My Wife's Boss Begs for My Secret Creampie

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.

Victor: Please.

By the second week the tone had shifted from desperate curiosity to outright begging. He sent me pictures of his wife asleep beside him, her back turned, and captions that made my cock throb against my zipper: She won’t even let me touch her anymore. I keep imagining your load dripping out of someone while they pretend nothing happened.

Rachel left for a four-day business trip to Chicago on a Thursday. Victor showed up at our house that same night at 8:17 p.m.

I opened the door and there he was—impeccable charcoal suit, silk tie loosened, eyes wild. The second he saw me he sank to his knees right there on our welcome mat.

“Mark… please.” His voice cracked. “I can’t do this anymore. I heard every word you said that day. I’ve jerked off to it for months. I need it. I need you to fuck me the way you fuck her. Bend me over your bed and pump me full. I want your secret creampie. I’ll do anything.”

The power rush hit me so hard I got lightheaded.

I grabbed him by the tie and dragged him inside. The door had barely clicked shut before I shoved him against the wall and kissed him brutally. He moaned into my mouth like he’d been waiting years for it. His hands fumbled at my belt, desperate, shaking.

“Bedroom,” I growled. “Our marital bed. If you want my load, you’re taking it where I breed my wife.”

Victor’s knees nearly buckled at the words.

I marched him upstairs, stripping him as we went. Expensive jacket, tie, shirt—discarded on the stairs like trash. By the time we reached the bedroom he was down to black designer boxer-briefs, his cock straining obscenely against the fabric, a wet spot already forming.

I pushed him onto the bed face-first, right where Rachel sleeps. He arched his back immediately, pushing his ass up like a whore in heat.

“Tell me what you want,” I demanded, yanking his briefs down. His ass was smooth, muscular, clenched with anticipation.

“I want your cock,” he panted. “I want you to use me. I want you to cheat on Rachel by breeding her boss. Please, Mark. Fill me with the same thick cum you give your wife. Make me leak you all the way home to mine.”

I spat on his hole, worked two fingers in roughly. He cried out, pushing back, fucking himself on my hand.

“Beg better.”

“I’m begging. I’m on my knees for another man’s cum because my wife won’t let me have her. I’m pathetic for it. I’m addicted to the idea of you. Please. Please fuck me raw and pump me full behind her back.”

That did it.

I slicked my cock with lube from the nightstand—the same bottle I used on Rachel—and lined up. One brutal thrust and I buried myself to the balls in Victor Hale’s tight, arrogant ass. He screamed into our pillow, hands fisting the sheets.

“Fuuuck—yes—thank you—”

I didn’t go slow. I fucked him like I owned him. Hard, deep strokes that made the headboard slam against the wall. Every thrust forced filthy, broken moans out of him. He sounded like a whore getting exactly what he deserved.

“Harder,” he gasped. “Ruin me. Make me feel it for days when I’m sitting in meetings with your wife.”

I grabbed his hips and gave him what he wanted, pounding him so hard his knees kept sliding apart. The wet slap of my hips against his ass filled the room, obscene and perfect.

After ten minutes I pulled out, flipped him onto his back, and shoved his legs over my shoulders. Missionary. Intimate. The position I usually saved for Rachel when she was ovulating and begging to be bred. Now I was using it on her boss.

Victor’s eyes rolled back as I slid back inside him in one long stroke.

“Look at me,” I ordered.

His eyes focused, glassy with lust.

“Tell me what you are.”

“I’m your secret cumdump,” he whimpered. “I’m your wife’s boss and I’m letting you breed me in the bed you share with her. I’m going to go home to my wife with your load still inside me. I’m addicted. I’m fucking addicted to another man’s cum.”

I started thrusting again, slow and deep, grinding against his prostate on every stroke. His cock was leaking all over his abs, untouched. I edged him mercilessly—bringing him right to the brink with my cock and then stopping until he sobbed.

“Beg for my load.”

“Please, Mark. Please cum inside me. I need it. I need to feel you pumping. I need to go home leaking you. I’ll do anything. I’ll cover for Rachel’s lunches so she can leave early. I’ll give her raises. Just breed me. Make me yours.”

I fucked him harder, chasing my own orgasm now. His hand flew to his cock and started stroking frantically.

When I finally came, it hit like a freight train. I buried myself as deep as I could and unloaded the first heavy rope straight into his guts. Victor wailed, his own cock erupting across his chest in thick white streaks as he felt me flooding him. I kept thrusting through it, pumping pulse after pulse until I’d emptied everything I had.

I gave him three more loads that night.

The second one came twenty minutes later while he was still on his back, legs spread obscenely. The third I made him take facedown again, ass up high while I used his hole like a fleshlight and told him exactly how I was going to use him from now on—whenever I wanted, however I wanted, behind both our wives’ backs.

When I finally pulled out after the last one, Victor stayed exactly where I left him: bent over our marital bed, knees spread, back arched, ass raised. My cum bubbled and leaked from his wrecked hole in thick, creamy rivulets, soaking into the sheets where Rachel would sleep when she got home in two days.

He was panting, trembling, voice hoarse.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “Jesus Christ, thank you. When can I come back? I need this. I need to be your cumdump. Please tell me I can come back.”

I ran my palm over his leaking ass, pushing some of my load back inside him with two fingers. He moaned like a slut.

“You’ll come back whenever I text you,” I said quietly. “And you’ll keep my cum inside you until I say otherwise. Now go home to your wife with my loads still breeding your ass. I want you sitting across from Rachel on Monday leaking me.”

Victor shuddered with another aftershock.

I was just reaching for my phone to check the time when the sound of the front door opening downstairs froze us both.

A familiar voice called up the stairs, bright and exhausted.

“Babe? Surprise! The client dinner got cancelled so I caught an earlier flight. Mark? You home?”

Rachel.

Victor’s eyes went wide with panic and something dangerously close to renewed lust as another thick drop of my cum slid out of him onto our marriage bed.

I stared at him, heart hammering, my spent cock twitching at the sheer insanity of the moment.

The cliffhanger hung in the air between us as my wife’s footsteps started up the stairs.