My Husband’s New Boss XXX

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By Lauren McAllister

We’d been having money problems for awhile (Wow! Did that ever make us unique.). There are some very hard truths you learn when you suffer from a severe paucity of cash. Number one is; just because you don’t have a job, doesn’t mean you don’t have to eat. Also; landlords very seldom let you live for free while you’re sorting your finances out. They’re funny that way.

We were absolutely desperate. Our finances were in worse shape than Nick Nolte in his mugshot.

So, when my husband got called for an interview at the local furniture factory, we couldn’t believe our luck. Perhaps we weren’t going to have to live under a bridge with gnarly hobos, after all! Furniture! No matter how bad the economy got, people always had to sit on shit, right? I gave him a good luck screw that night and a big sloppy breakfast blow job to settle his nerves before he left for his appointment.

After he’d gone, I was so nervous I wanked it 6 times to try and calm myself down. (Masturbation is Xanax for people who have more fingers than money.) It didn’t help much but it sure did feel good.

I spent an entire hour trying to figure out how to act when he returned home. If I was really excited and he didn’t get it, then he’d be destroyed. If I was too serious, he’d think I didn’t have any faith in him and thought he crapped out. In the end, I decided to have another wank and stop thinking so much.

When John finally did show up, he was over the moon. He said the guy who ran the place couldn’t have been nicer. They talked sports and showed each other pictures of their families and just had a great old time. Mr. Desena was going to call within 24 hours and let us know his decision. We were still $23.37 under our credit card limit, so we went out and blew the entire wad on three bottles almost-drinkable hootch. The last thing I remember, was trying to get my dress off before heading to bed and waking up in the apartment building hallway in just my underwear. I think I may have mixed up my doors.

Mr. Desena called the next morning and John was once again a member of the employed. We were so ecstatic we practically cheered despite the headaches and vomiting. He and some loser named Michael Trout were both being given a two week audition. The winner got the job permanently and the loser went back to being just plain old ordinary unemployed Michael Trout. That was the plan, anyway. Thursday, John came home in a very solemn mood. He looked like someone in his family had died or like when I take him Christmas shopping. This couldn’t be good. Eviction notices started to flash before my eyes.

It turns out that Desena called him into his office and informed him that Mikey Trout had offered his wife’s “friendship” in return for securing the job.

“Isn’t that illegal?” I asked.

“Only if you can afford a lawyer,” John replied.

We were sunk like a Walmart row boat. I searched my panicked brain for a way out. Well, first I searched my panicked brain to see if there was any booze left from the other night…and then I searched it for a way out. I came up craps on both counts. Maybe gnarly hobos weren’t as bad as their outward appearance and staggering whiffiness would have you believe.

“Perhaps we could fight fire with fire,” I heard myself say after a long quiet spell.

John went as white as an albino ghost. “What?”

“Well, I certainly haven’t contributed anything else tangible to this marriage. So I would be prepared to take one for the team…for us…as long as you were okay with it.”

“I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking. I’m offering.”

“And it wouldn’t be just “one” for the team. It would probably be ongoing.”

“Then, I would be prepared to keep on taking them until we’re back on our feet or you can find another job.”

That night Johnny was as quiet as Marcel Marceau’s grave. This whole sordid mess was killing him. Desena was an absolute fucking monster.

In the morning, hubby headed off work like he was about to get a colonoscopy from Ozzy Osbourne. I was so distraught all day; I couldn’t even get up the energy to have my 11 o’clock wank. Things were that bad.

“I mentioned it to him,” Johnny blurted out before he was fully in the door. I think he felt that if he didn’t say it right away, he would never have the courage again.

“What was his response,” I asked, dreading the answer.

“He gave me 200 dollars for you to cook him a meal on Saturday. There’s a whole script he wants you to follow. Sweetie, you absolutely do not have to do this…”

“We need to get back on our feet. Hopefully, it’ll only be a couple of months.”

Johnny handed me a couple of sheets of paper. “This is what Desena wants you to cook. There’s also a list of what he wants you to wear and how he wants the evening to play out. I haven’t even had the courage to read it.”

I anxiously gave it the once over. Jesus God! It read like a sexual horror movie. I refused to let myself cry or show any emotion as I absorbed all the gory details. I knew if Johnny had an inkling of what was on those pages, he would never let me do it. I had to be strong for the both of us.

“I can do this,” I smiled and lied.

We made a deal. I wouldn’t tell him what heinous acts of self-debasement I had to perform and he wouldn’t tell me what Desena looked like. Boy, did we make the right decision!

Come Saturday, I was so dyspeptic, I could barely stand the smell of the food I had to cook that malignant shit stain. I fantasized about adding a cup or two of Liquid Plumber to his béarnaise sauce – you know, just to give it a little kick. At six o’clock, I cleaned out my fingernails into his salad and I headed upstairs to shower, shave (yes, he was very specific on the level of my hirsuteness.) and don the required attire. Luckily I had a short black dress and I was born without underwear, so that part was easy.

At seven on the dot, the doorbell rang. John went to welcome out esteemed guest and I dashed off to throw up and brush my teeth. When I came back into the room, I almost lost what stomach contents I had left. Desena resembled that bad guy from Lethal Weapon 2’s uglier, more wicked uncle. I guess I had imagined someone slightly younger or more human. He gave me this disgusting, pervo smile as I walked over to shake his hand. It was like a big cold lump of clammy evil. I could feel my vagina trying to hide inside my asshole as he leered into my eyes. And then he pulled me to him and kissed me on the cheek very slowly. Yuuuuuck!

Apparently Stalin used to invite his associates over for a chummy dinner and they ate know that someone, after the meal, was going to be dragged off and shot. That was pretty well the mood around the table that night. Except in this case, one of us (namely me) was going to get dragged off and fucked. I sat next to The Creature from the Black Lagoon and John sat across from us. Desena kept going on and on about how great an employee Johnny was and how he’d hate to lose him. Hey, I’m sitting next to you in my shortest dress with the wicker from the chair sticking into my naked ass – we get it. After the apple crumble and French vanilla ice cream, he gave me another big slow kiss on the cheek to thank me for being such a good cook. He also had his hand a long, long way up my leg. It was all I could do not to stab him in the eye with my dessert fork. I jumped out of my chair and headed off to the kitchen. Cognac was to be served next. I took a huge snort of the stuff before I made my fateful march back into the room. With the drinks cheerfully distributed, it was now time for the “fun and games.”

“So Mister Desena, could I offer you a small blowjob to go with your after-dinner drink?” I couldn’t even look over at John. It was just too horrifying. I just pasted this big cheery “Up With People” smile across my face and tried not to turn into a pillar of salt.

“Why, thank you my dear. That might just be the perfect thing to cap of this wonderful meal.” He turned to my poor husband. “My, what a marvelous little hostess your wife is, Johnny.”

He continued his uber-charming conversation as I dropped down to my knees and began undoing his belt. “I can do this,” I kept telling myself. My real problem was – I didn’t know how good a lay Mike Trout’s wife was. I had to be better. This had to be the primo fuck of his lifetime and I was going to put all my revulsion aside and pretend this gorgon was Brad Fucking Pitt. I reached in and pulled out this hideous, pallid, wrinkled flaccid mess.

“Mr. Desena, what a beautiful cock you have!” I beamed.

“And it’s all yours for the rest of evening, my dear.”

Luckily, I had told Johnny beforehand to block everything out and that nothing I said or did that night was in anyway real. I stroked his nutsack with the tips of my fingers and licked his limp, rubbery member till it slowly came to life… or rose from the undead, depending on your point of view.

As soon as I put him in my mouth, he shoved my head down and almost decapitated my uvula but I didn’t hesitate to moan and slurp my approval.

“Your wife has the most deliciously delicate mouth, sir. The way her tongue slides along my shaft and caresses the head is absolutely sublime.”

Poor Johnny didn’t say word.

I tried to keep my head below the table as much as possible for his sake but it was tough. It was bad enough he had to hear the obscene noises emanating from my cock-filled esophagus. I started jacking Desena off while seriously working over his balls and scrotum with my tongue. My plan was to make him cum as quickly as possible. No way a dude this old and sinister could muster two pant-geysers in one night. He started moaning and shifting in his seat big time and I thought maybe I had him but he grabbed my hair and pulled me off his toxic genitalia. Shit! Now things were really going to get icky.

“I hope you like a wet, sopping vagina baby,” I cooed in his ear, “because you’ve turned mine into a lake of simmering, bubbling cock honey.” He hadn’t – but I had slathered up my lap candy with KY.

The Dark Lord stared holes in me as I removed my dress. And there I was, naked and humiliated and creeped-out right up to the eyeballs. Desena grabbed a handful of my pussy and pulled me towards him. “Ooh baby, you are talking my language,” I purred as he pumped his ring-finger in and out of me like he was trying to remove a paint spot from the wall of my vaginal canal.

“You don’t mind if I fuck this little wife of yours before I toddle off home, do you Johnny.”

“No sir, of course not,” came his weak, mumbled reply.

I thought I was going to start crying so I grabbed Desena’s head and stuck my tongue into his mouth. Now I was way too grossed out to even think about weeping. His hands were all over my breasts and ass as our lips and tongues locked in an unholy union. I straddled him and started to lower myself down onto his penis. The head of his knob easily penetrated my artificially lubricated quim. He must have thought that he was really toasting my marshmallows the way he slid into me. “I’ve been wanting to do this since you came through that door and now I’m going to fuck away every calorie you ate tonight.”

Ooomph – I was all the way down. Now, it was a free-for-all. I rode him like a wild fucking animal. I moaned and swore and writhed. My tongue was so far in his mouth, I could practically taste his breakfast. His face got redder and redder. “Of fuck!” I yelled. “Yes! I’m cumming. I’m goddamn cumming!” (I wasn’t)

I reached behind me and played with his gonads as I bounded up and down. A few more minutes of whacking my cunt about on his dick and he grabbed my ass with both his hands and gave this little jerk. There was a momentary silence. “Heartattack?” I hoped.

Nope. Desena began making these noises like a drunken sea lion as his poisonous semen started oozing out of him and polluting my uterus. I did not let up.

“Fill me up, baby. Fill me up with that luscious, gorgeous cum!”

I rode him till he begged me to stop. Then I jumped up and hungrily licked his dick and balls till they were sparkly clean. He patted my head like a good little doggy and I smiled up at him lovingly and gently stroked his spunk machine. I did not get dressed after that. I continued to fawn over him naked and tell Johnny what and unbelievable lover his boss was and could he please come back again as soon as possible.

When he finally left, Johnny and I didn’t talk. We just went to bed and tried to drain the utter disgust and self loathing from our bodies.

The next day, hubby came home and said that they were letting Trout go. That was the good news. The bad news was Desena had invited himself over to our place that night to celebrate. This time, he fucked me on our marriage bed while John sat in a chair next to us. I lay there with my legs spread apart like the saloon doors on Bonanza as he slowly took off his clothes, revealing more and more of his old, doughy skin. I’m surprised my vagina didn’t poof out a small cloud of dust, it was so off-putting. “Hurry up, baby!” I gurgled like a six year old with a learning disability. “I can’t wait for you to slide that great big piece of manhood into Mama’s dripping cum hole.” Desena made himself comfortable on top of me and his flabby extra skin drooped down the sides of my body. As his thrusting increased, all that gelatinous flesh got sweatier and flappier. By the time he shot his load, we were a cacophony of skin farts.

I think I cooked lamb that night.

From then on, I was at his disposal. He fucked me in his office, in his car and at his house when he wife was away. He even made me suck his cock in front of his secretary while he gave dictation. Johnny and I had stopped having sex. All it did was remind us of Desena.

One night he brought this Japanese guy to dinner with him. He was an important buyer. They tied to me to the bed and took turns fucking me up the ass.

There was a big stock holder meeting that fall. I was sent as a gift to various investors for weekends and overnights. No matter who it was, or what I had to do, I pretended that I loved it. And I made sure all those men (and a couple of women) loved what I was doing to them.

I have to say that Desena seemed more than a little shocked when the board voted to remove him and make Johnny the company president.

Silly boy, he never should have let me near those stock holders. A man will entertain all sorts of ideas from a lady when she’s got a mouthful of his cock.

That was a year ago. Johnny is doing really well running the factory and I found him the cutest little secretary to boink (and he’s very nice to her). My job is to make sure the clients and partners are “happy”.

It turned out to be a perfect arrangement – and believe me, we save every penny we make.

Copyright 2014 Lauren McAllister

These naughty books by Caffieri and Lauren are available on Amazon.

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6 Comments

  1. Ron Mcghee said,

    June 7, 2016 at 3:48 am

    Great story loved it

    • Lauren McAllister said,

      June 10, 2016 at 12:34 am

      Thanks so much. I hope to have another rude story up soon.
      Lauren

  2. dave kiser said,

    June 21, 2016 at 9:21 pm

    I like your story I wish you was my wife I would like to watch.

    • Lauren McAllister said,

      July 8, 2016 at 5:21 am

      Thanks Dave. Most of us love to watch.

      Lauren

  3. Lisa said,

    February 10, 2017 at 4:21 pm

    Hi Lauren- Great story. Good syntax, and perhaps you achieved your goal of bold, edgy, unattractive but funny detail in real sex, albeit in an unusual scenario. Love the “…poof of dust…”, conjures barren, dry tumbleweeds blowing through anything abandoned on Bonanza. Funny stuff. Go gettem Lauren! Btw, is Lauren female?

    • Lauren McAllister said,

      February 11, 2017 at 7:09 am

      I be of that sex. Thanks so much for the kind words. I’m posting a new story in the next couple of days, that’s a real scorcher.


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