The Work Wife

Julia and I laid together for some time. Neither of us said a word. I looked over at her as her chest rose and fell gently with each breath, trying to process exactly what just happened. I assumed she was doing the same. I tried to reconcile the Julia I've known for so long with the one I just ravished while her fiancé listened from the other side of the door. I tried to imagine why Paul wasn't bursting through the door to throw me out of the house, why he couldn't find the modicum of courage to protect the love of his life from becoming another man's sex toy. I couldn't understand it.

As I tried desperately to gather my thoughts, Julia turned over, placing her hand on my chest as she kissed me cheek. She nuzzled her head onto my shoulder.

"That was even better than I imagined," she said.

I smiled.

"I agree."

It really was amazing. Even if the circumstances didn't make much sense to me, everything that happened felt right. It's rare that you get to live out your fantasies, but it's rarer still for them to fall in your lap.

Julia wasn't the first woman I've dominated. Not close. She wasn't even the first woman in a committed relationship I've dominated. But something about lying with her in silence after our primal fucking felt perfect. I felt connected to her -- her needs and urges, her submissiveness -- in a way I couldn't quite understand.

Then he knocked. Two hard knocks.

A signal to Julia, not a warning for entry.

"Paul wants the play-by-play," she said, sounding exhausted. She dragged herself out of bed and covered herself with a bath towel that was hanging on the back of the door. She opened the door a crack and slipped out. I could faintly hear them embrace.

I felt a pang of jealousy, as if I somehow had more of a right to her time than her fiancé.

I sat up in bed, sliding to the end closest to the door. They were chatting near enough that I could make out bits and pieces of the conversation.

"At least 3 inches bigger," I heard her say. A few moments later "gripped my ponytail... I came... he came... deep inside me."

Paul was speaking louder, practically moaning out questions. I guessed that he was jerking off, but it was possible she was lending a hand.

"Is that the biggest you've ever had?"

"Did he choke you? Slap you?"

"How hard did you cum?"

These questions went on for a few minutes. Julia had started whispering her responses, so I let my imagination fill in the blanks.

I stood and put my ear to the door, not quite appreciating the irony at the time that Paul and I had switched places.

Paul was both moaning and whimpering. He was humilated, but it was getting him off. Julia sounded like a vanilla actress trying to play a dominatrix in a shitty after-dark porno on basic cable. She was saying the right things, but I could tell she was playing a role to make him happy. I've listened to her Serious Busines Voice hundreds of times, and her cuckoldress act smacked of the same insincerity. Her heart wasn't in it.

"No, you don't have my permission to cum today." she said after plenty of teasing and torture.

Paul whimpered a bit, begged a lot, but she was curt. Whatever they were doing in there was not going to end with Paul's pleasure. He seemed to relent, playing his part of the fantasy perfectly, not noticing Julia's portion was feigned. I could hear him stand up and wrestle his clothes back on, his dorky belt buckle clanging as he pulled his pants back up.

He asked one last question, in a staid voice, "Does he know I planned this?"

"He doesn't know anything yet," she said, hushing him.

I knew instinctively that today was planned, but I assumed it was Julia who chose *me*. I hadn't considered Paul had orchestrated it, that Paul may have asked Julia to quit a week early and to seduce me into fucking her. What Paul failed to understand, though, was that I knew Julia better than he did. He thought he could control the situation. I knew I could.

I stepped away from the door, shuffling to get my clothes on. I kicked aside the pile of Julia's clothes that still laid on the floor where she ripped them off for me. I checked my collar and tidied my hair in the mirror of the armoir. I called an uber back to my apartment and stepped out of the door, interrupting their conversation.

"Thank you, Paul." I said. "It was a lot of fun getting to borrow your fiancée for a few hours."

I could tell I took Paul by surprise, but he was determined to keep control of the situation.

"It was my pleasure. She said she had a lot of fun. I'm making Julia's favorite for dinner tomorrow night. We would love to have you."

Julia smiled at Paul and then me. A new role for her: Happy Housewife. Most happy housewives don't make double their fiancé's salary, much less stand next to him with another man's cum dripping down their legs.

"Ah, I love Bolognese. What time?" I asked.

"Does 6 work?"

"Perfect. See you then."

I gave Julia a kiss on the cheek and nodded to Paul. I wasn't shaking his hand, after what I guessed he was just doing with Julia.

"See you both tomorrow."

***

In the morning, I decided I'd take the rest of the week off work. I called in and received little objection from our senior partner. I had earned the benefit of the doubt from years of showing up early and he probably suspected I was upset over Julia's impromptu departure.

I followed my typical day-off routine, trying to keep my mind off Julia and our plans for later. I went to the gym, did some grocery shopping, dropped off dry cleaning. It was a strangely productive day. I did as much as I could to keep my mind busy.

Around 4, as I started getting ready for dinner, I received a text from Julia.

"Bring clothes to stay the night."

I figured this text was coming. She had already practically invited me to stay the whole week while we lied together in post-coital bliss. I had a bag packed and set by the door.

I figured Paul probably wrote the text, hoping to get an engaging response.

"Sounds good! I will. See you both soon," I responded, failing to take the bait. I let him wonder about my intentions.

In our line of work, you always keep a few expensive outfits dry cleaned and pressed for dinners with prospective clients. Julia has attended plenty of those with me, so I made sure to pick out something she would recognize. I dressed it up with an expensive black watch that was gifted to me by the senior partners for the promotion that technically made me Julia's boss. She was quickly moved out of my reporting line when the partners noticed the very obvious conflict of interest surrounding our friendship. I always liked to remind her that I was her boss at one point, and she always liked to joke that she threatened to quit so she wasn't forced to report to me.

After a series of layoffs earlier this year, the lines blurred a bit more. Julia was a free agent and technically landed back in my reporting line. That is, until her transfer to California was accepted. There are strict rules about fraternizing with your direct reports that Julia and I didn't pay much attention to when it was nothing more than a harmless friendship. What we did yesterday went several hundred degrees beyond what any HR officer may consider acceptable. And I was going back for more. In for a penny, in for a pound, I figured.

I poured myself a glass of red wine as I waited for my ride to Julia's. I figured it may help with the tension. I swiped through my work messages to fill the time. Julia had been working for the past hour, sending frankly unnecessary reminder emails to clients. I figured that was her way to deal with the nerves.

I was apprehensive about the dinner. I wasn't eager to navigate the minefield of their relationship, but I knew Julia was worth it. I had a taste of her last night, and I needed to find the depth of her depravity, even if it meant placating Paul.

A nagging part of me also wondered how much of Julia's sluttiness was her own way of placating him. How orchestrated was the show in the Uber? I knew she was playing a dominant role to please him -- he is her fiancé after all -- but was she submitting so quickly and deeply to me to please him as well?

I decided I would find out tonight.

***

I stepped out of the backseat of the car in front of Julia's house. The biting cold hit me like a hammer. I trudged up the walkway to the front door. This time, the door was open, and both Paul and Julia were there to greet me.

"Come inside, come inside," Paul repeated, waving me toward him.

"It's freezing out," he said as he shut the door behind me.

Julia greeted me with a pleasantry and a kiss on the cheek. Happy Housewife, again, I thought to myself. She collected my jacket and hung it in the closet while Paul ranted about the superiority of California weather. I smiled, laughed, nodded, playing along for now as Dinner Guest, in the fantasy I knew he was orchestrating.

We chatted a bit about Julia's last weeks in the office and the projects she was leaving behind for me to finish. We sat down for dinner at an immaculately set dining room table.

An antique dutch oven sat at the center of the table, with short rib still sitting half-submerged in a bubbling red wine reduction.

The sweet, meaty aroma filled the room as Paul placed dinner plates on each of our chargers. Creamy mashed potatoes were sitting on top of a small pool of the red wine sauce. Paul plated the three dishes in front of us, topping each with a chunk of short rib straight from the pot and drizzling more wine sauce over the top and along the sides of the plate.

I removed my silverware from its cuffed cloth napkin and placed over my lap.

"Et voila," Paul said, putting on a dorky French accent.

Julia giggled. I laughed, too.

"This looks incredible," I said to Paul. "What happened to Bolognese?"

"We decided to pivot since you were able to guess. Julia decided we should make your favorite instead."

She has seen me order this hundreds of times, but the short rib sitting in front of me was a practical carbon copy of my favorite from an obscure restaurant a few blocks from our office. I had never been there with Julia, but she's been forced to listen to me rave about this place around the office for the past year.

I could tell they were waiting for me to try it, so I indulged them with a small bite. It was better than I expected: deeply savory from the slow-rendered fat, cut with a tart sweetness from the red wine.

"Wow," I said to them both. "That's incredible." I wanted to temper my enthusiasm, but I felt almost compelled to be honest. It was my favorite dish, done just about as well as it could possible be done.

Paul gleamed. "Thank you! I've been working on this recipe for months."

Julia looked proud too.

We ate and continued our idle chat for another twenty minutes or so. The longer we chatted, the more I realized that Happy Housewife wasn't just an act for Julia. She really did enjoy Paul's company, dorky jokes and all. It was a different side of her, one that was kept from me. He did complete a picture of her home life that she had been manicuring. His superb cooking complemented her exquisitely kept garden. It wasn't idyllic to me, but I could see the appeal.

As Paul replaced our dinner plates with our choice of digestifs, he finally brought up the elephant in the room.

"As you know, Julia and I have an arrangement."

He said it with the same tone a schoolteacher might use to explain to their class that they are marrying the principal.

I laughed. I knew we'd broach the topic at some point, but Paul's tone struck a nerve, especially a day after I made his fiancée my personal sex toy.

"And what kind of arrangement is that?" I asked Paul sarcastically while looking at Julia.

"Julia has certain things she enjoys... in the bedroom... that I can't give her. We both agreed that she can explore those things with someone else, as long as I get to play a part in it as well."

Julia was noticeably colder. I could tell she was disappointed by this description of their arrangement.

"And what part do you play in it exactly?" I asked again. This wasn't gentle dinner banter anymore. Paul was outside his skis now.

"I get to pick who she plays with it. She lets me watch if I want, tells me about it if I don't... If I don't like what's going on, I can stop it." His voice was trailing off now.

I knew from what I overheard earlier that his part in this was more than just being supportive of her desires. Even if I wasn't armed with that information, the look on Julia's face told me everything I needed to know. The Happy Housewife went to bed for the night. This was the Julia I knew. The tone in the room changed with her demeanor. I could feel it and I'm sure Paul did, too.

"I did whatever I wanted to her last night. Are you sure she'd listen if you told her to stop?"

"I think she would. Right, Jul?"

"Maybe," she spat back.

Paul sat in his chair and sipped the small glass of Chatreuse he poured for himself.

"'Maybe' it is, then." he said it me.

He was unhappy that Julia wouldn't assist in the ruse. She wouldn't help convince me tha she was a filthy, cheating slut solely of her own volition. He got off on it.

"I told you the other day. He likes to watch me get fucked by other men." Julia took another swipe.

I could tell he was wounded, so I drove the knife in a bit further.

"So let's give Paul what he wants. It's the least we can do after this wonderful meal."

Paul was smart enough to drop the supportive "husband" act. Julia may have been able to tolerate his sexual inadequacies, but I knew every time she played dominatrix to appease him, it created space between them that couldn't be filled with home-cooked meals and polite conversation. Worse, he decided to lie about his intentions, to make it seem to me that she was depraved slut who couldn't hold back her desires for a decent man like him. I knew only half of that was true.

"And what do you want?" I asked Julia. Paul had stolen her agency when he orchestrated all of this. I gave her some back.

"I've been thinking about you since you left yesterday. I want you to do it again... Use me again. I need to feel you inside me."

The venom hadn't left her voice. This wasn't her dominatrix act, and I wondered if Paul could tell the difference.

She stood from her seat and replaced our digestif glasses with shots of the same whiskey as yesterday. She poured some for Paul as well, but he didn't partake. We toasted again, this time silently, and threw the back the shots.

I decided this would be a good time to set up ground rules, something we had failed to do yesterday.

After some deliberation, we set out the following rules:

1. The cuck can watch, but he can't speak unless spoken to.

2. The cuck can't touch either of us when we are playing.

3. Julia will address me as Daddy or Sir when we are playing.

4. The cuck should not address me at all.

5. Playtime stops completely if anybody involved says 'red,' cuck included.

Julia claimed to be truly free use and didn't set any limits. Paul tried to propose that we not do anything that they haven't done already. Julia shot it down instantly.

"Daddy can do what he wants with me."

When the deliberations ended, I could tell Paul was excited. He was getting what he wanted after all, even if it wasn't under the terms he had hoped. I could also tell Julia had decided she would do her best to make him regret it, and I didn't plan to get in her way. I was going to help her decide what she really needs. Any inhibitions I had yesterday were completely gone, whether it was because we were all a few drinks deep or because I wanted to fuck the Happy Housewife out of Julia permanently.

"Get undressed and get on your knees."

Julia leapt up like a divine force had pulled her from her chair. Again, she ripped her clothes off like they were on fire. She tossed each piece to Paul who fumbled half of them onto the ground. Her perfect breasts fell gently as she tugged her sweater off over her head. Some women tend to lose bounce and bust when they spend so much time toning their body in the gym -- not her.

She dropped to her knees on her side of the table. Paul looked down at her with a mix of lust and shame, folding her clothes and placing them neatly on the table in front of her.

"Now crawl under the table to me, slut."

She didn't skip a beat. She crawled like a dog begging for scraps under the solid oak table. I gave her her treat as I unsheathed my rock hard cock from my pants and slipped them off with my boxers. She shoved my pants onto Paul's lap to fold and place in the pile, which he did dutily.

"I take longer to cum when I'm a little tipsy. Does that bother you?"

"No, sir."

I didn't need to say another word. She ran her tongue up the backside of my shaft and to the tip. She loudly slurped and grunted as covered my hard cock in saliva.

"Fuck, it's so big."

She was obscured from Paul's view under the table. He knew better than to try to sneak a view at her exposed ass and cunt as she enveloped my cock with her mouth.

"Good bitch," I growled at her.

She hummed gratefully on my cock, taking the degradation more gracefully than most women take compliments.

She was more enthusiastic today, desperately shoving her throat down on my cock to try to envelop it all without my intervention.

"Do you have any more?"

I tapped my glass at Paul while his fiancée moved her attention to my balls, suckling and lapping gently at each from under the table.

Paul tripped over himself getting out of the seat to fetch the glass decanter from the liquor cabinet. He uncapped the top and poured me a couple fingers worth into a rocks glass and placed it in front of me.

"Thank you," I said.

He sat back down in the chair, his fiancée servicing me staying just out of his view the entire time. I could tell he was dying to see what she was doing.

I picked the glass of whiskey and leaned back a bit in the chair, placing my foot up on the table's horizontal support.

I use my other hand to guide Julia's head where I want it.

"I bet she doesn't do this for you," I say to Paul, gesturing with my head for him to take a look. He finally leaned over to watch his whore fiancée service me. He let out a little gasp when he saw. Julia stopped only to answer my question for him.

"Fuck no, I don't. Only for you, Daddy."

She swirled her tongue around my asshole, bathing it with deep licks as her right hand stroked my cock. She slurped and moaned while she serviced my ass, working hard to shift attention to my balls and to stroke me when it would maximize my pleasure.

"Fuck. Good, good slut. Nice and deep with your tongue."

Julia obliged with deep, long licks. It felt fucking amazing, but the feeling of having my beautiful colleague who I lusted over for years in this position made me insatiable. Even better, rimming was a good test for whether Julia was a true free use whore, and she was passing with flying colors.

As I leaned back and enjoyed my worshipping, Paul was still hunched over, watching the woman who just agreed to marry him do things for me for that he knew he'd never experience. When he finally had enough, he sat back normally in his chair. I could see a mix of a lust and deep shame in his face. He opened his mouth to speak, but decided against it.

"Had enough?" I asked him.

"No." he responded, taking a deep breath before continuing quietly, "no, sir."

Neither I nor Julia asked him to call me that.

It can be a curious thing, getting exactly what you bargained for. For me, it was glorious. Julia was not only every bit the classy, generous and kind woman I admired for years, but we were perfectly sexually compatible. I knew this moment was fleeting and I was determined to enjoy it.