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From: "E.Z. Riter" <ezriter@hotmail.com>
Subject: {EZ}My Boss' Slut  Three (slut wife)
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The attached work of fiction is intended to be entertainment for
adults in locations in which it is legal.  If it is illegal in your
location, DO NOT read.  This is a copyrighted work.  Reposting or any
other use strictly prohibited without the express, written permission
of the copyright holder, except may by posted as part of a  review or
posted to free-access, noncommercial archive sights.

Copyright 1998 by E. Z. Riter.

Email address: ezriter@hotmail.com

Please!  Give me your comments.


MY BOSS' SLUT

Part Three

I saw my slut wife's pretty foot, still wearing the six inch-heeled
shoe with the ankle strap securely locked, extend through the open
limo door. Then, her leg.  

Wait!  He pulled her back into the limo.  They closed the door. 

What was happening? What were they doing?  

Was he going to fuck her right there?  With the driver able to see and
hear them, with all the neighbors watching on this Sunday evening? 

There was Mr. Gleason across the street watering his flowers. He was
watching the limo, watching from the corner of his eye. Did he know
his sweet little neighbor, Becky, the pretty school teacher, was going
to be fucked inside that big car with its black windows?

I waited. My cock was so hard in my pants, so hard.  I had beat off
just an hour ago, beat off like she told me to do so I could last
longer for her. 

Was the limo moving? Did I see it rock gently?  Were they fucking in
there? Maybe she was sucking his cock, her sweet lips with their
bright red lipstick wrapped around his huge cock?  Moving back and
forth. Maybe, up her ass again.  She had loved that, loved it when I
watched my boss fuck my wife's ass. She was tied over the desk in his
office then. Oh, how I wished I could be inside that limo watching
them!

How long would they make me wait?  How long?  I have never seen the
second hand on my watch move so slowly. What could I do? I had to
wait, wait at the door watching the black limo parked in front of my
house. Wondering.

The door is opening again. Yes.  

Mr. Williams stepped out of the limousine.  I could not see her, see
Becky, his slut, my wife. It had been since Friday and now it was
Sunday night. She had been with him all weekend. 

What had happened?

Mr. Williams looked perfectly groomed and dressed as if he just
stepped from a shower. He bent over to help someone from the limo.  I
saw her foot again.  I saw her leg, the hem of her dress.

Ah! There she was.  Oh, my.  Becky looked well fucked. I opened the
house door and ran down the sidewalk towards them. She saw me coming
and smiled.  She was exhausted. As I got closer, I could see the white
stains on her face and dress.  I was beside her now, slipping my
behind her back to support her. 

"She has had a rough weekend, Bob. And, this week will be tough."

He stuffed a piece of paper in my pocket.

"Have her there at six in the morning. Do not be late. Then, when they
say you can leave, come to my office."

"Yes, sir."

"Goodbye, slut," Mr. Williams said to my wife. 

He kissed her hard, one hand on the nape of her neck. I saw the other
go through the opening of her dress.  He was playing with her pussy.
Right here in broad daylight on Sunday evening with all the neighbors
home, my boss was playing with his slut's pussy. With my wife's pussy.
I quickly glanced around to see if any neighbors were watching. 

Was Mr. Gleason the only one watching as he played with her pussy?
Mr. Gleason watching as he watered his flowers. Did he have a hardon?
Was his cock bursting in his pants as mine was?

"I had a wonderful time, Mr. Williams," she said, although it was said
gasping as if she were in pain.

"Good. We will do it again in two weeks.  Goodbye."

He jumped in the limo and left us there. The dress had fallen open.
Could anyone see her? She her nakedness? She the cum on her thigh? Her
clit ring glistening with wetness? Becky looked at me and blushed.
Ashamedly, she held the dress around her, looking down.  

"Please, Bobby, I hurt. Will you carry me in?" she said very softly. 

I lifted her in my arms, carrying her into the house, to our bedroom
where I gently set her down on the bed.  She fumbled through her purse
and handed me a tiny key.

"Take the shoes off, Bobby, please. They have not been off all
weekend.  My feet are killing me."

I unfastened the tiny lock and undid the buckle.  Her feet were
swollen. "Oh, migod, that hurts," she moaned as I pulled the left shoe
off her. I started to massage her foot. "No. Get the other one off,"
she whimpered. When both shoes were off, she fell back on the bed. Her
feet were swollen and puffy. I began to rub them.  

"That feels so good," she moaned.

Her dress was open all the way, leaving her naked in front of me.  Her
pussy was bruised, the lips still swollen. As I looked at it, white
cum oozed slowly from her and slid down the crack of her ass. She
extended one of her long,  red tipped, finger nails and plucked the
cum from her dripping cunt.  I watched as she brought her hand over
her mouth. She opened her mouth wide, waiting, waiting for his cum to
drop. 

Slowly, the drop fell into her open mouth, like nectar falling from a
spoon to a waiting babe. She stuck her finger in her mouth, slurping
loudly to clean it.

"I love the taste of cum," she sighed contentedly. 

"Becky, what happened?" 

"Oh, Bobby, I will tell you all about it later.  Go draw me a real hot
bath and get me a drink, will you, please?"

As I stood, she stuck two fingers up her pussy, swishing them around.
Again, she took the cum to her wanting mouth, licking herself clean,
taking in all the cum my boss had left in her willing pussy. When I
returned from getting her drink and drawing the bath water, she was
naked, sitting on the edge of the bed. 

"My feet hurt.  Please, help me."  I carried her into the bathroom,
sitting her on the edge of the tub.  

"Oh, oh, oh, that feels so good," she groaned as she slid into the
steaming water. 

I was hard as a rock, my cock throbbing in my pants.  What had
happened to her? What had they done? I had seen her thighs. What had
happened to them? And, now, as she lay back in the tub, I could see
her breasts, her stomach. Oh, Becky had a hard weekend!  But, had she
liked it? Was she still happy being my boss' slut? I needed to know!

The dried cum on her face was softening from the steaming water. Her
makeup was starting to run. I knew I had to have a picture.  I ran for
our camera. She looked so slutty with cum and eyeliner dirtying her
face, I just had to have a picture.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"You look so slutty. I wanted a picture."

She laughed. "Bobby, they made videos of this weekend.  You can look
at your boss' slut all you want."

She finished her bourbon and coke and handed me the glass, asking for
another.  When I returned, she learned forward.  "Kiss for your boss'
slut?"  I kissed her.  I could taste the cum, his cum, in her kiss. It
was the cum she had taken from her swollen cunt just before she got in
the bath.  

"Did you beat off like I told you to?" she asked, watching me
intently.

I felt the blush rise in my face and my cock twitch in my pants.
"Yes."

"How many times?"

"Ten."

"Ten. Wow, good for you.  Next time, Bobby, I want you to beat off
into a glass and save it for me.  I want to drink your cum when I get
home. Your cum, Bobby, yours, the cum you shot thinking of your slutty
wife fucking your boss. Oh, Bobby, think of it. As I am fucking your
boss, taking his big cock deep in me, you are beating off into a
glass. So, really two men are giving me their cum to drink. Oh, how
deliciously slutty!"

"All right.  I will save it next time."

"Good. Now let me rest in the water a while and then I will tell you
about my weekend," she said with a tired smile. 

I sat on the stool and waited.  Soon, she finished her drink, asked
for another refill and lathered the wash cloth.  Leisurely, she began
rubbing her breasts. I saw her wince when the cloth rubbed the blue
spot. 

"Do my hair, please, Bobby," she asked softly.

I kneeled on the floor beside the tub.  After pouring shampoo on her
silky hair, I began to rub, building a lather, scrubbing her hair
clean for her, for Becky, my wife. Slowly, I rubbed, the lather, rich
and sweet smelling, oozing between my fingers, sliding her smooth back
in white globs.  Globs, soft and wet, sliding down her silky skin.
Just as his cum had slid down her face, her breasts, like big globs of
cum. 

Then, she pulled the stopper and the tub started to drain. She stood
and pulled the shower curtain, leaving me still kneeling by the tub.
I heard the shower go on as she rinsed herself, rinsing away the grime
and the cum.  Shower off, she reached for a towel and I handed it to
her.

Did she know how I ached, how my dick hurt and my balls? Did she know
how much I wanted her? Why was she making me wait?

"Honey, why are you making me wait?"

She ripped back the shower curtain. Her eyes were blazing, her face
red, the muscles in her throat corded.

"If you were a real man, you would not let make you wait. You would
take me when you wanted me. But, if you were a real man, I would not
be a slut just so I can have a child. You made me a slut, you short
dicked wimp! Now, get out of my bathroom!"

"Becky?"

"Get out!"

I left, of course.  Why was she so angry at me?  She loved it. She
said so.  She said she loved being Mr. Williams' slut. She could have
a child other ways. But, she could not have him other ways. Why was
she mad at me? I was supportive, helping her. Why?

In a few minutes, the bathroom door opened. She looked sad as she sat
on the bed by me.

"I am sorry. It is not your fault you are sterile.  Come on. Let me
suck your cock."

"No, Becky."

"Come on, please.  Let me suck him and then I will tell you all about
my weekend."

My slut wife slipped to her knees beside the bed. She pulled me up,
wiggling my pants and shorts off me. She pushed me back on the bed and
wrapped her lips around my cock.  Back and forth, Her mouth was so
warm. Back and forth. Wet, the pressure devine. Back and no.  No. Oh,
oh. I could not help it.  It felt so good, so good to have her hot
mouth on my cock. She was sitting back now, licking cum from her lips.

"See, honey. That is why I want a man who can last. Now, let me tell
you what happened."

She got up on the bed beside me, legs crossed and started to talk. Her
eyes were alive. The whiskey and her bath had rejuvenated her. 

"Well, you were there when he picked me up. The limo was plush, Bobby.
It had a bar and everything, much nicer than anything we could afford.
He handed me a single red rose. 

"For a lovely lady,' he said.

'Oh, thank you, Jack.'

Bobby, he got mad. Real mad. He did not say anything but his eyes told
me. He put his hand on my leg, right there, on the knee. His fingers
slowly started walking up my leg. It felt like a spider on my leg. You
know how I hate spiders. I wanted to brush it off, or shake it off,
but I was afraid of him, afraid of what he was going to do to me.

"Why are you angry?" I gasped out at him.

'You may never call me by my first name, slut. Do you understand?'

'Yes, sir, but.'

'But, nothing, slut.'

His hand kept moving up my leg. I flinched, jerking my legs shut,
trapping his hand. Oh, Bobby, he did not like that. That is when he
did this."

She pointed to a dark, purple-blue, ugly bruise on her thigh. I could
see where a nail had dug into her flesh, tearing it.

"He dug his nail in and squeezed. I grabbed his hands with mine but
his look told me to let his go.  I pulled my hands away. He kept the
pressure up, then slowly he twisted, just like a school teacher twists
a child's ear, he twisted my flesh until I screamed. When he released
me, I grabbed my leg, rubbing it.

'Put your hands flat on the seat, palms down, and slide them between
the two seat partitions,' he said. 'Never rub where I have punished,
slut.'

I did it. I did not want to make him mad again. 

'Now, spread your legs for me.  That's it. No, slut. Wider. Wider.'

He reached over and  removed the clip from my dress. The front fell
apart leaving me totally exposed. You saw that dress. It is one piece
held together by that clip. Oh, Bobby, it felt so good to be like
that. To be totally exposed. Open.  Under his control.  I loved it,
Bobby.  I loved your boss dominating me like that.

'Well, slut,' he said, 'I can see I will have to help you open your
legs like I want them.'

Bobby, those limos have everything. There was a drawer in the shelf
where the whiskey was.  He opened it. There were ropes inside.  He
took two pieces of rope and made slip knots in one end of each of
them. He took each of my legs and slipped a rope over foot. He pulled
it, tightening the rope around my ankle. 

Bobby, I looked down at myself, at my shaven pussy and the ring
through my clit hood, at the high heels locked in place, at the rope,
the white rope against the dark stockings.  It was so decadent!  God,
I was dripping pussy juices from it! 

Oh, Bobby, you are so hard again.  You like hearing about this, don't
you? Do you want to stop for a quickie?"

"No.  Go on. Please."

"Bobby, there are straps in those limos. Straps like in cabs, for
people to hold on to. They were above the rear seat. He pulled my
right leg up, toward the strap. He slipped the rope tied to my ankle
through the strap and pulled. I was bracing myself on my arms and on
my other foot. It was bent as such an angle, Bobby, as I strained as
my right foot was tied to the strap. 

I was starting to sweat as I stared into his face. I knew what he was
going to do, Bobby."

Her hand was on my leg, her nails gently teasing me. Migod, I wanted
her, wanted to fuck her.   Take her my mind screamed but I sat there.

"Bobby, I need to cum. Will you eat me? Please.  You know I can't cum
easily from you fucking me.  After this weekend, maybe I will never be
able to cum from you fucking me ever again."

"Why?"

"Oh, Bobby, his cock is so much bigger than yours. And his father's,
well. I am sure my pussy is so stretched I won't even feel yours."

"I thought that was an old wives tale, about stretched pussy, I mean."

"All little dicked men think it is an old wives tale, Now, eat me.
Come on."

She lay back on the bed, pulling me towards her. I wanted to fuck her
but she pushed me, pushed my head between her legs. She held me to her
pussy.  It was swollen again, swollen in need.  

Her pussy is so sweet, so ripe. I love eating Becky's pussy. I licked.
I tongued and sucked. I ate Becky's pussy like a madman. All the time
my cock was throbbing in its own need. 

"More, more, suck my clit. Make me cum, Mr. Williams," she screamed,
holding my head to her dripping cunt. I made her cum. She came so much
more easily now.  It did not take nearly as long, not after Mr.
Williams had broken her in. She gasped, resting.

"Oh, Bobby, that felt good. I love to cum. You know, Bobby, you eat my
pussy better than anybody, even better than your boss.  I just
realized that. You are one pussy eating dude, Bobby."

She stretched her legs, arching her back as she yawned.

"Want to hear some more?"

"Yes," I said.  My cock was ready to explode. Didn't she know that?

"Where was I? Oh, yes. There I was, watching him, spread wide and
open, my dress undone. Oh, it was delicious. I wish you could be a
woman, Bobby, for just one day.  You could learn how good it really
feels.  I felt his hand on my left ankle, the one supporting me.

'Please don't,' I pleaded.  But, he yanked it up. Bobby, I was
swinging! As the limo moved, I was swinging! He is so strong. He
pulled my leg toward the other strap. He yanked the rope.

"No,' I screamed. 'You are pulling me apart.' 

'I like more flexibility in my sluts. You need to began exercise.'

God, Bobby, how can I describe it? My legs were roped to the straps.
My hands were trapped between the seat cushions. My ass was in the
air. My ass and my naked pussy. Oh, Bobby, it was devine! I was
swinging. I was swinging and with every swing, my pussy approached Mr.
Williams' face. Oh, I wanted him to lick me. When my pussy swung to
his face, I wanted his mouth on me. 

I felt so slutty, Bobby. So absolutely slutty and helpless swinging in
the limo.

You know what he did, then?  

He slipped his finger in my pussy ring. This ring. The one through my
punctured clit hood. Then, when I swung away from him, it pulled. Oh,
it hurt and I begged him to let go. But, when the pressure lessened,
shocks went through me, bolts. I knew I could cum from it. I knew I
could. I wanted to, Bobby. I wanted to cum swinging there, cumming
from his finger in my clit ring. 

I wanted to cum so badly.  My head was back, lower than my body. I
could feel the blood pounding through my brain. My thighs were tight,
stretched, my muscles screaming from the tension, my tendons hot and
burning. I was so open.  Open and available.

And, I wanted to cum.

'Please, Mr. Williams. Let me cum. Let me. Please.  I need it.' 

I begged him to let me cum, begged so much. It felt good, Bobby. Sluts
should beg once in a while.  He did not say a word. As I begged and
begged to cum, he said nothing. He was keeping me at the edge, the
absolute edge of orgasm. It was devine, simply devine, oh God, I wish
I could feel it right now!

I could not see him. I could only feel his presence, feel him sitting
between my open legs, feel that one finger through my clit ring, as I
swung back and forth, back and forth.

Oh, Bobby, you are so hard.  Let's do something about that.  Would you
like to fuck your boss's slut? Would you like to put your dick in this
well used cunt, so well used, Bobby? Let's do it!  Then, I will tell
you about the rest of my weekend."

To be continued . . . 

Please!  Give me your comments.

Email address: ezriter@hotmail.com







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