My Wife's Boss Begs for My Secret Creampie

I still remember the exact night Rachel came home flushed and tipsy from another late “strategy session” with Victor. She kicked off her heels, poured herself a glass of wine, and looked at me with that guilty little smile she gets when she’s about to confess something filthy.

“Victor overheard you,” she said, biting her lip. “Last month at the company barbecue. You were bragging to the guys about how you give me these… secret, thick creampies. How I beg for them even when I’m supposed to be on birth control. How I keep your load inside me all day at work like a dirty little secret.”

My stomach dropped. Then tightened with something far darker.

Rachel kept talking, voice low. “He laughed it off in front of everyone, but later in the car he admitted he can’t stop thinking about it. He said his wife hasn’t let him finish inside her in eight years. He kept asking me questions, Mark. Really specific ones. About how much you cum. About how it feels when you pump me full while I’m still wearing my office clothes.”

She thought it was funny. Mortifying, but funny.

I didn’t.

Victor Hale was forty-five, tall, silver at the temples, the kind of arrogant, handsome bastard who wore three-thousand-dollar suits and treated everyone beneath him like furniture. For months he’d been keeping my wife at the office until nine, ten, sometimes midnight. And now I knew he was lying awake at night obsessing over my cum.

The first text came three days later.

Victor: Mark, this is Victor Hale. Need to discuss the Q3 projections Rachel’s been handling. Can we speak privately?

I almost laughed. Then the messages changed.

Victor: I can’t stop thinking about what you said. About filling her. About how she craves it. I haven’t slept.

Victor: Tell me what it feels like when you breed her. Be specific. I need to know.