Hubby's Corner: Wife Squirts for Hung Boss

Hey everyone on Hubby's Corner, it's me, Mark, posting this confession because I can't keep it bottled up anymore. My name's Mark, 35, average guy with an average job and, well, an average dick—let's be real, about 5 inches on a good day. My wife Sarah? She's a goddess. 32, curvy in all the right places—perky D-cup tits, a juicy ass that turns heads, long auburn hair, and these full lips that were made for sin. We've been married eight years, always loyal, vanilla sex twice a week if we were lucky. But that all changed six months ago when she started her new job as executive assistant to Mr. Vance, her boss at the marketing firm downtown.

It started innocently enough. Sarah's always been ambitious, and this gig paid double what she'd made before. Mr. Vance—tall, built like a linebacker, late 40s, silver-fox handsome with a commanding voice that makes you sit up straight. She came home those first weeks glowing, talking nonstop about how sharp he was, how he ran meetings like a king. But then the overtime kicked in. "Late night again, babe," she'd text, and I'd wait up with dinner reheated. When she finally stumbled in around 10 or 11, her cheeks were always flushed, blouse a little rumpled, skirt hiked just a tad too high. She'd kiss me quick, mumble about "big projects," and crash.

I noticed other shit too. Her panties in the hamper were soaked—not just wet, but creamy, like she'd been dripping for hours. And during our pillow talk, when we'd cuddle and I'd try to initiate, she'd whisper things that made my stomach twist. "God, Mark, you should've seen Vance today. His pants... fuck, that bulge. It's like he's smuggling a python." I'd laugh it off at first, but my cock twitched hearing her describe it—thick outline straining his slacks when he stood at the whiteboard. "Bigger than yours, babe? Way bigger," she'd giggle, her hand absentmindedly stroking me while her eyes glazed over. Tension built fast. Our sex got awkward; I'd thrust into her missionary style, and she'd barely moan, her mind clearly elsewhere.

One night, after a particularly late return—her thighs glistening like she'd run a marathon—she straddled me in bed, grinding slow. "Mark, I have to tell you something," she breathed, her pussy lips slick against my shaft. "Vance's cock... I saw it today. Accidentally. He adjusted himself during a meeting, and holy shit, it's massive. At least 9 inches, thick as my wrist. Veiny, uncut, just... perfect." My heart pounded, humiliation flooding me as I got harder than ever. She teased me mercilessly, whispering details while bouncing lazily on my dick—how it swung heavy when he shifted, how the women in the office whispered about it. Our fuck was lackluster as always; I came in two minutes, spurting weakly inside her, while she faked a sigh. "It's okay, baby," she cooed, "but imagine if it was him stretching me..."

I was obsessed. Jerked off to the thought nightly, hating myself. Finally, I cracked. "Sarah, if you're that into him... maybe you should, you know, explore it. With my okay." Her eyes lit up like Christmas. "Really? You'd watch? Be my little cuck?" I nodded, ashamed and thrilled. "Video call. Share your screen or whatever. Just... let me see." She kissed me deep, her tongue hungry. "You're the best hubby. It's happening tonight—after hours 'extra duties' at his office. He invited me already. Get ready."

My hands shook as I propped my phone on the nightstand, naked, cock throbbing in anticipation. Sarah dressed slutty—tight black pencil skirt hugging her ass, sheer white blouse unbuttoned to show lace bra, no panties. "Wish me luck, cuck," she winked, blowing a kiss before heading out. At 9:45 PM, the video call rang. I answered, heart slamming.

There she was, in Mr. Vance's corner office—city lights twinkling behind floor-to-ceiling windows, his massive oak desk cleared except for a bottle of whiskey. Vance lounged in his leather chair, shirt sleeves rolled up showing veined forearms, tie loose. Sarah stood before him, biting her lip. "Mark's on the call, sir," she said breathlessly. Vance smirked at the camera, his deep voice booming. "Good evening, Mark. Hope you're comfortable. Your wife's about to earn that promotion properly." Humiliation burned my cheeks, but I stroked my pathetic dick slowly, mesmerized.

Sarah dropped to her knees like a pro, crawling between his spread thighs. "I've been dreaming of this bulge for months," she purred, nuzzling the massive tent in his trousers. Vance chuckled, unzipping slow. Out it sprang—fuck, she wasn't exaggerating. Nine thick inches of girthy perfection, veins pulsing, foreskin peeled back to reveal a fat purple head already leaking precum. Bigger soft than I am hard. Sarah gasped theatrically for me. "Look at it, Mark! So much bigger than your little guy." She wrapped both hands around the base—couldn't even touch fingers—and leaned in, tongue flicking the slit to lap up that salty bead.

She sucked him deepthroat style from the jump, no gag, just pure slut skill. Her lips stretched wide around his girth, cheeks hollowing as she bobbed, taking inch after inch until her nose pressed into his trimmed pubes. Gluck-gluck-gluck filled the speakers, saliva dripping down her chin onto her tits. Vance groaned, hand fisting her hair. "That's it, Sarah. Show your hubby how a real man gets worshipped." I pumped my fist faster, pre-cum slicking my palm, whimpering as she deepthroated him effortlessly—something she'd never done for me. "Mmmph, tastes so good," she moaned around his shaft, popping off to slap it on her tongue. "Mark, it's so thick... fills my throat perfect. Yours never did." She dove back, throat bulging visibly, eyes watering but locked on the camera, winking at my torment.

Vance stood after five minutes of her sloppy face-fuck, cock glistening with her spit. "Bend over the desk, slut." Sarah obeyed eagerly, skirt hiked to her waist, exposing her bare, dripping pussy—lips puffy, clit swollen, juices trailing down her thighs. "She's soaked for you, sir," I blurted stupidly, stroking harder. Vance positioned behind her, rubbing that monster head along her slit. "Beg for it, Sarah. Tell your cuck what you want." She arched her back, ass up. "Please, Mr. Vance, fuck me with your huge cock! Stretch my married pussy—Mark's too small to satisfy me anymore!"

He slammed in with one thrust—half his length disappearing into her clenching hole. Sarah screamed in ecstasy, pussy lips gripping him white-knuckled. "Oh fuck, yes! So big!" Vance gripped her hips, pounding doggy-style brutal—desk shaking, her tits bouncing free from her bra, nipples hard as diamonds. The camera caught every detail: his balls slapping her clit, her ass rippling with each thrust, cream frothing at the base of his shaft as he bottomed out balls-deep. "Take it all, you cheating whore," he growled, spanking her ass red. Sarah babbled incoherently. "Harder! Deeper! Mark, he's ruining me—your dick's a joke compared to this! Nine inches owning my cunt!"

I was a mess, edging helplessly, as Vance railed her relentlessly. Her moans turned to shrieks—first orgasm hitting fast, walls fluttering around him. But he didn't stop, jackhammering faster, thumb circling her asshole. "Gonna make you squirt, Sarah. Show hubby what a real bull does." She thrashed, pushing back. "Yes! Fuck, I'm—oh god!" Her body seized, eyes rolling back, and she exploded—squirting wildly, clear jets arcing across the office floor, puddling under the desk. "Squirting for Mr. Vance! Never for you, cuck! He's so much better!" Another gush, soaking his balls, as he kept pounding through it, her pussy convulsing like a vice.

Vance roared, pulling out to paint her ass and back with thick ropes of cum—gallons, it seemed, far more than my watery loads. Sarah collapsed, quivering, fingering her gaped hole. "Holy shit... wrecked." Vance zipped up, smirking at me. "Clean her up good when she gets home, Mark. She's mine now." Call ended. I came untouched, spurting on my belly, shame and bliss mixing.

Sarah got home at midnight, reeking of sex—skirt stained, hair mussed, makeup smeared. She stripped naked in the doorway, cum drying flaky on her skin, pussy still puffy and leaking. "On your back, cuck. Time to clean." I lay down, cock twitching back to life as she squatted over my face, dripping Vance's load into my mouth. Her taste mixed with his—musky, potent. I lapped eagerly, tongue delving into her folds, sucking out every drop while she ground down.

"Mmm, good boy," she moaned, riding my face. "Want every humiliating detail? He choked me with that fat cock while you watched—deepthroated like a pornstar. Then bent me over and fucked me stupid. Made me squirt three times, Mark—first gush hit two feet! Felt his balls slap my clit, his tip kissing my cervix. Said my pussy's tighter than his wife's ever was, all thanks to your tiny prick keeping it fresh." I hummed into her clit, humiliated tears pricking my eyes, but tongue-fucking harder. She came again on my mouth, flooding me with her nectar.

As she dismounted, legs shaky, she looked down with wicked love. "Vance wants me every week now—regular bull for your hotwife. You'll watch every time, stroke that little dick, and clean me after. Deal?"

I nodded, devoted. "Yes, Sarah... but next time, can I beg him to breed you while I watch?"