Executive Ass.'t

"Then I guess it's not work." The phone buzzed again. "I don't know who it is, but everybody important tonight is right here. Just a wrong number or spam or some damn thing."

"Good," said his wife, who snuggled in closer. Fifteen minutes later, the episode rolled to a close, and the credits started. Melody stretched and arched her back, pressing her tiny breasts against the kitten-embossed t-shirt she was wearing.

"I think I'll turn in," she said. "It's past my bedtime." Marty checked his watch. It was 10 o'clock. "Are you coming?"

"Yup, just give me a few to get the lights off and stuff."

"Okay," Melody leaned close and kissed him on the nose. "See you there." She walked off to the bedroom with a little wave.

Martin turned off the TV and the box, and walked into the kitchen. Picking up his phone, he thumbed open the lock and opened up his text messages.

**hey marty, i was wondering if i could get ur opinion again**

The next message was a selfie from Kristen, taken with a full-length mirror in a bedroom somewhere. She wore a knee-length black cocktail dress, but the length of the hem was the only concession to modesty made. Made of some skintight black fabric, it skimmed the dramatic curves of her hips and waist, showing off even the indent her navel made in an otherwise flat stomach. A sheer black panel dropped in a dramatic "vee" from her neckline to somewhere below her sternum, and her compressed cleavage swelled impressively out beneath it, exposing nearly half of her fat, mature breasts. She stood upon one flawless leg, muscles outstanding as she perched atop a pair of black peep toe booties with a four-inch wedge heel. The other leg was crooked in a jaunty angle as she gave the camera a duckface pout with her luscious strawberry-pink lips.

"Jesus," he muttered under his breath, feeling a stir in his pants. All he could do was stare, really, although his thumb was poised to swipe and delete it.

Martin put the phone down and took a deep breath. There was no doubt he should delete the picture. None. But-

His phone buzzed, and his heart leapt into his throat. Then it went off again. And again.

He picked it up, fingers shaking. The last message was displayed on his lock screen.

**omg Marty im so sorry delete that last one! dont look!**

"Martin, are you coming?" Melody called out from the bedroom.

"Yep, just a sec, sorry!" He dismissed the last notification, and thumbed past the lock.

**maybe if ur a good boy tonite u can have this**

In the next pic, obviously taken moments from the first one, Kristen had turned around to present her ass to the camera, bending over at the waist and rucking the skirt up to the bottom curve of her ass. Even though she stood with her legs pressed together, a tiny keyhole of light appeared between them at the apex of her legs, where the tiny pouch of a robin's egg blue thong cradled the pouty peach of her pubic mound. An insignificant blue filament traced up inside the crack of her magnificent mature ass, apparently billiard-ball smooth and perfectly round. The fingers of one hand that were dug deep in the flesh of her behind, prying it just far enough apart that Marty almost thought he could see the tiny pink star of her asshole.

Had he ever even *seen* Melody's asshole before? His own wifey- wife's most intimate hole.

Martin's erection surged in his pants. Momentarily weak, he saved both pictures and deleted them from his text history.

**marty? answer me hon. i didn't mean 2 send that 2 u! that was 4 my date tonite!**

**its done. you look spectacular, btw. have fun!**

Deleting the rest of the conversation, he locked his phone, powered it down and left it in the kitchen.

When he entered the bedroom, the lights were already off and Melody buried under the blankets. Cock throbbing insistently in his pants, Martin peeled them off, along with everything else he was wearing.

"Martin?" Melody said as he crawled into bed. "Are you *naked*?"

"I thought I'd try it out for once."

"Kink*y*," she said. "Oh! Honey, is that your...your thing? I don't think it's ever been that big. It's not even Saturday yet."

"I know," Martin slid his arm over her, kissing his wife. Her lips worked against his, and he pushed his tongue into her mouth on a whim. Hers lay there, not engaging. Pressing his bare cock insistently against her hip, Martin eased his hand up her shirt, seeking a nipple, and finding them both quite flat. Slowly, gently he began to rub one, and was rewarded by a gasp from Melody as it began to swell up and thicken in his fingers.

"Oohh, Martin," she said, pulling away from his invading tongue. "That's nice, sweetheart, but maybe a little rou- ow! Ow! Martin! Do *not* pull like that! Stop."

"Oh my god oh I'm so sorry Melody," Martin yanked his hand out of her shirt like it had been burned. "Maybe we can try again? Start over?"

Her brow furrowed. "Okay, just kiss me." They began making out again, Martin kissing his wife as gently as the raging rod between them would allow. He put his hand on her waist, and began easing it inside the waistband of her pyjamas, reaching back as he ground his hardon into her.

"Ow. Martin! No! That's- ow! You can't grab my- my- my *butt* like that." She pushed him away. "Stop. Just, stop. I'm not in the mood at *all*. I don't know *what* has gotten into you." In a huff, she rolled away as far as the bed would allow, leaving him with a powerful erection that showed no signs of flagging.

Martin rolled over and thought hard about going to get his phone, thinking of Kristen's perfect legs, the thick meatiness of her ass, the way her pussy filled up the eyepatch of her thong. Wondering if she would fill the blue one with cum as she had the black, fucking the hell out of a "good boy" who was his age with her mature pussy.

Soon, Melody began to snore. As quietly as he could, Martin rolled out of bed and padded into the kitchen. Picking up his phone, he weighed it in his hand, knowing there was no good in what he was thinking about, knowing that looking at his boss's secretary that way while his wife slept in the next room would be the worst thing he could do.

He set the phone back down firmly without turning it on. Instead, he sat his naked ass down at the computer desk, and turned it on. As quietly as he could manage, somehow wondering if Melody could hear which letters he was hitting, he typed "MILF" into Google and hit the search button.

The top results were a slew of news pieces.

>**MAY-DECEMBER ROMANCES ON THE RISE, SCIENTIST SAYS**

>Seattle, WASH (AP) -- "It's all there in the numbers, a statistical fact," said Dr. Oleanna Wu, speaking at the

>Kincaide Sociological Institute today. "Young men are turning to women half-again, twice their ages by the

>thousands, not only as viable or possible partners, but as preferable partners. It's a..."

There were half a dozen of these, all with the same quotes. He gave half a thought to reading one of the articles, but the pounding erection between his legs hadn't really gone anywhere.

The next link led to an Urbandictionary definition, and then the porn sites started.

Martin checked to make sure the volume on the computer had been muted, and began a trip down the rabbit hole of MILF porn.

*

The rest of the weekend passed in a sleep-deprived haze for Martin. By day, he and Melody went about their usual routine, if a little stiffly. Following Friday night's performance in the bedroom, she had decided that a chilly detente would be the best course of action, and shied away from the least touch from her husband, though on the surface she was the very model of loving politesse. He on the other hand, longed to lay hands on her, if only as an outlet.

Under the guise of "working on the Pauling file," he spent each night glued to his computer screen, watching hungrily as ripe, mature women took on thick young cock in every combination and colour imaginable. Martin had never been much of a watcher of pornography before, and was instantly fascinated by luscious bare flesh presented to the viewer, all thick curves aching to be grabbed and manhandled. A good feminist, he'd been brought up to believe that pornography was inherently degrading to women, but these MILFs didn't seem to be degraded; if anything, their instant, natural command of the cocks in these videos venerated their sexuality. Even when they were taking on more than one man, they always appeared to be in control, taking what they wanted rather than the other way around, and taking with an ease that Martin found almost hypnotic.

Sex with Melody was never so easy. She was small and narrow and difficult to wedge himself into, even after half an hour's foreplay, and never seemed very comfortable with having him inside of her. He was too thick, she said. But these women, these juicy MILFs appeared not only to be able to take it, but wanted it, driving girthy young shafts inside of themselves with a will that sent flesh slapping against flesh in sharp, rhythmic reports (as he found out when he plugged in a pair of earplugs).

By Sunday, he'd become so enraptured that he was sneaking views while Melody was in the kitchen, cooking breakfast or in the bathroom or just looking somewhere else. But he still hadn't cum. He'd come close, certainly, riding right on the edge for hours, in the case of Saturday night, but when Martin hit his vinegar strokes, he was overcome with guilt; cumming for these women felt too much like cheating on Melody, which was something he could never do to his new wife.

And so, when he rolled into work on Monday, Martin was an exhausted, frustrated, slightly sweaty mess. He was sitting at his desk, trying to just figure out the damn page order in the Pauling file when Kristen poked her head in.

"Happy Monday!" She enthused. "Oh wow. You look like shit, Marty. Little woman keeping you up nights?" She gave him a wink.

"Please, go away." Martin said miserably. "This is really not a good time."

"Marty," Kristen said, stepping inside. "Are you okay?"

"Listen, just-" he rubbed a tired eye. Kristen closed the door behind her. Petersen's secretary was wearing a shimmering red satin blouse stretched tight over the pendant globes of her tits, despite having undone a number of buttons to relieve the strain, or show off a yard of creamy cleavage. A grey pencil skirt was tightly wrapped around her legs down to her knees, showing off the broad sweep of her hips; when she turned to grab the extra chair he kept in his office for meetings, Martin noted the exaggerated curve of the zipper as it struggled across the deep cleft of her ass, and the slit as it soared up her smooth, luscious thigh. Wheeling around, she sat down and crossed her leg primly at the knee; the bright red, 4-inch sandal that encaged her foot in crimson leather up to her ankle bobbed up and down, the colour a match for her toenails.

The older blonde peered at him over the rims of thick black glasses and primly interlaced her hands over her knee. She'd put her mane of hair back up in a bun, held together with a pen. Kristen pursed her pillowy lips, then,

"Martin, I don't know if you know this, but I'm not very...popular around the office." He looked up at her, and opened his mouth to protest. "No. It's true. The other girls around here don't like the way that I dress," she toyed with the hem of her skirt, letting it rise up above her knee, "or do my make up," she tongue appeared at the corner of her mouth for a moment, "or think that I'm too 'familiar' with the other staff. And you know what? I don't particularly care about their fat, stuck up asses." Kristen winked at him again. "I didn't come here to make friends, I'm at work, it's a place for work, and they can go to hell."

Despite himself, Martin laughed. Kristen smiled and recrossed her legs, and he caught a brief flash of the creamery-smooth skin of her inner thigh.

"And I know you're pretty much in the same boat." She winked and pointed at him. "The other associates don't like you, Marty. That's why they don't invite you to lunch or weekend circle jerks or whatever else they're doing."

"Thanks?" He said.

"Hey don't worry about it," she waved her hand dismissively. "They're assholes. You're not an asshole. That's why I like you Marty."

"Really?"

"Fuck yeah," Kristen enthused. "You never noticed that you always get your messages first, your mail goes out first, I stay a little longer for you if you're still here at night?"

"Well-"

"Marty, I just want to be friends, okay?" She nodded at him. "You and me, against the world. Or, you and me separately and alone while we're here."

"Okay, friends." Martin smiled and nodded. Kristen reached over, and offered him a hand, which he took and shook. Her fingers were warm and long and the nails painted crimson to match her toes. He noticed that there were tiny chains painted in white on the thumbnails.

"Great!" Her fingers lingered a little long in his palm, and then she sat back, recrossing her legs. He watched her sandal bob up and down, up and down. "Now, what friends do is talk about the shit that's going on and why they look like shit. What the fuck is wrong with you this morning?"

"Melody and I had a fight on Friday," he began.

"Oh shit, it wasn't because I-" Kristen made a picture-taking motion with her hands.

"Nonono, it was a, I mean a kind of a, sort of-" he flailed about kind of uselessly.

"A bedroom thing?" She winked. "It's more common than-"

"Not like that!" Martin said, panicky. "Really, it was more like- uh, I mean, it was just- Jesus, it's complicated, I guess."

"That's a relief! I was pretty sure you were packing heat down there, hon." Kristen assured him. "But sometimes, people just aren't that compatible in the bedroom, you know?"

"I...guess?" He said. "I don't really have that much experience in that field."

"Really?" One perfectly-plucked eyebrow arched up. "Handsome guy like you?"

"I met Melody in highschool," he explained. "I've never been-"

"Wow! Seriously?" She sat back and gave him a look of shock. "You didn't have girls crawling all over you?"

"Look, Kristen-"

"Anyway," a manicured hand waved away her concerns. "I'll give you a for-instance." She adjusted her glasses and arranged her hands in her lap, like a principal addressing a recalcitrant student. "As you know, I've been seeing a young man, let's call him 'Jeffrey.' Well, 'seeing' is probably a very formal way to put it, but this is a work environment." Kristen gave him a long slow wink. "Jeffrey and I met at a bar last weekend, and there was a lot of sexual chemistry, and I really hoped that I'd finally found somebody I was compatible with; but when we went out the other night, it turned out that Jeffrey was, well-" she raised her index finger, then slowly curled it inward. "I mean, he was, um, generously endowed, but he just couldn't keep up, you know?"

"I'm not sure I-"

"It's a question of stamina, Marty." Kristen rolled her eyes. "I mean, poor Jeffrey certainly enjoyed himself, but he just exhausted himself too quickly. Like, one and done." She shook her head, and a blonde curl looped out of her bun and dangled over her forehead. "I just need someone who can keep up with my appetites, you know?"

"I guess, yeah." Martin tried not to think about the discarded panties he'd seen in her desk on Friday.

"But I'm sure you kids will work it all out." She smiled brightly. "Do you have a picture of her? I bet she's gorgeous."

"Yeah, yeah sure." He said, unlocking his phone without really thinking of it. "Here." Martin handed it over.

Kristen started thumbing through his pictures. "Oh!" she gasped. "Marty! I told you to delete that!"

"I forgot!" His eyebrows shot up, and blood drained from his face. "Oh my god, I forgot I swear."

"Don't worry about it, hon." The secretary gave him another slow wink. "I'm sure you- oh, this must be her. She's...cute, I guess. Small, like a, um," Her glossy mouth pouted in thought. "Mouse, I guess? Adorable, really." She handed the phone back. "I never would have thought that a little thing like that could snare a good-looking fella like you, but..." Kristen shrugged.

"Thanks?" He looked down; Melody smiled up hopefully from the screen. The next photo in the stream was Kristen's selfie. "I'll, uh, I'll delete the pictures."

"I said don't worry about it." Kristen stood. "If you and Melanie-"

"Melody." He corrected her.

"Sure." She shrugged again, and the double globes of her tits jiggled underneath the thin fabric of her shirt. "If you kids keep on fighting, you may need some relief." Another long wink. "See ya later, buddy." On her way out the door, Kristen blew him a kiss and a little wave.

Martin listened to her clacking her way down the hall, and looked down at his phone again. Flipped back and forth between pictures. His erection began to stir again. Shaking his head, he slammed the phone down, and buried his head in the Pauling file.

*

Monday ground on.

Working through lunch, he finally straightened out the actual physical file itself, and started in on the last draft of the contract. Every now and again, he'd reach over and fondle his phone, but not actually unlock it.

Around two, his phone buzzed. It was Melody.

**Hi, Honey.**

**hey**

**How's your day?**

**monday :)**

Melody was composing her reply when a message from Kristen came in.

**hi buddy!!**

**oh hi. just talkin to melody right now**

**oooh making up with the little woman, i get it ;)**

He flipped back over to the conversation with Melody; she was still writing. Usually, this meant an extensive missive.

**can i just get ur opinion rq** An image from Kristen followed. Seeing that Melody was still typing, he flipped over. Kristen had taken a shot of her legs from under her desk; they were crossed at the knee again, but she'd changed her shoes. A black slingback pump with an exaggerated heel and a thick platform dangled from her left foot. She'd had to ruck the hem of her skirt halfway up her thigh; the luscious flesh of her thigh looked silkysmooth and oh-so touchable, just waiting for someone's hand to slide up and under that skirt.

**those or these?**

In the next picture, she'd swapped the slingbacks for a pair of skyhigh wedges in a bright blue peacock print, and recrossed her legs; the hem of her skirt had crawled up even further, and his eye caught a glint of matching blue peeking out from underneath it.

**wait this ones better**

She'd recrossed her legs again, and he could definitely see the tiny blue pouch of her thong; the fabric was pressed tightly between her lips, and Martin stared at the revealed cleft.

**the blue ones** he responded. **definitely the blue ones** His hand had fallen to his lap, and he was gently massaging his growing erection.

**thanks hon! i've got so many fuck-me heels its hard to pick!** The words 'fuck-me heels' sent a shiver down his spine as he thought about his weekend binge watching, how many plush bodies with their feet up in the air, heels pointed at the ceiling, shrieking and ordering the fat young cock inside to-

**MARTIN** Melody's text turned out to be the third she'd sent in the last ten minutes. There was a long, involved apology in that conversation. Picking up his office phone, he dialed Melody's number to offer his own apology live. Meanwhile, in his lap, he played with his phone, scrolling back and forth through his gallery.

*

"Hey buddy!" Kristen's head poked around his office door again, at five after five. She'd pulled her hair out of the bun she'd been wearing earlier, letting it loose in all its lazy loopy glory. "Workin' late?"

Martin looked up and smiled. "Nah, just putting the last touches on this contract before I send it off to Pauling."