The Boss Is Always Right

by Millie 90 lbs of Dynamite

Copyright© 2015 by Millie 90 lbs of Dynamite

Sex Story: A man must convince his wife to have sex with one of his clients in front of him. If he can't do this he will lose his job, he is successful he keeps his job but can he keep his wife. Either way does he win or lose? My second try at a cuckold story!

Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Heterosexual   Cuckold   .

"Hello and how are you?"

"I'm doing well. Sit down Mr. Chambers tell me about your problem won't you?"

"Well Doctor this feels silly I'm not even sure why I made this appointment. I don't think my situation is any worse than anyone else's problems. I didn't realize you were a woman. I thought Doctor Hadley Lillie would be a man for some reason."

"Why would you think that? You think Hadley is masculine sounding, I don't. Do you have a problem with me being a woman? Or is it women in authority you have a problem with?"

"No, not at all ... it was just ... um well ... No, ma'am I have no problem with that. It is an embarrassing issue at best."

"Okay let's do this differently. Lay down on the couch and tell me your story. Just close your eyes, relax and tell me everything you think is necessary and I'll decide what would work best for you. That's it just lay back, relax and tell me all about the issue that has you so upset." She was an older woman and spoke to me in a motherly way. I lay back closed my eyes and began telling her my problem. I hoped she wouldn't find me a disgusting toad.

My name is Phil. Phil Chambers. I married my high school sweetheart almost ten years ago and that relationship went straight to hell. Meg had an adventurous spirit where I lived in the constant fear of losing everything. I grew up in foster homes while she lived a life of privilege provided by generous and wealthy parents. Her father hated me and cut her off when she married me. Out of a rebellious spirit, she stuck with me as we struggled to survive. One of the driving forces for me has always been to prove her father wrong. So I devoted my life to work, long hours and a constant can do attitude with my boss. I guess I was a yes man but it paid off. I eventually made salesman and twice have won Salesman of the Year. But, recently Sorenson and Son lost its founder and Erling took over the company. Tough, no-nonsense Erling made sweeping changes. My style with the customer wasn't acceptable to Erling and I had to adjust. I didn't do it very well.

I think perhaps right after we married Meg (short for Margret) felt a bit abandoned. I started out within a month of our marriage with the Company and at once launched into my plan. Feeling alone and lonely she had an affair less than six-months into our marriage and several from that point on. I had always had doubts if our son was actually my boy or not. I had even made the mistake of asking her that. I mean, I loved the boy no matter what. Still a guy wants to know if the kid he is raising is his or not. Her response to the question, "Such a child," in an angry voice filled with disgust.

One night coming back from a mountain get away I hit a slick spot on the road. It was a patch of black ice and I crashed the car. We spent a few days in the hospital, but a deeper tragedy came from it. The boy went into a coma, then it got worse. We lost our only child after he lived in that comatose state for a year. Since that dreadful event our relationship, understandably, hung by a thread.

Working in sales for Sorenson and Son is stressful beyond belief. The owner, Erling, overseas the sales department personally and guides it with an iron hand. The stated reason is if there are no sales then no one feeds anyone's bulldog. The boss is not a person who gives compliments. The only pat on the back would be a meager bonus. Another change from Senior's methods.

No one wanted to go before the boss, not for any reason. After lunch was when it happened – I was called to the Erling's office the clock read 1:40 pm. The hour of my devastation was at hand. I approached the door with dread and apprehension as I walked through the threshold and knew I was doomed. There the boss sat on the edge of the desk. The bright blue pinstripe suit, coupled with the blue power tie (with a lone red stripe), gave Erling a particularly confident appearance. Erling held a look of controlled anger while in Erling's right hand was a report and in the left a cigar. The boss dropped to the floor and pointed to a chair, a metal folding chair known to the sales staff as 'Old Sparky.' It was where sales staff, both men, and women, sat to die a fiery painful death.

There were other chairs in the room. Big comfy chairs but when a salesperson entered the boss's den and the metal folding chair was in front of Erling's desk, odds were you wouldn't live to see tomorrow. Occasionally the boss would give the condemned a way out. It would be something terrible, humiliating, and very personally devastating. Often, destroyed marriages lay in the wake of the punishment, or the dynamic of the union changed forever. That alarmed me the most; my poor performance might affect my already shaky marriage.

Erling knew all about my personal tragedy and being a sadist would use this in my punishment. It was true my sales had dropped, significantly, but there were reasons. Beyond the economy, bad luck played a part in it and, of course, my mood was dark. That had to be part of the cause. The boss would punish me for declining productivity in some sick attempt to give me a painful reason to boost my yield. Alternatively, the boss would fire my sorry ass. There would be some humiliating punishment involving my wife, which could cost me my marriage. Or then again, I might just be outside kicking stones. That would also end my marriage. Either way I knew I had brought this on myself. Staying at a place like Sorenson and Son after Erling took over was stupid.

Dropping the report to the desk, Erling, then puffed heartily on the stogie. Thickly the smoke rolled from the boss's mouth and curled around those piercing eyes providing me a hazy view of the short cropped hair of my obsessive, sadistic employer. Then the boss spoke and it was as if God had come to earth. I couldn't help it my cock stood at attention, for Erling was one sexy executive. Tall, blonde, athletic, with an aggressive approach to any situation which always kept Erling in control.

"If your wife has to put up with the same level of incompetence as I do, it is a miracle you have held on to her for nine years. My guess, unless you're hung like a horse you won't make your tenth wedding anniversary. Are you hung like a horse, Phil?" I shook my head the fact I had a raging hard on and it wasn't even noticeable should give you some indication of how hung I am. "Pity," Erling spoke in a low hiss.

Carefully, Erling returned to sitting on the desk. She crossed her legs in a manner to avoid letting her bright blue pinstriped skirt part enough to reveal the prize below. Again she placed the cigar in her mouth puffing hard the smoke rolled out thickly, it momentarily concealed her stunning face.

"Do you know why my father called his company Sorenson and Son?" Shaking my head, I dropped my eyes. Her voice raised as she continued to talk showing her flash of anger, "Look at me when I speak to you, Phil." I looked back at her and I could feel the tears welling up. I was so scared and still my prick was rock hard. It was the first time I had been happy I had a little pecker, at least she couldn't see how turned on I was. "He wanted a son very badly, my name is a Swedish unisex name 'Erling, ' has a nice ring doesn't it, Phil?" I nodded, "You do realize it was my father's name as well?" Again I nodded, "When my mother was pregnant with me he renamed the company. Once I was born, he held out hope for a son. He wanted another child, one to carry on the name. As fate, or perhaps an angry God would have it my mother developed cancer, complication set in and she died." She shifted a bit then resumed her story. I wondered why she was telling me all this.

"My father was undaunted if God would not give him a son he would make his daughter the best man she could be. I was raised like a boy, taught to fight, like a boy, behave like a boy. He prepared me in so many ways to be a man. Not just an ordinary man but an aggressive, domineering man. I think I have made him quite proud! So I have kept the name of my company unchanged. I have embraced my upbringing, I am very pleased with the person I am." Like a lion pouncing on prey, she moved so fast I am still not sure how it happened. She literally jumped on top of me, knocking the chair over backward with me in it. Erling straddled me with her knees on my chest her hands on my shoulders. I was pinned to the floor. Face to face so close her short cropped platinum hair and piercing blue eyes were all I could see.

My heart pounded so hard, I was sure she could feel it beating against her knee. Erling held me pinned down with her face glowering at me. I knew she held a 5th-degree black belt in some martial art. I heard she had kicked men's asses all over at tournaments. I even knew she had beat the shit out of an attacker once as well. Put the poor, bastard, of a–would be rapist in the hospital and then jail. I'm also old-fashioned – a man can't hit a woman. Even if she is a mean dyke bitch.

My eyes streamed with tears of pain – also I cried from the fear. Terror gripped me hard clutching my lungs, my heart and my stomach in a firm unrelenting hold. She didn't blink she bore her eyes into me burning through my soul. Then Erling's face softened and she laughed, a hearty, mean-spirited laugh. It was a none too subtle put-down.

"You are fucking pathetic! A purely, lazy, feckless fool without enough backbone to control your wife or your job. As a salesman, you fell so far so fast, you are now ranked near the bottom – as a human, I consider you as foul as the scum that forms on stagnate water. My father, for some unknown reason, was fond of you. I want to puke every time I see you." She rose from her position on top of me, straddling my face with one foot each side of my ears. My heart struck wildly in my chest while my cock throbbed in my pants. I thought I was going to die. Had a wild fear she would smash her sexy spiked heels on my face.

In my mind, a saw some doctor standing over me. He talked to an associate about me being a good looking corpse. There I lay with one of those fucking sexy shoes attached to my forehead. But looking up I quickly lost that vision enraptured with the reality of a new vision. I could see straight up her skirt. Her pale blue lacy stockings appeared to be held in place by straps from a garter belt. Her pussy was as bare of hair as it was panties.

"Still it is just possible you are salvageable, what do you think? Want a chance?" She moved downward slowly bending her knees. Erling raised her skirt up over her hips as she descended to me. Soon her beautiful pussy hung so close as to be nearly touching my lips. A glorious prize hovered just above me. She held herself there almost motionless, but teasingly, she let herself move in small controlled rolls. Occasionally her pussy lips touched my mouth. The scent was thick in my nostrils and I drank it down, like the aroma of a fine wine. She said nothing. I was afraid to kiss it or touch it. I was just as afraid not to, for I had no idea what the bitch wanted. Then she began to talk!

"Do not consider this an invitation just sit there and listen for now. Your wife cheats on you and you do nothing. She flaunts her affairs and you act as if nothing is wrong. She has humiliated you even at parties here, questioned your manliness, and ridiculed your small cock."

"That's a lie, she has never made fun of my prick, never in all our years of marriage." She took my hair roughly yanking my nose up into her twat.

"I said to listen now listen to me and keep your mouth shut. What have you done about her indiscretion? Bought her expensive baubles. Built her a beautiful house and treated her like a queen. So that is fine, a screwed up relationship but if you are comfortable with it who am I to question it?" She mashed her pussy tighter on my face. She moved around almost cutting off my breathing as she humped my face.

"Eat me out you fucking piece of shit," I know – I hear you saying this is sexual harassment. Why take it? I hear you, no job is worth this right? Well, I don't know but it is my job and she is my boss and by god she is one hot woman even if she is a dyke. I know it is humiliating to be held down by a woman but still I am loving this part of it. So what the hell, I'm going to make the most of it. She may throw me out on my ass but maybe, if I can eat it well enough, I can save my job. I hit that cunt with the best pussy munch I had done in my entire life.

I would have lost my wife years before if I hadn't been a world champion carpet muncher. I worked my tongue from clit to deep down in the sweet pussy. She humped my face and bucked on me hard. Then she even let out a moan, just once but it was guttural, primal and it told me plenty. I didn't need her to scream. Her bucking body and that alone utterance fucking said I was doing a good job.

It ended with no more warning than her pounce on top of me. Standing she moved away behind her desk pulling her skirt down as she walked away. She smoothed out her clothing while looking down at me. There was a hint of a smile, just a trace mind you. Then she sat down. Her scent hung in my nostrils the fishy, musky fragrance of freshly washed pussy was sweet. Damn I felt the pre-cum ooze from my prick. Looking down I saw it stained my pants.

"Get up you look like a doormat," getting up quickly I picked up the chair. "For now, little man, you live to sell another day. But there is a price for your declining sales. I demand your numbers change right now. I have a way to help you out. It isn't a pleasant task, but the other choice is unemployment. I don't even think you are employable as a salesman anywhere else." Oh fuck, here it comes – a fucking hammer to my head. "I have a client, two actually. They're your customers and both of their purchases have fallen off significantly over the last few months. Hastings is threatening to drop us, they are currently buying most of their stuff elsewhere. While Jennings – well they are borderline with dropping us as well. They have shifted ninety percent away already. Mr. Hastings likes your wife he will be in town this weekend. He wants you to watch while he fucks her," She paused staring at me. I knew she wanted me to say something but what could I say. I was devastated this would be so humiliating.

"Well?" she demanded an answer.

"I don't like the idea of watching them, but if I have to then I will do it. What concerns me is I don't know if she will do it."

"A whore like her and you don't know?"

"Yes, she likes cheating on me, she likes fucking other guys. I don't know if she would do this as a favor to me. God only knows if she would accept me watching," I was honest.

"Go, now and find out!" She snapped at me like a turtle, "There is no point in talking about Jennings if Hasting isn't satisfied you're done! Grow a pair balls and make that cunt of yours fuck him and fuck him good! Now get the hell out of my sight. I want you to report back to me in two hours. Either way it goes with that slut you report back at three-thirty, two short hours, Phil. Do you think you can handle that, maggot?" I had heard the tone before, she was ready to fire me. I guess I could always go somewhere else, but I hate interviews. Okay, the truth is I have never interviewed for any other job. I am comfortable here. I'm happy with work and other than my wife's occasional encounter I'm happy at home.

Then there is her father, he has only warmed to me since our son died. I have just worked my way into his good graces what would he think if I got canned? I also doubt anyone else would have me, it may just be insecurity, but I don't want to find out I'm right. I could end up flipping burgers under the golden arches, homeless because she took everything and I would become a lonely destitute bum. I don't think I could take the shame of being fired either.

Just walking out the office I felt embarrassed and knew everyone was watching me. I felt their disapproving eyes on me. I'm sure everyone assumed I was done when I walked out the door with my head hung low and moved straight to the elevators.

The drive to the house seemed to take forever. Traffic wasn't heavy, but I dreaded asking my wife to fuck someone for me. Meg had never tried to hide her affairs. If anything, she rubbed my face in them. She spoke of this guy or that guy and his big dick. My marriage had not been all that happy from the start. The only sex I had with her now was oral and that was one way and not often. Our sex ended when our son went into the coma. I knew she blamed me, hell I blamed me.

From that point on, I only got to jerk off, she would occasionally watch me do so. In some sick way, she actually believed that the way she carried on was because I wanted her to cheat. She told me if I had ever wanted it differently than that I would have done more than whine about it. I just couldn't stand to think of losing her. Everything I did was to make her proud of me. How proud would she be when I told her to fuck another man?

In reflection, it is just possible she was right about me wanting her to fuck other men. I know I'm not great at the actual fucking. Oh, eating pussy sure but mounting her and fucking her – I'm a dud. Her having what amounted to meaningless affairs relieved me of the pressure to perform. Don't get me wrong it was a blow that she did screw around but somehow even the thought of it was, in a decidedly sick manner, a turn on as well.

Even so, to watch her fuck someone that irked me, I tolerated her cheating, but I have to watch it as well. I am not that wretched, really I'm not that big of a wimp. Why does the boss want me to do this? Why would the client have that as a condition? Then I remembered what Senior had told me several times – sex sells. We took clients to strip clubs, got them prostitutes of course we told them they were secret admirers. The client knew though.

I am not honest with myself about this matter. Hell, I hate to admit this even here. In truth, I always wanted to see her used by another man. I wanted to see her scream in joy. I longed to watch her fuck some with some amount of real passion. The kind of passion I was powerless to make her achieve with my cock. When I pulled into the drive, my heart sank in my chest. I turned off the motor and shut my eyes. God, I don't want to face her this is dreadful. I'm going to come off as such a wiener, what kind of man ask his wife to fuck another man for his job. Hell, for my job? For any reason, why would any man want such a thing?

I walked in and Meg was dusting a coffee table. She looked at me turned her head to the side and her eyes narrowed, "Shit –," she drew the word out in a fearful realization, "you got fired. That fucking dyke bitch fired your ass didn't she?"

"Not yet," I told her and I sat down hard on the sofa of our great room. That is what it is called a big ass room specifically used to entertain large groups. Pool table, a dance floor, wet bar and only sparse furniture the room was a gathering place. We had used it exactly six times in six years for the company. The company, well the Company sponsored those parties really. That was the old days when Senior was around.

"My declining sales was the subject of a harsh meeting with her."

"And you just took it, like always." She held her fist in the air and pumped it, "You bent over and let her ram it up your passive ass while she ripped you for what a terrible job you were doing. What's her threat, bring up your sales or out on your ear, after nine years of slavery." She stopped just looking at me. I have no idea what she wanted me to say, then her threat came. The words I have dreaded hearing for over nine years.

"If you can't support me the way, I expect," she shook, she was almost in tears, "well mister, there are plenty of others willing to take your place." Her voice was as harsh as my bosses and just as critical pointing out my shortcomings.

"She gave me a way out she has negotiated a deal with one client that restores thirty-percent of sales. There is another that will give back over twenty percent of what I have lost. That brings our income back to more than just maintaining what we have." I looked at her I felt like a sheep worry that the shepherd would beat me with his staff.

"Just who do you have to let fuck you?"

"Not me, Meg, I have to let you get fucked. I have to let you get fucked in front of me." Placing her hands on her hips she looked down at me. She looked like a school teacher catching a third grader cheating on a test.

"Who," she asked me her voice wasn't sounding as hard as a minute before. Her eyes became vibrant, bright and her stance softened.

"George Hastings," her hands dropped. Meg returned to moving the feather duster over the end table. "He wants me to watch him fuck you. I haven't told her one way or the other. I just can't imagine how I can agree to this." Her lips turned up into a sweet looking smile.

"Don't be silly it is just fucking – it isn't like I will be making love. He is a bit old, but that is okay some older men are quite good at fucking." I know I had a pained look on my face, "Phil, it is just fucking don't get upset. You need that job. You know I only make love to you the rest are ... Sweetheart ... Phil, really ... the others are just fucking."

"Margret, I have to watch," I said my voice sad and soft with almost a whiny quality.

"Phil... , Phil... , Phil... , it isn't like you haven't wanted to watch. I know you," she bent down to my level and gazed deeply into my eyes. "Even before Thornton was born, before I fucked around on you on a regular basis. Way back right after you found out about the first time. You remember, six months after our wedding you wanted to watch. You admitted it to David. Did you think he wouldn't tell me when he fucked me a few months later?" She stood and walked out of the room. Then she leaned back in toward me, holding onto the door frame with her left hand as she leaned in.

She fucked David more than eight years before, David, my best friend from high school. Still my best friend. That fell on me like a ton of bricks, but I refused to show her how bad it hurt. Her fucking him didn't surprise me, he was good looking aggressive and a pure hound dog where women were concerned. I don't hold it against her, but I do him. There is just an unwritten rule you don't fuck your friends girl, woman, or especially his wife.

"When?" Her voice was happy sounding, her eyes were almost dancing – those lovely green eyes. She touched her dark red hair, "Do I have time to get my hair done?"

"All I know is soon but not today," I told her then quickly added. "I have to go back to work and let her know it is a go. Not sure on the other client..." Meg broke me off.

"Don't worry about number two until we get number one spunked off and happy," she waved her hand and added, "go."

My boss set up an evening for us with George Hastings for the following night. I texted Meg and let her know we would have company around 7:00 the next evening. She would provide him a meal and he was spending the night with us. She texted back how excited she was that I was at last going to watch her. Then sent a second text that actually made me feel good, "You can fuck me tonight if you are a good boy when you get home."

I know right about now you are yelling at your computer screen what a loser I am. I love my wife, I always have. My sex drive isn't all that high, hers is over the moon, what they call an outlier – especially for a woman. She wants to fuck all the time. She regularly masturbates, like three or more times a day. That night she made love to me for the first time since the accident. By god I got my cock in her. I couldn't believe it she felt so fucking tight. How can she fuck guys so hung and still be so fucking tight?

She cooed in my ear sweet loving words. We fucked for perhaps thirty to forty minutes then she cleaned me with her mouth and got me off again orally. After we had finished, we lay in each others arms it was – touching and tender. No angry words were spoken.

That was when I told her the other bad news. He was going in bareback. She reared back and looked at me. Then said, "Okay, I guess. I don't like that though." Meg laid back on me and rubbed my chest putting her soft warm lips on my ear as she whispered, "Tomorrow night after he is finished you have to clean me out with your tongue. Promise me you will."

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