The attached work of fiction is intended to be entertainment for adults in locations in which it is

legal. If it is illegal in your location, DO NOT read. This is a copyrighted work. Reposting or

any other use strictly prohibited without the express, written permission of the copyright holder,

except may be posted as part of a review or posted to free-access, noncommercial archive sights.

Copyright 1998, 1999 by E. Z. Riter.

E-mail address: ezriter@hotmail.com

Please! Give me your comments.

 

MY BOSS' SLUT

Part Three

I saw my slut wife's pretty foot, still wearing the six inch-heeled shoe with the ankle strap

securely locked, extend through the open limo door. Then, her leg. Wait! He pulled her back

into the limo. They closed the door.

What was happening? What were they doing?

Was he going to fuck her right there? With the driver able to see and hear them, with all the

neighbors watching on this Sunday evening?

There was Mr. Gleason across the street watering his flowers. He was watching the limo,

watching from the corner of his eye. Did he know his sweet little neighbor, Becky, the pretty

school teacher, was going to be fucked inside that big car with its black windows?

I waited. My cock was so hard in my pants, so hard. I had beat off just an hour ago, beat off like

she told me to do so I could last longer for her.

Was the limo moving? Did I see it rock gently? Were they fucking in there? Maybe she was

sucking his cock, her sweet lips with their bright red lipstick wrapped around his huge cock?

Moving back and forth. Maybe, up her ass again. She had loved that, loved it when I watched my

boss fuck my wife's ass. She was tied over the desk in his office then. Oh, how I wished I could

be inside that limo watching them!

How long would they make me wait? How long? I have never seen the second hand on my

watch move so slowly. What could I do? I had to wait, wait at the door watching the black limo

parked in front of my house. Wondering.

The door is opening again. Yes.

Mr. Williams stepped out of the limousine. I could not see her, see Becky, his slut, my wife. It

had been since Friday and now it was Sunday night. She had been with him all weekend.

What had happened?

Mr. Williams looked perfectly groomed and dressed as if he just stepped from a shower. He bent

over to help someone from the limo. I saw her foot again. I saw her leg, the hem of her dress.

Ah! There she was. Oh, my. Becky looked well fucked. I opened the house door and ran down

the sidewalk towards them. She saw me coming and smiled. She was exhausted. As I got closer,

I could see the white stains on her face and dress. I was beside her now, slipping my behind her

back to support her.

"She has had a rough weekend, Bob. And, this week will be tough."

He stuffed a piece of paper in my pocket.

"Have her there at six in the morning. Do not be late. Then, when they say you can leave, come

to my office."

"Yes, sir."

"Goodbye, slut," Mr. Williams said to my wife.

He kissed her hard, one hand on the nape of her neck. I saw the other go through the opening of

her dress. He was playing with her pussy. Right here in broad daylight on Sunday evening with

all the neighbors home, my boss was playing with his slut's pussy. With my wife's pussy. I

quickly glanced around to see if any neighbors were watching.

Was Mr. Gleason the only one watching as he played with her pussy? Mr. Gleason watching as

he watered his flowers. Did he have a hard on? Was his cock bursting in his pants as mine was?

"I had a wonderful time, Mr. Williams," she said, although it was said gasping as if she were in

pain.

"Good. We will do it again in a few weeks. Goodbye."

He jumped in the limo and left us there. The dress had fallen open. Could anyone see her? She

her nakedness? She the cum on her thigh? Her clit ring glistening with wetness? Becky looked at

me and blushed. Ashamedly, she held the dress around her, looking down.

"Please, Bobby, I hurt. Will you carry me in?" she said very softly.

I lifted her in my arms, carrying her into the house, to our bedroom where I gently set her down

on the bed. She fumbled through her purse and handed me a tiny key.

"Take the shoes off, Bobby, please. They have not been off all weekend. My feet are killing me."

 

I unfastened the tiny lock and undid the buckle. Her feet were swollen.

"Oh, migod, that hurts," she moaned as I pulled the left shoe off her. I started to massage her

foot. "No. Get the other one off," she whimpered. When both shoes were off, she fell back on the

bed. Her feet were swollen and puffy. I began to rub them.

"That feels so good," she moaned.

Her dress was open all the way, leaving her naked in front of me. Her pussy was bruised, the lips

still swollen. As I looked at it, white cum oozed slowly from her and slid down the crack of her

ass. She extended one of her long, red tipped, finger nails and plucked the cum from her dripping

cunt. I watched as she brought her hand over her mouth. She opened her mouth wide, waiting,

waiting for his cum to drop.

Slowly, the drop fell into her open mouth, like nectar falling from a spoon to a waiting babe. She

stuck her finger in her mouth, slurping loudly to clean it.

"I love the taste of cum," she sighed contentedly.

"Becky, what happened?"

"Oh, Bobby, I will tell you all about it later. Go draw me a real hot bath and get me a drink, will

you, please?"

As I stood, she stuck two fingers up her pussy, swishing them around. Again, she took the cum

to her wanting mouth, licking herself clean, taking in all the cum my boss had left in her willing

pussy. When I returned from getting her drink and drawing the bath water, she was naked, sitting

on the edge of the bed.

"My feet hurt. Please, help me." I carried her into the bathroom, sitting her on the edge of the

tub.

"Oh, oh, oh, that feels so good," she groaned as she slid into the steaming water.

I was hard as a rock, my cock throbbing in my pants. What had happened to her? What had they

done? I had seen her thighs. What had happened to them? And, now, as she lay back in the tub, I

could see her breasts, her stomach. Oh, Becky had a hard weekend! But, had she liked it? Was

she still happy being my boss' slut? I needed to know!

The dried cum on her face was softening from the steaming water. Her makeup was starting to

run. I knew I had to have a picture. I ran for our camera. She looked so slutty with cum and

eyeliner dirtying her face, I just had to have a picture.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

 

"You look so slutty. I wanted a picture."

She laughed. "Bobby, they made videos of this weekend. You can look at your boss' slut all you

want."

She finished her bourbon and coke and handed me the glass, asking for another. When I

returned, she learned forward.

"Kiss for your boss' slut?"

I kissed her. I could taste the cum, his cum, in her kiss. It was the cum she had taken from her

swollen cunt just before she got in the bath.

"Did you beat off like I told you to?" she asked, watching me intently.

I felt the blush rise in my face and my cock twitch in my pants.

"Yes."

"How many times?"

"Ten."

"Ten. Wow, good for you. Next time, Bobby, I want you to beat off into a glass and save it for

me. I want to drink your cum when I get home. Your cum, Bobby, yours, the cum you shot

thinking of your slutty wife fucking your boss. Oh, Bobby, think of it. As I am fucking your boss,

taking his big cock deep in me, you are beating off into a glass. So, really two men are giving me

their cum to drink. Oh, how deliciously slutty!"

"All right. I will save it next time."

"Good. Now let me rest in the water a while and then I will tell you about my weekend," she said

with a tired smile.

I sat on the stool and waited. Soon, she finished her drink, asked for another refill and lathered

the wash cloth. Leisurely, she began rubbing her breasts. I saw her wince when the cloth rubbed

the blue spot.

"Do my hair, please, Bobby," she asked softly.

I kneeled on the floor beside the tub. After pouring shampoo on her silky hair, I began to rub,

building a lather, scrubbing her hair clean for her, for Becky, my wife. Slowly, I rubbed, the

lather, rich and sweet smelling, oozing between my fingers, sliding her smooth back in white

globs. Globs, soft and wet, sliding down her silky skin. Just as his cum had slid down her face,

her breasts, like big globs of cum.

Then, she pulled the stopper and the tub started to drain. She stood and pulled the shower curtain,

leaving me still kneeling by the tub. I heard the shower go on as she rinsed herself, rinsing away

the grime and the cum. Shower off, she reached for a towel and I handed it to her.

Did she know how I ached, how my dick hurt and my balls? Did she know how much I wanted

her? Why was she making me wait?

"Honey, why are you making me wait?"

She ripped back the shower curtain. Her eyes were blazing, her face red, the muscles in her throat

corded.

"If you were a real man, you would not let make you wait. You would take me when you wanted

me. But, if you were a real man, I would not be a slut just so I can have a child. You made me a

slut, you short dicked wimp! Now, get out of my bathroom!"

"Becky?"

"Get out!"

I left, of course. Why was she so angry at me? She loved it. She said so. She said she loved

being Mr. Williams' slut. She could have a child other ways. But she could not have him other

ways. Why was she mad at me? I was supportive, helping her. Why?

In a few minutes, the bathroom door opened. She looked sad as she sat on the bed by me.

"I am sorry. It is not your fault you are sterile. Come on. Let me suck your cock."

"No, Becky."

"Come on, please. Let me suck him and then I will tell you all about my weekend."

My slut wife slipped to her knees beside the bed. She pulled me up, wiggling my pants and shorts

off me. She pushed me back on the bed and wrapped her lips around my cock. Back and forth,

Her mouth was so warm. Back and forth. Wet, the pressure devine. Back and no. No. Oh, oh. I

could not help it. It felt so good, so good to have her hot mouth on my cock. She was sitting

back now, licking cum from her lips.

"See, honey. That is why I want a man who can last. Now, let me tell you what happened."

She got up on the bed beside me, legs crossed and started to talk. Her eyes were alive. The

whiskey and her bath had rejuvenated her.

"Well, you were there when he picked me up. The limo was plush, Bobby. It had a bar and

everything, much nicer than anything we could afford. He handed me a single red rose.

'For a lovely lady,' he said.

'Oh, thank you, Arthur,' I replied.

Bobby, he got mad. Real mad. He did not say anything but his eyes told me. He put his hand on

my leg, right there, on the knee. His fingers slowly started walking up my leg. It felt like a spider

on my leg. You know how I hate spiders. I wanted to brush it off, or shake it off, but I was afraid

of him, afraid of what he was going to do to me.

"Why are you angry?" I gasped out at him.

'You may never call me by my first name, slut. Do you understand?'

'Yes, sir, but.'

'But nothing, slut.'

His hand kept moving up my leg. I flinched, jerking my legs shut, trapping his hand. Oh, Bobby,

he did not like that. That is when he did this."

She pointed to a dark, purple-blue, ugly bruise on her thigh. I could see where a nail had dug into

her flesh, tearing it.

"He dug his nail in and squeezed. I grabbed his hands with mine but his look told me to let his

go. I pulled my hands away. He kept the pressure up, then slowly he twisted, just like a school

teacher twists a child's ear, he twisted my flesh until I screamed. When he released me, I grabbed

my leg, rubbing it.

'Put your hands flat on the seat, palms down, and slide them between the two seat partitions,' he

said. 'Never rub where I have punished, slut.'

I did it. I did not want to make him mad again.

'Now, spread your legs for me. That's it. No, slut. Wider. Wider.'

He reached over and removed the clip from my dress. The front fell apart leaving me totally

exposed. You saw that dress. It is one piece held together by that clip. Oh, Bobby, it felt so good

to be like that. To be totally exposed. Open. Under his control. I loved it, Bobby. I loved your

boss dominating me like that.

'Well, slut,' he said, 'I can see I will have to help you open your legs like I want them.'

Bobby, those limos have everything. There was a drawer in the shelf where the whiskey was. He

opened it. There were ropes inside. He took two pieces of rope and made slip knots in one end of

each of them. He took each of my legs and slipped a rope over foot. He pulled it, tightening the

rope around my ankle.

Bobby, I looked down at myself, at my shaven pussy and the ring through my clit hood, at the

high heels locked in place, at the rope, the white rope against the dark stockings. It was so

decadent! God, I was dripping pussy juices from it!

Oh, Bobby, you are so hard again. You like hearing about this, don't you? Do you want to stop

for a quickie?"

"No. Go on. Please."

"Bobby, there are straps in those limos. Straps like in cabs, for people to hold on to. They were

above the rear seat. He pulled my right leg up, toward the strap. He slipped the rope tied to my

ankle through the strap and pulled. I was bracing myself on my arms and on my other foot. It was

bent as such an angle, Bobby, as I strained as my right foot was tied to the strap.

I was starting to sweat as I stared into his face. I knew what he was going to do, Bobby."

Her hand was on my leg, her nails gently teasing me. Migod, I wanted her, wanted to fuck her.

Take her my mind screamed, but I sat there.

"Bobby, I need to cum. Will you eat me? Please. You know I can't cum easily from you fucking

me. After this weekend, maybe I will never be able to cum from you fucking me ever again."

"Why?"

"Oh, Bobby, his cock is so much bigger than yours. And his father's, well. I am sure my pussy is

so stretched I won't even feel yours."

"I thought that was an old wives tale, about stretched pussy, I mean."

"All little dicked men think it is an old wives tale, Now, eat me. Come on."

She lay back on the bed, pulling me towards her. I wanted to fuck her, but she pushed me, pushed

my head between her legs. She held me to her pussy. It was swollen again, swollen in need.

Her pussy is so sweet, so ripe. I love eating Becky's pussy. I licked. I tongued and sucked. I ate

Becky's pussy like a madman. All the time my cock was throbbing in its own need.

"More, more, suck my clit. Make me cum, Mr. Williams," she screamed, holding my head to her

dripping cunt. I made her cum. She came so much more easily now. It did not take nearly as

long, not after Mr. Williams had broken her in. She gasped, resting.

"Oh, Bobby, that felt good. I love to cum. You know, Bobby, you eat my pussy better than

anybody, even better than your boss. I just realized that. You are one pussy eating dude, Bobby."

 

She stretched her legs, arching her back as she yawned.

"Want to hear some more?"

"Yes," I said. My cock was ready to explode. Didn't she know that?

"Where was I? Oh, yes. There I was, watching him, spread wide and open, my dress undone. Oh,

it was delicious. I wish you could be a woman, Bobby, for just one day. You could learn how

good it really feels. I felt his hand on my left ankle, the one supporting me.

'Please don't,' I pleaded. But, he yanked it up. Bobby, I was swinging! As the limo moved, I was

swinging! He is so strong. He pulled my leg toward the other strap. He yanked the rope.

"No,' I screamed. 'You are pulling me apart.'

'I like more flexibility in my sluts. You need to began exercise.'

God, Bobby, how can I describe it? My legs were roped to the straps. My hands were trapped

between the seat cushions. My ass was in the air. My ass and my naked pussy. Oh, Bobby, it was

devine! I was swinging. I was swinging and with every swing, my pussy approached Mr.

Williams' face. Oh, I wanted him to lick me. When my pussy swung to his face, I wanted his

mouth on me. I felt so slutty, Bobby. So absolutely slutty and helpless swinging in the limo.

You know what he did, then? He slipped his finger in my pussy ring. This ring. The one through

my punctured clit hood. Then, when I swung away from him, it pulled. Oh, it hurt and I begged

him to let go. But, when the pressure lessened, shocks went through me, bolts. I knew I could

cum from it. I knew I could. I wanted to, Bobby. I wanted to cum swinging there, cumming from

his finger in my clit ring.

I wanted to cum so badly. My head was back, lower than my body. I could feel the blood

pounding through my brain. My thighs were tight, stretched, my muscles screaming from the

tension, my tendons hot and burning. I was so open. Open and available. And, I wanted to cum.

'Please, Mr. Williams. Let me cum. Let me. Please. I need it.'

I begged him to let me cum, begged so much. It felt good, Bobby. Sluts should beg once in a

while. He did not say a word. As I begged and begged to cum, he said nothing. He was keeping

me at the edge, the absolute edge of orgasm. It was devine, simply devine, oh God, I wish I could

feel it right now!

 

I could not see him. I could only feel his presence, feel him sitting between my open legs, feel

that one finger through my clit ring, as I swung back and forth, back and forth.

Oh, Bobby, you are so hard. Let's do something about that. Would you like to fuck your boss's

slut? Would you like to put your dick in this well used cunt, so well used, Bobby? Let's do it!

Then, I will tell you about the rest of my weekend."

 

To be continued . . .

Please! Give me your comments.

E-mail address: ezriter@hotmail.com
E. Z. Riter
My Boss' Slut 4