[M]y Work Wi[f]e

About a year ago, I finally sold out and started working an office job. It’s my first time in about 15 years in an office environment, having fended for myself on the consultancy and contracting vibe, but an opportunity came up that was worth giving up my freedom. I love and hate it, to be truthful.

The environment I work in is about twenty people, and it’s within the arts, and thus dominated by women. I have my own office, and just outside that is my admin girl. Not a secretary, not officially my assistant (L), but I’ve definitely co-opted her for my own use. The running joke in the office is that she’s my work wife, and I, her work husband. (L) came up with that terminology herself, which I was always just the teeniest bit uncomfortable with. The rest of the office has been using it was well. Stranger still, to me, is that she even introduced me to her actual husband as her work husband. I could tell by the look on his face he fucking hated it.

I’m not flirty at work. I do take my job seriously, but it’s definitely an environment that’s close knit and comfortable enough that other folk can really toe the line. A few of those employees most definitely toe the line, and I swear it’s on the knife edge of potential misconduct. I guess a lot of work places are like that, but I try to really separate my extracurricular activities from my work day.

We don’t do much outside of work socialising though as a group, although the intention is always there. We all work pretty fucking hard, but come most Fridays, we just want to get the hell home. Last Friday was just too much torture, so the allure of sweet alcohol imbibement was too tough a sin to deny, and a few of us hit 5pm with grand vigour.

I hit whiskey pretty hard.

I used to be quite a heavy drinker, but gave up the ghost a few years back due to some general lifestyle changes. It’s bad news when people feel like they can do the one for one thing, and (L) thought she was up to the task. We all drank and danced, hit up a few bars, losing people to the sanity of home as we moved along the way. I might be almost a bottle deep in whiskey, but I’m still keeping my demeanour together. (L) on the other hand is starting to lose some edge, so I suggest we just stop along the way, and suck down on some water before committing to the next spot.

Let me tell you about (L). She’s on the petite side, and wears jeans well. Being quite human, I definitely check her out at work. Long strawberry blonde hair, hits the gym to keep her mama body in fine form, and always smiley, and looks smouldering when she’s a little shitty at things. She’s a few years younger than me (I’m 40, but can pass off as being in my mid-20s).

(L)’s the kind of girl I sure love looking at, but not necessarily the kind of girl I like to chase. She’s definitely the kind of girl I love meeting for a hot weekend fling, and the whiskey in me has me feeling some very real urges.

So, here we are, in the middle of the city. A slightly chilly night, both of us on the happy side of tipsy, sitting on a bench. She’s got her head on my shoulder, and her smell just fills my head. She’s been letting steam go on work pressures throughout the night, and after a big sigh, she lifts her head, turns to me, and says “Fuck, really, at the heart of it all – I just fucking miss doing shit like this”. I ask her “Like what?”. She stands up, looks at me with a pout that turns into a cheeky smile, straddles me on the bench, and whispers “This kinda shit”.

I keep my cool, and whisper back “Aren’t I just your work husband?”, to which she grabs my neck with both hands, stares at me a moment, says with a seductive vehemence – “And I want my husband to fuck me”, then begins to grind into me as she starts to kiss my neck.

I am taken a little aback by this, but my caution is waived as soon as I grab her sides, and let my hands press along the curves of her hips. Her breath is hot on my neck, in between her kisses, and she let’s out little moans, and grinds harder, and swings her hips around and around while my hands grip her waist tighter.

It’s a little but of torture to endure, to be honest. It takes all my will to not just fuck her then and there, aware as I am underneath the streetlights.

I wrap her long hair around my hand, and pull back to expose her neck, and I give her little nibbles on her gorgeous skin. She grinds harder right away. We’re entwined on this bench, awkward as it seems. She’s little enough that I can stand up off the bench, and she immediately wraps her legs around my waist, and we begin to kiss. She holds me tighter with her thighs, and I grab her ass to hold her up. We stay like this for a minute or two, before she hops down and takes my hand.

“Can we go back to yours for a bit?”, she asks. I smile, and then nod an affirmative. She grips my hand, and leads the way down a couple of blocks to a taxi rank. She can’t walk quick enough.

She opens the back door of the first taxi in the rank, pushes me in, and she ducks into the backseat with me, barks out a “His place” to the cab driver, and as I barely finish saying the address, is all over me. The ten minute ride to mine is filled with her roaming hands, her thirsty tongue, and her body pressed against mine. I’m sure the taxi driver is having a laugh, watching tiny (L) devour me unbridled in the back.

I let (L) through the door of my apartment, and immediately she shimmies out of her jeans. She’s wearing those boy short things, and as I suspected, her ass is a magnificent piece of work that I immediately want to destroy. She turns, undoes her blouse as she holds her gaze tight, and raises an eyebrow.

“I’m going to fuck you right here”, I tell her, and her eyes light up. She knows what to do – gets on her hands and knees, and offers her ass to me, wiggling just like she does when she’s bored and waiting by the photocopier on a slow Thursday morning. I take my cock out – it’s been hard since she straddled me back on the bench. She looks back, with that smouldering stare, and she slides her underwear to the side, and spreads her pussy. “Are you going to fuck me right here, husband?”.

I stick my cock in all the way, straight away. She is glistening, and I can feel her muscles tighten up to welcome me. She pushes back immediately, and I run my hand from her ass, down to the small of her back, up along her shoulder blades as we hold the sensation for a moment.

“Is this what you want, wife?”, I snarl. I unclasp her bra, and grab her little B cup right breast with my right hand. My thumb and index finger giving her a quick pinch on her nipped. She thrusts as I do so.

“Yes” – she let’s the ‘s’ linger, and thrusts back again.

“Tell me again”, I say in my calmest tone.

“I want you to fuck my little pussy, husband”, she spits out, and thrusts back harder, and I squeeze her tit tighter in my hand.

I let go, wrap her long hair around my hand in a bridle ponytail, and start fucking hard, and slow. Each. Thrust. With. Desire.

She groans with each movement, and I pull her hair a little bit harder and harder in time with my thrusts. I keep the pace, so we can both listen as my balls slap against her pussy. She starts to lean down with her body more, so she can push her ass higher and harder against me.

Her groans start to become whimpers, as she gets lost in lust.

We do this, intentional, slow and hard fucking, until we both start sweating.

“Tell me what you want”, I say through gritted teeth.

“Just keep fucking me like this, husband”.

I lift a knee up, so my cock can start hitting her at a different angle. I grab her hips, and start fucking her again. Not quite as hard as before, but I pick up the pace.

After a few thrusts her breath changes, the whimpers and moans become short quick breaths, and the occasional deep exhale. I know she’s feeling something else, and her mind in an even filthiest place than before. So I start fucking her harder and quicker still. She starts sweating more, and I love the smell that we’re making.

“Does my wife need to come?”, I ask, my tone authoritative and to the point.

“Yes”, she says in matter of fact.

“Right now?”, I ask, a suggestive order.

“Yes”.

“Do you want me to fuck you harder, or quicker?”.

“Harder, husband”. My next thrust is with the fullest force I can muster. Her knees almost buckle, and she lets out an animal grunt.

“Harder?”, I say in the same voice.

“Yes, husband.”

I take it up a notch – I can feel her bone against my groin as I slam her pussy even harder. She exhales, and I move my other leg over, so I can thrust against her tight pussy and full ass with the whole swing my hips. She lets out a long groan, and I ride her hard for a few minutes. The change in an angle has me close to finishing, and the sight of her gorgeous, sweaty, and athletic back makes my eyes widen.

“Do you want me to come in your pussy?”, again, authoritative, and hardly a question.

“Please, husband”.

I see her move a hand to her clit, and I start thrusting quicker to bring her to pace. We get the rhythm right, and I’m straining now to listen to the time of her breath, which is quicker and shorter than ever.

“I need you to come, wife – I want to you to come”, those words and our timing is enough to push her over over the edge, and her breath become a long, louder groan, and I can feel her legs shake underneath me.

She’s there.

I immediately grab her hair again, and pull on it a nice and quick snap. Her groan immediately gets louder, and she says “Fuck!” – she pushes back one more time, and I feel her body shake.

“Please come, husband”.

And so I do.

I reciprocate the groan with one last thrust, and I come into her pussy.

We hold the pose, just like we started, that one last thrust, as we sink into that lasting fragment of pleasure. I pull out, and we both immediately collapse on our backs on the floor. We take a moment to catch our breath.

“He doesn’t fuck me like that”, she says, softly.

“I know”, I say back.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/8wj3jd/my_work_wife