Emma hated her husband's boss, Hank. He was an old, fat asshole who always showed up at the family barbecue and ruined the fun with his dirty jokes and toxic behavior.
Hank had a special way of humiliating people - he was playful and funny, and his deep, magnetic voice caught everyone's attention, and then he could say whatever he wanted. He constantly joked about her husband being a wimp, and that Emma should've married a real man and not a pussy like David. Emma's husband took all the bullying and invented some weak comeback, treating everything as a joke, and everyone else cooperated. But Emma could sense that Hank wasn't a good man.
It was one of those barbecues, on a Saturday afternoon, when she walked upstairs and closed her bedroom door, angry and upset at some dirty joke that Hank had made about her. Even now, that Emma had turned 30, she still didn't have the patience to tolerate that man. Nobody seemed to notice how much she disliked him, because she never had the courage to say anything.
She lay in bed and crossed her legs and arms, looking at the ceiling and waiting for that long day to be over. She could see herself in the mirror - the succulent legs and naturally big breasts, the small waist and the dark-blond hair that fell over her small shoulders. She noticed she was in her best shape, after months of yoga class and a new diet. Her skin never felt softer.
After a few minutes, she heard someone knock on the door, and got up to see who it was. When she opened the door, Hank stood there with his big hands in his pocket. He was a tall man, with broad shoulders and muscular arms. His fat beer belly stretched the fabric of his wife beater, and his indecently hairy chest was partially exposed. The dirty cargo shorts he wore weren't enough to cover his tree trunk legs and his fat crotch, and that sight always made Emma uncomfortable.
"What's the problem, sweetheart?" said Hank, with his raspy, sarcastic tone.
"The problem is that you're an asshole," vented Emma, in a high-pitched voice.
"Hey, watch your tongue, my love. You don't wanna get in trouble," threatened Hank, all of a sudden. His red face assumed an intimidating expression and his blue eyes sparkled intensely.
"You're not my husband! Go away," retorted Emma.
"I own your husband, buttercup. He cleans my asshole when I run out of toilet paper," provoked Hank, with a shit-eating grin.
"Wow, you're so gross," Emma walked away and sat on her bed. She immediately regretted not closing the door in Hank's face.
Hank walked slowly into the bedroom and Emma heard the click of her door being locked behind her.
"What are you doing?" she suddenly felt scared and uneasy - she was rarely alone with that dirty bastard.
"Let's talk," said Hank, approaching her slowly and sitting on the bed by her side.
The bed made a loud squeak with his heavy weight. Emma suddenly became aware of how short her skirt was, and how small and soft she looked next to that big brute.
"I'm gonna call David," she started standing up, but Hank held her shoulder and she sat down again, meekly.
"Your drunk hubby is having fun down there, humiliating himself in front of everyone," said Hank, calmly. "He keeps joking about his limp dick."
Emma stared at the man, shocked by how gross he was. She felt weak and defenseless, being so close to his massive, hairy arms.
"Why are you so mean to him?" asked Emma, meekly.
Hank chuckled and burped loudly.
"Because he likes it. Your hubby enjoys being stepped on, but you're too naive to understand, buttercup."
"What is wrong with you? Are you fucking nuts?" asked Emma, as her breath intensified.
Hank laughed louder and raised his thick eyebrows in condescending mockery. The man placed an arm behind her, approached her ear and whispered.
"Your husband is a little wimp, and I own him and everything else, and soon I'll own your little pussy, too."
Emma felt goosebumps on her skin, and her body froze. She could sense Hank's hot breath on her neck, and the warmth of his sweaty body getting closer and closer to her small frame. The shock made her mind feel empty, and she realized her voice was gone.
"I'm gonna own your little pussy, Emma. Your sweet cunt belongs around my big cock," continued Hank, his dirty lips almost touching her ear. "I'm your new daddy now, and that tight cunt is gonna squirt all over my hog. We're gonna break David's heart."
"Please, stop..." begged Emma.
"Aw, don't worry, snowflake. I'm gonna pound you hard until you like it," said Hank, in a sickly condescending voice.
The man moved his other arm to her legs, and his massive, hairy hand caressed her thigh in a circular motion. He grabbed her flesh lightly and pinched her a few times. His fingers moved slowly inside her short skirt and found her panties. Emma felt his big thumb rub her pussy and that made her jump a little.
"You're a hot piece of fuckmeat. I wanna fuck you real hard, princess. Can you take it?"
"Hank, please... please..." cried Emma, pathetically.
"Shhh, don't pretend you don't want it. I see the way you always look at my crotch. I bet part of you wonders how big it is. Right, kitten?" Hank's mouth finally touched Emma's ear, and she felt his hot, wet tongue lap her earlobe lewdly. "It's very big, Emma. I have a fat fucking cock. It's much bigger than your hubby."
