When I met my husband, Oliver, he loved fucking his little Korean girlfriend’s brains out. Oliver never thought about dating Asian girls until he saw “The Interview” with Seth Rogen and James Franco. After seeing Franco and Randall Park party with those “Korean” girls, he became obsessed with Asian girls.
I never considered his ethnic-based attraction offense because I loved getting my brains fucked out. It didn’t really bother me until he became more attracted to my personality and intellect. Everyone talks about how deeper relationships last, but what they don’t talk about is how lacking the sex becomes.
By the time we married, he no longer saw me as his wild, Asian sex kitten. He was no longer my white knight in shining latex slinging his sword in defense of my sexual needs. All we talked about as husband and wife were finances and starting our family.
Before we could start our family, we decided to focus more on our careers and get to a financial place where we felt comfortable bringing kids into our marriage. That meant both of us needed higher-paying jobs that also offered significant benefits.
Oliver found work quickly with one of his friends. I eventually came across a lucrative opportunity through an ex-girlfriend. She introduced me to Mr. DeAngelo Pearson. After a brief interview, Mr. Pearson gave me the job and said I could start work immediately, but I had to sign a confidentiality agreement first.
His company, New Edge LLC, didn’t do anything. Mr. Pearson was a private investor who made all his money in stocks. He only established New Edge as a front to avoid talking to his family. My job was to tell all family members that he was in a meeting or on a conference call. What he really did all day was play Xbox, watch TV, workout in the office’s gym, and more than he’d like to admit, jerk off to various porn videos he watched with his door closed.
Where we live, the average administrative assistant, or secretary, earns about twenty dollars an hour. For my discretion and helping to keep his family away from him, Mr. Pearson paid me fifty dollars an hour; gave me full healthcare benefits, which included dental, medical, vision, hearing, and life insurance for me and my husband; and paid out seasonal bonuses up to two thousand dollars.
Anytime my husband and I went over our finances, he would point out how much I made and joke that I was sleeping with my boss. Then, I’d joke that I only slept with my boss once and was blackmailing him into paying more. We laughed at those jokes because Oliver didn’t know what Mr. Pearson looked like.
In my entire dating history, I never thought about cheating on any man or woman I was with. It wasn’t until Oliver starting making those jokes and ignored my sexual needs for weeks that I started looking at Mr. Pearson differently.
I missed being my husband’s little Korean fuck-toy. I’ve never gone that long without being properly fucked, but I couldn’t spark my husband’s interest. Days turned to weeks, weeks turned to months, and the months approached two years. For two years, all I did was fantasize about fucking my boss.
Every day, I sat at my desk hoping and praying that DeAngelo would come out of his office naked, big black dick swinging and throbbing, and he’d fuck me all over the office; in every room and every orifice. I’d never thought about trying anything anal before, but I’d certainly demand DeAngelo take my ass.
Of course, I felt guilty about having such a shameless imagination, but I convinced myself that it was all just fantasy; I would never act on my impulses.
Whenever my husband got the chance, he went away on business trips. Business trips offered more money and placed him on lists for promotions. Though he hated being away from me for emotional reasons, I hated being away from him because that left me alone in our apartment. Alone, I couldn’t extinguish the fire that blazed between my legs all day at the office.
My vulva-related wildfires got so hot and wet that I started developing rashes because my pussy never dried. The rashes itched under my naturally thick, trimmed bush, so I started shaving smooth. My bald pussy handled the excess wetness better, but it also created a tantalizing sensation that made my pussy feel electric every time my legs rubbed together.
I solved the rash issue by shoving extra-absorbent tissue down the fronts of my panties and took several pussy-pat breaks to whip away excess moisture. This worked well for months, but one amazingly unfortunate day, I caught DeAngelo working out in nothing by some tiny tight-fitting shorts. I could see his massive size dangling in the thermos-sized bulge.
DeAngelo had no idea what he was doing to me, but I imagined he did. Whenever I heard the faint exaggerated screams of internet porn coming from his office, I imagined DeAngelo thrusting his enormous chocolate cock into my cunt’s canal. The overly orgasmic porn starlets’ screams pale in comparison to mine as I felt DeAngelo’s thick dick tunneling deeper inside me.
In reality, I’ve leaned back in my chair, closed my eyes, and slid my hand into my skirt and panties. I’ve temporarily removed the tissue and penetrated my pussy with my two longest and thickest fingers. My thumb circled my clit, lightly transitioning to rubbing my hot button as my fingers reached my G-spot.
It always took DeAngelo fifteen to twenty minutes to bust his nut, so I could comfortably fingerfuck myself to two or more orgasms before he finished. And his twenty-minute beat-off sessions, which suggested tremendous stamina and endurance, made my pussy extra drippy every time.
Whenever my husband returned, I would spend all night fucking his brains out. He thought absence made the heart fonder, so he started taking more, longer business trips. Every day he was gone, my pussy ached for DeAngelo that much more.
I didn’t want to cheat on Oliver, but I needed to know what sex with DeAngelo was like, so I went to my ex-girlfriend who introduced us. She turned down my proposition, as she’d gotten married too, but she did warn me that DeAngelo was an increasingly intoxicating addiction.
When my ex declined, I asked the sluttiest girl I knew. Tiffany, a voluptuous, fiery redhead with big tits, loved dick. She jumped at the opportunity to ride DeAngelo, but I insisted that she behave like a proper lady, knowing she’d take offense and act ten times as slutty.
DeAngelo didn’t take much convincing either after he saw a picture of Tiffany in a bikini. I also let it slip that Tiffany used to give me the wildest, hardest orgasms. It probably only made him hornier for Tiff, but I’d like to believe it also made him see me in a different light.
Presumably, after their date ended, I got a text from Mr. DP telling me to take the weekend off. I didn’t hear from either of them until late Sunday evening. Knowing Tiffany, she must’ve used every trick in the naughty slut’s handbook after I demanded she behave like a lady.
When she did finally call, I could hear the exhaustion and satisfaction in her voice. “Aria, gurl…” She paused before softly moaning the words, “Thank you!”
The only time Tiffany thanked me was after I spent three solid hours eating and fingering her pussy when we dated. Even then, her ‘thank you’ lacked passion and gratitude. This time, the words ‘thank you’ rolled off her tongue like a melody and echoed in my ears.
“Was it really that good?” I had to know.
“Never has such a good looking man possessed the size and skill to satisfy me like that. Your boss blew my pussy into a million little pieces, and each piece emitted the strongest orgasmic force I ever felt as they rained down over my body.”
Never has Tiffany been so poetic. “What was it like; tell me everything, and I mean every detail.”
To my dismay, she responded, “No, not yet!” My pussy’s depth clenched painfully, but to my relief, she added. “First, I want you to take a long, steamy shower. Give yourself a deep, soapy pussy massage but don’t cum. When you’re finished, pat yourself dry, leaving a light mist on your skin.
“Then, go into your bedroom, light a few candles, get well-lubricated, put on some sexy music, and call me back. Only then will I tell you about your boss’s big… thick… hard…” She whispered, “…strong,” and hung up.
My phone fell from my hand as my pussy spurt a tiny spray of passion liquor inside my panties. I looked down and saw the stain growing as my pussy surged with need. So tempted to reach down and slide two fingers inside myself, but I retained just enough composure to fight the urge.
I rushed to the bathroom and began following Tiffany’s instructions to the letter. Showering under such lustful conditions was next to impossible, but I prevailed without premature orgasm. I left a light layer of mist on my body as I walked out into the air-conditioned bedroom. The cool air swept across my steamy nipples, making them painfully hard within seconds.
After rubbing a thin layer of moisturizing body oil on myself, I lit my favorite scented candles. By the time all the candles were lit, the oil had made my misty skin soft and aroused. I threw myself on the center of the bed and asked Siri to play my ‘Sexy Katy Perry’ playlist. As “I Kissed A Girl” softly played in the background, I called Tiffany back.
She was slightly suspicious that my shower took too long but incredibly elated that I called back. Before starting her recount, she confessed her suspicions about why I wanted to set her up with my boss, and I admitted my intentions were more than curiosity.
Once I confessed my side of things, she giggled softly. “I knew you couldn’t get married and stay happy for too long.”
“It’s not that I’m not happy. It’s just that Oliver isn’t as physically expressive as he used to be.”
“And your new boss makes your little pussy wetter and hotter than your husband ever could; don’t forget that part.”
“Oliver makes my pussy plenty hot and wet. But yes, DeAngelo does something to my pussy that I’ve never experienced before. I just can’t explain it.”
“You don’t need to explain it to me, Aria. I know firsthand what you felt and much more.” My pussy throbbed thinking about what DeAngelo did to Tiffany’s body. “I hope you’re lubed up because I’m jumping straight to the good stuff.”
I put the call on speaker and laid the phone next to my head as I lay back. My hands slowly moved to soft, smooth tits and squeezed as Tiffany spoke.
“All through dinner, he kept glancing down at my tits and thighs; oddly enough, my thighs more than my tits. First time that’s ever happened, right? When I asked him about it, he told me he couldn’t stop thinking about burying his face between my legs and making me squirt into his mouth. In the middle of a crowded restaurant, he loudly confessed that he wanted to eat my pussy to a squirting orgasm. I pulled him out of that restaurant and forced him into an Uber without even paying for dinner.
“We were at his condominium fifteen minutes later, and he had his hands up my short, slit dress before we reached the elevator. Because you told me to behave like a lady, I made sure not to wear any panties, which I somewhat regretted because I had to walk through his building’s lobby with streams of pussy juice dripping down the inside of my legs.
“Anyway, once we were in the elevator, his fingers found their way into me. My pussy was so wet from his sexual conversationalist skills and so gaping from the gangbanging I took earlier that day that his fingers slid right up against my G-spot with no resistance at all. Before I could let out the first soft moan of approval, he had my thighs shaking and knees buckling, as his expert fingers struck orgasmic gold in a matter of seconds.
“As I thrashed in his arms and held onto the railing for dear life, he continued finger-pumping my cunt until thick drops of squirt splashed onto the elevator floor. When my cunt stopped crying passion juice, he sucked his fingers dry and slithered his tongue into my mouth. That’s right, he finger-fucked me to a squirting cumshot before ever kissing me. Hashtag-best-date-ever!”
Her story had me in a trance; my right hand moved from my over-stimulated nipple, silently slithered down my torso, and found my recently-shaven mound. I barely touched my puckered pussy lips, and a torrent of ecstatic waves washed over me. At the time, I thought I just had a mini orgasm. I had no idea that it was just a prelude to something greater still to come.