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
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Copyright 1998, 1999 by E. Z. Riter. 

E-mail 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 hard on? 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 a few 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, Arthur,' I replied. 

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.

E-mail address: ezriter@hotmail.com





