Jim Bryan sat in his boss's office and sipped coffee and listened to his boss as he expounded the idea of expansion.
"So, you see, it’s going to work," his boss said. "We’ll start it next week. And that’s what I wanted to let you know about. The expansion will require an officer to be in charge. He’ll be promoted to a vice-presidency, and that of course will involve quite a promotion in both position and salary. So, I want to tell you that the officer will come from this department; it’ll be one of you, Thompson or Macon or you. None of you have seniority over the others—you’re all on the same level, so it will be up to me to choose one among you to be the officer."
"Well, sir, whatever choice you make will be the best one," Jim said. "I do want to be considered, but I know that you’ll make the choice that you think is the best."
"Hmmmp, yeah," his boss grunted. He leaned back in his padded leather chair and looked at Jim, studying him. "I’ll make the choice over the weekend—by Monday anyway." He laid a hand between his legs on his crotch. "You’re all about the same age, worked here about the same length of time, and you’re all married. Tell me, you’ve been married, what? Three years?”
"Yes, three years come next month."
"And, no k**s yet, right?"
"Your wife, Diana—right? She’s—what, twenty-five?"
"She’s twenty-six, three years younger than me."
"Ah—yeah. You’re a lucky man. Your wife is quite a knock-out."
"Thank you, sir."
"Yeah, I bet you get it on every night, don’t you." He swept his hand over his crotch and rubbed it.
Jim didn’t know how to answer that, so he said, "Well, no—not every night."
His boss sprawled in the leather chair. He was in his forties, bald on top, and portly. He suddenly said: "When are you going to invite me to your home?"
Jim blinked. "Well, sir, I—well, whenever."
"Make it this weekend," his boss said.
"Yes, sir, okay," Jim replied.
When Jim got home that evening and told his wife Diana that his boss would be coming to their house, she was less than enthusiastic. "It’s not the fact of entertaining your boss, and having him for dinner," she said, "although that will be a hassle. It’s the fact that he is a lecher."
"A lecher?" Jim asked. "Well, I don’t know about that. All I do know is that he’s considering me for a vice-presidency, quite a promotion in both position and salary. And it’s not like I invited him over; he really invited himself. But, regardless, it’s imperative that we entertain him, and, yes, I’ll say it—impress him. It could very well mean the difference in having him choose me."
"All right, dear," she said. "I know what the stakes are. It’s just that I want you to know that Mr. Payne is a dirty old man, that’s all."
"A dirty old man?" Jim chuckled. "A lecher, hunh?"
"Yes," she said. "You know what happened the last time he was here; at that little gathering—last New Year’s. He made I don’t know how many passes at me; his hands were all over me—geez. And, I don’t know—the way he looks—he’s downright fat, bald, greasy—yugg—he’s a dirty old man."
"Well, I don’t know about that," he said. "All I know is he’s my boss and he’s considering me for a promotion and we need to entertain him."
"Yes, dear," she said.
And entertain him they did. That weekend, Mr. Payne came to Jim’s house, and they had dinner. Diana was aware of Mr. Payne ogling her all through the dinner. Mr. Payne himself licked his lips and swept his hand over his crotch as he eyed his employee’s wife. She was luscious, with short chestnut hair, blue eyes, curved and shapely figure, upthrust breasts, plump rounded ass, long full legs, and wearing a short tight black slipover dress. She was voluptuous. Mr. Payne’s cock jerked and swelled, getting hard. He wanted that pussy; he wanted to pump the meat to her.
As they rose from the dining table to go into the living room, Mr. Payne swept his hand over Diana’s rump, rubbing and squeezing the big soft smooth mounds. And when they were in the living room, seated on the big plush sofa and chairs, and Diana went to the kitchen to get more wine, Mr. Payne offered to go with her to help her. There he came up behind her and pressed his crotch upon her rump and slid his hands around to her front and pressed and mashed her breasts. She felt his stiff fat cock pressing against her ass, and his pudgy hands squeezing on her tits.
When Mr. Payne went to the bathroom, she spoke in a low voice to her husband: "He’s pawing at me. He’s grabbing me."
"Oh, now, honey," her husband said. "Don’t make a big deal out of it."
"Don’t make a big deal out of it?! My god, he’s practically r****g me."
"Oh, now, come on. Look, you know what the deal is. I mean, he’s my boss, it’s up to him if I get the officership. Come on, honey, you know what that means."
"Yes, I know," she sighed.
Every time Diana turned around it seemed there was Mr. Payne, copping a feel from her, rubbing her ass, squeezing her tits. When Jim went to the bathroom and Diana was in the kitchen, here came Mr. Payne to press his stiff fat prick on her rump and reach his hand under her dress and rub her pussy.
Later on, when Jim discovered they were out of wine, Mr. Payne said: "There’s a wine store nearby, isn’t there? I want some more of this." He leered at Diana.
"I’ll go get some," Jim replied.
"Honey, do you need to?" Diana said.
"I’ll be back shortly, won’t take me long," he said, and he left.
"Well, Mrs. Bryan," Mr. Payne said. "You haven’t shown me your house. Show me around—take me on a tour."
"Well—all right," she replied.
She led him down the hall.
"Here’s the den," she motioned to a room, "and right down here is the study, and there is the guest room."
She halted in the doorway to the bedroom. Mr. Payne was right behind her. "This is–uh—the bedroom."
"Yeah, I can see," Mr. Payne said. He suddenly moved up behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed his crotch on her butt.
"Mr. Payne, don’t," she breathed out. He didn’t waste any time answering her. He swept her around and pressed her to the wall, raking up her dress, pulling down her panties, and unzipping his pants and hauling out his prick.
"No, no," she gasped. He clutched her ass and heaved his prick up into her pussy. He thrust his meaty cock up her cunt, digging it in without halting.
She squirmed and writhed and cried out: "No! Unhh—no!" But it was too late; he was screwing his dick up and down her pussy.
"Oh god—unhh—ooh—unh—ohh" she breathed out in rising passion. He was pumping the meat to her and it was beginning to feel so good to her. His cock was fat and stiff and so meaty, and he was fucking her pussy full and deep.
She was getting turned-on. His fat prick fucking her cunt; his pudgy body itself; his bald head; the fact that his groping and rubbing and squeezing of her earlier had aroused her; and the fact that her husband didn’t seem to care what his boss did to her—all these things combined to get her hot and horny.
He thrust every inch of his fat cock up her cunt and she cried out and wrapped her arms around his shoulders and locked her legs around his hips. She began fucking him back, pumping her pussy to meet his fat dick.
He gave a mighty heave and pumped his prick deep in her cunt and spewed cum. "Ahh—umm—ohh ahh, yess!" she gasped and panted and hunched as he squirted her pussy full of cum.
By the time Jim got back with the wine, his wife and Mr. Payne were seated in the living room as if nothing had happened.
Jim got the promotion, and he was happy; his wife was happy too; but Mr. Payne was happiest of all, for he made it a point to go to Jim’s house quite often when Jim was at work. There he fucked Jim’s wife, pumping his fat prick in her luscious pussy. And she loved it.
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