John's boss is such a douche. He's arrogant, self-obsessed, opinionated, narcissistic, tall, very fit and has one hand down the front of my slacks. His other hand grasps my throat and pulls me hard back against his body. Far too much cologne stifles what breath I can gasp. Hard and hot, he throbs against my back and I try desperately to make sense of what is happening.
"Shh..." His red wine breath is hot on my ear. "If you cry out they'll know."
'They' are my husband John and his wife Sue who are in the dining room waiting while I fix desert.
Insistent fingers push past the elastic of my knickers and rudely find my pussy. I wish I wasn't so wet.
"No. Stop. Arnold don't." Hoarse and pleading, I despise my voice.
Both my hands grip the forearm attached to the fingers which wriggle in my sopping knickers. I try to pull his arm away, but he holds my throat tighter.
"Resist me Katie. A good girl would resist me." A cruel edge to his tone reveals his sick delight.
I'm not sure if I'm pushing back into him or if he is pushing his hard cock against my back.
"They'll hear. They could come in any moment. Please don't."
"Your mouth says stop. Your pussy says 'please'. You are so hot and wet for me."
This is so wrong. I finally succeed in pulling his arm upwards, his fingers away from my wet betrayal, only to feel him unbutton my slacks. Then unzip them. Then I feel my own fingers help pull them down and reach behind to grasp for his cock.
He lifts me to my tiptoes and stretches one of my knees up onto the bench and pushes me down face first across the sink. I'm displayed for anyone who walks into the kitchen.
"Shh Katie. Don't want to make a scene now do you?" He speaks through lips that travel down my spine to the dimples above my butt then lower still.
"Oh fucksake Arnold, stop please." I'm crying. Tears roll off my chin and drip, drip, drip into the empty sink.
"Any time you like dear." His tongue flicks around my puckered anus and fingers work in and out of my pussy. "Just stand up, pull up your pants and walk away."
I'm pushing back in time with his thrusting fingers. So wet. So wrong. I can't believe he's doing this. I'm not this kind of woman. I've never cheated.
Zzzzip... Something fleshy and fat prods my thigh then rubs through my wetness brushing my clit and causing me to cry out.
"You okay honey?" John calls from the dining room.
"Yes!" I call out horrified, holding desperately to the taps for balance. "Yes... I, just, dropped, something." I try not to speak in time with the rubbing of what feels massive, hot and hard between my legs.
"It's fine John, just a bit dirty." Calls Arnold behind me, then more quietly beside my ear, "Lets make a real mess, shall we?"
"Oh... Nooo..." I reach a hand back in futile protest as he pushes slick inside me. My hand presses 'stop' against his stomach but my hips push 'yes' back onto him. He fills me so completely. So large. So hot. So fucking wrong.
As he bucks into me I hear rhythmic 'slick, slick, slick,' sounds. Surely John and Sue can hear that too. My god. Is this rape? Oh fuck, oh fuck. I feel it in my throat first, moving slowly down my spine to gather in my abdomen. It's so shameful to feel it build inside me. Perhaps this is what I wanted all along. Perhaps I am this horrible slutty creature. Then it tips me over the edge and shakes me around his cock. Convulsing on the bench I know I leak orgasm around him.
"Shh..." beside my ear. "Good girl, Katie. Good girl. This will be over soon... Soon... as... I... gnhhh."
I feel him throb inside me. Oh my fucking god. Inside me. He cums inside. I'm not on the pill. Oh shit. Oh shit.
"Oh fuck!" I groan out loud as his final jerking thrusts invoke in me another orgasm.
"You sure you don't need a hand?" That's Sue, his wife.
"No dear, all good. Just finishing up with this sticky stuff."
