“Boss Fucks Wife,” the story you WISH was true about your marriage.

What do you see in your perverted mind’s eye when you hear the words “boss fucks wife”? I want you to see me, your beautiful trophy wife you’ve spoiled rotten. You’ve given me everything I want. But guess what? I want more cock? And I want your BOSS to fuck me.

You remember the first time your boss and I met? Probably not, because you got too drunk at the office holiday party. Typical. Never paying attention. Whipping out your big wallet more frequently than your (also frequently) flaccid whiskey dick. A woman has needs. And you and your alcohol-fueled erectile dysfunction are NOT satisfying mine.

Your boss is handsome. He owns you, basically. You should see the way he owns my tight pussy as he pushes me up against the glass windows of the top floor, his office. Funny how he stopped “dogging” you about your (poor) work performance these last few months, huh? It’s because he’s been raw-dogging me at least twice a week, honey. You’re not mad at me, are you?

I wanted your boss to bend me over his big executive desk.

And now, I beg him to do it. I beg for him to give it to me harder. Of course, you’re about 6 floors down so you can’t hear us up here. The view is beautiful. If I wasn’t already out of breath most of the time I’m here, I’d find the view breathtaking!

The first time it happened was at the holiday party. You passed out, sloshed. At the end of the night, it was just he and I left. He was flirting with me like crazy. I can’t remember the last time I felt so charged with sexual energy, a full-body horny tingling. The amount of “hope” I had for you not getting sloppy drunk was considerable, but as the night went on my desires shifted. I was hoping he would make the first move. Finally, he asked me if I wanted to cum upstairs with him to his office, i.e. the entire top floor.

Maybe you can forgive me for abandoning you in your inebriated, passed-out state downstairs. I forgot you were there, not to mention where was (or my fucking NAME, even) as he made passionate love to me.

Please don’t be angry with me, dear. He couldn’t help himself.

Remember that tight black minidress and those Cuban heel sheer nylon stockings I was wearing? Well, you probably don’t. You got awfully drunk, after all. Your boss does. I still wear them for him when I cum up to visit sometimes. The way he picked me up and sat me on his giant desk made me drip. I needed him inside me. Expertly, he slid his hand between my legs. His deft fingers traced my puffy pussy lips as I let out a half-moan, half-gasp in his ear. I spread my legs wider, feeling the puddle already forming underneath my steaming cunt.


Looking for the best hot phone sex money can buy? Want to hear our own “boss fucks wife” bedtime story? Good, because I’m waiting to tell it to you.