Please note: This is a long story so if you’re looking for a quick, five minute jerk off, go somewhere else. If you enjoy good erotic literature, however, I think you’ll enjoy this. And don’t worry, you’ll be able to jerk off. More than once, probably.

HER HUSBAND’S BOSS

I.
Michael Jones had great news for his wife after the waiter took their order. They were celebrating her 29th birthday at an expensive restaurant. He took her hand and told her the news: a Vice President at his company was retiring, and he, Michael, was one of the candidates to replace him. Jessica squealed with delight. It meant an important raise in his salary. It meant they could at last afford a larger home and plan for their second child. Their son, Michael junior, was six years old, and they had been seriously thinking that it was more than time if they were ever going to have another.

A significant raise in her husband’s salary meant an improved wardrobe, admittance to a country club, and private schooling for Michael junior, all of which were as important as a McMansion home in terms of the type of social climbing that Jessica longed for. She had grown up poor, and had used street smarts and a natural intelligence, as well as remarkably good looks, to climb as high up the ladder as she had already. Marrying Michael Jones not long after college had been perhaps her best rung up the ladder. But she wanted more. And she wanted it quick. She had long ago promised herself that she would be a prominent socialite by the age of thirty. She had one year to go.

Jessica had worked when they were first married, but quit when Michael junior came along, and had been a stay-at-home mom ever since, able to do so since her husband made a comfortable salary. She discovered that she really wasn’t cut out for the work-a-day world, and had been slow in looking for even a part time job now that her son was in the first grade.

She now told her husband how great the extra income would be after a promotion to Vice President. He was quick to caution her, however, that there was competition for the promotion. At least three other executives at the firm were in consideration. Jessica looked at her husband with eyes that said he had better win the promotion. Her husband loosened his necktie and tried to change the subject as he took a sip of his wine.

II.
Two weeks later, Jessica and Michael attended a weekend party at the home of Michael Slater, the CEO at the company where Michael Jones worked, and the one person who held in his hands the decision as to whom would be the new Vice President. Every day since learning of the possible promotion, Jessica had peppered her husband for updates. As they drove to Slater’s party, he told her that the candidates had been whittled down to just two: himself and Jack McShane. Both men had delivered final presentations to Slater and the board during the week just ended. Michael told her that McShane, who at forty-four was ten years older than Michael, had more experience and would be the likely appointee; however, Slater had always seemed to be impressed with Michael’s work and had encouraged Michael early on to apply for the position. Michael felt his presentation to the board had gone very well. Now, they would just have to wait and see. The final decision was going to be announced by the end of the following week.

As they drove, Michael behind the wheel, Jessica thought about Michael Slater. She had met him a half dozen times at trade shows and various social get-togethers where she accompanied her husband. In his early forties, Slater, whom she knew was a confirmed bachelor, was quite attractive. She enjoyed the way he would often subtly flirt with her, and she had never been beyond flirting back. McShane she did not know well. In fact, she couldn’t quite picture his face. But a smile played across her lips at the prospect of seeing Michael Slater again at such an opportune moment—a moment in which she would definitely put in a good word for her husband. She was an expert when it came to turning on the charm. She looked down at the summery, yellow dress she was wearing. Though it was still technically the spring season, it had been unusually warm lately and the dress, which she had bought especially for this occasion, seemed right. It had a flowing skirt but was rather snug from the hips up, showing off quite clearly her remarkably fine body, including a degree of cleavage that caused her husband to raise his eyebrows slightly when he first saw it. Standing, the dress’s hem hit a couple inches above the knee; sitting, it showed off a good expanse of her thighs. She noted approvingly how nicely her legs had tanned so early this summer season. Her overall tan made her long, dark blonde hair, which she was wearing up tonight, seem lighter in color. Yes, Michael Slater was definitely going to receive a generous sampling her charms.

III.
Slater met them at the door of his palatial house when they arrived. After shaking Michael’s hand, he took Jessica’s hands in both of his and kissed both her cheeks, and told her how lovely she looked. She was acutely aware that he held onto her hands longer than what would have been considered appropriate. Taking this as a good sign, she flashed their host a warm smile.

There were perhaps a dozen other couples already at the party, along with several people—men and women—who were stag. They were all either from Michael’s company or their advertising agency. A few other couples came in shortly after Michael and Jessica arrived. The two of them mingled freely for a while, holding hands as they chatted, first with one cluster of people, then another, and another. Eventually, they separated. Jessica spent a long speaking animatedly with a gay copy writer from the ad agency. As she did so, she noticed that Michael Slater was watching her. At one point, when their eyes met, Slater tipped his wine glass to her, and she smiled back at him warmly.

After a while, acting on a hunch, Jessica meandered out a pair of patio doors and onto the large outside terrace. A glittering swimming pool was off to the left, and Jessica strolled over to it. There was no one there, and the quietness was a welcomed relief from the noise of the cocktail party taking place inside. Jessica took a sip from the champagne glass that she was nursing and looked around. This was the type of house she drooled over having. Someday, she thought to herself. Someday.

The hunch that she had when coming outdoors paid off when she heard soft footsteps behind her on the patio stones and turned to see Michael Slater strolling toward her, wine glass in hand. She greeted him with a radiant smile. “You have such a beautiful house, Michael. What a pity you live here all alone.”

Slater smiled. “I’m not alone all the time,” he said, with emphasis on all, and the implication of that was clear as he took a sip from his glass.

Am I blushing? Jessica wondered. “I’m sure you’re not,” she replied.

They talked for a while about the upkeep of the house and its surroundings—it was so hard to get help these days—and yes, even the weather. When the conversation finally lagged, Jessica went to the point. “So, my husband is going to be a great Vice President,” she said breezily. “We’re so excited!”

Slater studied her, an air of amusement playing on his lips. “Yes,” he said evenly, not taking his eyes of hers. “That has a good chance of happening. It depends, though.”

“Oh?” Jessica feigned an exaggerated expression of disbelief. “Depends on what?”

Slater took another sip of wine. When he spoke, his voice was flat. Emotionless. “On whether his wife sleeps with me.”

There was a pregnant pause between them. During it, the smile on Jessica’s lips did not falter. After a several seconds of odd silence, she replied. “Excuse me?”

“I said that Michael’s promotion to Vice President depends on whether his wife sleeps with me.” He paused to take another sip of wine. “And by ‘sleep’, I don’t really mean sleep, of course.”

Several more seconds passed in which Jessica’s smile did, at last, falter. “Are you…I don’t know whether to laugh or slap your face,” she said, her voice even.

“Or your third option would be to ask me when and where.”

Jessica regarded him for a further long moment. “I like the second option best,” she said at last. She then passed her champagne glass from her right hand to her left hand and with her right hand landed a hard slap to his left cheek. She then walked passed him and returned to the party.

IV.
On the ride home after the party, Jessica was silent, and her husband noticed. “Are you okay?” he asked.

Jessica winced. She was miserable. She thought that it was pretty certain that she had just ruined her husband’s chance for the promotion. But what a cad! The nerve of Michael Slater! Propositioning her was bad enough, but the crude way in which he did so infuriated her. She debated whether to tell her husband, and decided against it. He would be furious if he knew, and that would only lead to trouble. So she replied: “I have a bit of a headache. I guess I had too much champagne.”

“Well,” her husband replied with a grin as he stared ahead at the road as he drove, “you’d better take a couple aspirins, because I’ve got plans for you when we get to bed.”

Jessica was expecting that. Things had been hectic lately and they had not had sex since the night of her birthday dinner two weeks earlier. And she knew that social gatherings such as the one they had just attended always made her husband horny. He was quite adept himself in the art of flirting with the opposite sex at social gatherings, and the act of doing invariably put him in the mood for ravishing his wife at evening’s end. Jessica had no problem with his flirtations, and in fact encouraged him in that department, as she was equally turned on by it. She enjoyed observing the effects that his charisma had on other women, and then being the woman that he fucked when the lights were out. Tonight, though, she was so distraught by what had transpired with her husband’s boss that she didn’t think she would be in the mood.

After arriving home, paying the babysitter and retiring to their bedroom, Jessica was still not really in the mood, but she dutifully spread her legs as her husband lifted her night gown and mounted her and slid his penis into her. At first she lay lifeless beneath him as he did her, unable to get the thought out of her mind of the unseemly proposition she had received from his boss, the man who held power over him and, by extension, over her. Gradually, though, the passion with which her husband was making love to her brought her out of her funk and she responded in kind, her legs wrapping around his torso and her pelvis thrusting back against him as he drilled her. For five minutes their bodies danced a wild, horizontal tango until both of them came together in resounding orgasms, their cries awakening Michael junior who had been asleep in an adjoining room. The six-year-old now came padding into their darkened room while they were still panting heavily with their bodies still locked in a sweaty embrace. They had forgotten to lock their bedroom door.

Jessica was aware of their son’s presence in their room before her husband, whom she quickly pushed off her. His penis slid from her vagina as his naked body flopped spent to the far side, away from the side of the bed where the boy now stood. Jessica reached for the bed sheet to pull over them as the boy started to crawl onto the bed, but could not find it, as it had been wildly discarded during their torrid sex. Fortunately, she still had on the knee length night shirt she always slept in. Her husband had merely hiked it up to her breasts when fucking her instead of taking it complexly off her, as he sometimes did. She was able to quickly tug the shirt down to cover herself to her thighs before her son plopped beside her, sandwiching her between him and her husband. She was not sure how much the boy had seen. The room was dark enough that he probably hadn’t seen much. Note to self: always lock the fucking door.

The boy informed his mother that he had heard a lot of noise and could not sleep now. After finally finding the top sheet and pulling it over them, she told her son that he could sleep now, beside her, if he just closed his eyes. She could soon hear the deep, steady breathing of two asleep males, one on each side of her.

V.
But Jessica herself could not sleep. She lay in bed between her husband and son and stared upward in the darkness toward the ceiling. The thought again engulfed her that the chances for her husband’s promotion had been dashed, and this kept her eyes open as wide as dollars. After perhaps twenty minutes, she decided to get up and go downstairs to fix some tea. Crawling over her sleeping son, she left the bed and walked toward the bathroom. She felt her husband’s cum trickling from her pussy and run down the inside of her thigh as she walked, and idly dabbed at it with the hem of her long night shirt.

Downstairs, sipping her tea at the table, Jessica, lost in thought, stared out the kitchen window unseeingly at the street lamp that bathed their cul-de-sac in an eerie light. She still could not believe that Michael Slater had propositioned her, and in such a crude and unsubtle manner. As she was leaving the party that night with her husband, Slater had whispered in her ear that his offer was still on the table, but only until Tuesday, as a final decision on the Vice Presidency had to be made soon. Jessica had wanted to flash him a look that would kill if looks could kill, but she knew that her husband was watching them and, instead, smiled demurely at the man whose face she had slapped an hour earlier.

What nerve! she thought, sipping her tea. Not that she was a prude—quite the contrary. In fact, in college she had fucked not one but two of her major professors when they had made it clear that that was what it would take for her to earn A’s, which she desperately needed in order to keep her scholarship. Was she proud of that? No. But had she ever felt any remorse? Not at all. She would not have had the money to graduate, otherwise. But that had been nine years ago, when she was twenty, and was something she assumed was in her past, something she would never be compelled to do again, especially after she became a “respectable married woman”. But now that she contemplated the current situation in the stillness of her kitchen—a kitchen she desperately wished was twice as large and much more modern—a light began to come on inside her head. She was not naïve. She knew how the world worked. Those two college professors had taught her that. A voice deep within her—the voice of a devil’s advocate, with the emphasis on devil—told her that there would certainly be many positive results that could be accrued by her accepting the proposition—regardless of how rudely it had been offered. But another voice told her that she should be ashamed of herself for even thinking of the possibility of cheating on her husband! But…it wouldn’t be like “cheating”, exactly, the devil’s voice told her. Suppose, the voice said, just for the sake of argument, of course, that she were to do it, well, it would be for both their benefit! It would help her husband’s career enormously. Imagine: a VP at thirty-four. So, okay, she would be “cheating”, but it would be for the greater good of her family! A bigger house! Private school for Michael junior! The chance to be the Country Club snob she always wanted to be! The ends would definitely justify the means! There would be danger, though. Her husband could never know. It would destroy him. It was all quite vexing.

As she finished the last of her tea, Jessica had to admit that “taking one for the family”, so to speak, from Michael Slater wouldn’t exactly be a—well—an unpleasant mission, by any means. Slater was quite attractive, actually, and there was an aura of power about him that many women undoubtedly would find irresistible. In fact, if she weren’t a happily married woman, fucking him would be a no brainer. Sure, he was an arrogant son-of-a-bitch, but she supposed that anyone had to be a little arrogant to be a CEO. She kind of wished her husband showed a little more arrogance.

With that thought, she returned to bed. Her six-year old was now too heavy for her to carry, so she snuggled in between him and her still naked husband and fell fast asleep. Her last thought before sleep came was of her mother. Her mother would never have done what Jessica was now considering. But then, her mother had died poor. Jessica Jones was not her mother.

VI.
The next morning, Sunday, at the breakfast table, over coffee, Jessica and Michael were skimming the news on their respective i-pads. At one moment, Jessica asked her husband what he thought the odds were that he would win the promotion. 70-30 he told her. 70-30 against. Jack McShane simply had much more experience, and wasn’t really that old himself.

Had he said 50-50, Jessica may have been left in a quandary as to what she should do. But the 70-30 prediction sealed her decision. Sipping her coffee, and without looking up from her i-pad, Michael Jones’ wife responded: “I think your odds might be better than you think.”

VII.
Monday morning, after Michael senior had left for work and Michael junior caught the school bus, Jessica Jones made perhaps the most daring decision of her life. She picked up her cell phone and dialed the headquarters of her husband’s company. When the switchboard operator answered, she asked to speak with the CEO, Mr. Michael Slater. Two short rings later and Slater’s secretary came on the line. “Who may I say is calling,” she asked when Jessica said she wanted to speak with Mr. Slater. “The woman who slapped his face Saturday night”, she wanted to say, but in fact, the secretary’s question scared her. She hadn’t thought of this. At first she was hesitant to say she was Jessica Jones, as the secretary might realize that she was Michael Jones’ wife and why would Michael Jones’ wife be calling Michael Slater? And then the thought occurred to her that what if her husband was in Slater’s office at that very moment? But then she thought of an excuse for her call. “This is Jessica Jones. I wanted to thank Mr. Slater personally for a wonderful party Saturday night.”

The secretary put her on hold. Thirty seconds passed. A minute. Jessica felt her heart pounding. She practiced saying some words out loud because she feared that when he answered the phone, her voice would squeak like a child’s. At last the secretary came back on the line. “Mr. Slater is busy now, but he asked for your phone number”. Jessica gave her the number. “And is that a cell phone?” Jessica assured the woman that it was.

Jessica hung up and immediately decided that she should not have made the call. “I have humiliated myself”, she grimaced. “Why did I do it? Why? Why? Why?”

Five minutes passed and her cell phone beeped with a message. She did not recognize the number. The message read: “Have you changed your mind”. Jessica stared at the message for half a minute, her heart beating wildly. Then she typed: –Who is this?

–You know who this is. Have you decided to accept my offer?

Jessica, her heart in her throat, hesitated. Then she typed: –Maybe.

She could see that the person on the other end was typing. Then the message appeared: –Good. We need to discuss ground rules. Meet me at 2113 Hillsboro Street. It’s a bar. 12:30 this afternoon.

Ground rules? Jessica thought. What is this, a baseball game? She paced her living room floor, cell phone in hand. What was she getting herself into? The arrival of another message pinged. –Will you be there? Yes or no?

Jessica took a deep breath, and exhaled. Then her nervous fingers typed a reply. Before hitting send, she realized she had typed “Tes”. She changed it to “Yes” and hit send.

VII.
She walked into the bar and paused hesitantly as her eyes adjusted to the dim light. Country music was coming softly from speakers hanging from several locations along the ceiling. The smell of stale beer mixed with the scented saw dust that an incompetent janitor had used in a half-hearted attempt at cleaning the floor. The place was a dump, really. Not at all what she had been expecting. It took her twenty or thirty seconds before she could make out anything clearly, and could see Slater sitting at a small table, watching her intently, a beer bottle on the table before him. She glanced quickly around the tavern’s interior. There were no other customers in the place at this hour except for a loser sitting at the bar staring at his beer. The bartender behind the counter was staring at her. It was obvious that not too many women of her caliber ever set foot in a joint like this.

Turning back to face Slater, she walked slowly toward his table. He stood as she approached and held out a chair for her. The smirk on his face made her want to slap him again. Slap him and walk away fast. Instead, after hesitating for only a brief moment, she sat. Slater then turned to the bartender and nodded, and the bartender turned up the country music to a level that made conversation difficult. Jessica looked questioningly at Slater.

“In case you’re wired,” he said, his voice just loud enough to be heard over the twanging sounds of a Nashville crooner bemoaning a lost love.

“I’m not wired, you asshole!”

“Show me.”

Jessica looked around her. The bartender was still staring at her. “What do you mean, ‘show you’?” She had to nearly shout over the music.

“Gimme your purse!” Hesitating for a moment only, she complied, and Slater quickly rifled through it and then, satisfied, handed it back. “Open your blouse!”

Again Jessica looked at the bartender. He was positively gawking at her. “No!” she cried.

“Turn you back to that pervert and open the front of your blouse! I’m looking for wires.”

Jessica’s face turned red. For a long moment she considered aborting the whole, sordid affair after all and fleeing fast. But the potential payoff which had brought her here now held her here. It was all about the money. Finally, she scooted her chair so that the ogling eyes of the bartender were at her back. Her fingers then went nervously to the buttons of her blouse and undid them. “Pull it open!” she heard Slater tell her over the loud music, and she complied. Pulled apart, the front of her blouse revealed a pink bra that matched the color of her cheeks and allowed a tantalizing amount of cleavage. Slater’s eyes devoured her.

Seeing no wires anywhere, Slater nodded to her and she quickly re-buttoned her blouse. Slater then motioned again to the bartender who turned the sound of music down to a level that allowed conversation in a normal tone.

“Sorry, Jessica. Let’s face it, what I’ve engaged in so far is Class A sexual harassment, obviously. I have to be careful you’re not pulling a sting operation on me. That’s why I didn’t talk to you on the phone. And my text messages are from a phone that can’t be traced to me.”

“You’re very smart, aren’t you?” The sarcasm in Jessica’s voice was thick.

“My momma didn’t raise a dummy, no. And this place? Sorry, it’s beneath you, but I knew that no one either of us knew would see us here. The bartender’s the owner. We go way back. High school. I helped him set up this place. Would you like a drink?”

Jessica shot a renewed look of disgust at her surroundings and then glared back at Slater. “Nothing this dump would have,” she said. “This place has about as much class as you do.”

“Yes, but the beer’s good,” Slater laughed, wrapping his fingers around his bottle. “Sure you don’t want anything?”

“I’ll have a cigarette,” Jessica said. She hadn’t smoked in five years, but felt extremely nervous at this moment and suddenly craved a nicotine fix.

“Sorry, state law, Jessica.” Slater smiled. “Even in a dump like this.”

Jessica sighed. “So, what do you want?” she asked impatiently. “Let’s get this over with.”

Slater took a big swig from the beer bottle. “Like I said in my text, we need to establish some ground rules for our little…deal,” he said, searching for the last word. Jessica saw that slight smirk once again and, feeling her own face redden anew, wished she could reach over and slap the smirk off of him.

“What assurance do I have that you’ll keep your end of the bargain,” Jessica asked evenly. “You’re not exactly an honorable person.”

Slater laughed at that. “That stings, Jessica. Especially coming from the mouth of a prostitute.”

Jessica winced. She felt the palms of her hands twitch with the urge of slapping this arrogant son-of-a-bitch the way she had slapped him that evening at the party when he first broached the subject. Slater saw the anger in her face and laughed. “That’s what you are, sweetie. Selling your body so your husband can land a big promotion. Are you rationalizing it some other way?”

“I haven’t said yet that I would do this.” Her voice was testy.

“But you’re here. And you want to know how you can trust me.” He took what appeared to be the last drain of beer from the bottle and regarded her with obvious amusement. “Are you sure you don’t want something? Water, even?” When Jessica shook her head, Slater continued. “Well, I guess you’ll just have to trust me, Jessica. I can’t very well write up a signed contract now, can I? If you feel you can’t trust me to hold to my part of the bargain, we’ll call the whole deal off and Jack McShane will be my new VP. It’s up to you, sweetie.”

“Do you have the same deal with McShane’s wife?” Jessica spit this question in anger. She hated the way he called her ‘sweetie’.

Slater laughed. “Jack’s divorced. His candidacy is based solely on his own merits.”

Jessica took a deep breath. “You mentioned ‘ground rules’?”

“Here’s what I want,” Slater began, leaning forward slightly. “I want to fuck you in your home, in your marital bed. When your husband’s at work and your kid’s at school. I want you to be waiting for me in the same dress you were wearing the night you slapped my face. I want you to get on your knees and suck my cock while wearing that dress. I then will want you to lie on your marital bed, spread your legs, and hike the skirt of the dress up to above your waist. I want you to have panties on that I can remove. I will fuck you—without a condom—and after I am finished I want you to call your husband on your mobile phone and tell him that you love him while my cock is still inside you.”

As she listened to the man’s demands, Jessica’s jaw began to drop, and dropped further with each of the sordid exigencies on his list, to the point that, by the time he finished, her mouth was agape in disbelief. Her immediate feeling of shock was quickly displaced by a tide of anger. She wished there was still beer in the man’s bottle that she might throw it in his face. Her cheeks reddened far beyond the shade they had turned when ordered to open her blouse. He was not only propositioning her, he was trying to humiliate her to the max. “You fucking creep!” were the words that she finally spilled forth.

“Did anyone ever tell you you’re beautiful when you’re mad?” Slater gloated. “You’re thinking of not going through with this, aren’t you? I’ve made you angry. But there’s one problem, isn’t there? You’ve already spent the extra money in your head, haven’t you? You wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t already spent it. What is it, a bigger house? A vacation home? Your son’s college fund? I’m guessing it’s the bigger house. You look like the type of social climber that needs the bigger house. And it’s yours, Jessica. For one little fling in the sack with me, your dreams will come true.”

Slater paused, amused by seeing the expression on the woman’s face that told him he had pegged her exactly right. She dropped her eyes to intently study something she apparently saw on the table top between them. “I have to make the VP decision before the end of the week,” he continued. “So our romp in the hay has to be either tomorrow or the next day.” He paused again to wait for a reaction. When he got none, he continued. “What time does your kid get home from school?”

“Four o’clock,” Jessica mumbled, still staring at the table, her head bowed.

“So, your house, 1:00pm. That should give us enough time. Tomorrow or Wednesday, your choice.” Another pause. “See, I give you options. It’s not as if you have no say in all this!” He finished this sentence with a mirthless laugh.

Jessica’s eyes continued to study the table top. She desperately wanted to tell this son-of-a-bitch to stick his lewd and humiliating plan up his ass. She had not imagined the level of depravity that Slater was now spelling out to her in mind numbing detail. She had imagined she would simply meet him in some hotel room and spread her legs with her mind on a shelf while he spent maybe ten or fifteen minutes doing what he felt he had to do and then she would take a long shower and get the hell out. That was essentially what had transpired with the first of the college professors she had fucked. He had wanted to take her out to diner afterwards but she declined, wanting to get away from him as fast as possible. Things had gone even quicker with the second professor. Having obviously been tipped off by Professor Number One that she was game, he simply laid the twenty-year-old college coed out across the desk in his office late one night and fucked her while standing between her legs that dangled off the edge. He lasted less than a minute, an amount of time during which Jessica stared at the family portrait on his desk: he with his wife and three daughters, the oldest of which looked like she might have been her own age.

Jessica’s mind, which had flashed back to those first two times she had been indecently propositioned, came back into focus on the present, where she was sitting in stunned silence in a sleazy bar, listening to the ways in which a wealthy and powerful man intended to use her. Obviously, he not only wanted her body but her soul, as well. The part about calling her husband while he was still inside her! Her lips quivered. When she was able to speak, she managed to protest: “I…I’m not going to suck your cock!” She had tried to sound defiant, and she succeeded, but it sounded more like the insolent voice of a little girl, not an adult woman.

Slater snickered. “You don’t have a strong negotiating position, sweetie.” He paused, watching her carefully, while the bartender watched them both. “So, Jessica baby, do we have a deal or not?”

Still staring at the table top, Jessica again spoke, but in voice so soft that Slater could barely hear. “Can you…can you at least use a condom?”

“Why?” he sneered, “aren’t you on birth control?”

A single tear ran slowly down the woman’s cheek, a tear rendered by anger and humiliation. She sucked in a big breath and then, at last, lifted her watery eyes from the table and looked Slater in the eye. “I don’t want you to give me a fucking STD, you god damn bastard!”

Slater laughed louder than at any time before. Then he leaned toward the woman and whispered hoarsely. “Sorry, sweetie, no condom. I’m going to deposit my cum inside Mike Jones’ hot honey of a wife. And I hope hubby wants to fuck her that night when both of them are laying in their marital bed where only a few hours earlier she cheated on him with another man! That’s what I want, and that’s what I’ll get if you want your husband earning a VP’s salary, are we clear?”

A number of tears now ran freely down Jessica’s cheeks. What she was hearing was shocking her to the core. The bar tender was watching. He gave Slater a look, and Slater hunched his shoulders and handed the woman a handkerchief which she batted away angrily.

“Which day, Jessica? Tomorrow? Or Wednesday? I need to make my decision to the Board on Thursday”

Michael Jones’ wife took several deep breaths and dried her eyes with the sleeves of her blouse. She straightened the posture of her back in an attempt to show some dignity in her body language, but her eyes nevertheless returned to the table top. Her voice was vacant, almost unintelligibly: “Tomorrow,” she said between sniffles.

VIII.
That night in bed, Jessica’s husband reached for her in the dark. She had wished desperately that he wouldn’t, because she was an emotional wreck, though she had hid it quite well when he returned home late from work. She did not deny him, however, when he mounted her, but neither did she participate. There were too many guilty feelings racing through her head. “You’re having me now,” she thought to herself as she felt his penis enter her, “but another man will be having me tomorrow! I will be cheating on you tomorrow!” A tear rolled down her cheek.

“That’s okay, baby,” she heard her husband whispering hoarsely in her ear, and it startled her. Had he read her thoughts!? “Just lie there. You don’t have to move. Pretend you’re asleep. I’m fucking you and you’re asleep, okay?”

“Yes, honey!” she gasped, relieved that he had not somehow known her thoughts. But then she could not control a sob at the thought that another man’s penis would be inside her tomorrow. And not just any other man. His boss!

Her husband ceased his in-an-out thrusts. “Why are you crying?” he asked, his voice deep with concern.

“Because I love you!” she cried.

“I love you too, baby” he panted, which only turned her guilt up a notch. He resumed fucking her, but with gentle strokes now, savoring the feel of her body beneath him, whispering in her ear over and over the words “I love you”, not understanding the real reason why his beautiful, young wife continued to weep softly as he did her.

IX.
1:00pm Monday came and went. Jessica Jones was sitting in her kitchen, on a bar stool, a bottle of wine sitting half undrunk on the bar. The other half of the bottle’s contents was inside her, warming her, easing the nervous tension she had felt ever since kissing her husband goodbye as he left for work at 7:00. Getting Michael junior off to school had been a chore that morning—he had insisted he was sick and wanted to stay home. Jessica impatiently packed him off amid his protests, and fell back against the inside of the closed door once she pushed him outside to run and catch the school bus that was already waiting in the cul-de-sac.
She looked at the clock on the kitchen wall. It was ten past one. She was thinking—perhaps even hoping—that Slater got cold feet and did something she wished she could do: call this whole, sordid deal off before it was too late.

But she doubted that was the case, and took another swallow of wine, feeling the welcomed buzz. She thought she would need the entire bottle to help her get through the upcoming encounter. She caught her reflection is the glass of the kitchen window. Straightening her posture, she studied herself carefully. She liked what she saw. “Hot” was definitely one word to describe her. And yes, as instructed, she was wearing the sleeveless, summery dress that she had worn to Slater’s party on Saturday night. The hem hit her at mid-thigh as she sat on the stool. She was also wearing the medium heel pumps that she had worn to the party. Slater had not specified the shoes she was to wear, only the dress, but she had no other shoes that went well with the dress.

She was looking at the clock as the minute hand moved to fifteen minutes after the hour when the doorbell rang. She almost spilled wine down the front of her dress.

At the front door, before opening it, Jessica paused to straighten her hair. She caught herself doing this, and stopped, infuriated. “What am I, going on a fucking date?!” she silently scolded herself. Pushing her nervousness aside, she opened the door to the fate that awaited her.

Michael Slater stood there smiling. Their eyes locked, a look of bemusement on the man’s face, a look of loathing on the woman’s. Slater’s eyes then traveled down Jessica’s body, all the way to her medium high heels, and then slowly trailed back up. The expression on his face told Jessica that he liked what he saw, and it only increased the sense of detestation she felt for the man. “I see you obeyed my instruction about the dress,” he said. “Good girl.” He took another look up and down the length of her body with eyes so piercing that she felt naked as she stood before him in the doorway of her home. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?” he asked.

Jessica stood aside and held the door open for him. “Sorry I’m a little late,” he said breezily as he entered the foyer. “I decided to park at the strip mall down the street and walk the few blocks here.” He turned and looked at Jessica as she shut the front door. “You might have nosey neighbors, and I didn’t want any of them to wonder why a strange car was parked in your driveway.” He paused and regarded her with the familiar smirk that she was used to seeing on him by now. “Plus, I had a meeting this morning that ran late. A meeting with your husband.”

“Don’t mention my husband.”

Slater stepped toward her and in a quick motion that she did not see coming, grabbed her jaw in his hand, his fingers strong. He pushed her back against the front door. “Listen, you little bitch!” he hissed. “You don’t tell me what to do and say and what not to do. Instead, sweetie, you do everything I say. Do you fucking understand me?”

“You’re hurting me!” Jessica cried, her voice altered by the way in which her jaw was being held. Slater did not loosen his grip on her. Hatred flashed in her eyes as she glared at him. If looks could kill, Slater would have been a smoldering heap of ashes at that moment. But looks could not kill. Reluctantly, Jessica nodded her head in agreement. Nodding was her only form of communication, given the way in which the man held her by the jaw, contorting her mouth into an O-shape, rendering her unable to speak.

“Look at it this way, sweetie. I’m a white knight for you. A white knight that can improve your standard of living. So why don’t you give your white knight the greeting he deserves?” Jessica stared at him, not certain what he meant, until he leaned forward and brought his lips close to hers. Her mouth was still being squeezed into an O-shape by the man’s iron grip on her jaw, a grip that left her head immobilized by the way he pressed her back against the door, preventing her from avoiding his kiss as he applied his lips to her open mouth.

When she felt his tongue enter her mouth, Jessica protested as best she could, but the man’s grip on her jaw only became firmer, and his tongue was able to begin a full and unencumbered exploration of her oral cavity. Her body stiffened at this, and then stiffened more as she felt his other hand press into her breast through the flimsy material of the summer dress and the delicate bra she wore beneath. Her hands curled into fists, but her arms remained at her side as the man’s mouth lingered over hers and his hand roughly fondled her breasts.

Eventually, Slater pulled his mouth away and released the gripes that both his hands had had on the woman. He stepped back, and regarded her for a long moment as she remained slouched against the front door of her house, and smiled as she wiped his excess saliva off her lips with the back of her hand. “You might have more than that to wipe off your chin before I’m through with you!” he told her.

He then turned and walked from the foyer into the living room. Jessica, seething and sullen, remained leaning against the door that she had been pressed against, watching him as he stood in the center of the living room looking around. “Nice place,” he said. “I do see, though, why you’re so anxious to afford something better.”

Jessica was shocked. She had gotten a taste of Slater’s true personality in the tavern where they had met, but he was seemingly raising the bar now. She wondered, as she remained slouched against the door, if he was trying to see how far he could push her, if he could push her over the edge of what she could accept, and a cold feeling rose up inside her. What if he did push her over the edge? She had no way to back out now. He was inside her house. He could do anything he wanted to her.

“Aren’t you going to show me around?” Slater called to her from the living room.

Standing straight, Jessica squared her shoulders and walked tentatively into the living room where Slater was admiring some of the paintings on the walls. She watched him warily as he strode toward the fireplace and picked up a wedding photo of Jessica and her husband off the mantle. She fumed at the man’s ability to breach her intimacy. “Your husband got the best of this deal,” he said, replacing the framed photo where he found it.

He turned and looked at the lady of the house. “I tasted wine on you,” he said. “Got any for me? The walk here made me thirsty.”

Jessica wanted to shout at him to just do what he came here for and get the hell out. Instead, she realized at that moment that she had already jumped into the deep end of a pool and her wisest course of action now was to start swimming. She turned and walked toward the kitchen. Slater followed.

The half full bottle of wine, together with her glass, was still on the counter. Jessica went to a cupboard and brought out another wine glass. Slater had already seated himself on a barstool at the counter and motioned for Jessica to take the stool next to him as she approached. She poured his glass and handed it to him, then sat. Their knees touched at first, until Jessica delicately pulled hers away. “Cheers,” Slater said, lifting his glass in a toast. Halfheartedly, Jessica reached for her half full glass and held it up in a desultory fashion. Slater clinked his glass to hers and drank. Jessica, hesitating at first, realized that she desperately needed the effect that more wine would give her, and drank as well.

Slater regarded her studiously. His penetrating gaze missed nothing—especially the expanse of thigh that the short skirt of her dress revealed as she sat. The brazenness of his scrutiny caused her to squirm uncomfortably and look away. She felt like a mouse trapped between the paws of a cat. “You’re really very beautiful, Jesse. I’m sure you’re aware of that.” Slater took another sip of wine. “I’ve wanted you since the first time I laid eyes on you.”

“You’re really a despicable human being,” Jessica responded.

“Nothing despicable about a little quid pro quo,” he replied. “You scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours. You’re the maiden in distress—financial distress—and I’m your white knight.” He paused to sip more wine. “It’s a win-win situation for both of us, sweetie.”

“Will you not call me ‘sweetie’?”

Slater’s brow furrowed. “What did I tell you, sweetie,”—he stressed the word—“about not telling me what to do?” Jessica said nothing. She instead finished off the remaining wine in her glass. Slater then emptied the rest of the bottle in both their glasses. “Tell me about your sex life,” he then said.

“I will not!” Jessica blurted.

Slater ignored what she said. “Will this be the first time you’ve cheated on your husband?”

“Can we just get this over with?” the woman cried.

“Sure, sweetie,” Slater said, draining the last of the wine from his glass. “Take me to your bedroom.”

“Please!” she cried. “Can’t we…can’t we do it downstairs?” She could not state out loud what the reason was behind her plea: that the bedroom was sacred.

“Jessica,” he said calmly, as if he were talking to a stubborn child. “You are going to take me by the hand and you are going to lead me upstairs to the master bedroom. I don’t want to hear another single objection from you about anything, do you hear?”

“Did I tell you you’re despicable?”

Slater laughed. “Yes, you did.” He then reached over and took her by the hand. “Let’s go, sweetie. Your bedroom?”

Jessica stared forlornly at their hands, hers in his. He was fingering her wedding ring. The way it did it drove a pang of guilt into her gut. She suddenly wished she had removed the ring before he got there. Now, she wanted to shake her hand free, but his grip was firm and she resigned herself to the fact that this was but one more of his calculated invasions of her intimacy. Prostitutes had sex with their johns, but they didn’t hold their hands.

Jessica slid slowly off her stool and waited hesitantly as Slater stood to join her. Their hands remained locked. He would not let go. She had no choice then but to lead him by hand as he had commanded, exiting the kitchen, her steps somewhat wobbly on her medium heel shoes given the wine she had consumed. A wall clock struck 1:30 as they reached the staircase leading to the second floor and began the upward climb.

X.
The pair ascended the staircase hand-in-hand, Slater two steps behind and below Jessica. This provided him with a tantalizing view of her ass and the way it moved provocatively inside the dress as she took the steps one at a time. The dress had a flowingly loose skirt but was rather tight fitting around the ass in a way that gave any observer—especially one whose eye level was a few steps lower than hers on a staircase—an enticingly accurate idea of how nicely she was stacked. When they were halfway up the stairs, Slater could restrain his self no longer and grabbed her bodily, pushing her into the wall with one of her feet planted on a stair step one step higher than the other. He nuzzled her neck. “I could take you right here!” he hissed. Jessica, startled, tossed her head back and forth as she felt his lips frantically kissing at her neck. “Have you ever fucked on a staircase, Jesse?” Jessica gasped as she felt a hand slide under her short, loose skirt and worm its way upward between her thighs until the palm of the hand was flat against her panties at the juncture of her legs. He was constantly catching her off balance with his brazen acts before she could react, and the timing of this latest assault was no exception, leaving her mouth agape in surprise, a mouth he quickly covered with his own.

Jessica had never in her life confronted such a crude, barbaric assault as this, and momentarily struggled in angry protest. Yes, she had agreed to have sex with him, but to be treated like this was something she had not bargained for. She intended to make this perfectly clear to her aggressor, but could not free her mouth from his to do so. Instead, her cries of protest died a muffled death in her throat. She struck at his shoulders with fists and clamped her thighs together, but that did nothing to hinder his fingers from stretching one of the leg openings of her lace panties. The compressing together of her thighs seemed only to ensure that the invasive hand that was already there was trapped between them.

In their struggle, both of them fell to their knees on the carpeted stairs. Slater, his right hand still up the woman’s skirt between her thighs, managed to lay her out on the stairs with his left arm, her head landing on one stair step, her butt on the step two steps below her head, and her kicking feet in the medium heel pumps two steps below that. Jessica managed in the confusion to free her mouth and spit out the word “bastard”, but her assailant, hovering over her, sustained his domination of her. Controlling her head by seizing a fistful of her blonde hair close to the scalp, he again brought his mouth to hers.

Jessica struggled for a moment more, but soon understood that real resistance was futile. That she actually deserved this treatment was a thought that came into her mind as she felt Slater’s tongue once again invade her mouth as his fingers forced their way further inside her panties. After all, she had agreed to this rendezvous with a man who was obviously a full-fledged scoundrel, so what was she expecting? Three minutes of missionary position sex and a handshake? As a matter of fact, that was vaguely what she had naively imagined, even after the way he had treated her and spoke to her when they met at the bar to discuss his “ground rules”. If that meeting had not convinced her that she may have been biting off more than she could care to chew, then the way he attacked her at the front door of her home upon arrival should have done so. Instead, she had an allowed an uncaged tiger into her house, and now she was confronting the consequences of her own decisions. Resistance to these consequences at this point was not only futile, she realized, but could potentially void her “agreement” with this man who held the future of her family in his hands: the promotion of her husband to Vice President.

Slater felt her surrender. She had quit beating on his shoulders, and her tongue now seemed to make only token efforts of avoiding his as he kept her head securely held in place with the fistful of her hair. Her jaw seemed to slacken against his French kiss, and the tone softened perceptibly in the sounds emanating from her throat. Slater was acutely aware of her submission and pressed his case, sending his entire hand inside the leg opening of the woman’s panties, a feat made easier because there had also been a slackening of the force with which she had been keeping her thighs together. One of Slater’s fingertips now poked its way into the vagina of his subordinate’s wife. He felt her body re-stiffen at this, and when he pushed the finger further into her, he felt her stiffened even more. The groan that came from her mouth at this invasion of her intimacy resonated within his own mouth which he maintained pressed against hers.

His hand up her skirt stretched her panties almost to the point of tearing the flimsy thing as he maneuvered a second finger into her. Her muffled groans intensified at this, and then intensified even further when his thumb discovered her clitoris and began to toy with it in tandem with the action of his penetrating fingers. Thoughts of her husband floated into Jessica’s mind at this point and she shuddered as a sharp pang of guilt again hit her. She forced these feelings aside, however, and gave in to the impulse of pressing her public region against Slater’s hand as he began to finger fuck her. Her back arched slightly off the middle of the three steps that her body had been resting on, thoughts of her husband now successfully banished. It could not be denied at this point that she was kissing back against the mouth of the man whose fingers were ravishing the most intimate part of her hot body on the staircase of her suburban home—a staircase her six-year-old son and her husband traversed numerous times daily. But they were not home now. Jessica was home alone…with her husband’s boss. Her thighs again pressed tightly together, but not with the intention any longer of trying to keep the marauding fingers away, but from preventing their escape.

XI.
After finger fucking his subordinate’s wife for nearly five minutes on the staircase of their home, and feeling her body and her mouth respond, Slater released his iron grip on the hair at her scalp and pulled away from her with an abruptness that startled her. She opened her eyes questioningly as to what was happening. It was a question answered wordlessly as Slater’s hands began to roughly remove her panties, and once they were down her legs and past her medium heel pumps, Slater’s hands moved under the woman’s bare ass cheeks and lifted her crotch to his face. The backs of Jessica’s head and shoulders remained on the steps of the staircase as her feet were lifted and her knees positioned over the man’s shoulders on either side of his head. Her flowing skirt was now pushed up over her waist, and she gasped as Slater brought his face to the juncture of her legs and began to eat her.

Michael Jones’ wife snapped at this moment. The fingering of her pussy had wetted her, but now, with her legs thrown over the shoulders of a strong and lustful male of her species, with said wet pussy being voraciously eaten, a spark ignited within her loins. The indomitable will and energy of this powerful, confident alpha male taking what he wanted, awakened a latent, reciprocal energy within her. It was energy that is within the genetic programming of all women dating back to their cavewomen foremothers, but suppressed by most modern day feminists, including Jessica—until this very moment. It is energy that, when unlocked, causes the fertile female to not only submit to, but to crave, the forceful male that wants to take her.

Whimpering and genetically unable to control herself, Jessica began to fuck back against the mouth that was devouring her pussy. She pressed her thighs tightly against the sides of the head of her husband’s boss as his tongue entered her as deeply as it could and his lips nibbled hungrily at her clitoris. Soon her whimpers evolved into loud cries.

The cries exploded into shouts that reverberated from the staircase throughout the house’s interior as Jessica was brought to orgasm by the insatiable tongue of her husband’s boss. Ripple after ripple of her climax left her bucking like a rodeo bronco. It was all that the man eating her could do to keep his mouth solidly against her pussy. As the ripples at last faded and her body went limp, Jessica gulped in disbelief. No one could have been more startled by the intensity of her orgasm than Jessica herself. She had not expected this. Certainly, the last time she had traded sex for favors, which was with her college professors, she had not cum. Not even close. Now, however, as she stared up at the ceiling above the staircase of her house, she panted like a dog that had just ran a quarter mile. She had never experienced such expert oral sex. Her husband would do down on her on occasion because he knew she liked it, but his heart never seemed to be in it.

Before she could gain her bearings, the tide of pleasure that she experienced deep within her loins began to turn and consume her once again because, to her shock, the man was not finished eating her! If anything, his nose and tongue, which took turns rooting her now sopping cunt, became even more deeply buried within her. Her cries this time were not as loud as before, but they were of a more sustained and unrelenting nature. Anyone entering the front door of the house at that moment could have been excused for thinking that someone was torturing a small animal.

Jessica may have cum three more times before Slayer finally let her legs drop from his shoulders, allowing her feet inside the medium heel pumps to fall like lead weights to the carpeted steps on which they were positioned. Slater was breathing heavily and leaned against the staircase railing for support. His face was covered by pussy juice. He wiped at his face with the sleeve of his shirt as he stared down at the equally breathless woman who lay at his feet on the stairs, the skirt of her dress still hiked up quite high on her legs but at least again covering the juncture of those legs. The woman stared back up at him, her eyes glazed.

It took Slater perhaps a full minute to regain his breath. He worked out regularly at an executive gym and had the body and strength to show for it, but the act of holding the woman’s lower abdomen up to his mouth for such an extended period was physically taxing. During the time that he rested against the railing, Jessica, save for her heaving chest in breathing, did not move, nor did she take her eyes off him, in the same way that a cornered animal does not take its eyes off its tormentor. Was he done? she wondered. Was that all he wanted from her?

She abruptly found out that this was not all in wanted. When Slater’s strength was regained, he reached down and pulled her the woman off the carpeted steps. She gave a howl of bewilderment as he effortlessly threw her 125 pound body onto his shoulders as if she weighed nothing at all, bending her at her waist, her upper body falling down his backside, her legs dandling in front of him. Slater swayed slightly under the burden of her weight, and Jessica feared momentarily that they would both go tumbling down the stairs. “Put me down!” she cried.

Ignoring her, Slater began climbing the remaining stairs to the second story landing, carrying his subordinate’s wife as he went. The panties she had been wearing under her dress were left on the stairs. Slater paused at the landing and looked down both hallways that lead away in either direction. “Which way to the master bedroom?” he asked aloud. When the only response he got was a further cry for him to put her down, he started off down one of the hallways. Pausing at the first doorway, which was ajar, he looked into the room and saw that it definitely belonged to a young boy. Across from that room was another door, this one closed. With the woman wiggling uncomfortably over his shoulder, Slater used his free hand to open the door. This appeared to be a non-lived-in guest room. Wrong guess again.

Slater then backtracked to the landing and walked down the other hallway toward the door at the end. The woman, draped over on his shoulder, had quite her struggling. This door was partially ajar. Slater used his foot to kick it open and then strode into the master bedroom carrying the lady of the house on his shoulder. Slater paused a few feet inside the spacious room to take in his surroundings. The room was tastefully furnished and decorated. One poster-size framed photo on a wall caught his attention and he walked over to study it. It was a softly focused black-and-white photo of a woman sitting at a window, looking out. There were plentiful raindrops on the outside pane. The woman was nude, her body sideways to the camera, arms strategically allowing only a hint of breast. One could see just enough of the woman’s profile to tell it was Jessica. Everything about the photo—its composition, the lighting, the atmosphere it depicted—was excellently done. “Did your husband take this?” Slater asked of the woman draped over his shoulder. He received no response. He wasn’t expecting one.

After turning away from the photo and looking appreciatively around the rest of the room, Slater turned his attention to the king-size bed with its head against the far wall. A smile crossed his lips. He carried the woman to the bed and stood beside it, examining it carefully. “I forgot to tell you to not make the bed this morning after you and your husband got up,” he mused. “I wanted to have you on the same wrinkled sheets that you both slept on last night.” He gave an exaggerated sigh. “Oh well, no biggie.”

With that he dumped the woman on the bed rather unceremoniously. She came to a landing lying crosswise on the large bed that was as wide as it was long, and immediately sat up on her elbows. The skirt of her dress had hiked up to mid-thigh in her fall, allowing Slater an excellent view of her quite spectacular legs. Her dark blonde hair, which had been up, had come partially undone during the various stages of their physical struggles. She glared up at the man who remained standing beside the bed. The look in her eyes might have suggested hatred but, in fact, a very different emotion was stirring inside her. The seed for this emotion was germinated shortly after she opened her front door and let this man into her home where he roughly pinned her to the door, called her a bitch and coarsely kissed her against her will. The seed that was germinated there then sprouted when he took her forcefully on the staircase in an imperious display of unrelenting cunnilingus. The sprout of this emotion grew with the manner in which he then carried her the rest of the way up the stairs and into her bedroom as if she were nothing but a sack of potatoes, and then bloomed to full flower as he threw her rudely onto the bed. What Jessica was discovering was rough sex. It was something she had heard of but never before experienced. The emotion coursing through her veins at this moment told her that she liked it rough!

In point of fact, she was still simmering from the multiple orgasms that this arrogant and audacious man had driven her to on the staircase. As she laid on her marital bed now, her skirt hiked high, staring up at her husband’s boss who stood by the bed, the familiar twinge of guilt once again struck her, but as before she quickly expelled it. I’ve been a good girl long enough, she thought. I wanna be bad! She subconsciously licked her upper lip. She was finding everything about this man a complete turn-on.

XII.
Slater took a step back from the bed and began to unbutton his shirt while Jessica watched carefully. After he removed his shirt, his shoes and socks came off next. At this, Jessica, who had been sitting up propped on her elbows, lay back on the bed but continued to watch her husband’s boss undress. She made no attempt to pull the skirt of her dress down, aware, but not minding, that her panties were in another part of the house. Her shoes were still on her feet. She loosened the rest of her long, dark blonde hair that was already half undone, and her locked fanned out over the mattress as she lay her head on the bed. She didn’t take her eyes off Slater, and he didn’t take his eyes off her as he loosened his belt and let his pants fall to the floor. And there it was. It was as if his boxers were a tent erected on its side, with a massive interior tent pole extending it horizontally.

Slater watched Jessica’s eyes drop to his boxers and again noticed the flick of her tongue as it caressed her upper lip. He smiled at her. Her body stirred impatiently on the bed. She did not take her eyes away from the boxers and the way the horizontal pole inside made the front of them bulge out, nor did she avert her eyes when the man reached into the shorts and lifted the pole to a vertical position that allowed it to be seen as the boxers to dropped to the floor. Slater was amused by the way in which the woman twitched she saw the full size of his hardened penis now waving in the air. Her legs, bared from the upper thighs where her hiked skirt lay, stirred restlessly on the bed.

Slater crawled onto the bed and knelt at the woman’s feet, his knees between them. His stiff cock hovered over her legs. She at last pulled her gaze away from his cock and looked again into his face above hers. The bedroom of her suburban house seemed eerily quiet. “The last time I saw you,” Slater was saying, “you were wearing this same dress.” He reached for and touched the dress’s hem. “You slapped my face while wearing this dress.” He paused. “Do you remember?”

Jessica nodded. Her body, which had been stirring softly in anticipation, was stone still now. “I think you should apologize, Jesse. I would like you to apologize.”

Jessica regarded him from her position on her back on the mattress as Slater hovered over her on his knees. A long moment passed. Then: “I’m sorry.” Her voice was hardly audible.

“Sorry for what?” Slater asked. It was as if he were trying to teach a young child manners, although, the way in which he was now caressing her thighs would have been pedophilic had she been a child.

Another long moment passed. Finally: “I’m sorry I slapped you.”

“Why did you slap me?”

Jessica showed signs of impatient exasperation. Slater now had his hands all over her bare legs. “Because you were rude and insulting!” she cried.

Slater smiled. “All I said was that your husband would be VP if you fucked me. A quid pro quo business deal, Jesse. Happens all the time. Its how business is done.” He now placed his hands inside Jessica’s knees and pushed them apart. She did not resist. “And now you’ve accepted my proposal. Took you awhile. You had to sleep on it, didn’t you?”

“Bastard!” she spat.

With that, Slater pushed Jessica’s skirt up past her waist, exposing her genitals. She did not flinch. “Say you’re sorry again and beg me to fuck you!” he spat back.

“Fuck you!”

He shook her roughly. “Say it!”

Jessica gasped. Uncertain what this man was capable of doing, she quickly decided it best to comply with his creepy wishes. “I’m…I’m sorry I slapped you!” And then, after but the briefest of hesitations: “Please fuck me!”

XIII.
Slater was on her in a heartbeat, spreading her thighs and guiding his swollen cock to the threshold of her sex. She was easy to enter. Her pussy had remained a wet and lubricated tunnel from her recent throes of orgasm, and the first four inches of Slater’s seven inch cock slid into her like a knife into warm butter. Four inches were all he desired to give her on the first thrust. He had positioned himself low on her body so that a full inward thrust would go no further than that. He then withdrew everything but the head and rammed back in. Withdrew and rammed. Withdrew and rammed. Beneath him on her back, Jessica whimpered. She wrapped her legs around her husband’s boss and dug her heels into the back of his thighs. Soft cries of “fuck me” spilled from her lips—lips that his quickly covered. It was her tongue went into his mouth this time.

Jessica knew that he was only toying with her with half his cock. She wanted all of it. “More!” she whimpered, her lips pressed to his. “Give me more…”

“Beg for it!” Slater hissed, taking his mouth away from hers now to begin nibbling at her neck. He continued giving her in-and-out fuck thrusts, but only the four inches worth.

“Please!” She moaned. She tried to thrust her own lower abdomen into his to take more of what she wanted, but Slater was able to prevent her from succeeding. She knew that she must beg. “Please! I want all of your cock! Give it to me! I’m…begging you…”

What she felt instead was Slater unbuttoning the front of the upper portion of her dress. One button at a time. Jessica sighed impatiently at this but then let her body relax back into the mattress, knowing that she could not control this man, knowing that she was going to be fucked on his terms, not hers.

“You bad boy,” she cooed. Slater was unbuttoning the last button of her dress. “You wanna see my tits, don’t you, naughty boy. You didn’t see enough of me in that dirty bar, did you?” Slater laid the front of the dress open, exposing the sexy, delicate bra beneath as he continued giving the woman gentle, four inch fuck strokes,
When she felt the man reaching behind her, obviously in search of a clasp to loosen the bra, Jessica interrupted him. “No, sweetie,” she cooed, using with irony the term he had used do often with her, but imagining that the irony went over his head. “This one opens from the front.” With that she brought her fingers quickly to the small strap connecting the twin cups of the bra and undid a tiny clasp that was there. This separated the cups, but they remained in place. Slater eagerly finished the job of laying the bra open, exposing the firm, exquisite breasts of his subordinate’s hot young wife. For many years Jessica had thought her breasts were too small. She was delighted when she gave birth to her son and her tits swelled with milk that her baby readily sucked from her. In fact, she breast fed her child for longer than what was probably considered “normal”. It was her husband who day suggested that perhaps the boy was too old to nurse. Since then, she had come to accept the fact that, while not particularly large, her breasts were quite perfect in every other way.

Slater seemed to think so, too. He began massaging them, delicately at first, and then with decidedly more roughness. Jessica moaned as he did this, aware that her nipples were hardening against his unrelenting fingers. She was also keenly aware that he had given her an additional two inches of his penis. She emphatically fucked back against him and this time was able to draw even more of his dick into her. Feeling that, Slater decided that the time had come to shove everything he had into the woman’s sopping cunt. Jessica cried out as she felt her cervix being struck with repeated blows as he thrust in and out of her with unmitigated abandon, the heels of her shoes digging into the man’s ass as it cycled up and down in lightning fast fashion.

After a length of time that she could not measure, during which the roughness with which she was being fucked did not wane, Jessica felt the wave coming once again. Only this time her climax was more of a tsunami than a just a wave, a tsunami caused by an earthquake epi-centered in her loins. She cried and whimpered and scratched the man’s back and kicked her feet in the air. Slater ceased his thrusts with his hard penis planted deep within her and watched her as he allowed her to cum squirming and wiggling up and down on the entire length of his cock.

When she was finished and sagged back into the mattress, spent and exhausted, Slater resumed fucking her, only more gently this time. Jessica, though in a near stupor, was astonished as she realized that he was still doing her. She could not believe such staying power. Her husband could not last this long. Not even close. Thoughts of husband again! Yes, I’m bad, but this is good!

Jessica was a rag doll now beneath Slater as he continued working on her. Her dress was a mess. The skirt rode in a heap around her waist, while the top part, laid open, covered only her shoulders. In the heat of their passion there had not been time, or the necessity, of removing the dress entirely. Nor her shoes. As she stared at the ceiling while her husband’s boss continued to fuck her, Jessica wondered if she would ever wear this dress again. She couldn’t possible wear it with her husband, she knew. Why was she thinking of her husband so much?

Slater had shoved his hands down between her legs and lifted her knees up until they draped over his shoulders, bending her body in half. Jessica gasped at this, as it lifted the angle of her vagina to such a point as to allow his penis complete and possession her. “My god, you’re insatiable!” she panted. She then panicked that his nibbling at her neck might be progressing into a hickey. “No!” she gasped. “Don’t! My husband might see!”

“Wear a scarf!” he growled and bit into the soft flesh of the side of her neck.

“No!” she yelped, striking at his back with fists, but his cock kept going in and out of her and his sucking mouth brought blood that he could taste from the tiny bite wound. “No, no, nooooo!

With that, Slater abruptly pulled his dick completely out of her and rose up. Jessica’s legs fell to the mattress around his body as he knelt between them. She looked at him in wonder. She hadn’t thought that he had cum. When he shifted his body to her head, and she saw his shinning, wet penis close-up, still rock hard, she knew for sure that he hadn’t cum.

“Suck it!” he commanded. Laying beside her on the bed, facing her, he held his stiff shaft at the base and pointed the head toward Jessica’s mouth. She had been breathing with her mouth open, but shut it tightly when she realized what the man’s intentions were. She tried to turn away. “Open you’re fucking mouth, bitch! Suck it!” When Slater grabbed her by the nose and clamped her nostrils shut, she had no choice but to reopen her mouth. When she did, Slater pushed the head of his hard cock between her lips until it came into contact with the tip of her tongue. “Taste yourself!” he ordered. “Taste your pussy!”

Jessica understood that with this man there was no compromise. She might as well be getting raped. Reluctantly, with the side of her face flat against the mattress, she parted her lips further and allowed more of the penis that had been balls deep in her vagina to now enter her mouth.

Jessica had tasted her pussy juices before. When she used to masturbate—something she hadn’t done since marriage—she would often smell and lick her fingers afterwards. She had always thought that masturbating was excitingly naughty, and licking her fingers afterwards was even more so. But tasting herself on her fingers was one thing. Tasting herself on the penis of her husband’s boss was quite another, so she was reluctant at first as her tongue licked as lightly as possible at the taunt skin of the rigid male member. But slowly the awareness crept over her that if licking her pussy juice off her fingers was enjoyably naughty, then this was quite more wickedly so. After only a few moments of having his penis in her mouth, Jessica did not have to be told again to suck. She acquiesced completely as Slater slowly introduced as much cock into her mouth as she could take without gagging. She was not a porn star. She could not deep throat. She had seen a few of those porn flicks and could never imagine how those girls could do what they did, taking the entire lengths of long, hard cocks into their mouths. Did men really have to have that? Wasn’t it enough for a guy to just watch a girl’s face with his dick in her mouth two or three inches without the god damn thing going half way down her esophagus? Her husband had always been content with only a few minutes of light fellatio as foreplay before intercourse. Thoughts of her husband again! But this was not her husband’s cock in her mouth. This was her husband’s boss’s cock, and she seemed to be taking more of it than she was initially able to do.

As Jessica lay on her side, with the side of her face on the bed, her eyes sought those of Slater who lay beside her, and they stared into each other’s eyes as she sucked his cock with ever more vigor, the slurping sounds able to be heard beyond the doorway of the room had there been anyone there to listen. Slater began to actively fuck her mouth, with inward thrusts that were so deep they would have gagged her initially, but she was now getting the hang of it, figuring out how to breathe through her nose since no air could get past the man’s cock. She also learned on the fly how to mentally think of something else when she felt a gagging sensation about to overtake her. Her eyes went wide as Slater slowly pushed his cock nearly to the hilt. She could feel the head of touching the very deepest recesses of her throat. There were several times when she couldn’t keep from gagging, and each time Slater would withdraw partially and wait patiently until she recovered, and then slowly press inward again.

Keeping his cock in her mouth, Slater rose up and rolled Jessica onto her back so that he was now fucking downward into her oral cavity, slowly and gently at first, then ever more hard. Jessica stared up at him with eyes wide as saucers, not certain how much of this she could take. After several minutes Slater’s face became a deep red. He cursed out loud as he pushed his cock deep into the woman’s throat and held it there. “Touch my balls!” he cried. Jessica couldn’t see them, but knew they were only inches from her chin. When her fingers made contact, his sac was as hard as a rock. Jessica panicked. She knew from experience that a man’s testicle sac became this way immediately before ejaculation. He’s going to cum in my mouth! She tried to utter the word “no” but, since her mouth was stuffed full of cock, only a guttural noise emanated from her throat. Slater cursed again and at that moment Jessica, shocked beyond belief, felt a jet of hot semen strike the back of her throat. It was so far back in her mouth that it went into her esophagus without her swallowing. She jerked her head so sharply at the sensation of this that most of the man’s penis came out of her mouth, but enough of it was still inside that his second spurt of cum landed squarely on her tongue. Cursing yet again, Slater waited until the final ripple of his orgasm died and then he fell back on his back beside the body of his subordinate’s wife, spent.

Jessica, on her back and gasping for air, felt the cum in her mouth and didn’t know what to do with it. She didn’t think she wanted to swallow it—she knew she had already inadvertently swallowed a big wad of it. She therefore spit it out, sending a long, sticky trail of semen mixed with saliva oozing down her chin. She wiped at it with the back of her hand but only succeeded in smearing it over her more of her face.

“You god damn bastard!” she spat, the salty taste of his semen still palpable on her tongue. “I didn’t tell you you could do that!”

XIV.
Fifteen minutes passed. Both of them had been lying on their backs on the bed in spent sexual exhaustion. Jessica had wanted to cover her nakedness but they were lying on top of a bedspread and there was no way she could pull a sheet over her. She could only pull her skirt down to cover the juncture of her thighs.

Finally she spoke, her voice determined. “If you double cross me on this, I swear I’ll hire a Mafia hit man on you.”

“Take your dress the rest of the way off,” was Slater’s response. “And your shoes.”

Jessica sat up on the bed and glanced at the bedside clock radio. “My son will be home in an hour!” she protested. “You have to get out of here.”

“Take off your fucking dress!”

“Look,” she pleaded, ‘you’ve had me already—“

“Do you want me to rip it off you?”

Hesitating momentarily, with a dour pout on her face, Jessica eventually did as she was told. Things were obviously a one-way street with this scoundrel. Sitting up, she shimmied out of the yellow summery dress that she had worn to Slater’s cocktail party. Her loosened bra that had been laid open in front came off with it. She was now totally naked—save for the medium heel pumps—just as she was in the poster sized photo on the wall, the photo her husband had taken of her, except in the photo one could see only the subtlest hint of her breasts. Now, in real life, the man on the bed beside her could see all of her, and he took his time in doing just that, his eyes devouring every inch of her nakedness. Jessica felt like a piece of meat hanging in a butcher shop and squirmed noticeably under his gaze. When his eyes got to her feet, he motioned for her to remove her shoes. Slowly, she reached down her extended legs and, one at a time, undid the straps of the pumps and tossed them off the bed. She saw out of the corner of her eye that the man’s penis had hardened once again. She gasped. He’s going to fuck me again!

She protested. “I’m serious.” She cried, “My son will be home soon and he can’t find you here—“

Her protest melted when Slater, quick as a cat, mounted her, kicking her thighs apart and guiding his cock into her pussy once again. Jessica’s objections morphed into moans as his mouth again claimed hers. Just as he could apparently not get enough of her, she could seemingly not get enough of him. They fucked quietly this time. Gone was the urgent, forceful passion of their first coitus. Now they settled into a slow, horizontal exploration of each other’s naked body, an exotic, horizontal dance, as it were, their limbs intertwined, their mouths locked, their saliva mixing together, their sex organs connected in full functioning mode.

Jessica came for what seemed to her the umpteenth time. Slater rode her cautiously as her body gyrated in the throes of orgasm, careful that her twisting and tossing did not disengage his penis from her cunt. She came a second time, and after that she was reduced to a quivering and whimpering mess. “Please stop!” Her voice was high pitched. Frantic. “You’re killing me. I’ve had enough.” Slater ignored her and kept fucking her. She began to genuinely cry. “Please, my little boy will be home from school… you have to leave.…”

Slater lifted his torso off hers and supported himself with his arms, his cock buried balls deep inside the mother of the little boy who soon would be coming home from school. Both their bodies were glistening with sweat. “I’m going to come inside your pussy,” he hissed, his voice husky with lust. “And I don’t want to wash after I leave. I want you to go to bed with your husband tonight with my cum inside you!” He gave her several quick, hard thrusts. “I want you to encourage him to eat your pussy tonight with my cum inside you, do you hear me?”

Jessica nodded vigorously. She had no intention of doing any such thing, but she knew that it was best to say yes to any and everything that this demented pervert suggested.

“Tell me, then!” he hissed, pausing with his cock deep inside her. “What are you going to do tonight?”

Jessica tried desperately to compose herself so she could speak. She had to tell him what he wanted to hear so that she could get him out of her house as quickly as possible. “I… I’m not going to wash. Your cum is going to be inside me… tonight… when I… when we go to bed.” Slater was slowly fuck-stroking her again, and although she keenly felt his volume moving inside her, she ignored the sensation and instead concentrated on what this miscreant wanted to hear her say.

“Keep going,” he commanded.

“I… when we’re in bed… in this bed… with my husband… I’m going to beg him to eat my pussy… and your cum is going to still be inside my pussy… and he’s going to be eating me with your cum inside me—“

Slater was fucking her harder now. “I love your cock!” she gushed in his ear, hoping and calculating that dirty talk would hurry him up. “It’s huge! Much bigger than my husband’s.” She knew he would like to hear this. What man wouldn’t? Men are so vain, she thought. Cum already, god damn it! “You fuck me so much better than my husband! I’m sorry I slapped you! Punish me for that! Fuck me hard for slapping you.” She even faked an additional orgasm.

Slater had heard enough. With a couple dozen solid thrusts he shot his hot cum deep into the vagina of his subordinate’s wife who cried and whimpered as he did so. Shouting obscenities, he continued fucking her hard for a full a full minute after he came until, at last, exhausted, his upper body collapsed on top of hers, the force of it causing the woman to groan in pain as it nearly knocked the wind out her.

Jessica understood that her betrayal of her husband was complete the moment she felt the semen of another man shoot deep into her sex, the millions of his microscopic sperm cells rushing to find and impregnate a fertile egg. She couldn’t let herself care about that, though.

Recovering her breath, she remained flattened under the man’s weight and could only wait patiently beneath him as his heavy breathing slowly calmef. At last he was still, though his penis remained inside her. She waited a further few moments, but then, glancing again at the bedside clock, knew that she had to take action. Her son would be coming home in less than a half hour! Grimacing at the effort, she pushed the weight of Slater’s body off her, feeling his cock slide out of her as he flopped onto his back beside her. She then rolled away from him and off the bed, but did so too fast given the state she was in. She felt faint, and had to sit back down on the edge of the bed to clear her head. She had literally been fucked silly.

Once she could stand without swaying, Jessica bound from the bed. She collected Slater’s clothes that lay strewn on her bedroom floor and tossed them to the naked man on her bed. “Quick,” she implored. “Get dressed and get out of here!”

For once Slater did something that he was told to do, but not nearly as quickly as Jessica wished. She kept looking nervously at the clock. Fifteen minutes! What if her son came home early this day?! She felt sperm trickling from her pussy and running down the inside of her thigh.

When Slater finally finished dressing, Jessica, having thrown on a robe, literally pulled him from her bedroom and led him by the hand down the stairs. At the front door, she paused before opening it. “I’m telling you again, Slater,” she said, her voice low and menacing. “If you double cross me on this, I swear I’ll kill you myself. I fucking swear to god I will! I won’t need a hit man.”

Slater regarded her with amusement. “You seemed to enjoy it so much, Jesse, you might consider doing me a favor.” He laughed as he saw anger welling up in her. “Just kidding, sweetie. You might think I’m an asshole, and you might be right. But I’m a man of my word, Mrs. Jones. Your husband’ll be our next VP.”

Jessica’s expression changed radically. She was ecstatic at this assurance. She opened the door, and took a cursory look outside to make sure her young son wasn’t already off the school bus and walking up the sidewalk. Slater paused halfway out the door and looked back at her. A wry smile again formed on his lips. “You’re a great piece of ass, Mrs. Jones.”

“Get out!” she cried, and the door literally hit him in the ass as she slammed it shut behind him. With the door shut, Jessica leaned back against it and shut her eyes tightly. “Yes!” she cried. She felt like she had just been through a buzz saw and, in a way, she had been, but it had been worth it. And yes, the son-of-bitch Slater was right. She had enjoyed it! And that scared her.

XV.
Jessica ran quickly back upstairs to shower before Michael Junior got home. She figured she had only ten minutes. In the shower, she allowed the warm water wash over her, cleansing her of any telltale signs of her illicit tryst. This included a small brush that went deep into her vagina to clean out every last remaining drop of cum that her husband’s boss had deposited there. If she was able to cheat on her dear husband in such a shocking and brazen fashion, then she could most certainly renege on her verbal promise to the man with whom she had cheated in regard to going to bed that night with his sperm still inside her. As she cleaned her pussy, an alarming thought occurred to her. What were the odds that birth control pills failed? Was in one per cent? What if.. what if she discovered in a few weeks… that she was pregnant?! How would she know who the father was…? She immediately used the brush inside her vagina with increased vigor.

Out of the shower and back in a clean robe, her hair wrapped in a towel, Jessica was staring in anguish in the mirror at the bright red hickey on her neck. The bastard! The weather was too warm for a turtleneck, or even a scarf as that bastard had flippantly suggested. She would have to put a band aide there and make up some excuse to tell her husband. At that moment she heard the school bus stop in the cul-de-sac. She ran to the bedroom window and saw her son alight. She raced downstairs to have the door open for him before he knocked. As she left the bedroom, she made a mental note to come back before her husband returned to straighten up the disheveled bed and check for any other telltale signs of her wayward sin.

XVI.
Three months later, a thankfully not pregnant Jessica Jones was having Sunday morning coffee with her husband Michael. Vice President Michael Jones. They had already found a new, much larger house and were in the process of buying it. Jessica told her husband that her friend Monica and she had bought tickets to Las Vegas for four days the following week. Sort of an end-of-summer fling. Michael Junior would be at summer camp. Could Michael Senior take care of himself home alone? Of course, he assured her. It would be great for her to get away. He then added that, by coincidence, his boss, Michael Slater, would be in Las Vegas at that time at an industry convention.

Jessica had told Monica that she would pay for half of their Las Vegas hotel room and would hang out with her during the days but wouldn’t be sleeping there. The great thing about Monica, who was divorced, was that, while she talked a lot about herself, she didn’t ask many questions. She was ecstatic that Jessica would not be spending her nights in their room, and didn’t inquire as to why not. The important thing for her was that this would allow her a place where she could invite any young stud she might find on the Vegas strip—and the younger the better.

Jessica went to refill her coffee cup, and after pouring it, stood sipping it while gazing out the window, her back to her husband. Yes, quite a coincidence about Michael Slater being in Las Vegas at the same time she would be there. She was glad that her husband could not see her and ask what she was smiling about. “If I see him I’ll say hi,” she said.

THE END

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