The Boss's Wife : by (c) Hamilton Joyce MF

You've probably heard of the pharmaceuticals giant Hopper and Forbes Ltd. I 
joined them as Retail Sales Manager after thirteen years in the army, which I left 
as a lieutenant colonel. I was responsible for retail sales across Europe, and had 
three Regional Managers reporting to me, UK, Northern and Mediterranean. 
Each of them had a couple of dozen or so sales managers and reps. They often 
call the drugs business the 'ethical industry'. Ethical my arse!
At the lowest level my reps bullied small local pharmacies into taking our 
products, fixing our publicity to their walls with four inch masonry nails! Higher 
up, buyers were bribed or coerced into exclusive contracts. The cartel fixed 
prices. Our lawyers pursued Africans or Asians who copied our over-priced 
drugs to produce them at prices their nations could afford. But my job was easy: 
any manager who complains about stress should try creeping along a forest trail 
in the dark waiting for some hotheaded little fanatic to open up with his 
kalashnikov.

No, the real trouble was the Marketing Director, my boss, Reginald Slack. 
Short, fat, balding, he was a bully. He was obsequious to the Chairman and civil 
to his fellow directors, but a bastard of the first water to his subordinates. He did 
not bully me though, I assume because he found me physically 
intimidating....I'm six foot, fourteen stone of muscle and bone, play rugby  
through the winter  ( I was a Scottish trialist wing-threequarter), and a mean 
game of squash all year. Also, I don't talk much. Silence can be intimidating 
too. No, I don't bully easily.

How a fat slob got a wife like that, heaven only knows.

Round the table that first dinner party to introduce me to my colleagues were my  
three managers and my opposite number the Wholesale Manager.  The only 
feminine company was Reginald's wife, Joy. And what a joy she was! I worked 
out she must have been about forty (she had a daughter by her first marriage, at 
University now). But she had the figure of a teenage girl. Picture if you can an 
ash-blonde about five feet six. She was wearing a long dress, but you could see 
she had pretty, pert little tits, a lovely flat belly, and the cutest, jutting arse. I 
later found out how slender and fine her legs were.

Apart from her, the dinner party was dreadful. Reginald monopolised the 
conversation. I could not be bothered to disagree with his views, which 
politically were somewhat to the right of Attila the Hun. The young men always 
agreed with him.

He was sounding off about immigration when his lovely wife got up, and asked 
him to help clear the dishes. He just kept on talking. I leaped up, and followed 
her to the kitchen.

'I'm afraid Reginald's a bit of a fascist, especially when he's had a glass or two. 
My father was a Rumanian refugee from the Nazi's you know. I do wish he 
wouldn't go on so about immigrants.'

I made no comment. I agreed, but could hardly say so!

'Now what I want you to do is to stir this over the hot-plate while I whisk up a 
souffle.' The eggs were broken and separated already, and a stiffening mix made 
earlier. I kept the sauce from catching while she put the dish together, and 
popped it into the oven. As she stooped, I had a lovely view of her decollete: her 
evening gown stood out slightly from her bosom, and I could see she had a 
blonde's pink nipples, but that she sunbathed topless.

As we chatted, I found her first husband had been, like me, in the army, a young 
lieutenant. But he had not been so lucky as me and a Belfast sniper's bullet had 
found him. She had studied modern languages, Italian and French at University, 
but with a daughter and two boys by her second marriage, she now worked from 
home, doing technical and legal translation. The boys were at boarding school, 
against her wishes. We had a lot in common, army, same university ( I was there 
three years before her, but also read languages, Italian and German), and same 
problem with Reginald. 

She bent down to look through the glass oven door. 'Just perfect!' I found 
myself agreeing, though in my case it was her matchless butt!

Why I did what I did next I'll never know. I assume she had been making 
signals that I picked up subconsciously. Anyway, I stooped, put a hand on each 
of her hips and lifted her, turning her to stand facing me. I spoke in Italian....in 
fact from that moment we both used Italian when alone together. It is a 
wonderful language for love. 'God. You're lovely. I could eat you out!'

'I might just hold you to that, Mungo! But nothing waits for a souffle. Put that 
sauce in the two gravy-boats, and take it through. I'll follow.

Her pride in the magnificent dish was patent. And justified. She looked happy 
for the first time that evening as the rapid business of serving while it was still 
rising was done.  But Reginald hardly paused in his monologue.

 I let him get on with it until Joy, who like me had been mainly silent, objected 
to his views on genetic modification.

'But, dearest, you can't say that selective breeding animals on farms or plants in 
nurseries is the same as GM. There's no way a farmer can selectively breed a 
gene from a fish into a tomato, or from and elephant into a cabbage.'

'Bloody muck and mystery again. No science. Just muck and mystery.' He 
spoke vehemently with his mouth full. Little gobbets of potato and souffle 
sprayed about. Rude and disgusting, I thought. I chipped in.

'A lot of people just know it's wrong. I don't go along entirely with the Gaia 
theory, but I suspect that if we do foul things, there are consequences. We knew 
instinctively it was wrong to feed cattle with dead sheep and cows, but we did. 
And we got bovine spongiform encepalopathy as our reward. BSE, and then it's 
spread to humans as CJD. We still feed  cows on chicken shit!'

'You didn't do science at University, Mungo?'

'No, Reginald. Languages, like your delightful wife.'

'Huh1 So fat lot you know about it! Or her either come to that!' (He took a third 
in chemistry at some crap little northern poly...making him a great scientist in 
his own opinion.)

I shut up. Not worth the hassle. Then I felt her stockinged foot reach under the 
table, and rub my leg. I looked across, and caught a momentary secret smile, just 
for me. I slipped my shoe off, and rubbed my foot up her calf till it rested 
between her thighs. I felt her thighs close on it, squeezing it. It was the sexiest 
thing, I assure you. Her hair shone, gold to her bare shoulders, as she looked 
demurely down at her plate. But my foot was between her thighs. I wished it 
was bare, or that I could reach that extra few inches and rest it in her crotch. But 
the table was too wide.

We both knew an agreement had been made! 

                                                    ..........................................

She called me at about eleven. 'I've got some shopping in town this afternoon. 
Wouldn't it be nice to meet up for some lunch together?'

We had a quick, light lunch at a restaurant I seldom used for business. It was 
best to stay fairly anonymous. She was happy and animated, and I behaved 
myself. 

She took my arm as we left the restaurant, and was not in the slightest perturbed 
when I guided her left to the staircase instead of right to the exit. The room was 
quite charming. Oak beams and antique furniture. The bed was a huge four-
poster. She went to the window and drew the curtains open. The sun shone in 
her golden hair, and I could see the silhouette of her legs through her chiffon 
frock. We fell into each others' arms, kissing. Amazingly, we had reached this 
near-intimacy without once kissing. But we made up for it. Her arms were round 
me, feeling the strength in my shoulders through my summer suit. I had one arm 
in the small of her back, the other resting on her rounded arse. we kissed, her 
tongue slipping in and out my mouth.

You're going to eat me. Remember? And I'm going to eat you, Tiger.' The 
chiffon slipped to her ankles, and she stepped out of it. She kicked her slippers 
off and was laying on the bed, even before I had my shoes and socks off. I felt 
my cock harden from the semi-erect of our embrace to full erection as I stripped, 
looking at her sweet body, Trim in grey lacy bra and panties. 

'Mm! I haven't seen one of these for a long, long while!' She grasped my cock, 
while I. laying beside her, slipped my hand down the waist of her panties. She 
was smooth, shaven, and I felt her plumping lips and then the sleek, slippery of 
her inner lips.

'Let me....' I knelt and slipped her panties down, as she raised her hips to help 
me. 'Now...' I was half on top of her my mouth over her cunt. My tongue found 
her clit and I licked, nibbled and sucked. She sighed, but immediately I felt the 
warmth of her mouth round my knob. 

I was careful to let her come three times, with increasing violence, without 
coming myself. Each time, she forgot to suck me, but I was in no danger of 
losing my hard-on as I licked and kissed, squeezing her lovely tits or stroking 
her firm, oh-so-slightly rounded belly.

Then, as she was still shuddering in orgasm, I moved on top of her and slipped 
my cock into her plump, wet, welcoming cunt. I could feel her orgasm as it 
gripped, squeezed and massaged my cock. Then we were fucking. Her eyes 
rolled, and her hands tore at my back. I ignored the pain in the pleasure of 
having her lovely body, in the flattery of her passion for mine. I made sure my 
cock rode hard against her clit with each thrust, and found myself using iron 
control to stop myself coming. And then she was coming again, this time with 
great rolling pulses in her vagina, and her hips heaving up to meet my thrusts, 
our bellies clashing together. I buried my face in her neck, kissing and licking, 
and felt her nipples pressing my chest as my weight compressed her tits. I was 
coming. A spurt deep inside her with each spasm of her coming, our bodies 
parting only to crash together, another gush of hot cum, another rolling pulse 
through her body.

Finally I rolled off her and we lay side-by-side, both astounded at the power of 
our lovemaking.

'You know, Joy, I've never felt ...'

Nor me, Mungo. Nor me. It's never been like that. And it's been so long.'

'Reginald ...?'

'Piggy hasn't been able to for years now. I'd almost forgotten what it could be 
like with a partner.'
                                             .....................................................

We met every Sunday morning, when her husband was at the golf club. I used to 
shower and wait naked for her to ring the doorbell.  About the third visit I 
discovered she liked it kinky, and especially to be tied up and blindfolded. It 
was the first of those kinky sessions that I filmed without her knowing. I often 
choose that video for solo wanking sessions. It is good to remember her willing 
mouth and cunt, to look again at her handcuffed hands spreading her arse cheeks 
for me to butt fuck her. From that session onwards, I filmed our bed-wrestling 
with two hidden cameras, and later edited it down to good amateur porno films.

This went on for about six months, until one working day she asked me to meet 
her at the hotel we first used. I booked a table ... and a room!

At least she had the courage to tell me face-to-face. I've had girls text me, phone 
me, write me, e-mail me but most don't confront you!

'I want to end this affaire, Mungo.'

'Someone else?'

'Well, yes. He's a real hunk, but younger. And he loves me, which I know you 
never did.'

'Do you love him?'

She laughed. 'Good lord no. But he's a wonderful fuck. The best I've ever 
known.'

I thought, 'Bitch! Better than me is what you're nearly saying.' But I just smiled, 
hiding my anger.

And that was that.

                                          ...................................................

It was soon after that I decided to give Reginald's daughter a call. To tell the 
truth, I was feeling randy being cut off from my regular sex with his wife. I had 
seen her photos, and had copied her number from Joy's notebook.

Fiona was blonde, like her mother. As we entered the restaurant her long, fine 
hair contrasted with her black coat. Her pretty ankles peeped from under the 
coat, in their gold high-heeled slippers. When she took
  the coat off and handed it to a waiter, every head in the place turned. She was 
lovely! The gold satin of her trousers hugged her body almost obscenely. 
Certainly there was no doubt that her legs were long and slender, her butt 
rounded and pert, and her cunt delicately mounded. But it was her shoulders that 
made men gasp! Her gold satin bustier hugged that slim waist, and then 
somehow stood away from her breasts: you could see her cleavage was natural! 
Her tanned shoulders were bare, except for the blonde hair that flowed over 
them.

As we ate and drank, every time she leaned forward I could see her rosy nipples. 
Waiters hovered behind her, looking down into those delights.

In the taxi we kissed, and my searching hand confirmed her tiots were as firm 
and rounded as they had seemed to my eager eyes. Her hand was on my cock, 
itself firm under my pants. She murmured her appreciation of this.

By the time we had got to my room, we were both incredibly randy. We were 
tearing our clothes off, dumping them in a tangled heap on the carpet. She 
stood, naked, by the bed. We embraced, and as we kissed she pushed me 
backwards. Still kissing we landed on the bed, her on top of me. I would have 
waited to enjoy that fabulous body at more leisure, but her arms were round me, 
pressing her tits into my chest. Her legs were open and astride mine. My cock 
was hard against her crotch. She must have been really wet and excited because 
as we writhed together, it just slipped in. 

She had the same tight, muscular cunt as her mother, gripping and squeezing my 
cock as I slipped in and out. She was fucking me, rather than vice versa. I hardly 
dared move, I was so hot for her. Then she propped herself on her elbows and I 
saw her tits. It was too much. I could not help myself. I came. Great pulses ran 
through me as I pumped my load into her.

'You came?' These were the first words she had uttered since reaching my 
room.

My first words were an apology, and asking her to kneel. 

I was still erect, and I entered her from behind, slipping into her pretty cunt, and 
resting my belly against the lovely round melons of her arse.

'Now!' Her butt was grinding against my belly. I grasped her hips with both 
hands, and slapped in and out of her, slow at first, then faster and faster. Her 
round bottom, slim waist, and broad, swimmer's shoulders were driving my 
pleasure. I kissed her back, and reached under her to clutch one breast. Again 
that lovely round firmness, with the hard little nut of her nipple. She was close 
now, and I heard her mutter 'Daddy! Daddy!'

I doubted Reginald had ever had her, from what I knew of his impotence. It's 
possible of course he had been shagging his daughter, but could not get it up for 
his wife. Any way, the feel of her tits was too much for me again, and I was 
coming, deep in her.

This time I went limp immediately, and I found myself having to apologise 
again.

'Never mind. I know how to get it up!'

Still, my cameras rolled on silently in the corner of the room, recording every 
detail of our fucking.

She lay beside me on the bed, and my cock was in her mouth. Whether it was 
her expertise, or just the startling beauty of her face and hair as she sucked me I 
don't know, but I was soon hard again. I had the opportunity to look at her body. 
(Later I would have the video to study it at leisure). Her mother must have been 
just like this at eighteen, I thought. Her waist was just that bit slimmer. Her 
calves too. And her cunt still had that pretty covering of blonde curls.

I was fucking her in the mouth now. And then I felt her finger slip into my anus! 
I was coming. I could not stop. She gagged as I spurted into her mouth, and then 
I saw my cum dripping over her eyelids and the bridge of her nose. She was not 
smiling. As I drifted off into a deep sleep I recall thinking, with a slight pang of 
guilt, that I had come three times without giving her a single orgasm.

I woke at dawn needing a piss. There was no sign of her. In the bathroom she 
had scrawled on the mirror with her lipstick. Big, bold letters. 'BASTARD! 
DON'T CALL ME! AND I TOOK MY TAXI FARE.' And a bit more, I 
thought. My empty wallet was on the glass shelf: there had been at least a 
hundred in it the evening before. I tried to clean the mirror with a tissue. It just 
smeared worse.

Luckily she had left me my credit cards, and the change from the taxi the night 
before was still in my trouser pocket. I left a tenner for the maid as an apology, 
and checked out, with the cameras.

                                  .......................................................................

Jason Lysenko was CEO  of our North American affiliate, and an old friend of 
mine. We had that bonding that can only come between men who have faced 
danger together : we had been in the 'Nam together. Anyway, those loyalties 
over-ride crap like duty to pharmaceutical companies. 

The e-mail was to my personal id, outside the corporate system. It warned me 
the main Board had decided to rationalise, and the pyramid management 
structure I described earlier was to be flattened. At the suggestion of Reginald, I 
was to be the 'flattening'. He was going to summon me to a meeting Friday, and 
sack me. Jaylys told me Reginald had argued strongly I should go, along with 
one of my managers, and twelve reps. Financially I would be ok. I was asked to 
secure delete the e-mail, which I did.

Bastard! 

But I still had twenty-four hours. I decided there was no point in fighting. A 
Board resolution, well that was that. But I'd have that fat, smug, little shit! I got 
out my videos. I must admit I was often diverted from the task in hand by the 
delightful and kinky films, but I soon had the stills I wanted.

                                                  ...........................................

'Ah! Come in Mungo. Sit down.' My chair was, of course, lower than his. He 
was drinking coffee from a porcelain cup on a silver tray. None offered to me. 
'I'll come straight to the point, Mungo. I know that is what you would want. 
The plain truth is we have decided to terminate you.' 

I silently thanked my old mucker Jaylys for the warning. That would have been 
terrible if it had come out of the blue. As it was, I could enjoy his surprise at my 
lack of concern.

'I can't say, Reginald, that I'll miss working for you.'

Silence from the fat carcass.

'But I shall miss humping your lovely wife. And I expect she'll miss it too, 
given your incompetence in that field. I see some disbelief in your eyes, 
Reginald. These may help.' I took the A4 glossy prints from their envelope and 
scattered them over his desk. He scrabbled amongst them. His colour rose to 
crimson, and his neck swelled to fill his shirt collar. His brow sweated, and his 
little eyes narrowed, so he really did most resemble a pig.

'I'll have you for this!'

'I shouldn't think there's much more you can do to "have me", Piggy Reginald. 
That's what they call you, you know. And your wife finds that quite amusing, 
too. I see you don't, Piggy. No. You'll have to pay me my contract, and you and 
I know the Board has agreed that, despite your unhelpful arguments.'

He rose from his desk. He would probably have hit me, were it not for the fact 
he knew I was vastly better equipped and trained for that sort of thing.

'I was going to keep quiet about it, but I guess I'll have to finish the job! I'm 
going to miss humping your lovely daughter too.' I scattered another dozen or 
so photos across the desk. Again he scrabbled among them. Tits, cocks, mouths, 
cunts ... terrible stuff! 'Oh, look, Piggy. You've mixed them up. Never mind, 
the ones without faces on them, your daughter has slightly larger tits, though 
they're just as firm as Joy's. Oh yes, and she doesn't shave her cunt, while Joy 
does of course. But you'd know that wouldn't you. Or perhaps not as you 
haven't been there for a few years she tells me. Now, if you'll excuse me, 
Reginald, I have to clear my desk, in compliance with company rules.'

                                                         FIN 
