Entertaining Husband's Boss

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Wife fucks husband's boss in kitchen while husband sleeps.
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Fiona looked at herself in the floor length mirror. She lightly ran her fingers through her long wavy dark hair, parted down the middle, brushing it onto her tanned bare shoulders. She looked at her make-up, pursing her lips to make sure there wasn't too much red lipstick, and then checking the light black eyeliner and blue eye shadow that complimented her deep blue eyes. She leaned back and ran her hands over the tight black dress that hugged her fit but curvaceous figure. Thin straps went over her bare shoulders, invisible with her hair draped over her shoulders. The neckline was cut down possibly too low, revealing her ample cleavage but she smiled and pushed her breasts together, amplifying the effect. The dress hugged her hips and butt tightly then stopped short at mid-thigh revealing her long toned legs, clad in stockings. The dress was tight enough to see the garter belt beneath the dress, clipped to her stockings. The black heels were toeless with straps around her ankles and taller than she was used to wearing.

She took a few steps back and forth in front of the mirror, looking at how her hips swayed and how the bottom of the dress threatened to rise up with each step. She smiled to herself thinking about how her husband and their dinner guest would think when they saw her. She had rushed home after her day of work to start dinner and get ready. Her husband Philip was bringing the Dean of the Faculty, Tim McLaughlin, to their house to influence him in making a decision in Philip's favor for tenure at the university where he taught and did research. She figured showing off a bit would definitely help her husband since she'd seen the Dean checking her out before.

She was used to men checking her out. At 32 she still looked like she was in her twenties and her body was even more athletic and firm than it had been at any point in her life as she kept better care of herself. At her own work men flirted with her but she always kept it professional. Philip's colleagues also flirted with her but with them she flirted back thinking it wouldn't hurt and hoping it would help him at his job. Dean McLaughlin had flirted with her on many occasions, blatantly and in front of her husband and his own wife.

She hadn't minded the attention. The Dean was a good looking man. He was older but still in shape. His hair was turning gray and he didn't try to cover it up which she liked. The gray made him look distinguished. He had played football in his younger years and looked like he still hit the gym. She'd touched his arm once at a party flirting with him and felt a rock hard bicep beneath his suit jacket sleeve. He had light blue eyes that never left her when they talked. He didn't ogle her like some of Philip's colleagues and would actually have discussions with her.

Her husband on the other hand, while she loved him, had allowed the stress of his job to get to him. He looked older than his age, had a paunchy stomach, thinning hair, and watery eyes behind thick glasses. He worked long hours on his teaching and research. He was brilliant, so much that she couldn't understand much of what he did at the university, but he was also more concerned with his research than his marriage at times. She still loved him though. He needed her if nothing else.

She heard a timer go off in the kitchen and with a last look in the mirror left the bedroom, striding confidently on her high-heeled shoes. Her husband had called her at work that day to tell her they were having Dean McLaughlin over for dinner and ask if she could start dinner for them. She agreed happily. She knew this was a big deal. If they could get the Dean on their side then Phil would be a shoo-in for tenure. Then perhaps he could take it a bit more easy at work and they could take a vacation together, spend more time together, and get their marriage back on track.

On the way home she'd picked up the ingredients for chicken parmesan with pasta, Italian bread, and a salad. She could make that easily for three people. The chicken was breaded and cooking in the oven. Water was boiling on the stove, waiting for the pasta to be added. She checked the chicken and it was cooked through so she turned the oven down and left it in to keep warm until they finally showed up.

She didn't have to wait long when she heard the front door open as she was buttering the bread, readying it for the oven.

"Honey, we're home," Philip yelled.

"I'm in the kitchen," she yelled back.

She heard the front door close and heard the two men talking as they came into the house. She heard them go into the living room which adjoined the kitchen. The kitchen opened into the living room with only the counters separating the two rooms. The counters formed an L-shape with the long part between the living room and kitchen. The stove, refrigerator, and sink were against the wall of the kitchen so she had her back to the living room as she worked at the stove.

She looked over her shoulder into the living room between the counters and cupboards and saw the two of them talking.

"Take a seat you two," she said. "Dinner's almost ready. I'll bring you a couple of drinks."

"Take a seat Tim," Phil said. "I'll get the drinks. Bourbon on the rocks right?"

"That works," Tim said.

Fiona smiled to herself to hear Phil calling the Dean by his first name. That means things were already going well.

She finished buttering the bread, wrapped it up in foil, and turned as Phil entered the kitchen. He stopped short when he looked at her.

"Wow, honey," he said softly, then looked sheepishly to the living room to see if Tim had heard him.

She walked towards him slowly, letting him take her in, and put her arms around him so her face was just inches from his.

"You like?" she asked.

He just shook his head.

She smiled and kissed him lightly. He started to kiss her harder but she pulled back.

"Don't mess up my make-up," she chided him. "Besides you have a guest."

He squirmed against her and she could feel his cock already growing erect and pressing against her hips. He placed his hands on her hips and looked towards the living room to see if they were being watched.

"You look incredible," he said.

"I always do," she replied. "You just don't always notice."

He started to reply but she stopped him with a soft kiss. She pushed her hips against him and his growing erection, and then pulled back.

"Dinner's almost ready," she said louder. "Make the drinks and keep our guest company while I finish up."

With a groan Phil walked to a cabinet to retrieve two glasses, added ice, and poured in some bourbon. He took the drinks back to the living room with a final look at his wife.

"Here's your drink," she heard him say, "Oh, and let me take your coat. And have a seat wherever you want."

"Well let me say hello to Fiona first," Tim said.

Fiona was dropping the spaghetti into the boiling water when she heard Tim walk across the living room and into the dining area that was separated from the kitchen by the short part of the L-shaped counters. He leaned forward and just looked at her for a few seconds. Fiona didn't say anything as she added salt to the pasta and put on the pot lid, then turned to him.

"Hi, Fiona," he finally said, a big smile on his lips.

"Hi, Dean McLaughlin," she said.

"Oh, just call me Tim," he said.

"All right, Tim, how are you?" she asked.

She put the bread in the oven and turned the heat back up.

"Very good. It's very nice to see you again," he said.

Fiona bent over further checking the chicken, knowing that her dress was riding on up on her thighs and Tim was getting an excellent look at her butt and possibly even the tops of her stockings.

She closed the oven door, stood up, and straightened her dress, pulling it back down snugly.

"Dinner won't be long," she said.

"I don't mind waiting," he said and took a drink from his glass.

He was wearing a long sleeve white collared shirt and tie. He'd obviously been wearing a suit jacket, which Phil had hung up for him. The shirt fit his muscled physique perfectly. His eyes followed her as she poured herself a glass of wine.

Phil returned and immediately started talking to Tim who reluctantly turned away from Fiona and followed Phil back into the living room. Fiona started preparing the salad, cutting the vegetables on the counters, facing the living room, and joining in the conversation.

Phil and Tim had a few glasses of bourbon before dinner was ready. Fiona let dinner take a while so Phil would loosen up some and talk more freely with Tim. She led the conversation when he went off track and got him talking about his research in that excited way he did. Tim actually understood what Phil was doing and the two got into a deep conversation.

Eventually, dinner was ready and Fiona laid out the table and called them into the dining area. They ate, talked, and drank. The night went on and Phil started to slur his words some. Fiona didn't think it mattered since Tim had also had a lot to drink though he didn't show it like Phil. Phil was starting to look tired. He worked long days and was used to going to bed soon after getting home to get up early the next day. He was already past his usual bed time.

Tim was still lively and energetic. Fiona picked up Phil's slack in the conversation until it was almost just the two of them talking while Phil leaned forward with his elbows on the table trying to keep himself awake. Fiona found she liked looking into Tim's blue eyes as they talked. She also liked the bit of scruff on his face that had grown during the day. His blonde hair was thick and wavy, parted on the side, free of hair products and she found herself wondering what it would feel like to run her hand through his hair, so much thicker than her husband's thinning hair.

She shifted in her chair trying to get more comfortable, rubbing her moistening pussy against her panties, as she talked to her husband's boss, looking from his chiseled features to his broad shoulders and chest. His hands were even large and strong.

Yes, she was definitely attracted to the man. She knew she shouldn't be attracted to him. She was married after all. But he was handsome and well-built, and seemed to be flirting with her as they talked, smiling at her broadly, fiddling with his silverware, watching her intently when she refilled his glass with more bourbon or her own with more wine. She leaned over the table and let him look down her dress at her cleavage, wanting him to want her, while chiding herself for doing it. Part of her wanted him to touch her right then, with her husband nodding off at the table. Her nipples were hard. Could he see that?

Finally, she decided she'd had too much to drink and her fantasies were going so far that she could barely maintain conversation with him.

"Well, you two should go sit in the living room so I can clean up in here," she said.

"I can help," Tim said, standing up and grabbing his plate.

"That's all right," Fiona said.

She grabbed his plate, but he didn't let go right away. He looked her in the eyes and for a moment she felt something pass between them, the knowledge that they both wanted each other. Then, she pulled the plate from him and turned around, consciously breaking the spell. She carried his plate to the sink and turned back around.

"Come on, Phil," Tim said.

Tim actually had to help Phil up and they walked into the living room where Phil flopped onto his chair. Tim sat on the couch facing the kitchen.

Fiona brought in fresh drinks for them, setting them on the coffee table.

"How many of these have we had?" Tim asked.

"Not enough," Phil mumbled, sitting up enough to get his glass and take a big drink.

Fiona turned away and walked back to the dining area, feeling Tim's eyes on her, on her high heels, on her tight calves, on the swaying of her hips, on her butt wrapped firmly in her tight dress. She tossed her head to the side so he could see her long wavy hair brush across her bare shoulders and back. She smiled to herself feeling his eyes all over her.

She strode confidently to the dining table, picked up her plate, and glanced back into the living room. Tim was looking directly at her as her husband was talking. He didn't look away from her, just took a drink and watched her walk the plate to the sink.

She started washing the dishes, taking her time, listening to the light conversation in the living room, feeling Tim's eyes on her as she moved about the kitchen, her heels clicking on the tiled floor. Once the table was cleared and dishes were cleaned she started on dessert, strawberry shortcake with fresh strawberries.

She started cutting the strawberries into thin slices when she suddenly noticed Tim standing on the other side of the island counter from her. She looked at him and he was looking back at her intensely.

"Can I get something for you?" she asked, feeling a knot in her throat at being caught by surprise.

"Just thought I'd come in and talk to you," he replied. He glanced back into the living room. "I think Phil has run out of conversation."

She looked into the living room and saw her husband slouched in his chair, his eyes closed and head turned to the side, his mouth partially open, snoring. She smiled to herself, thinking of how often she'd seen him just like that, sleeping like the dead in his favorite chair. She'd have to shake him awake to get him to bed.

"Sorry about that," she said to Tim. "He works long hours. Well, I don't have to tell you."

"Yes. I know," he said.

He shook his glass, the ice clinked around, and he took a big drink, finishing off the last of it. He set the glass down on the counter and leaned towards her.

"If I were him, I wouldn't work such long hours, leaving such a beautiful wife home alone," he said.

She looked into his eyes, gleaming with mischief.

"I'm not home alone that much. I work too," she said.

She picked up a strawberry, wrapped her lips around the bottom of it and took a bite, feeling the juices burst in her mouth, before she started chewing on the sweet fruit.

"Want a strawberry?" she asked.

"No," he said.

He walked around the counter as she put the stem of the strawberry down and began cutting up the strawberries again. She felt him stop behind her, so close, almost touching her, then she felt his hands on her hips. She almost jumped at his touch, not as much from surprise as the thrilling shock of his hands on her suddenly. She kept cutting up the strawberries.

"What are you making?" he asked, his voice so close to her right ear that he must be leaning over her slightly.

"Just strawberry shortcake," she said. "Something quick and easy, but the strawberries are fresh."

She cut a slice off of a strawberry, pinched between her fingers, then leaned back, holding it over her shoulder.

"Here try one," she said.

Without hesitation, he took the strawberry slice from between her fingers with his lips. Her fingers lingered for a moment, feeling the brush of his lips, feeling them move as he chewed on the luscious fruit, then she turned back to cutting more of the strawberries.

"Tasty," he said.

His hands on her hips, moved slowly up to her waist, brushing over the smooth fabric of her dress. She sighed deep in her throat and stood still over the counter, just feeling his touch. Then, his hands moved back down over her hips and butt, then back up again. She leaned back against him slightly, dropping the knife on the cutting board and laying her hands on the counter.

She glanced into the living room at her husband, still sleeping with his head tilted towards them, breathing deeply and snoring.

Then, her dress was being pulled up over her thighs to her hips and his hands were on her bare thighs, fingering the garters, moving down to the stockings then back up over the skin of her thighs and hips again. He pressed his pelvis against her butt, pinning her against the counter. She dropped her head forward, her hair cascading down around her. She moaned as he stroked her skin. She felt herself getting wet, so wet and so quickly. He was rubbing himself against her and she could feel his erection against her butt.

She reached behind her and grabbed his erection through his pants. She traced the outline of it and heard him moan in frustration. She held it in her hand and moved it up and down, stroking him through his pants. He moved his hips in rhythm with her hand.

She turned her head around to see him out of the corner of her eye. His eyes were closed as he concentrated on their touching, her hand on his erect cock, his hands moving up and down the curves of her hips and thighs, plucking at her stockings and garters. She smiled to herself at how she had him so turned on. She hadn't seen her husband like that in years. Now, here was a man, a handsome man, who wanted her, who had the desperate look on his face of needing to have her and it made her want him even more, made her body tingle and feel sensitive to the slightest touch, let alone his caressing of her body.

She looked into the living room again and saw her husband was still sleeping, and then slid the zipper down on Tim's pants. He held still as she did it and opened his eyes to look back at her. She smiled at him as she leaned back to reach into his pants, then into the fly of his boxer briefs before finally finding his cock. She held it in her hand for a moment, feeling how hard and rigid it was, feeling it pulsing like a living being in her palm. He held perfectly still, his hands high up on her hips.

Then, she pulled it out so it stuck out of his pants, thick and hard. She bit her lip as she turned slightly and looked down at it, admiring its girth and the curve from the root to the swollen purple head. He had a beautiful cock. She stroked it, gripping it tightly, but not too tight, and felt him tremble as her fingers passed beneath the head.

"Are you sure you want this?" he suddenly asked.

"Of course," she said, surprised at his need to ask.

Then, he grabbed her panties and pulled them down her long legs, crouching down, his cock slipping from her hand. He lifted up one of her feet and pulled her underwear beneath her high-heeled shoe so her panties were dangling around her other ankle. Then, he slowly, made his way back up, each hand on one leg, sliding up over her stockings, kissing the backs of her thighs.

She leaned forward over the counter as he made his way up until she felt his hand on her wet pussy and she moaned as he rubbed it, his finger slipping between her lips and finding her clit instantly. His other hand pushed her dress up from her thighs to her butt and then her lower back, his finger moving back and forth the entire time, spreading her juices across her pussy.

Then, he was standing up behind her, his finger was gone, and she started to turn around, but then felt his hand on her pussy spreading her open and the head of his cock pressing against her. She turned back around. She shoved the cutting board to the side and stretched her arms across the counter, resting on her elbows.

Despite how wet she was, Tim had to push hard to enter her because she was so tight. He was so eager that it almost hurt as he pushed again and again, prodding his head into her, forcing her opening to yield to his invading member. She grunted and looked at her husband as the man behind her forced his way into her. It was the first time in years since another man had fucked her and now it was happening right in front of her sleeping husband. The thought of that thrilled her and made the hard thrusting into her less painful until finally she felt her pussy yield to him and the head sank into her.

"Yes," she sighed, biting her lower lip, her legs straight, balanced on the high heels.

Then, with a few slow, deliberate strokes he kept sliding further and further into her, until his pelvis met her butt and she felt her pussy stretched and filled by his cock, wonderfully stretched and filled. She gripped him tightly, not wanting to let him go, wanting him deep inside of her.

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