My Wife's Boss Begs for My Secret Cock

The living room was thick with the smell of aged whiskey and tension. Mark nursed his own glass, watching Derek’s expensive shoes tap restlessly against the hardwood. Sarah’s boss had been at their house for three hours straight, barking orders into his phone while Sarah scrambled to fix the quarterly report that had somehow gone nuclear at eight o’clock on a Friday night.

Derek was everything Mark wasn’t on paper: tall, sharp-jawed, silver at the temples, the kind of man who wore three-thousand-dollar suits like armor. For years he had openly flirted with Sarah in front of Mark—brushing her hip when he passed, calling her “my favorite asset,” laughing too loud at her jokes while giving Mark the pitying once-over of a man who considered him furniture.

Mark had taken it. Mostly because Sarah’s salary paid for the house, the cars, the private schools they hoped to use one day. But tonight the mask was slipping.

Sarah reappeared from the kitchen with another bottle, cheeks flushed from wine and adrenaline. She was still in her tight black pencil skirt and cream blouse, the top three buttons undone from the long night. When she bent to refill Derek’s glass, her boss’s eyes dropped straight to the swell of her breasts like they always did. This time he didn’t bother hiding it.

Mark’s jaw tightened.

Later, after the immediate crisis was patched and the conference call ended, Sarah disappeared upstairs to “grab her laptop charger.” The moment her heels faded on the stairs, Derek drained his glass, set it down with a clack, and stared at Mark like a man who had run out of road.

“I’m going to ask you something,” he said, voice low and rough. “And I need you to be straight with me.”

Mark raised an eyebrow.

Derek’s expensive watch caught the lamplight as he leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Your wife told me something when she was drunk at the company retreat last month. She said you’re… unusually big. That you ruin her for days every time you fuck her properly.” His throat worked. “She said you’re ten inches. Thick. That you make her squirt just from stretching her open.”

Mark didn’t answer right away. The silence stretched, heavy and electric.

Derek’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I haven’t stopped thinking about it. I jerk off every morning in my office imagining it. Imagining you. I need to see it, Mark. I need to know if she was telling the truth.”

The raw desperation in the other man’s face was startling. The arrogant prick who had spent years belittling him was gone. In his place was a man unraveling at the seams.

Mark stood slowly. Without a word he unbuckled his belt, dragged down his zipper, and hauled his heavy cock out into the warm air of the living room.

It was already half-hard from the tension. Ten thick inches of veined meat swung heavily between his legs, the fat crown glistening. Derek’s eyes locked onto it like it was the only thing left in the world. A broken sound left his throat.

“Jesus Christ,” he breathed.

Then the powerful, dominant CEO dropped to his knees right there on their living room rug.

Mark watched, cock pulsing, as Derek crawled the last two feet on his hands and knees. The man’s perfectly tailored trousers stretched tight over his ass as he moved. When he reached Mark he looked up—eyes glassy, lips parted, cheeks flushed with shame and hunger.

“Please,” Derek whispered. “Let me taste it.”

From the doorway, Sarah watched.

She had come back down without either of them noticing. One hand was already under her skirt, two fingers buried deep in her soaked pussy. Her eyes were wide, lips bitten red. When Mark met her gaze she gave the smallest nod, then pushed a third finger inside herself with a wet sound.

That was all the permission Mark needed.

He grabbed Derek by the silver hair and fed his massive cock into the man’s mouth.

Derek choked instantly. The thick head stretched his lips obscenely, forcing his jaw wide. Spit poured down his chin in long strings as he tried to take more. Mark didn’t let him pull back. He held the CEO’s head steady and sank another two inches into the tight, wet heat of his throat.

“Been dying for this, haven’t you?” Mark growled. “All that big talk, all that flirting with my wife while you were secretly dying to choke on her husband’s dick.”

Derek moaned around the cock splitting his face. The vibration felt filthy and perfect. Mark started fucking his mouth in short, brutal strokes, feeding him more and more until the fat head bulged in Derek’s throat. The man’s eyes watered, mascara—yes, the arrogant fuck wore subtle mascara—ran down his cheeks, but he never tried to pull away. He sucked harder, hollowing his cheeks, tongue working desperately along the thick vein underneath.

Sarah stripped.

Blouse, bra, skirt, soaked panties—all of it hit the floor. Naked, glistening, she walked over and sat on the wide arm of the couch, legs spread, fingers still plunging into her cunt with wet, filthy noises.

“God, look at him,” she whispered, voice shaking with arousal. “My boss on his knees for your cock. I’ve wanted this for so long.”

Mark pulled out of Derek’s wrecked mouth with a wet pop. Strings of spit connected the man’s swollen lips to the shining head of Mark’s dick.

“On the couch,” Mark ordered. “Ass up.”

Derek moved like a man in a trance. He yanked his own trousers and boxers down, kicking them away. His cock was rock hard but laughably average compared to what Mark was packing. He bent over the back of their leather sofa, spreading his legs, presenting his smooth, tight ass like an offering.

Mark stepped behind him, cock slapping heavily against Derek’s asscheeks. He spat into his hand, slicked himself up, and pressed the fat crown against the man’s virgin pucker.

Sarah climbed onto the couch, straddling Derek’s head. She grabbed a fistful of silver hair and yanked his face into her dripping cunt.

“Eat my pussy while my husband fucks you,” she hissed.

Derek obeyed instantly. His tongue speared into her soaked folds as Mark began to push.

The first inch was a struggle. Derek’s hole was impossibly tight. He cried out into Sarah’s pussy, the sound muffled and desperate. Mark gripped the man’s hips and forced another two inches inside. The heat, the vice-like grip, the way Derek’s ass fluttered and clenched around him—it was better than he had imagined.

“Fuck, he’s tight,” Mark groaned.

He fed the rest in slowly, inch by devastating inch, until his heavy balls rested against Derek’s. The once-proud boss was impaled completely, trembling, moaning like a whore into Sarah’s cunt while she ground her clit against his tongue.

Mark started to thrust.

Long, punishing strokes that dragged his huge cock almost all the way out before slamming back in to the hilt. Every thrust forced a wet, broken cry from Derek’s throat that vibrated straight into Sarah’s pussy. She was riding his face hard, tits bouncing, eyes locked on where her husband’s massive dick disappeared between her boss’s spread cheeks.

“That’s it,” she panted. “Ruin him. Show him who owns this house. Who owns me.”

Mark fucked him harder. The couch creaked. Skin slapped loudly against skin. Derek’s hole was stretched obscenely around the massive girth, a tight pink ring gripping every vein as Mark pounded him without mercy. The powerful CEO’s cock leaked steadily onto the leather, untouched, twitching every time Mark’s dick ground against his prostate.

Sarah came first.

She screamed, thighs clamping around Derek’s head, flooding his mouth with hot girl-cum. Her whole body shook as she ground through the orgasm, smearing her juices across his face.

Mark didn’t slow down.

He grabbed Derek’s hips in a brutal grip and fucked him like he was trying to break him. The man’s muffled screams of pleasure and pain only made Mark thrust harder. He could feel his own orgasm building, heavy and inevitable.

When it hit, he pulled out at the last second.

Derek spun around instantly, dropping to his knees again, mouth wide and tongue out like the desperate cockslut he had become. Mark grabbed his cock and stroked it twice before the first thick rope of cum exploded across the man’s face.

It painted his tongue, his cheek, his forehead. Rope after rope of hot, heavy seed. Derek kept his mouth open the whole time, catching what he could, swallowing greedily. When Mark was finally spent, the CEO’s handsome face was glazed white, cum dripping from his chin onto his expensive dress shirt.

Sarah slid off the couch and kissed her husband deeply, tongues sliding together, tasting the victory between them.

Derek stayed on his knees, breathing hard, looking thoroughly destroyed and happier than Mark had ever seen him. Cum still clung to his eyelashes.

In a hoarse, broken whisper, he said, “Whenever she’s at the office… please. Come use me. I’ll leave the door unlocked. I’ll be on my knees waiting. Just… please.”

Sarah smirked against Mark’s mouth, her hand slowly stroking her husband’s still-hard cock.

Mark looked down at the cum-covered, utterly owned CEO and gave a single nod.

“Monday morning,” he said. “Nine sharp. Don’t wear underwear.”

Derek’s spent cock twitched again at the command.

Mark pulled Sarah close, kissed her once more, and let the heavy, filthy silence settle over the three of them as the afterglow began to hum in their veins.