Happy Anniversary
Being his secretary, means I get to know my boss in ways that few other people do. I’m the woman who organises his life, who knows his whereabouts, his ins and outs, schedules his meetings, celebrates with him when he strikes a deal, consoles him with a tender hand on the shoulder when he misses out, the woman he confides in about his wife, his family, his hopes and aspirations.
I’m also the woman he fucks.
——————————
“Are we ok Catherine?” he asks, as he starts clearing his desk of the papers at the end of his day.
“Yes” I lie.
“Only you’ve been giving me the cold shoulder treatment all afternoon…”
I don’t answer, merely shrug.
“Jesus, Catherine. You know I can’t get out of this. I’m married to her. Celebrating your anniversary is what married couples do…”
Whilst I’m fully aware of that, I’ve surprised myself this afternoon, by how taken I’ve been by the green eyed monster, I’d never admit it to John, but I surprised myself today even, when I felt a twinge of jealousy, as I heard him making arrangements to take his wife out for a meal that evening at the swankiest restaurant in town, and the realisation that if ever there was a night when the frigid cow would open her legs for him, it’d be tonight.
“It’s the thought of you, with her, that’s getting me…” I say, as I walk over to his desk, and move behind the back of his big leather chair. Putting my hands on his shoulders, I move them either side of his head and down his shirt, caressing his chest, before moving down towards his midriff. As I do, I nuzzle into his head, and gently nibble at his ear lobe.
“But I’m gonna be late, Catherine. You know I can’t be late – not tonight.” He protests.
“Are you turning me down, John?”
“No, I’m not turning you down Catherine. You know I’d never do that, but it’s my Wedding Anniversary and I’ve a meal booked for 7…Can’t we just postpone this until tomorrow…” he suggests, as he makes to shrug my hands off of his shoulders and swivels his chair away from me...
“Don’t turn your back on me, John. You know that’s not a wise thing to do…”
“Fucking hell, Catherine! You're such a bitch!” he says, but a smile comes over his face and I move round and fall to my knees between his legs.
——————
And now I’m looking up at him, and his eyes are closed, but there’s a smile on his face, as his hands run through my spikes blonde hair and I know he’s in my complete control. He’s mine.
With just the addition of the delicate touch of my hand on his balls, I could have him cumming in my mouth in an instant, but that’s not what I want, not today.
It was me that instigated our initial affair, when I offer to suck his cock the first night we spent away together at an overnight conference in Bath, and he’s been at my beck and call ever since. And it was me who planned today’s little love scene in the office all along, in part by giving him the cold shoulder most of the afternoon, but also by removing my bra at lunchtime, so he had the afternoon to stare at my little pink nipples through my crisp white blouse.
I’d never admit it to John, but I surprised myself today even, when I felt a twinge of jealousy, as I heard him making arrangements to take his wife out for a meal that evening at the swankiest restaurant in town, and the realisation that if ever there was a night when the frigid cow would open her legs for him, it’d be tonight.
So I thought I’d help make their 18th Anniversary, or whichever meaningless year it is, a little more memorable…
And so here we are now. Me bent over and legs apart, leaning on his desk, as John takes me roughly from behind. And as he does, all the while I’m looking at the photo of his frigid cow of a wife, Patricia, smiling back at me on the desk.
Sorry, love, you wouldn’t be smiling if you could see us now. If you knew what I do to your husband routinely and whenever I get the urge…What your ‘devoted’ husband does to me, whenever I click my fingers or show him a glimpse of my thigh…
And I know she’s jealous of me. I could tell the first time I spoke to her, on one of her many calls to John’s office for any number of trivial matters. She certainly didn’t like it the first time I asked her did she mind telling me what the call’s about, as John’s very busy right now…Stuck up cow!
I try to keep my eyes averted from the other photo on the desk, the one where they’re playing happy families, with his son and daughter in tow. I’ve met both his kids on separate occasions, and have to admit, I do feel a twinge of guilt for them. However, only a tinge…
Instead though I focus on the matter in hand, or rather the fat cock in my little French cunt. I want to feel his thick cock pounding me, want to feel his hands all over my body, wanting me, needing me, needing me more than he ever needed his wife.
And I’m encouraging him, I’m telling him to take me, to fuck me, to fuck me harder, treat me like your whore, fuck me like you’d never fuck your wife, John.
And he needs little encouragement. He’s pounding me now, making the thick old mahogany desk creak, making the photo of his cow wobble, though I don’t want it to fall, I want her to ‘witness’ our own tender little anniversary scene.
And I’ve fucked him often enough now to know when we’re in the home straight. His breathing gets all short and urgent and sometimes, like now, he can’t help but utter little words and sentiments to me – and not always nice, either!
And so, he’s telling me I’m ‘his little French whore’, and that I’m a ‘dirty bitch’ and that I’m ‘cock mad’ – and it’s probably all true! And I like him to feel that he’s using me, that I’m his plaything, when in reality, all along, it’s always been the other way round. He’s the one at my beck and call, and while ever I want it, it’ll always be that way…
And as he climaxes and groans, I feel the weight of his body collapse against me, forcing me face down on the the desk. As he halts his rhythmic thrusts and begins to cum, my left hand instinctively grabs his, and I make a point of fingering his wedding ring, smiling one last time at his poor sap of a wife in the frame, no doubt getting ready for their anniversary meal as her husband gasps in my left ear and his cock empties his love juices inside me…
He’s yours, but in name only…I grin to myself, as the cheating bastard lays on top of me. Whilst she’s making herself presentable and deliberating over which frumpy dress to wear for their special anniversary meal, her husband - cock still rigid in my snatch - is kissing and nuzzling my ear lobe, telling me I’m beautiful, telling me I’m his special one, telling me he loves me, telling me what he knows I want to hear in this moment…
As we clean ourselves up and make ourselves look respectable again, I go to kiss John lightly on the lips.
“Happy anniversary”, I say, knowing his wife won’t be able to eclipse that, whatever she does for him tonight
I’m also the woman he fucks.
——————————
“Are we ok Catherine?” he asks, as he starts clearing his desk of the papers at the end of his day.
“Yes” I lie.
“Only you’ve been giving me the cold shoulder treatment all afternoon…”
I don’t answer, merely shrug.
“Jesus, Catherine. You know I can’t get out of this. I’m married to her. Celebrating your anniversary is what married couples do…”
Whilst I’m fully aware of that, I’ve surprised myself this afternoon, by how taken I’ve been by the green eyed monster, I’d never admit it to John, but I surprised myself today even, when I felt a twinge of jealousy, as I heard him making arrangements to take his wife out for a meal that evening at the swankiest restaurant in town, and the realisation that if ever there was a night when the frigid cow would open her legs for him, it’d be tonight.
“It’s the thought of you, with her, that’s getting me…” I say, as I walk over to his desk, and move behind the back of his big leather chair. Putting my hands on his shoulders, I move them either side of his head and down his shirt, caressing his chest, before moving down towards his midriff. As I do, I nuzzle into his head, and gently nibble at his ear lobe.
“But I’m gonna be late, Catherine. You know I can’t be late – not tonight.” He protests.
“Are you turning me down, John?”
“No, I’m not turning you down Catherine. You know I’d never do that, but it’s my Wedding Anniversary and I’ve a meal booked for 7…Can’t we just postpone this until tomorrow…” he suggests, as he makes to shrug my hands off of his shoulders and swivels his chair away from me...
“Don’t turn your back on me, John. You know that’s not a wise thing to do…”
“Fucking hell, Catherine! You're such a bitch!” he says, but a smile comes over his face and I move round and fall to my knees between his legs.
——————
And now I’m looking up at him, and his eyes are closed, but there’s a smile on his face, as his hands run through my spikes blonde hair and I know he’s in my complete control. He’s mine.
With just the addition of the delicate touch of my hand on his balls, I could have him cumming in my mouth in an instant, but that’s not what I want, not today.
It was me that instigated our initial affair, when I offer to suck his cock the first night we spent away together at an overnight conference in Bath, and he’s been at my beck and call ever since. And it was me who planned today’s little love scene in the office all along, in part by giving him the cold shoulder most of the afternoon, but also by removing my bra at lunchtime, so he had the afternoon to stare at my little pink nipples through my crisp white blouse.
I’d never admit it to John, but I surprised myself today even, when I felt a twinge of jealousy, as I heard him making arrangements to take his wife out for a meal that evening at the swankiest restaurant in town, and the realisation that if ever there was a night when the frigid cow would open her legs for him, it’d be tonight.
So I thought I’d help make their 18th Anniversary, or whichever meaningless year it is, a little more memorable…
And so here we are now. Me bent over and legs apart, leaning on his desk, as John takes me roughly from behind. And as he does, all the while I’m looking at the photo of his frigid cow of a wife, Patricia, smiling back at me on the desk.
Sorry, love, you wouldn’t be smiling if you could see us now. If you knew what I do to your husband routinely and whenever I get the urge…What your ‘devoted’ husband does to me, whenever I click my fingers or show him a glimpse of my thigh…
And I know she’s jealous of me. I could tell the first time I spoke to her, on one of her many calls to John’s office for any number of trivial matters. She certainly didn’t like it the first time I asked her did she mind telling me what the call’s about, as John’s very busy right now…Stuck up cow!
I try to keep my eyes averted from the other photo on the desk, the one where they’re playing happy families, with his son and daughter in tow. I’ve met both his kids on separate occasions, and have to admit, I do feel a twinge of guilt for them. However, only a tinge…
Instead though I focus on the matter in hand, or rather the fat cock in my little French cunt. I want to feel his thick cock pounding me, want to feel his hands all over my body, wanting me, needing me, needing me more than he ever needed his wife.
And I’m encouraging him, I’m telling him to take me, to fuck me, to fuck me harder, treat me like your whore, fuck me like you’d never fuck your wife, John.
And he needs little encouragement. He’s pounding me now, making the thick old mahogany desk creak, making the photo of his cow wobble, though I don’t want it to fall, I want her to ‘witness’ our own tender little anniversary scene.
And I’ve fucked him often enough now to know when we’re in the home straight. His breathing gets all short and urgent and sometimes, like now, he can’t help but utter little words and sentiments to me – and not always nice, either!
And so, he’s telling me I’m ‘his little French whore’, and that I’m a ‘dirty bitch’ and that I’m ‘cock mad’ – and it’s probably all true! And I like him to feel that he’s using me, that I’m his plaything, when in reality, all along, it’s always been the other way round. He’s the one at my beck and call, and while ever I want it, it’ll always be that way…
And as he climaxes and groans, I feel the weight of his body collapse against me, forcing me face down on the the desk. As he halts his rhythmic thrusts and begins to cum, my left hand instinctively grabs his, and I make a point of fingering his wedding ring, smiling one last time at his poor sap of a wife in the frame, no doubt getting ready for their anniversary meal as her husband gasps in my left ear and his cock empties his love juices inside me…
He’s yours, but in name only…I grin to myself, as the cheating bastard lays on top of me. Whilst she’s making herself presentable and deliberating over which frumpy dress to wear for their special anniversary meal, her husband - cock still rigid in my snatch - is kissing and nuzzling my ear lobe, telling me I’m beautiful, telling me I’m his special one, telling me he loves me, telling me what he knows I want to hear in this moment…
As we clean ourselves up and make ourselves look respectable again, I go to kiss John lightly on the lips.
“Happy anniversary”, I say, knowing his wife won’t be able to eclipse that, whatever she does for him tonight
2 bulan lalu