SEXY SALLY & BOSS BOB BY "JIGS"
Part One
My name is Harry Fountain. I'm 35 years old, six foot one, 180 lbs. with brown
hair that is receding in front and sparse on top. I'm Vice President in charge
of Marketing for the Insurance division of the world's largest privately owned
conglomerate company. I have been an employee of the parent corporation, or one
of its wholly owned subsidiaries, since I graduated from college 10 years ago.
Robert Simpson was a Senior Vice President and my boss when I was first hired.
From the very beginning, he took me under his wing as his protege. It was soon
obvious to everyone that I was, and have continued to be, his fair haired boy.
Bob Simpson is a man of considerable confidence, brains, and a wide rage of
ability. At six foot six, 260 lbs. of hard muscle, a deep baritone voice, a full
head of prematurely gray hair, and a similar mustache, he is a imposing man who
looks every bit the college all-American and professional football player he
once was. His chief skill, however, is an uncanny ability to command the loyalty
and obedience those around him. "Boss Bob" as he likes to be called, can charm
the birds out of the trees, or when he thinks necessary, turn a frown into a
thunderbolt. The stare of those coal black eyes when he is displeased is
something few people can ignore or ever forget. No one that I know of has ever
seriously contested Bob Simpson's right to the title of "Boss" that he insists
on with such pride. In only five years after his retirement from professional
football "Boss Bob" was promoted into the elite core at the top of the corporate
ladder as naturally as a kite soars upward in a high wind. Now, ten years later,
he is CEO, and President of the Corporation. Only Antonio Carmine, one of the
world's richest men who continues to serve as Chairman of the Board, has more
rank and authority in the direction of this multi-billion dollar company, and
nobody, not even Carmine, has more to say about its day to day operation. As the
company grew larger and more diversified, and Bob was promoted from job to
bigger job, I simply tagged along behind him as his anointed favorite. With his
support and influence I was jumped over a dozen or more men with more seniority,
and who, as I must admit, had better qualifications for promotion. That didn't
make me very popular with my fellow executives, but nobody has ever complained
on the record because whatever Bob Simpson wants, Bob Simpson gets, and right
now at least, Big Bob the Boss wants me to be a Vice President. Darla MacIntire
has ridden Bob Simpson's coat tails in his rise to success in much the same way
as myself. Darla is a striking redhead with an ample and impressive body. She is
four or five years older than I, and was already the Boss's personal
administrative assistant when I arrived on the scene. One of the many mysteries
about Bob Simpson is his sex life. He is not married. He makes public
appearances with various women from time to time, almost without exception movie
or society celebrities. As far as anyone knows, these women are simply props,
carefully chosen to hype the occasion rather than anyone with whom the Boss
might actually be sharing a relationship. Except for such apparently platonic
companions, and an obviously close professional relationship with Darla
MacIntire, no one seemed to be aware of any women in Boss Bob's life. Darla
herself is married, and the mother of a daughter now in her late teens.
Corporation gossip has long maintained that Boss Bob was fucking her on the
side, but no one seems to have any personal knowledge of that as a fact. The
only alternative theory to Darla as Bob's mistress seemed to be that Bob was a
fag. For someone otherwise so perfectly masculine, a homosexual preference
didn't seem likely. Still, there were those who adhered to that possibility, and
to them, I filled the role of the Boss's male lover. As God is my witness tho,
until a year or so ago, sex was a subject I never heard Bob Simpson even
mention, and he certainly had never made a sexual pass at me, or in my presence
to Darla, or to anyone else. For all I knew and had seen, he was some kind of a
monk who had taken a vow of celibacy.
And then there's my Wife, Sally. In my final year in college I began to date
Sally Truxel exclusively. Sally was a honey blond blue eyed knockout, the Sweet
Heart of Sigma Chi, the White Rose of Sigma Nu, the Homecoming Queen, the Prom
Queen, and queen of just about anything else that needed an every-man's-dream
coed as a centerpiece. She knew she was a doll, and (like most pretty girls) she
reveled in it to the point of being a bit of a tease. She never failed to show
off her long almost perfect legs and full boobs whenever the occasion allowed,
but of course always in a tasteful way consistent with her image of campus icon.
Until I came along Sally must have dated half of fraternity row, and a fair
number of the athletes from the jock dorm, even some of the black ones if the
rumors are true. How sexually active she was nobody seemed to know for sure, but
there were a number of unverified (and probably unreliable) dirty stories with
Sally in the staring role. One thing was known sure about her, however. She
liked to snuggle up close to her date on the dance floor. When the music was
slow and romantic, she would press her delicious thighs and tits against her
dance partner, and tease him with the sensous sway of her body. When the band
stopped, more often than not the poor guy had to escort Sally back to his table
while trying to hide an embarrassing erection. Likewise, the word was around the
student union that she kissed with her tongue, and that she was a 'hot neck'
even if (maybe) she wouldn't 'go all the way'. Every would-be-stud on campus was
sure that behind that saucy smile, there was a promise of pure raw sex that he
could tap given the right chance. As a result, whether a title well earned, or
simply someone's wishful thinking, from her freshman year on she was widely
known by the behind-the-back nickname of "Sexy Sally." While Sexy Sally was
practicing her French kiss in cars parked in the woods behind the football
stadium, I was studying the French language from a textbook. Although I lived
and ate in a "frat house," I was always more at home in the Phi Beta Kappa
reading room at the library. Even if I wasn't a big man on campus, however, I
was considered by the coeds to be good looking, I was a member of an elite and
socially desirable Greek letter fraternity, even it President my senior year,
and I was generally thought of by my classmates, male and female alike, as "a
good all around guy." Those are valued qualities on a college campus, and they
exempted me from the classification of "nerd" that my reputation as a scholar
would have otherwise surely earned. How "Sexy Sally" and I became an item is a
little hard to figure. I suspect that it was Sally's mother who decided that
with graduation approaching, it was time for Sally to cut the shit and start
looking for a husband able to support her. My scholastic reputation as a brain
had earned me an A-1 rating for probable economic success, and I fit Momma
Truxel's plan for Sally's future. However it was, Sally and I started dating
early in the football season of our senior year. Midway through the basketball
season, we became "pinned." That was the night she let me fuck her for the first
time. I'm almost certain Sally was no virgin on our first lovemaking (altho she
has never said one way or the other.) I was, but I fumbled my way through
acceptably, at least as best I knew how at the time. Sally seemed satisfied with
my performance, and indeed "satisfied" might generally describe our sex lives
thereafter until "Boss Bob" came into the picture. By time graduation day came
around, Sally and I were engaged to be married. We had a late June wedding, a
honeymoon in the Bahamas, and I went to work for Bob Simpson in mid July as soon
as we returned. As I have said, my promotions came quickly, and my salary, stock
options, and perks increased even more rapidly. Sally and I had no children, but
neither of us were interested enough in parenthood to even try to find out why
not. Sally loved the good life from her first taste at corporate headquarters in
New York. Clothes and jewelry, maids, golf on Long Island, lawn parties with the
Connecticut elite, and weekends at fashionable spas along the New England
shore..., these were all things that she enjoyed far too much to want to become
a mother. I was just as self indulgent as she was, and wrapped up in my work. We
were both contentedly living off the fat of the land when Boss Bob stopped being
just my boss, and started to became a day to day part of our personal lives.
*** That was about six months ago. With some heavy financial help from my
corporation, Sally and I had purchased a very very expensive three bedroom, two
bath, two level, apartment twenty floors over a shopping mall of exclusive shops
and trendy restaurants on Manhattan's 5th Avenue. We were less than two blocks,
and a 10 minute walk, from the skyscraper where my (and Boss Bob's) offices were
located. Boss Bob began to drop by our apartment for dinner. Whenever he worked
late, or a social engagement made it inconvenient for him to go on to his estate
home in Westchester he would spend the night in a spare bedroom. After a while
he sort of just moved in and began to keep an extensive wardrobe there. By then
Bob was sleeping over three or four nights a week at our apartment. As far as I
was conserned, his frequent presence in my home was only an innocent
accommodation of convenience. We certainly had ample room for him. Sally was no
cook, and didn't try to be. All our meals were prepared by, and brought in from,
the restaurants downstairs. We had maids to serve the food, and to clean up
after us, so neither the meals nor the housekeeping were any imposition on
Sally. Bob was fun to be around, and his contributions to the household budget
were generous. It all seemed like a perfect situation. Eventually, however,
Bob's Mr. Hyde showed up. As I got to know him better, it became apparent to me
that Bob was not the asexual monk I thought he was. To the contrary he was a
very smooth operator around women. He knew exactly how to stroke a female ego
without alarming its owner. He flattered Sally at every opportunity, but for the
first month or two he was always careful to be correct and proper about it. He
complemented her clothes, hair do, nails, etc., always suggesting what a sexy
and desirable woman she was without actually saying so. You could see Sally
loved it. Once he had overcome her reserve and moved past her seeming
indifference to his attentions (a first line of defense for every woman), he
became more outspoken and direct. He began to tell her straight out how
beautiful she was, how her hair shown in the sun, how good she smelled, how her
smile made his day, and even how her mere presence could arouse a man (meaning
himself of course). By the time four months or so went by Bob had been living at
our apartment so often that he seemed a part of our life there. Sally had grown
comfortable with him, and his sexy flattery. She thought she knew him by then,
and if she ever felt threatened by this dynamic and domineering stranger in her
home, her concern had long since passed. Thus reassured, and enjoying the
thought that she was still a desirable woman who could catch a handsome man's
eye, Bob's new and more personal approach was clicking with her pretty well. It
was becoming more and more obvious, however, to everyone (except to me) that Bob
was wooing my wife; and altho she wasn't exactly encouraging him, she wasn't
backing away either. Bob, being Bob, simply came after her all the more
determined and confident of success. The sex thing came more and more out in the
open. What had been polite complements turned bold and bawdy. He would tell her
straight out how "luscious" her "tits" were, and he would ask her with a leer
she really needed the bra she was wearing. Sally was a little embarrassed by
this new side of our Boss Bob, but crude or not, She was clearly flattered by
his attention and sexual innuendo. Somewhere down deep inside her feminine self,
Bob had struck a cord in Sally. She was once again the beautiful and desirable
"Sexy Sally" that college boys had lusted after a decade ago. She liked that
feeling too much to let a little dirty talk upset her, or at least so she must
have reassured with herself. I don't know whether she understood she was being
seduced or not, but hearing no protest from her, Bob was steadily, if gradually,
upping the ante. One night after dinner, Bob started a conversation supposedly
with me, but one clearly directed at Sally, about what great "stuff" my wife
had. He said that a man should be downright proud to have that kind of "stuff"
available to him in bed and he hoped I was taking the proper care and advantage
of it. He then turned to Sally and asked her straight out whether she was
getting enough regular cock, and did she enjoy it when I "slipped her the man
meat?" This was not just dirty talk. This was outright proposition to fill in as
a substitute sex partner if needed, and Sally must have known it. She hadn't
accepted any of Bob's sexual challenges yet, but her response was uncertain and
ambiguous, and at the least, she was now willing to flirt back at Bob's dirty
talk. Later that same evening Bob asked her whether her pubic hair was as blond
as that on her head. Sally didn't seem the least bit offended. Rather she coyly
promised to let him see for himself some time. In fairness to Bob and Sally, all
this talk was usually lubricated with a good deal of wine and liquor, at least
that was what I told myself. More honestly tho, I must admit that drunk or
sober, I was no more eager to put a stop to Bob's advances than Sally was. I am
not prone to schoolboy jealousies. I have never thought of myself as a stud, and
I don't have much ego in that respect. I had long since decided that if my Boss
wanted to flirt with my wife, and talk sexy to her, then she was damn well on
her own. I certainly wasn't going to jeopardize my career over some dirty talk
even though I began to suspect that all this was likely to take us into some
very strange waters indeed.
*** Sure enough, that ship of fools set sail for the first time on a Friday
evening last fall. The weekend party time had arrived, and all three of us were
enjoying a good wine and some laughs. Dinner had arrived late, and we all were
pretty well oiled even before we ate. After the dishes were cleared, we sent the
maid home early and went back to drinking. Sex was the topic of the evening as
it had become recently on every such occasion between the three of us. Bob
wanted to know if I had ever tied Sally spread eagle on the bed before I fucked
her. When I admitted I hadn't, he offered to take her into the bedroom and get
her ready for me right then. Sally's blouse unaccountably became unbuttoned at
the top, and without a bra (unusual for her), she was showing a lot of tit
flesh. Bob managed a not very subtle look down her cleavage and spotted a
nipple. He was not bashful in bragging about his good fortune. That led to a
drunken debate about how long and hard Sally's "nips" were. It was an argument
that Sally abruptly ended when she suddenly pulled her blouse all the way open
and flashed us with her bare breasts for a half minute or so. Sometime after
midnight Sally went into the kitchen for more ice. Bob followed her in. They
were gone for longer than seemed necessary, and finally I stuck my head in the
door to see what was going on. Sally was standing facing away from me with her
abdomen pushed against the sink . Bob was behind Sally with both arms around
her, squeezing her body hard against his. Bob's hands were inside Sally's
unbuttoned and open blouse, fondling a bare breast in each one. From the way she
was grinding her butt back against his groin, I assumed she must have felt a
length of rising cock pulsing against the crack of her ass. I heard Sally groan
softly, but she said not a word of denial or protest. I could hear Bob telling
my wife what good "stuff" she was. Her "stuff" had been a recurring theme for
weeks now, but this was more than just dirty talk. This was a request, no more
like a demand, that she give him some of her "stuff." Sally didn't say yes, but
she certainly didn't say no, or try to pull away. Instead she just stood there,
her head laid back, in a kind of trance as if she wished the world to go away so
she could enjoy the fingers that were caressing her breasts and nipples. What
was I to do? I could barge in and play the jealous husband, and sure enough by
tomorrow morning I'd be out on the street with no job and no future; this
marvelous life would be gone, and the chances are that Sally would be gone with
it whether she fucked Bob Simpson this evening or not. It didn't seem to me that
she objected to having him feel her breasts, and damn her, if she didn't care, I
couldn't think of any reason why I should. I quietly went back to the living
room, and minutes later Bob and Sally joined me. As if by a common conspiracy
our little drinking party was adjourned, and we retired to our respective
bedrooms with an embarrassing haste. That little scene I had witnessed in the
kitchen had left me as horny as a sailor on leave. I lost no time in grabbing a
handful of naked wife, and demanding that she give my prick her full attention.
If she could let our guest fondle her, she could damn sure pleasure me as well.
Sally didn't object. She was just as worked up as I was, and we skipped our
usual mundane foreplay to go directly to our favorite position..., me on my
back..., Sally siting upright and astride my crotch with my cock buried in her
pussy. Pegged on my cock like that, she threw her head back, closed her eyes and
rode my dick with hips that slowly worked their way forward, back, and then
forward again. We had been at it five minutes or so, when a nude Boss Bob
entered the room with a ten inch erection pointing the way. He stood by only for
a moment or two before kneeling on the bed alongside my shoulder where he could
best watch Sally jacking my cock with her pussy. Eventually, tentatively, as if
he could resist no longer, he reached out and gave one of Sally's nipples a hard
pinch. Sally opened her eyes and gave a quick start, but said nothing. I don't
think she knew he was in the room until then. Bob asked her if she was "taking
meat." She nodded, 'yes.' He asked her if she would like to "take Boss meat,"
and she again said nothing. This time if there was any movement of her head at
all, it was hardly perceptible. Still, I thought I saw my wife again nod, "yes."
Whatever her answer, even as she rocked her pussy on my cock, her full attention
was frozen on Boss Bob's great male spear. As if unable to resist her
fascination, Sally turned her head to the side, and by balancing her weight on
her arms and hands as she bent forward toward him, she took the head of Bob's
erect penis into her mouth. Stooped over me like that, a nipple of one beast was
brushing my chest, and her chin was just above and within inches to the side of
my eyes. I had a ringside view of her cheeks hollowing as she began to suck the
prick of this stranger to our bed. I was stunned. Blow jobs had never been
Sally's favorite thing, altho she would occasionally suck me off in appreciation
for some expensive diamond or sapphire pretty that I had given her. Even then,
tho, she kept a towel handy to dispose of the cum that she refused to swallow.
This night, however, she seemed to actually enjoy servicing my boss with her
mouth. As I lay there trying to hold back my ejaculation under the pressure of
Sally's grinding hips and pussy, I idly wondered what she would do if he should
shoot in her mouth. Would she swallow his cum? I had to wait till later for an
answer to my question, however. All this was more stimulation than I could
stand, and as my wife sucked on my Boss' penis, my poor balls fired their best
load into her vagina. After 10 years I can tell when Sally has orgasmed, or is
about to. This night, I was way too quick for her. Even as hot and horny as she
was from our evening of sexy talk, and that little scene in the kitchen with
Bob, she had not yet reached a climax. My unfortunate premature ejaculation
would be no loss to Sally, however. I was barely spent before Bob grabbed a
fistful of Sally's hair and pulled her mouth from his cock. Already distressed
by my too quick response to her overheated pussy, Sally whimpered a small
protest at the sudden loss of the male lollipop she had been sucking. She
needn't have worried. Bob wasting no time in substituting himself for Sally's
sexual klutz of a husband. As if she was a rag doll Bob's strong arms lifted her
off my softening cock, and dropped her back down upright on her knees straddling
his crotch. Directly under her spread thighs Bob's huge cock was sticking
straight up, aimed directly at her already used, still open, but unsatisfied
pussy. Sally's whining protest quickly ceased when she realized that a solution
to her horny might yet be at hand. Bob's penis was much larger than mine,
however and Sally was not only aware of the difference, it seemed that she
wasn't at all sure she could handle it. I could see absolute awe in her eyes as
she stared down at the male member that was offering itself, so available but so
frighteningly huge, at the very portal of her pussy. Sally was clearly
struggling with what to do next. I knew she desperately wanted to be fucked, but
I was right beside her watching. Moreover, what might a cock that big do to her
poor pussy? I doubt Sally had ever even seen a penis that size outside of a porn
movie, and certainly she had never had one like it inside her. Never the less,
Bob pressed the issue. "Do you want to take the Boss meat, Sally," he asked. Her
answer was another small, but this time, a quite perceptible, nod, "yes." It was
clear that Bob expected a reply a good deal more substantial than what he
received. He seemed about to say something, but then thought better of it.
Instead he reached up with one hand and began to play with a tit and its nipple.
The other hand he slid between Sally's legs where her pussy hung barely above
the head of his penis, and began to stroke her clit and pussy. Sally gave a
startled gasp as he ran a finger deep inside her. Minute after minute crept by
and still he played with her, teasing, tempting, torturing her with erotic
caresses. Finally, abruptly, he brought the hand that had been in her cunt up to
Sally's face. His ran his fingers wet with the juices from her vagina teasingly
over Sally's lips and then into her mouth where she sucked them one by one like
little cocks. Sally was signaling her desire with short low moans, but she was
still refusing to surrender, and her hips remained indecisively suspended over
the cock she wanted so badly. Bob, however, persisted, and after she had cleaned
his hand with her mouth, he returned to teasing her sensitive tits and cunt.
Again he asked, "Do you want me to fuck you Sally?" Once more she answered only
with a nod, "yes." This time, however, the signal was considerably stronger and
more positive. Sally's moral resolve was eroding under the stress of her need
and Bob's assault. Bob and I both could see it wouldn't be long now before she
would give in to the penis that waited under her. "Come on Sally," Bob pressed,
"I won't force you. I'm not into rape. If you want me to fuck you, you have to
ask for it." "Not with Harry here, please..." Sally voice was a quiet whisper,
as if she was trying to hide from my ears the desire and distress that lay under
her words. Bob, however, remained insistent. "Yes, with Harry here! I want him
to hear you beg me to fuck you. It is time he learned what a horny little slut
he is married to." With that, Bob pulled one of Sally's hands down to his cock
and held it there until she wrapped her fingers around it. Her mouth fell open
as she her hand explored its length, and then ever so gently, she began to jack
its skin slowly up and down over the huge plum head. With the feel of that great
penis under her fingers, Sally's resistance collapsed. Quietly she admitted what
I could plainly see. "God yes, Bob, I need it in me so bad. Fuck me" "Well then
get on with it," Bob answered, "You have it in your hand. Stick it in your cunt.
A sluts earns my cock by sliding it into her pussy without help." Sally lowered
her hips an inch or so closing the gap that had separated the hard-on waiting so
tantalizingly under her from her vagina. Sally's pussy was soaking wet and its
lips were still slightly parted from being around my prick. No woman was ever
better prepared than Sally to take a penis inside her, even one as exceptionally
large as Bob's. With deft fingers, she forced the head into her slick and open
hole. With Bob's oversized rod in place, her hands and arms were then free to
support her upper body on his shoulders. Balanced on top of him that way, she
leaned forward, her tits dangling in is face, and gradually eased him up her
love chute, taking more male meat inside her than even a pussy as hungry as hers
could be expected to handle. It must have hurt some to impale herself on that
monster of a penis, but Sally was in such heat that a little pain was of no
consequence. She wanted that thing inside her at any price, whether her pain, my
feelings, or our marriage. Nothing mattered except that Boss Bob would fuck her
with his mighty male member. Bob, however, understood that he was a difficult
fit, and he was considerate about it. He let her take her time settling down
onto his oversized woman tamer, and slowly, inch by inch it disappeared into
Sally's cunt. She took it all. To my utter and complete disbelief, her pussy
finally rested flat on Boss Bob's pelvic bone without even a millimeter of his
other bone showing outside her incredibly stretched cunt. Once down, neither
Sally nor Bob moved a muscle. She was, I suppose, simply enjoying the feeling of
being stuffed with more cock than she had ever before experienced. She had made
her decision and her crisis of conscience had passed. She had what she needed,
and her eyes glazed over with pure bliss. As the same time Bob seemed satisfied
to let her savor the moment. He knew that he had won. There would be ample time,
and opportunities, in which to fuck my horny wife. . Bob asked her if she "liked
taking the Boss meat?" Her response was still another of those small nods of her
head. This time Bob didn't hide his displeasure with her response. He raised his
hands under her arm pits and without warning lifted her off the pole she needed
so badly, and sat her down astride his thighs. The iron shaft that a moment
before had been so promisingly deep in her cunt now lay tall and unused, flopped
against Sally's belly, a dark brown smear against her white skin and whispy
blond bush. "Please! No! No! Put it back!" came Sally's immediate protest.
Before replying, Bob reached under her splayed legs and hooked his social finger
deep in her pussy. At the same time, his thumb pressed down hard on her clit.
With Sally's tender core caught in the vice of his hand, Bob demanded her total
capitulation. "Tell me Sally," Bob asked softly, "did you like taking the Boss
meat? Did it feel good in you? Do you want more? Do you want me to fuck you...,
or not?" Sally turned pale as the implications of the threat "or not" hit her.
She was beside herself with a craving to remount her lover, but the submission
he was demanding was more than she had expected to give. Always before Sexy
Sally Truxel the campus queen had been in full control of her sexual favors.
Now, an overpowering desire to be filled with ten inches of the Boss meat had
changed all that. Still, she struggled mightily to retain some shred of her old
pride and self respect. "All right then, I'll say it," she whimpered with petty
exasperation, "Do it to me." Then as she turned towards me, louder she said,
"Forgive me Harry, but I do need him so." "Not good enough Sally," Bob
responded. "I won't let you pretend any more. Harry may not know it, but you
have been trying to be slut all your life. You just never knew how, and Harry
didn't understand sluts well enough to teach you. Me tho, I know all about
sluts. I know that you want this big cock of mine. I know that you're going to
let me fuck you with it. I know that this won't be the only time either. That's
what you want isn't it Sally, my big cock to fuck you..., to fuck you again and
again? Get the over it, Sally. Come be my slut. Beg me to fuck you." Sally
responded with a woeful moan from behind clenched teeth, still trying to bluff
upon a fading hope that this game could be played out without her total
surrender. Bob and I both could hear the raw desire in her moan, however. There
was no way. Almost inaudibly, so low was her whimper, she gave it up. "All right
then. Fuck me," she said, . Then, realizing the inadequacy of her surrender, she
said again, much much louder this time, screaming out her need for a cock in her
cunt. "Yes, Please, Please, I am a slut....fuck me!" I knew then our lives had
just changed forever. I had no idea yet how much!
*** Bob had played this game before. He knew all the tricks. He had his fish on
the line and now was the time to set the hook. "All right my sweet little blond
whore. Mount me. Climb back up on that pole, stick it in your cunt, and ride me.
Show me how glad your are to take the Boss meat. Pleasure yourself as you will,
but one thing tho, you must not come until I do. Remember, when you take the
Boss meat, you have to do what the Boss tells you." Sally was quick to comply
with the orders from her new boss. Raising herself on her knees again, she
reached under her and with her hand guiding the way, she dropped her love sleeve
down over her the big penis she so lusted after. This time, however, her
impalement was neither slow nor gradual. No, she needed to fill her hole with
boss meat now more than ever, and with a single downward thrust she drove him
home all the way to his balls. Sally's was upright on Bob's cock this time,
sitting on it and with the same slow grinding back and forth movement of her
hips that she had used to jack me off. She hadn't gotten off on my cock, but
this time my wife was better serviced with a full ten inches inside her. Now,
even this slow measured love making was carrying her to the edge of orgasm.
Frustrated, and struggling to control the impending climax her lover had
prohibited, she began to whimper. "Please Bob...." she began in a whine. "What
is it Sally?" Bob interrupted, "and its 'Boss Bob." "God, I need to cum. Please
Boss Bob..., I'll die if I don't cum." "No, you won't die my little slut," Bob
assured her. "Sluts don't die from being fucked." "Please Boss Bob, don't call
me that. I'm not a slut, its just that...." "You are a slut Sally. Your husband
just heard you admit it. He heard you beg me to fuck you, remember, and what are
you doing now? You are sitting on my cock with him watching. What else could you
be but a slut. Say it! Tell me you are a slut!" "Oh God, Boss Bob! No, don't
make me say that." "Say it bitch! If you want me to fuck you, say it!" "Oh
please, don't stop. Please, you just can't stop. I need your cock! I do so need
to be fucked. All Right! Yes! I admit it. I am a slut..., but please Boss Bob,
let your slut cum." "No way slut. This our first time together, and we will
finish together! When you feel my cum in your cunt, you can climax too, but not
before. If an orgasm is what you want, then you'd better get your ass in gear
and get me off..., right now." Sally needed her orgasm, and she had one bubbling
in her ovaries she couldn't hold back much longer. She had to make Bob cum in
her cunt, and she simply went crazy trying. I had never seen her like this
before. She was still upright on her lover's belly, impaled on his pole of
flesh, but there was no more slow grinding hips. Using her thighs as springs,
Sally fought to defy gravity, levitating herself upward and then dropping
suddenly down onto the peg of man flesh waiting under her. Hair flying, boobs
bouncing, in a wild fury she hammered herself on and off all that male meat, all
the while fondling her own breasts, stretching them toward her mouth to bite and
lick her own nipples. Despite her uncontrollable passion, from time to time
Sally struggled briefly to regain some measure of control over her situation.
Once, and then once again, she swore obscenely at this man who had just mastered
her, still trying to resist him, but within moments her resolve would collapse,
and she quickly returned to pleading for him to fuck her, and to fill her with
his cum. Boss Bob was clearly in control, but apparently he had decided not to
push his advantage too far, or was his leniency because even his iron control
couldn't withstand Sally's frantic assault upon his prick? Whichever, it was
only minutes after Sally had abandoned her last effort at resistance that semen
began to seep from around the seal between his cock and Sally's pussy. They must
have heard Sally's cry of release 20 floors below on 5th Ave. If this was an
orgasm, what the hell had she been having with me all these years? Had she been
faking it with me? Perhaps, but I don't think so. Sally was simply too sensual,
to demanding of her own pleasure, for that. This was simply sex on a higher
level, on a much higher level, than Sally and I had ever imagined existed.
Still, Bob Simpson was not yet through. While Sally was still quivering, he took
her by the hand and put her on her knees before the chair where I had just
watched my wife ride another man's cock to a shattering orgasm. I should have
been hurt and angry at what I had seen. The truth was, however, I was excited
and aroused watching my pretty little bitch get fucked half to death by another
man. It had been the sexiest show I had ever seen, partly I suppose because this
was not just some horny female getting dicked, this slut was my wife. Anyway, my
prick was up, hard as a rock, and I guess Bob figured that he owed me. "SUCK HIM
OFF!" Bob ordered. For the first time in our marriage, my Sally began to blow me
like a street whore instead of a preacher's wife. After a single taste of Boss
meat in her belly, Sally had become all slut. She so needed a cock that she
didn't care if it was mine or someone else's, or whether it filled her mouth or
her cunt; it was sufficient that it was a penis, hard and erect, and it was hers
to pleasure herself with. It had been a long time since I had cum twice in one
evening, but then I had never had a blow job like one this before from Sally or
anyone else. Sally's bobbing head and swirling tongue soon squeezed a new load
from me...and then, as if to answer any questions I may have had, she swallowed
it all. Savoring every last taste, she even licked away the late arriving final
drops as they dripped off the end of my penis. As soon as Sally had finished
with me, Bob stood her up and led her across the room where he seated himself on
the couch. There, he made her stand before him, legs spread, arms up, fingers
locked behind her head, tits out, the an icon of a slut in total submission. Bob
hooked her vulnerable pussy with a finger, and lifted her until she teetered on
her toes. He pulled her forward to him until he could reach a nipple in his
mouth. Sally moaned, and Bob raised his head from her breast and asked, "What
are you Sally." "I am a slut." The reply came in a whisper. "Whose slut are you
Sally?" "I am your slut. Boss Bob's slut." "Tell me what you want, Sally."
"Please, Boss Bob, I want your cock." "Where do you want me to put it?" "In my
cunt, in my mouth, whatever you want Boss Bob." Sally was becoming braver. Her
reply was louder and more certain. "But what if I want to fuck your ass, will
you take my cock there too. Will you spread your buttocks with your hands and
beg me to fuck you in the ass?" "Yes Boss Bob, Yes I will beg you to fuck my
ass. Put your cock in me wherever you wish, wherever it gives you pleasure. I
want you to fuck my cunt, my mouth, my ass....., but please for the love of God,
just fuck me." That business about being fucked in the ass really gave me the
double take. Sally had always obstinate in her refusal to even discuss anal sex,
and here she was willing to beg this bastard to shove his oversized prick up her
rear end. Bob looked at his pleading victim questioningly for a moment, and then
to my disappointment, he declined the opportunity for something what I really
wanted to see..., Sexy Sally, the campus queen, on her hands and knees with ten
inches of hard penis buried in her asshole. "No Sally," he told her, right now I
want you to cum in your mouth and watch you swallow my seed! Will you suck my
dick until I cum, Sally, and then swallow every drop?" "Oh, yes sir. I love your
penis. I want it in my mouth, I want to taste it, to take your cum down my open
throat, to swallow every drop." Sally was pleading quite willingly now, almost
ready to cry. "Very well then," Bob told her, as he stood up. His cock had
become hard again from humbling poor Sally, and it jutted from his crotch like
the bow sprit of sail boat. "Kneel bitch, but keep your knees spread and your
hands behind your head. Suck me, and swallow my cum. Show me how a slut sucks
the cock of the man who owns her." Sally did as ordered. On her knees now, her
hands still behind her head, she opened her mouth, and leaned forward slightly
to wrap her lips around the head of the horse cock in front of her. For a time
Bob pulled back just enough that her lips could only reach the glans. Then he
began to push and force more and more hard meat into her throat. Of course he
was too big for poor Sally to take all of him, but even as she gagged on him,
more than half his length disappeared into her mouth. To have a lover force his
hard penis down her gullet must have been a new experience for Sally, and she
certainly had never before dealt with one of that size. The Boss was quick to
show disapproval at her failure to swallow him whole. He grabbed her by the hair
and pulled her head forward and back, fucking her mouth and forcing himself even
further into the back of her throat. "Now you do it," he commanded, taking his
hands away. "Bob your head bitch. Masturbate me with your mouth." In her awkward
position, unable to use her hands, it was not a easy assignment, but Sally
struggled to comply. I watched in awe. My wife who had always before hated a
cock in her mouth was frantic in her devotion to this one. Ever bit as amazing
was the stamina of Boss Bob who seemed immune to the friction my cocksucking
wife was applying to his pecker. At long last, however, she began to get to him
and I could see from strain on his face that he was holding back his own orgasm
by the time he pulled his member away from Sally's sucking mouth. "No Please!
give it back to me," Sally protested. "Damn," I thought in amazement, "her mouth
is being raped, and she is even turned on by it." Bob called a time out (I
suspect to allow for his own recovery). He allowed his newly captured slut to
take her arms down for a few moments while he stooped to bend her head back and
kiss her on the lips. Lifting her body to him, he played with her tits and
nibbled with his lips, tongue and teeth upon her nipples. In payment for his
caresses, poor Sally was required to swear again and again that she was his
slut, his whore, his cunt slave to do with as he pleased. At first Sally was
slow and reluctant with her answers. She was still clearly uncomfortable with
the totality of the submission her new lover was demanding of her. Bob was
patient and thorough with his training, however, and gradually, surrender by
surrender, humiliation by humiliation, Sally was able to repeat her sexual
catechism without hesitation. "Again, tell me again. What are you Sally?" "I am
a slut, a whore, a love slave to your cock, Boss Bob!" "And whose slut are you?
Who do you belong to now, Sally?" "I am your slut Boss Bob, your whore! I belong
to you, all of me, my mouth, my cunt, my ass." Convinced that his captive had
mastered her oath of fealty, Bob had her begin his blow job again, but with a
change in the rules. Back on her knees with her fingers again locked behind her
head, she had to open her mouth and let his pecker lay passively on her tongue.
He told her that he wanted his cock to "breathe" as it soaked in her saliva.
Sally's jaws ached from stretching them apart for this weird and humiliating
ritual. When at last Bob tired of that passive caress, he let her close her
mouth, and ordered her to begin sucking him all over again. None of this was
easy for Sally in her required pose of absolute submission, but Sally's desire
to please her new master carried her through. The determined bobbing of her head
jacked her stretched lips forward and back along that imposing rod. Not even
Bob's talented cock could withstand such devotion indefinitely, and the moment
finally came when he shot his wad down my sweet Sally's throat. She swallowed it
with the relish of a Hong Kong whore, and searched for more as she licked and
nibbled on the softening Boss meat that he left in her face to clean. Bob let
Sally off her knees then, brought her back to bed, where he laid her down,
kissed her on the mouth, and pressed her body against his. Suddenly he was a
tender and compassionate lover who praised her for the pleasure she had given
him. Sally absolutely glowed with his kind words. Promising her a reward, he
knelt between spread her legs, and began to eat her pussy. He clearly knew where
all the good spots were. He first ran his tongue around and around her clitoris,
and then down into the slit itself. Up and down, up and down, he licked and kept
licking. Just as Sally began to gasp for air, he put his mustache where it would
tickle her clit while he fucked her crack with rapid and repeated in and out
strokes of his tongue. Maybe I had just never done it the right way, but Sally
had always been embarrassed by cunnilingus, and never seemed to enjoy it. Boy
was she different now! That mustache and tongue fuck were just too much for her.
She came in a string of shattering orgasms, each a little larger than the one
before until at last she simply fainted dead away. Bob held her head in his lap
and stroked her temples until Sally came to. She looked a sweaty disheveled
mess. To all appearances she had just been raped by the whole Polish Army. Bob
told her to go take a shower, fix her face and hair, put on some perfume, and
report back to us still nude. He told her that his balls were still of cum, and
that she must pleasure me again as well because, as he put it, "I had been such
a good sport about all this." Without one word of protest, off to the bathroom
she went, and in less than a quarter hour she was back, beautiful as ever, ready
and eager for more sex. She knelt before us, and begged us for our cocks. No
captive slave of the a Pharaoh beaten into submission with a silver whip ever
pled to be used with more sincerity than did Sally on this evening of her
surrender. "Please fuck me. Both of you, Please fuck me." she begged. "It is all
I am fit for. I am a wanton whore who has begged Boss Bob to fuck me while my
husband watched. I am truly a slut. Let me make it up to you Harry. Fuck me now,
Harry. Let me pleasure you the way I did Boss Bob." Then, almost as an after
thought, Sally explained further, "Please forgive me Harry, but he gave me no
choice. I so needed to be filled with the Boss meat. I had to do what he said.
God help me! I could not do otherwise" She had summed things up pretty well, and
there was no more for me or anyone else to say. I fucked her once more that
night (a third ejaculation and new one day record for me), as did Bob. Bob also
put her through another of those slutty blow jobs. He ended the evening by
making her join first me and then him in the shower where she washed our cocks,
balls, and assholes, and dried us off with her tongue. Just before dawn I went
on to sleep in Sally's and my bed, but Boss Bob bound Sally's arms behind her
back with an old neck tie, and led her off naked to his bedroom by a robe sash
looped around her neck. The next morning I would find her on the floor there,
her arms still tied, but with the rope around her neck replaced by a chain that
was padlocked to the foot of Boss Bob's bed. She said Bob had fucked her one
last time, and then left her to spend the rest of the night on the floor like
that. Bob was obviously not always kind to his sluts.
************************* (To Be Continued)
