According to our game’s rules, it was my wife’s turn to be dominated.
Each month, one of us is in control. We can make demands of the other at any time, as long as the subservient agrees each morning to be available. If one of us isn’t feeling well or has other obligations, the other grants a pass. We play nice, most of the time.
Our role playing began innocently, but had become riskier. We went from fellatio in the closet when friends visited to backseat fucking behind the grocery store in the late-afternoon shadows. Each encounter was more daring than the last. My wife is a no-nonsense corporate leader, as intense in her meetings as she is in her workouts at the gym, so seeing her go from straight-laced exec to insatiably wild thrilled me.
On a recent Friday, I surprised her at the office when she happened to be the only one who hadn’t left for lunch. I knew her day was filled with time-suck meetings that accomplished nothing, and I wanted to drop in with a greeting more personal than a text.
I rattled my knuckles against her office door and popped my head in. “Hey, baby, what’s up?”
“Hey! What are you doing here?”
I stepped inside and she stood to hug me. Her black skirt exposed her knees and clung to smooth hips and thighs I wanted to trace with my fingers. She was wearing her matte black platform Mary Jane heels. With her jacket draped over a chair, her bare arms wrapped around me from out of a silky maroon top laced with perfume mellowed by her body heat.
“Just wanted to say hello. I didn’t see you before you left this morning. You’re on fire.”
“Oh, whatever. It’s good to see you.”
She turned and my eyes lingered on her curves as she glided over to her desk to lay down a manila folder. I dug my hands into the pockets of my blue Italian suit pants and started rubbing my cock through my boxer briefs. It didn’t take much for my blood to flow hot while I watched my wife lean against her desk and cross her legs casually.
“I also wanted to show you something in the car. Come out here for a minute.”
“I don’t have a lot of time before my next meeting. What is it?”
I motioned toward the hallway and let her pass me before quickly reaching over her head to shut the door while popping the push-button lock. She turned with a surprised look, mouth slightly open.
The fingers of my right hand cradled her lower jaw. I kissed her hard before spinning her around, grabbing her wrists, and planting her hands against the door frame.
“Now I’m going to slide into you.”
I pulled up her skirt inch by deliberate inch and found a black cotton thong with a heart-shaped keyhole in the back.
“Ah, slightly naughty today,” I said, and then smacked her ass firmly. She winced.
From behind, my fingers glided across the length of her pussy lips and slipped inside gently while I nibbled her shoulders around the silky straps.
For five minutes, I filled my wife slowly and rhythmically against the door of her office, her thong pushed to the side and her blouse pulled up with nipples aching for attention.
“Fuck me hard. Please,” she begged with a whisper. “I want to be your slut.”
As I penetrated her with another stroke, we heard the faint voices of her coworkers returning from lunch. She moaned slightly and started to pull my cock out of her. Before she escaped, I thrust my fingers into the keyhole of her soaked thong, tore her panties away from her pulsing pussy and stuffed them in my pocket.
“We’ll finish this later,” I said, kissing her goodbye.
Clyde Gunn is a heterosexual male.