I couldn’t decide if my boss was a prick or the biggest asshole on God’s green earth. The staff Christmas party was always held on the last working day before the big day itself. In the old days, with Christmas being a Sunday that year, it would’ve been held on Friday. That’s how our previous boss did things, anyway.

This new, bespectacled bozo held it on the Saturday afternoon… at his house.

So inconsiderate, this guy. I mean, the office was a central location, whereas his residence was so out of the way that many carless employees had to catch two buses to get there. The saddest point of all was that attendance was optional, but nobody wanted to be the outsider who skipped the boss’s shindig.

My black ass cared little about that, as I wanted to pitch him an idea that I didn’t during office hours. Supposedly, he was always booked, yet I’d seen him yucking it up plenty with his cast of brown-nosers. I think it’s just that he didn’t have time for me!

Anyway.

Giving up did me no favours, so at the party, I got a hold of him and proposed my advertising idea for our new lollipop client. The same day we acquired them, Henry’s wife, Reena, made her debut presence in our building, sucking one of their lollipops. With six-inch stilettos, she could have qualified as a runway model. Her plump breasts probably earned her a plethora of Instagram likes I’m betting. Seeing her tongue’s dexterity and hollowed cheeks while sucking on the hard candy in her low-cut blouse birthed my marketing scheme. I wasn’t proud of it, because morally, it was a step back, but this company was desperate to drive their sales up again. Henry listened to me speak on ad campaigns involving attractive women posing suggestively with the product, but still being appropriate enough for television and print. He told me it could work, but the risk of any groups latching on and causing a stink in the media wasn’t worth the negative publicity.

A fair point was made. No matter how much we grow as a society, sex is always a major motivator, but it doesn’t mean we have to go there all the time. Low hanging fruit and all of that.

If only he were sincere. The white-haired, five-foot-nothing dipshit got a similar pitch from another rep and bleated like the greatest invention since internet porn fell at his feet.  I couldn’t believe it. Not that he accepted the same idea from someone else, but that I believed he valued my input just because he listened!

Storming out was my initial idea, but I had to maintain some dignity. I was thirty-six, not six. So, I took time to wriggle through my co-workers – downing my apparent last dose of Whiskey and tonic water – before dumping the plastic cup into a bin, going through the door and onto the sidewalk.

“Dane! Hey, Dane, wait up!”

That female voice had limited entries in my memory banks, but enough existed that I groaned in acknowledgement.

“Yes, Mrs. Clipton?”

Her bleach blonde hair draped her neck which was adorned with a red, tattoo choker. She sucked the soul from a beer bottle while foamy runoff sudsed her chin and heaving milk jugs. A low-cut, square neck top this time – what a shocker. The best thing about this party was the dress code being casual. No other reason his wife wore daisy dukes with her bottom dropping out for the world to see. It wasn’t perfectly round but juicy enough that it probably rippled nicely in backshots. Shoot, that’s all that matters.

“Ewww, Mrs. Clipton? Really?” She rolled her eyes and chugged more beer.

“Yes, that is your title, is it not?”

“Yeah but, I’m friggin’ twenty-four. Leave that for my mother-in-law or something.”

My forehead creased at her familiarity because we’d barely ever spoken two words to each other.

“Look, unless you have something worthwhile to say, I’m heading out.” I pointed out my lightning blue hatchback parked a few houses down on Henry’s side of the street.

“Okay, look.” Reena sashayed in my direction and then stood in front of me. “I spoke to him just now and said that he shouldn’t have done what he did and that he needs to be more respectful.”

“So you were close when he got both pitches?”

“Yes, and he shouldn’t have snubbed you for that other jagoff.”

“Thanks, Reena, but I still don’t see why I should stay.”

“Look, you don’t have to come back inside to the festivities.” She wrinkled her nose with an accompanying head shake. “We could go into the guest house and hang out for a bit. Do some drinking? Shoot the shit?”

“And… why would I want to do that with my boss’s wife?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, but do you have other plans? Probably don’t since you had nothing better to do but come to your workplace’s lame Christmas party on a Saturday.” She leaned over so that her heavy breasts swung and her cleavage waved “hello”. I snickered, nodded and extended my hand as a signal for her to take the lead. What was the harm in hanging out with Mrs. Clipton? Going home and staring at my phone for hours held no appeal, and at least I’d be in the presence of an attractive woman. Who knows, maybe she had friends?

She led us into the main house, through my co-workers and out the rear door that lead to the guest house in their rather expansive yard. The wandering glances would’ve concerned me if my intentions were impure, but this was just going to be hanging out and “shooting the shit” as she said.

I won’t bore you with the structural details except for saying that my apartment’s dimensions underwhelmed in comparison. Hell, the home I attempted to buy a few weeks prior probably matched it size-wise. Shit made me bow my head while cheerful Yuletide music blared from the main gathering – the white and beige interior colour scheme did nothing for me, though.

“How about some Prosecco?” Reena asked as she traipsed behind the mini-bar. Her buttocks jiggled with every step and tightened as she reached up to take two glasses out of the cupboard.

“Sure, why not,” I said flatly before sitting on a barstool and finger-tapping the marble counter.

“Sooo,” she started, then poured both glasses of wine before sliding mine over. “You’re probably wondering, ‘Why is she with that dickhead?’ right?”

“No, not really.”

“Oh, come onnn.” She leaned over the counter and gave me another impressive view of her cleavage. “Loosen up a bit. I know he’s an ass and everything, so you can level with me.”

I took a sip and set the glass down. “Alright then. Why are you with that dickhead?”

“See, that wasn’t so hard.” She wolfed down the rest of her glass and poured another. I figured “what the heck” and gulped mine down too, and then she topped me up.

“I tried to do the whole ‘strong, independent woman’ shtick, but to be honest, that ain’t for everybody, let me tell ya.” Her eyeballs popped on the last two words.

“So you decided to what? Go on a sugar daddy website and bag a sugar daddy?” I scoffed.

“Yep.”

“Wait… word?”

“Woorrd.”

I don’t know if I laughed harder at being correct or that she sounded so out of place saying “word”.

“It has its benefits, though,” she said, spinning in place with a hand outstretched, presenting the surroundings.

“Can’t say you didn’t hit the jackpot, I guess.” I shrugged and drank more wine.

“Financially? Yeah. Everything else is pretty mid, though.”

“How so?”

“I haven’t been fucked since getting married. God, it blows.”

My eyebrows knitted together, then I dragged the Prosecco bottle and poured another glass. Her telling me this was highly inappropriate, but I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to hear more.

“And why haven’t you had sex since…”  I placed my elbow on the white surface and rotated my wrist.

“Being married? Because Henry can barely get it up, and what he does get up is barely anything.”

Now, I was no light-skinned brother by any means, but that statement almost bleached me white as snow. Henry suffered from a Napoleon complex, but I never figured a double down scenario was in play.

“Hey, I’m not a girl to rag on a guy for his size because that isn’t something you can control, ya know? But he’s such a dick to everyone he works with and his friends, so yeah: Fuck him and his little pecker.”

“Well, well, well.” I stood up and stretched, then placed my hands akimbo. “Muthafucka never gets to bust any nuts.” A chortle followed.

“Oh no, he does actually. He doesn’t get stiff enough to fuck me, but I let him jack off over my ass. No big deal.”

“Say what now?”

“Yeah.” She turned her butt towards me and gave the denim-covered left cheek a spank. “Oh God, you should see how he cries like a little bitch when he cums. And he only gives me a drop. You believe that? This ass?” She angled her right hip to me, pointed at the respective cheek and spanked that too, making it tremble. “A single drop of fucking cum.”

“I feel you, ‘cause that’s disrespectful as hell. I’d drown that muthafu–”      

Reena’s mouth hung open, so she covered it with a hand and giggled. While still doing the latter, she shot the remainder of her glass and backed up to the wall.

“Um, whoa,” I said. “I am so-so-so sorry. That wasn’t… tell you what, I’ll show myself out.”

She jogged around the kitchen island and caught my hand as I attempted to leave, then rested her forehead on my triceps. “Wait, don’t go.”

I turned fully to face her and lifted her head while holding it with both hands. She stared at me – while being way too close – with her glassy, brown eyes while biting her lip, so I broke the awkward silence.

“Look, Mrs Clipton… Reena, that wasn’t cool what I said. I can’t be saying that stuff about another man’s wife, furthermore my boss’s.” I dropped my hands.

“You know, I used to screw around when he and I just dated. But when we got married, I told myself that I’d be a good girl. Well, I’m tired of being a good girl. I miss being the girl that banged whoever and whenever I damned well please. I miss being fucked by real men. Men that were sure of who they were and didn’t have to be mean to everyone to show you they were men. I miss… goddammit, I miss being grabbed by the throat and hair while getting fucked. A good, hard, unmerciful pounding.”

My dick swelled against her stomach, resultant of those statements. The kind of treatment she described was the type of filth I jacked off to in pornos, but I never had sex with anyone that actually liked that. A point came that I even figured women who claimed they liked that were straight-up lying. It was all just a fantasy and not a reality. Well, the reality was in front of me, and boss’s wife or not, fuck him and fuck it.

“Can you feel what you’re doing to me now?” I flexed my meat again, and it pressed into her pillowy abdomen. “You need a good, hard fuck, and I’ve never sexed anyone like how you’ve described before.”

“Really?” She tiptoed until her lips were an exhale from mine.

“Really.” I dipped my neck for the expected kiss, but she dropped down onto her heels, leaving me to stare at her for a bit through narrowed eyes.

“Under one condition,” she said. “No holding back. If you’re too rough, I’ll let you know, but otherwise, just fucking destroy me.”

“Sure?” I tentatively palmed her throat.

“Yes. Talk dirty to me too. Call me all the nasty shit you can think of.”

I stood up straight, released her neck, and then, with my face completely stolid, said, “Take your top off and drop to your knees...”

“Drop to my knees, what? Say it.” She unbuckled my pants – and I dropped my boxers – allowing them to clatter to the ground. “Fucking say it.”

I grabbed a fistful of her hair, brought her features close to mine and snarled, “Drop to your knees… bitch.”

The large-titted pervert cooed upon the instruction as I pushed her to her knees. A thick, rigid schlong lay in wait, ready to do with her as it desired.

“Please use my throat with this big, black cock, daddy.” She folded in her lower lip and stared at me again via her brown orbs. Speaking of orbs, the larger ones seated in her red bra begged to be set free as the inner edges pressed into her flesh, plumping up what the higher power gave her.

“Open your fucking mouth, then.” Reena did just that, and I fed her, inch by inch, until hitting her maximum. Some remained outside with the visual of her fat, overflowing tits bouncing under it. When I pushed further, she retched and rolled her eyes, so I repeated the action, and again she gagged.

“Hey.” I withdrew my length, and it remained tethered to her open maw by tendrils of spit. “I’m gonna really fuck that mouth, so say ‘aaah’ while I’m doing it, understand me?”

She nodded.

I went from a one-handed to a two-handed grip on her hair. “I asked if you understand me, slut?”

“I understand you. You wanna hear me glucking, don’t you, you nasty, fucking pervert?” She ran her tongue over her lips and went to emancipate her tits when I stopped her.

“That’s right. I wanna hear you throating this dick. And leave them titties in that bra. Makes you look trashier with them barely held in like that.”

“Jesus, you talk too much, Dane. Just fuck my throat, already!”

My nostrils flared, and I rammed my dick into her throat repeatedly, making more saliva droop from her chin, onto her tits.

Glock-Glock-Glock-Glock.

She was a bit off on the sound effect, but hell, who cared if it was one vowel or the other? I was having too much fun. The continuous throttling, albeit amusing, meant nothing if I couldn’t make that motherfucker cum. I stood her up by the hair, and her lips came off with a loud pop. Had to watch my step, or I would’ve slipped on her slobber while bending her over the counter. Talk about unfortunate circumstances.

Anyhow, I pulled her shorts and panties down, then squatted until my face lined up with her vulva and derriere.

“Spread that booty,” I said.

Reena spread her fleshy buttocks, and I snaked my tongue into her vaginal opening. Then, I lapped her clitoris before circling it until she mewed as Chanel tickled my nostrils. I licked along the labia, returned to her lust button, and pulled away as the weight of her breathing amplified.

“You bastard,” she grunted through clenched teeth. “I was about to fucking cum.”

“Then come and get this nut. I fucked your face, so why can’t you fuck mine?”

With that, she pushed her butt out, reached behind my head and tugged my visage into her cunt, backside and pretty much everything that was ahead of me. Her cheeks wiggled around me as she combined grinds with backward thrusts and even twerking. When the pace increased, and her vocals strained, ready to release, that signaled the inevitable end.

“Fuck you, you son of a bitch!” She shoved into my mug so hard that bone from her lower regions pressed into my skull. My forehead, nose, cheeks and lips glistened afterward like they were deep-fried.

“Don’t move.” I stood and slapped her pale rear end with my fat, black dick.

“Before you start, understand that I want you to cum in my mouth, not my pussy. Pussy's for lovers.”

“Good, because there ain’t no love for you ‘round here.” I squeezed her left glute and dipped balls deep into her slippery snatch. A game of pull and push played out between our engorged privates, allowing cream to build along my shaft before the aggression escalated.

“Fuck yes!” Reena hissed. “Fuck me, motherfucker.”

I wrapped both hands around her neck, and she stared at me, with her mouth agape. Her tits flopped in unpredictable arcs until one nipple peaked over its bra cup. With every thrust, her lily-white bottom rumbled, giving me views of dimples and cellulite that brought me closer to the finishing line.

Clap-Clap-Clap-Clap.

No better sound had ever beat against my eardrums when approaching my climax. I pulled out of Reena, set her on her knees, grabbed her tresses, and drilled her gullet until I reached the end.

“Fuck you, Reena!”

What escaped me bloated her cheeks and exploded from her trap, over my junk, her tits and our quads. The perfect final scene to a disrespectful fuck session. So nasty, I should’ve left a hundred dollar bill after. She may have liked that.

“I need to take a shower.” Reena giggled and eyed the fresh coat of slime on her tits, tummy and thighs. What a lovely, disheveled mess. We undressed and went into the guest shower for a brief but efficient rinse off. At that point, our extended period of absence dawned on me, but Reena assured that none of Henry’s stooges had the balls to spark any rumours, so I stopped sweating it. Also, she figured he wouldn’t leave her even if he found out because no one else wanted him due to his terrible personality. I guess money really doesn’t solve everything.

We exited the guest house, and I kept my line of sight straight. Making eye contact would’ve given me away big time because I had no inscrutability unless further inebriated. When we returned to the function, I stood in my own corner and conversed with a few colleagues.

“Where were you, Dane?” they asked.

“Hanging out with Mrs. Clipton in the guest house,” I replied after a few more drinks. The way I saw it, I could eliminate suspicion by outright saying we were chilling and talking our heads off. When you think about it, why would a guilty man admit to doing something that looked so incriminating?

Perfect? No, but it was something.

Then, I scoped the area and saw the Cliptons chatting with each other across the room. Reena slanted into Henry’s ear and stared over at me. Subsequently, he did also. My heart boxed against my sternum like a speed bag as Henry frowned, but then Reena whispered into his ear again, and his expression loosened. The longer she maintained that position, the lower he sank. When she finally abandoned his side, he moped over to me, told me he’d be crediting me with the ad campaign and that I’d be running it!