Is that an abstract question about what I think I might like?" she inquired coolly. "Or are you asking me to, you know, do it?"

He laughed. "I'm not an abstract sort of guy, Krystal. Except where computer programming is concerned."

"So. You're really asking me to suck your dick. Now."

"You got it, baby."

"Well see now, that's not something I could agree to on my own. I'd have to talk it over with my husband, first. Marital vows, and all that."

"Oh, yes of course. I guess I was assuming that you two already had an arrangement about such things. So look, maybe I should get out of your way, for now, so that you two can have that talk as soon as possible."

Krystal and I looked at each other. Before either of us spoke, Clement had another thought. "Oh, wait. Before I go, shall I show you my dick? You know, Roger, you're always saying: when you have to make a decision, it's always better to have as much information as possible."

I think I opened and closed my mouth several times. I know I didn't speak, and Krys didn't either. Clement could tell that our brains were out to lunch, so he took pity on us and made that decision by himself.

He stood up, pulled down his pants, and kicked them off. Then he took off his underwear, sat back down, and cradled his cock in his hand. I swear, I could see it getting firmer by the second.

Nobody spoke for what seemed like a full minute. Krystal was the one who found her voice first.

"Well now, Clement darling, that is a

lot

of information. I don't know whether I can take it in, all at one time."

Clement didn't miss a beat. "The only way to find out is to try."

Krystal blinked a time or two, then said, "My God, Clement, you are direct and to the point. And you know what else you are? You are correct, that's what. Your argument is quite convincing."

"So does that mean that you're ready to start sucking?"

"Not actually, no," she replied. "You 'convinced' me of something obvious: that I won't know if I can take it all, unless I try. And I admit, I'm quite curious about whether I can.

"But is my curiosity powerful enough to make me ignore my wifely duty? Roger and I still need to talk it over, first. In private."

I spoke, surprising even myself. "Thank you. I think."

Krystal stared at me with raised eyebrows. "You

think?

You're not sure whether we need to have 'the talk'?"

"Don't get me wrong," I said. "If you feel the need to talk with me, first, for the sake of your own comfort level, then of course we will. But if your concern is about

my

comfort level...."

"I think I'm getting the idea," she said with a wicked smile. "But do go on. Tell me more."

"For example, I found myself wondering: how would I react if you just went ahead and sucked him off, without asking me for permission?"

"And what's the answer?"

"I'm pretty sure that two things would happen at once. My comfort level would go way, way down. And my excitement level would go way, way up."

Clement interjected, for her benefit, "In the business world, we call that a tradeoff."

She gave as good as she got. "I know what a tradeoff is, silly boy. I also know that

this

tradeoff is my husband's to resolve, not yours or mine." Then, to me: "Roger, you've got to decide."

"I do? Wait. The question was, how would I react if you went ahead,

without

asking my permission."

"Ah, I see: I have a tradeoff of my own to deal with. But I'm going to have it both ways."

"What's that mean?"

"I

am

asking for your permission. But I'm also

making

you decide. I'll give you ninety seconds, starting now."

The clock ticked.

"Okay," I said. "Go for it."

She clapped her hands and exclaimed, "Oh, goody!" She sounded just like a little girl who's been told that she may have some candy.

Then she got out of her chair, went over to the sofa, sat down next to Clement, and bent over him. There she was, with her lips half an inch short of where I knew she wanted them to be. It must have taken a lot of self-control, but she managed to pause there, and look into my eyes. "Ready?" she said.

But she didn't wait for an answer.

It was her tongue that covered the remaining distance first. It touched down in the middle of his shaft, and kept moving, down towards his balls. And then it started wandering around the balls themselves, and kept that up until every square millimeter of their surface was glistening.

Then she pulled her head back a little, so as to get a view of the (very) big picture. I saw a slight look of surprise, as if she suddenly realized how much work she still had to do.

So, no more fooling around. She undertook a systematic effort to get the whole cock shining with her spit.

Once that task was complete, she finally parted her lips and took some of it in. Just the head, at first. She worked her way just past it, then stopped. That's a fucking sensitive spot--literally--so she paused there, and loved on it for a while.

Then she went for the big gulp.

Did she engulf the whole thing in her mouth (and throat)? Not on that first try, no. But let's put things in perspective. She can't even deep-throat all of

my

dick. Not in a single attempt. Not usually.

So to imagine that she could do that to him? It's just not realistic.

But if at first you don't succeed....

I mean, it's not like she was in a hurry to get it over with, right? Each time she slides it in slow, and gets maybe a half-inch more of it in than she did the time before. Pauses, maybe wiggles it a little. Slides it back out, equally slow. Breathes.

And repeat.

And finally... she made it! The head is way down her throat, the lower part of the shaft is in her mouth, the balls are all that I can still see.

She gave herself a moment to savor the triumph. Then she came up for air.

When her breathing rate slowed down, Clement spoke. "Krystal, I think it's time for you to finish me off, for this round."

"You mean, you want to come on my face?" That was Krystal, of course.

He laughed. "I think someone's been watching some movies. Does your husband know about that?"

I did, of course--we watch them together--but I didn't see any reason to say so out loud. The idea of her watching them alone, in the middle of the day, is actually pretty hot.

So Clement went on. "Sure, I can come on your face some time, if you like. But this time, I'm going to come in your mouth."

Krystal: "Okay. So I should swallow it?"

"I'm sure you'll need to swallow some. But save some of it to share. You want to know what it tastes like, don't you, boss?"

"Yes, Clement sir, I want to know what your cum tastes like. Thank you for asking."

At that moment, I did need to be reminded that I am his boss. At the office, anyway. Here in my own living room, not so much.

He looked at my wife. "Well then, my lady, you know what to do."

She certainly did. She started sucking him again, slowly, then a little faster. Then she'd change up the pace a little: the occasional surprise helps. But mostly, it just got faster and faster.

When she abruptly slowed down again, I knew he was coming. And then I could see her swallowing "some."

And then, eventually, she stopped doing that too. She opened her mouth. And--Yes! She had managed to save some for me.

It tasted heavenly.

Krystal looked blissed out, too. She emerged enough to say something: "So, now we can fuck?"

Clement: "We've moved a step closer, sure. But, now? Like, tonight? I don't think so."

She looked so crestfallen that I thought I should console her. "Remember, honey, a man needs some rebound time."

Clement laughed. "Speak for yourself, boss. If I chose to fuck your wife right now, you better believe I could." Then he looked at Krystal. "And would. If you invited me."

"I already did invite you. You don't... want to?"

"Oh sure, I

feel

like it. But I'm a grown man; I can defer gratification, when it suits me."

My turn: "I don't doubt that you can. But I'm puzzled: why

does

it suit you?"

"There's more than one reason. I still think it would be only fair to give you two time to have that talk." I answered him: "I think we're both ready to waive that 'requirement.'" Krystal nodded vigorously.

"Duly noted. But like I said, there's more than one reason."

"So what's the other one, already?"

"Let me put it like this, Krystal. Waiting will make you want me more. That would happen anyway. But knowing that you are waiting

because I am choosing to make you wait:

that will get you hotter still."

"Clement knows best," Krystal said. "So... I guess it's time to say goodbye. For now."

When the front door was open, Clement moved in to kiss her. It was a nice, long kiss, with plenty of tongue action.

And then he was gone. We closed the door.

We looked at each other. She was still smiling. "So, husband, what do we do now?"

"I don't want to be presumptuous," I said, "but maybe we could fuck?"

She made an elaborate pantomime of thinking it over. Then: "Oh, sure, why the heck not? So long as you understand the situation: I'm going to be imagining that it's Clement that's fucking me."

I raised my hands in mock surrender. "I'm going to be imagining that, too."

"Good, we're on the same page. Come on, then."

And so to bed.