Office Call With Cuckold Wife

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 between Vance’s spread legs without another word, her hands going straight to his belt. The leather whispered as she yanked it open, then the zipper. His cock sprang free, thick and heavy, the foreskin already half-retracted over a fat, glistening head. It had to be nine inches easy, girthy enough that her fingers couldn’t close around it. She stared up at him with pure hunger, then glanced at the camera.

“Look at this, Mark. This is a real cock.” She licked a long, slow stripe from base to tip, moaning at the taste. Vance’s hand settled in her auburn hair, not forcing, just resting as she opened wide and took the head in. Her full lips stretched obscenely around the flare. She bobbed, wet sounds filling the office, spit already trailing down the shaft. I stroked faster, my five inches looking ridiculous in my fist compared to what she was choking on.

Vance’s deep voice rumbled. “That’s it, Sarah. Show your husband how you handle a proper dick. Swallow it.” She pushed deeper, gagging wetly when the head punched her throat. Tears pricked her eyes but she didn’t pull off—she held there, throat working, then slid back with a gasp, strings of spit connecting her lips to his cock. She stroked him with both hands, twisting, polishing the head against her tongue.

“Fuck, it’s so thick,” she panted at the camera. “My jaw already aches. Yours never did this to me.” She stood, turned, and bent over the desk, presenting that juicy ass. The pencil skirt rode up. No panties, just her bare, already-slick pussy lips puffy and shiny under the office lights. Vance stepped behind her, rubbed the massive head up and down her slit, coating himself in her cream.

“Ready for your promotion fuck?” he asked.

“God yes, sir. Stretch me. Mark’s watching—make me take every inch.” He pushed in slow. Sarah’s mouth fell open in a silent scream as the fat head forced her open. Inch after thick inch disappeared, her pussy lips gripping and stretching white around the invasion. When he bottomed out, her belly bulged faintly. She looked wrecked already, eyes glassy, staring straight into the camera.

“He’s so deep, baby. Deeper than you ever got. Filling me completely.” Vance pulled back and slammed home. The wet slap of hips on ass echoed. He set a hard, steady rhythm, each thrust making her tits bounce free of the open blouse. Lace bra shoved down, nipples hard and pink. He reached around, pinched them, then slid a hand between her legs to rub her clit while he pounded her.

Sarah started babbling. “Oh fuck—oh fuck—Mark, he’s wrecking me. Your little dick never made me feel this full. I’m gonna cum so hard on this cock.” Her voice broke into high, desperate moans. Vance sped up, the desk creaking, whiskey bottle rattling. He pulled almost all the way out so I could see how her hole gaped around him, then drove back in to the balls.

“Tell him what you need,” Vance ordered, never looking away from the camera.

“I need this big boss cock every night,” she sobbed in pleasure. “I need him to breed my married cunt while you watch like a good little cuck. Fuck—right there—don’t stop!” Her legs started shaking. Vance hammered her G-spot ruthlessly, thick shaft dragging over it on every stroke. Sarah’s moans climbed higher, raw and shameless.

Then it hit. Her whole body locked. “I’m squirting—oh god I’m squirting on him!” Clear fluid gushed out around his pounding cock in hard, pulsing jets, splattering the desk, the floor, his balls. She screamed through it, pussy convulsing, more spray shooting with every thrust. Vance didn’t ease up—he fucked her straight through the orgasm, keeping her squirting in messy waves until her thighs were dripping and the hardwood shone.

He pulled out suddenly, flipped her onto her back on the desk, and shoved back in. Legs hooked over his arms, he folded her open and jackhammered. Sarah’s second orgasm crashed immediately, another wild squirt arcing up and soaking his shirt. “Take it, slut. Milk this cock for your husband.” He growled, slamming deep one last time. His balls drew up and he unloaded—thick ropes of cum pumping straight into her, so much it leaked out around his shaft in creamy white rivulets even while he kept shooting.

Sarah came a third time just from the feeling of being flooded, her pussy fluttering and squirting weakly again, mixing her juices with his load. Vance stayed buried, grinding, until the last spurt. Then he eased out. Her fucked hole gaped, a thick river of cum pouring out onto the desk. She scooped some on her fingers, sucked them clean, then held the rest up to the camera.

“All his, Mark. So much more than you ever gave me.” She pushed two fingers into her creampied cunt, scooped more, and licked them slowly while staring at me. Vance tucked himself away, still half-hard, and poured two whiskeys like nothing had happened.

Sarah sat up, cum still dripping down her thighs, blouse ruined, hair wild. She smiled at the screen, soft and satisfied. “Promotion earned. Be ready when I get home, baby. I want you to clean me up with that little tongue while I tell you every detail again.” She blew a kiss, then ended the call.

I came hard the second the screen went black, spurting weakly across my stomach, already knowing I’d be on my knees the moment she walked through the door.