More Than He Could Imagine

Jack was having a Hard Day. Every day was a Hard Day for Jack because he thrived on stress and if the day wasn't Hard, it wasn't a good day. Nothing irked him so much as relaxation. Whatever he did, he did full-force, with every ounce of energy he possessed. He was thirty-six and, if he had been able to see into the future, he would know that he was destined to die at 42 of a fatal heart attack which would strike him as he was driving home and eyeing some sexy brunette in the slightly-better sports car opposite him. That, however, was all in the future, and he wouldn't thank you if you told him, busy as he was with Work and Things of that Nature.

The office was quiet. Too quiet. Jack hated quiet as much as he hated calm. If he didn't hear a buzzing of people outside his open office door, he got agitated. He stood up, his tall, toned, gym-flexed body moving to the door and sticking his gelled-black, jet-topped head around the corner, his angry eyes glancing around. He saw people working, for sure. Nothing wrong with that, of course. Work is good. Well done to them. But they were so QUIET about it. Realising that he had no reason to chide them, he grunted, annoyed at his lack of justification for being annoyed, and stepped back into his office, loosening his tie, simply so he could straighten it again.

Jack was Successful. Jack wasn't a Bad Guy; he was just highly-strung - passionate, if you want to look charitably upon him, which few people did, except his wife. Ah, his wife. Bless her. No kids, not yet. No time for kids, he always said, and Marie agreed, which was what Marie did. She agreed.

Or at least, she usually agreed. On this particular day, at this particular time, as Jack fumbled about his office looking for things to be annoyed about, Marie was standing in the elevator, her buxom, blonde figure clad in short pleated skirt, a soft black sweater and black heels, her blue eyes smouldering with determined rage. She'd not seen him for days. He had a "Big meeting" or a "Big dinner" or a "Big conference" and he had no time to come home. Marie could take a lot. In fact, there wasn't much she couldn't take, but she believed in Karma and she believed in Fate and she believed that her husband was due to get some.

She stepped out of the elevator, nodding to the few people in the office that she knew, smiling at the rest and stalking, rather unsteadily, towards her husband's office. She entered and closed the door, smiling brightly as he looked up, feeling a flash of rage as Jack looked at her - for the briefest moment until recognition struck - like he had no idea who she was.

"Marie. U..hi there."

"Jack..uh..hi there," Marie sneered.

Jack blinked. True, he almost didn't recognise her at first. There were two reasons for this. Firstly, he hadn't seen her for a while. Secondly, she looked good. No wait, Jack, that's not fair. She never looked bad. True, but she never looked THIS good. She had done something to her hair. And that skirt. Wow. Ummm..

"Wow..ummmm. You've done something to your skirt."

"I've done nothing, Jack. Just bought a new one. Do you like it?"

Jack nodded, dimly aware that the silence outside was now even more intense, looking over his wife's shoulder at the closed door.

"You closed the door," Jack muttered.

"Yes, Jack. I did. I need to talk to you. There's something you should know. Sit down."

Jack never sat down. He was part of some non-sitting religious cult, Marie figured. A member of some fringe group of anti-chair people. Jack didn't feel there was anything he could do sitting down which he couldn't do standing up, which led to some interesting moments in the bathroom. Marie had invited him to sit down merely because she knew he wouldn't, and so she took the initiative and parked her pert ass on the soft sofa, deciding to pull her skirt upwards so a flash of black thong was clearly visible to her addled husband, who was struck with a choice between looking at his watch or looking at her legs. Sensibly, he took the latter option.

"Uh..so what do I owe this..pleasure?"

"You're going to fuck me, Jack. Here and now, in the office, and I am going to moan loudly enough for the world to hear it. And if you don't, I will personally make your life hell. And I mean Hell."

She glared at him. He wasn't sure what she meant. Maybe she would ban standing in the house. That would be hell. Maybe she'd make him sleep more than three hours a night. That would be Hell. Well, purgatory.

"F..fuck you? Uh..here?"

Jack stared at his wife, who was nodding with malicious intent, a scowl furrowing her otherwise-smooth face.

"Here and now, Jack!"

Marie stood up, and with a newly-acquired confidence in her step, walked towards the door and opened it wide. Outside, ranks of men and women sat hunched over computers, humming into phones, lost to the world, and soon she would be too. She turned around and stalked back towards her husband who had turned suddenly pale.

Jack was many things. Well, actually, he was few things, but those few things had many levels. He was a ball of energy who never stopped moving if it was at all possible and would have slept on the bench-press in the gym if the manager let him. But, among all the outlets for his energy, his wife ranked highly. He loved her, in his own, slightly-detached way. He valued her and wanted her and he knew that this was One of Those Moments where he could either choose to go with her insane flow, or lose some things that mattered dearly to him - specifically, his ego and a decent cook.

As he was pondering this, Marie had already sunk to her knees on the plush rug in front of her desk and started to slide her hands to her husband's firm buttocks, squeezing her manicured nails around the firm muscle and pressing her face against his groin. Jack sighed. His wife could be a pain, when he saw her, which wasn't often, but by God, she could suck cock like a pro. He adjusted his stance to spread his legs slightly further apart, his hands by his sides as the soft shush of the zipper filled his ears, her hand reaching into the fly to extract his swelling cock, the purple head swelling, vibrating and shuddering upwards as the blood rushed from his face.

"Y..you know..there's a h..hotel around the ..c..corner."

But it was a useless plea. Jack knew it was useless, and his wife gave every impression that she didn't even hear him, preferring instead to part her cherry lips and wrap them in a deep suction around his pulsating cockhead, lapping at the tip with the tip of her tongue. Jack grunted, his face turning bright red now as he fought to resist the urge to moan loudly, his head spinning, stars doing a stellar ballet in front of his eyes as her warm mouth slid down further and further onto his rod. Ah, life and everything, Jack thought about the past, when he was young and stupid and even more reckless than he was now. Why get married anyway? A few good dinners and a lot of hassle. What's the big deal? But then she had sucked him off one night after a fine dinner at a reasonably-priced restaurant. Jack had sat down for the occasion (the meal, not the blowjob), and he had had a Very Nice Time and Everything, and ended up proposing to her as his hot sperm streaked into her stomach at a rate of knots. And now, here she was, gripping the base of his shaft with her hand as her lips slid further and further down his vein-ribbed prick, his eyes rolling back in his head as his hands moved to grip her luxuriant hair in his hands, squeezing firmly but gently, a soft shudder running from the top of his head to his toes and then back down again, his cock reaching boiling-point, his eyes closing, her throat wrapping around his shaft and milking it without mercy. Here it CUMMMMS!!

Jack waited for his orgasm with a long, low growl of approval. It always happened this way. She got on her knees, she did her stuff. She sucked him off. She fucked off. Jack liked things that way. Nice and simple and fun and he could find something More Productive to do, just as soon as he had recovered.

On this occasion, forever, it took Jack several moments to realise that not only was his cock still throbbing, his balls still full, but his wife was no longer on her knees. Instead, she had risen, bent over his desk (pushing aside some Very Important Paperwork in the process, mind you) and moved one hand back to slide her skirt over her asscheeks and slip her thong aside to reveal puffy pussy lips which were almost glowing, her gaze on him as he opened his eyes, a soft purr streaming from her mouth.

"Fuck me, Jack, and beware, I am going to wake the neighbors. In Alaska!"

Jack looked at his wife's ass, then back at his cock, then back at his wife's ass, moving his hands to loosen his necktie and give him more room to breathe as he walked towards her, stealing a glance backwards at the door, grateful that nobody was watching. He undid his pants and slid them over his ass where they gathered at mid-thigh, one hand moving to grip his cock, sliding the head up and down Marie's slit and lingering on her clit. Jack was an asshole. Jack was possibly the biggest asshole anyone could ever hope to meet, but by God, he could fuck, when he chose to do so. Which wasn't often.

Marie whimpered and started to rhythmically moan, low at first but building higher and higher as her husband slipped his cockhead to the entrance to her fuckhole and swirled it around a bit. What a bastard, she thought. What an absolute bastard.

Jack smiled, then met his wife's eyes and saw that she was smiling too, a strange smile, a smile he hadn't seen before. And then he saw that her eyes were on the door. He glanced over his shoulder and saw a man in a dark blue suit and a younger man in a darker blue suit, both of them staring at Jack's tight ass.

"M..Mr Jensen! Hi..hi there. I..."

Even bosses have bosses, and Jack's boss was Mr Jensen, a man whose supreme talent, in Jack's eyes, was his propensity to leave Jack Well Alone. Jack saw him once every two weeks, on average. The last time was (Jack pondered, in his methodical way) oh, about two weeks ago.

Mr Jensen nodded and looked as if he was about to say something, but before he could do so, Marie slammed her hips backwards, impaling her wet pussy onto Jack's stiff rod, her whines of pleasure mixing with his and drowning out anything Mr Jensen might want to say. Jack snarled. Jack rarely got angry. He got peeved. He got irked. He got riled. He never got angry, but he was angry now, and his anger manifested itself in the urge to grab his wife's hips and slam into her as hard as he could until the desk shook and she sounded close to sobbing with pleasure, her screams echoing around the room and making the emotions of the two men in the doorway flit between fear and desire.

Jack's heavy balls slapped against her ass, his rod pistoning into her, a hot knife slicing through the butter in her pussy, churning a sensual, well-scented brew of musky desire which rose in his nostrils and made him grab her hair, tugging her head back.

"Yes, Jack, YES! FUCK ME, YOU BASTARD!"

Jack paused for a brief moment, slightly nonplussed. He was an asshole. He worked hard to be an asshole, but he wasn't a bastard. In his passion, he let his wife's lapse slide, as did his meaty cock, slipping from her pussy as he jerked his hips and stabbed her with it over and over, his breathing hard and fast, his shirt clinging to his chest with sweat now, the outline of his muscles showing through the damp fabric. He tightened, his balls shook, his cock spewed thick, clingy spunk over her pink ass, streaking her in wads of pearly-white sperm his vision blurring for a moment as he slapped her sperm-covered butt with his hand and staggered back, panting.

He turned and blinked at the doorway and saw a sea of faces staring back at him, in various stages of bewilderment, too shaken even to laugh, their eyes fixed on his wilting cock and his wilting face. Jack stared at each one, recognized them, filed their names in his memory bank, looked at his wife who was chuckling with post-orgasmic delight, still bent over the desk, his seed glistening on her asscheeks, then took a long, deep breath and glared at the heads which stood in the doorway, frozen with amazement.

"D..don't you people have work to d..do? I know I do!"