He had lied. Well, not so much lied as simply given a vague answer — this was not technically a meeting. An appointment, perhaps, is what he should have said. The soft afternoon light bathed the inside of his office, reflecting off the polished mahogany of the huge desk at which he currently lounged, legs wide with belt hanging undone to the side. The wet sounds filled the room, Elle working extra hard between his legs, her stockinged knees dutifully resting on the thick carpet. He’d taught her how to please him, and he was glad in this moment that he had. Well-trained, she slurped and gagged her way up and down his cock, her spit sealing her lips with each trip from the base to the tip. He watched her as she worked, resisting the urge to put his hand on the back of her head. She knew his body well, and he trusted her to keep this pace.

He needed this right now, he admitted to himself. The afternoon’s events had turned him on — a new hunt was underway. The thought of a fresh white woman under him always made his balls ache in that sweet, low way, deep in the place where orgasms began. Julie was as promised; he smirked into the cool air of his office at the memory of her. Shy and reserved she may seem to the outside world, but he could see beyond her facade. The sexual animal lurking underneath was perfectly visible to him, and he intended to set it free. He knew his prey. The trap had been set; he was confident she would call when she’d worked up the courage.

In the meantime, he had sexy little housewife Elle suckling at the head of his cock, working to elicit a groan from him. Many lesser men could never have turned her out the way he did, but he saw the possibilities from the start. Her clueless husband had worked his way though all the typical cuckold phases and emotions, currently coming to rest solidly at cluelessly rich and happy, often crowing to their friends and family how lucky his darling wife was to have landed such an amazing job at a reputable company. “Hard work and diligence pays off,” he was fond of saying. Now he sat at home while his wife came to work under the guise of being a secretary. True, she did paperwork, but her true purpose at the company was to satisfy the boss’ craving for pale married women.

He had broken her in so well. The dinners, late nights, and extended trips had opened her up, teaching her to trust the man in charge. He knew she needed cock — all women did — so the lengthy trips away from her husband, combined with some gentle cajoling soon paid off. Now he reaped the benefits, and often.

She sank lower, her lips stretching to accommodate the thick middle of his dark caramel cock, the prominent veiny shaft sliding away into the dark cavern of her mouth with an audible gag. His big hand came to rest on her head, pushing her down even more. She held the position as he’d taught her — keeping his uncut cock buried in her throat, breathing through her nose. The feeling of bottoming out in her married throat was exquisite; she had the softest tonsil he had had the pleasure to fuck.

Pleasure pulled at his balls, sweetly shooting up and down the length of his cock, bringing out that aggressive streak he tried to hide until he knew a woman could take it. His fingers twined though her dirty blonde hair, communicating his urgency. She knew the signs of his changing need— she went limp at the touch of his big hand on her head. He guided her, his perfect little married cocksucker. Harder, faster, he pushed and pulled her head, using her for his selfish satisfaction. Obscene, nasty, wet sounds echoed from the walls of his office as he fucked her mouth like he often did her cunt. Aggressively now, he started picking up the pace.

He leaned his head back and growled. A good cocksucker always made him talk shit. He rattled off a string of obscenities.

“Thats’s right, you fucking cunt,” he grunted between thrusts into her soft housewife throat. “Take that fucking big dick, you nasty slut. Does your husband ever ask you about this? Does he, huh? Do you tell him about how I use you like the cheap fucking whore you are?”

He drew closer to her face, bending over as he used her face like a sex toy, jerking off himself with her willing mouth. “Look at me, bitch!” She made eye contact, her eyes locking submissively to his as her mouth moved up and down rapidly on his hard bull cock. His face was hard; intense as he stared into her soft features.

“You fucking cocksucking cheating wife.” He stated it without remorse. He knew she got off on the abuse; a product of his many lessons. “I’m going to make you suck a client’s cock in this office, cunt.” He spit the insults rapidly now, punctuating the rapid gag, slurp, gag of her sucking lips and gagging throat. She couldn’t answer with his cock buried in the mouth she kissed her family with, but her eyes said all he needed to know. They closed briefly, almost as if in slow motion, then opened to stare brightly back at him, a picture of acquiescence. “Typical fucking white whore’” he continued. “You all crave powerful cock.”

His orgasm came sooner than he wanted, but he let it run its course; he wasn’t going to deny himself release this time. He felt the sweet beginnings of an impending explosion. The intensity of his rising pleasure seemed to travel like a warm wet wave from the place where his asshole and balls met, traveling the length of his cock to the tip. He knew he was dripping copious amounts of pre-cum by now on her sexy little fucking bitch-tongue. He was going to make sure she kissed her husband when she got home so he could wonder about the way she tasted.

He groaned louder, and pure, sweet little fucktoy Elle recognized the signs. She squeezed her lips tighter, increasing her pace. She was full on attacking the base of his cock now, all traces of self preservation missing from her as she concentrated on pleasing this man that owned her; the king of her existence. She submissively did the thing that always drove him over the edge — she put her own hand on top of his and pushed harder on her own head, bottoming out with each piston of her neck. He roared, deep in his throat, like a man possessed.

His cock hardened in her mouth, thicker and longer as he approached climax. She knew this would be a big one; she instinctively closed her throat so she didn’t choke on his sticky cum. The taste of his cock-dripped pre-cum filled her nostrils, her head swam in a sea of her own nasty thoughts as she punished herself for his pleasure.

He was groaning and moaning now, his head thrown back as she worked his meat, sloppily sucking cock like the good pleaser she aspired to be. “You’re gonna suck the cum from my balls, you nasty bitch…” he spoke harshly into the ceiling. The rhythmic pinging of metal upon metal of his belt buckle punctuated each gag.

They both felt it coming; the moment of inevitability. The sudden intensity always made him think of hard steel sharply snapping under great pressure — the pleasure shot up his cock from the base and carried his thick nasty cum out into the cocksucker’s world. The first spurt was practically a long stream into the back of her throat. To him, there was nothing sweeter than cumming into a hot, wet, submissive mouth. To her, it meant she was good enough.

He abruptly pulled back, one strong arm rippling as his hand held her face in place. His cock left her with a slippery pop, her open eyes staring up at him in sudden surprise. The second spurt blasted her mouth, sticking to her lip before dripping downwards. Again and again, he cummed, staring at her as he violated what was left of her dignity. Three, four, five spurts of dominance hit her face, coating her cheeks and nose.

Six, seven! The final blast of cum seemed to hang in slow motion before landing on top of the others, exclaiming its arrival with a wet splat. His cock continued spasming, his orgasm exceeding his sperm capacity. Her makeup was ruined, the cum running down her glazed face to drip on the dark material of her blouse.

She kept her position like the good white bitch he expected her to be, only moving when his final spasm subsided. His cock hung obscenely, imposing in the bright light, one small drop of cum threatening to fall to the floor. She captured it gently with her tongue, bathing and cleaning him up with her willing mouth. He watched her work, not saying a word.

Finished, she calmly and expertly tucked his flaccid cock back in, zipping his trousers up and buckling his belt with a look of concentration on her face. She stood up shakily on her heels to leave; she needed to clean up. She knew she’d have to walk like this to the bathroom outside the office, and was suddenly sad that the office was empty; sad that, as usual, no one could see the beautiful aftermath of what the boss had done to her.

His hand captured hers, and she turned back to look quizzically at him. He threw the box of tissues from his desk to her, and she caught it reflexively. “Clean up and go home,’ he commanded. She knew what this meant — she dabbed the sticky residue from her eyes and face as best she could, leaving the ruined mascara in place. “You got it, Boss,” she said. She knew what he expected; this was how she was to drive home and meet her husband. He had only demanded this of her once before, but she knew the signs.

As she pulled the door closed behind her, she paused and waited for him to look up at her from his desk. When they locked eyes, she simply said, “whoever she is, I can’t wait to meet her, Leroy.”

He nodded, a slight smile playing at the corner of his lips. Elle left.