Work Wife

"Ma'am?"

Her voice broke me from my spell long enough for me to say, "Oh... okay. Thank you." Though, my voice quivered as his cock entered me yet again. I put the phone down, uncaring if I actually hung up the phone. I had to grip the table to keep myself from getting weak in the knees. In my weakness, I fell backwards, which gave the illusion that I was pushing back onto that cock. Maybe I was, and I was using gravity as an excuse. His cock felt so good.

"So how long do we have?"

I couldn't even get the words out. He started increasing his speed, pummeling me with all of his might. He grabbed me by the arms, forcing me to rest my head on the table. At least now I can rest my body on something while he pleasured himself with my pussy. He would occasionally let go of one of my arms only so that he could spank my ass. The sudden slap against my bare flesh made me tense up, causing my vaginal walls to flinch and squeeze his cock tighter. The frequency of the spanking increased, which only made me moan even more. I felt like he was punishing me for trying to leave. If this is punishment, then I'm not sure I want to be forgiven.

If only my husband could see me now. I have done so many perverted things with Brad that I have never done with my husband. Before meeting Brad, I would have told you that sucking cock was gross and degrading; however, I have worshipped Brad's cock with my mouth. I have gotten good at bypassing the gag reflex so that I can take it down my throat. I am a pro at breathing through my nose and hollowing out my cheeks to make sure that Brad's cock is serviced by a pro.

Before meeting Brad, I would have been mad if Steve spanked my ass. But with Brad, I have come to realize that spanking my ass is one of my 'buttons' that go directly to my pleasure center in my brain. That sudden slap against my bare flesh will force my muscles to tighten around a cock that's buried deep inside me. The sudden moment of pain is like a shockwave of intensity that is soon overcome with desire. And if spanking is not enough, all Brad has to do is apply some KY jelly and he can take my ass. Brad seems to beam with pride, knowing that he had taken my anal virginity.

Before meeting Brad, I would have been truly embarrassed at having parts of my body exposed to other people. It would have been mortifying. But with Brad, I wait with bated breath for the next time he decides to make me experience a 'wardrobe malfunction'. Whether that's pulling up my skirt in the night club like that time in Las Vegas, or if it's in the back of a limo where he undoes my blouse and exposes my breasts, knowing full well that the driver can get a good look at my tits. Even now, I have no qualms with sunbathing topless to make sure that I have no tan lines for Brad.

How could I ever go back to Steve after being transformed into this kind of woman? Even if I wasn't his wife, I'm sure Steve would have no respect for me whatsoever. God, if he knew how much of a slut I was, we'd be divorced in seconds. And I can't even begin to think about what my kids would think of me. Would they be proud to call me their mother? Would our daughter, Kelly, want to look up to me as her role model? Would the example that I'm setting right now give my son, A.J., an excuse to treat women the way Brad treats them? This is not what I envisioned when I had dreams of the idealistic family. I'm supposed to be at home in hair curlers in a house dress, kissing my husband before he goes off to work and handing my children brown paper bag lunches for school.

No, this wasn't right. I needed to leave. With all of my might and with all of my remaining willpower, I twisted my body away from the best cock I have ever had. I straightened my skirt and headed for the door. I didn't dare look back for I feared that I would turn into a pillar of salt. I am very thankful that my parents didn't name me Ruth. I grabbed my suitcase's handle in stride. Each step I took away from Brad, I felt my resolve strengthening. This was the right choice. Not just for me, but for Steve and my children. I just hope that I can find a way to make it up to Steve.

Down in the lobby, I'm sure I was generating a few disapproving looks. It should be clear to most that I was foregoing a bra, and my clothes looked disheveled. I would wager that some of the men loitering down here in the lobby were wondering what my rates were, or how they could try to score with me next. I'm sure that I had that freshly fucked look. I didn't dare make eye contact with the woman at the front desk. I'm sure that she heard more than she wanted to on that phone call. I made a beeline for the front door and the doorman. I think the angel Kimberly was looking out for me because there was a limo waiting for me.

"To the airport, please."

I tried not to sound emotional, though I was barely holding it together. Was the doorman trying to look down my blouse? Looking down, I could see that my nipples were protruding through the fabric of my blouse. I bet if I were to ask him what color my eyes were, that he would have no idea. But he sure as hell could have answered what cup size I wear. Even in the back of the limo, I wanted to tell the driver to keep his eyes on the road and not in the mirror. What's that juvenile saying? Take a picture. It lasts longer. God, I feel like a slut and everyone knows it. All I need now is some scarlet embroidered A, and the look would be complete.

Once at the airport, and after securing a last minute plane ride home, I called my husband.

In his sleepy voice, he answered, "Hello?"

I tried very hard not to cry. Just hearing his voice was enough to make my heart melt. The fact that he would answer at such a crazy hour in the middle of night, even though he has to get up early in the morning, was more than enough for me to strengthen my decision, knowing I made the right choice. I was choked up and could not get any words out.

"Kimber? Are you all right?"

Kimber is his pet name for me. He told me that when we met, he heard someone shout 'Kimber' as he knew he was falling in love with me, just like a lumberjack would yell 'timber' when a tree was falling. See? Bad jokes, but I love him so much.

"I'm coming home, baby. I'll be home in about 4 hours."

I could tell the grogginess left him. I could hear him sit up with concern. I could hear his love for me. I could hear my heart breaking, knowing that I have been a fool to even be involved with someone like Brad.

"Is everything all right?"

"I'm quitting my job."

He needed to know that I wasn't going back to Brad. I needed to say that out loud. It is one thing to mentally say something in your mind. It is another thing to put thoughts into words. Verbalize words that have been said and heard, even if the person hearing them is the person saying it. It's different.

"What happened? Are you alright? Is everything ok?"

"I'm fine. I just decided that it was time for a change."

How will I tell him why I quit my job? Can I find it in me to tell him? I'm sure after I told him the truth; he'd kick me to the curb. I know if the roles were reversed, I wouldn't even hesitate. I would have told him to not even bother unpacking. I can only pray that he is more gracious and more loving than me. Not that I have been all that loving towards him.

"Change is good. We'll get through this. I'll be there for you when you land."

On the surface, those words sounded like he was fully aware that by quitting my job, it would severely hurt the family's income. On the surface, those words offered strength and encouragement to get through the hard times the financial struggles would bring. On the surface, despite the ramifications of quitting my job, he accepted that it was a choice that I made and that he supported me because he loved me.

Though, in the back of my mind, it sounded like he knew what was going on between me and Brad. In the back of my mind, it sounded like he knew in time that he would forgive me for my sins. It may be a struggle, but that our love would keep us together. In the back of my mind, it sounded like he was waiting for me to come back home to him, not just physically but emotionally as well.

As I approached the TSA officer so that I could hand him my ID and my boarding pass, I looked back to see if anyone was following me. A part of me wished that Brad had followed me to the airport. Not because I wanted some Disney-esque romantic story book public display of affection from Brad. No, a part of me wished that Brad could see me say to my husband, "I am so glad that you are my husband. I will love you forever. I just hope that I can be the wife you want me to be, the wife that you truly deserve."

I wish I could say that it was an uneventful four hour flight. I wish I could say that I slept the entire time, but my stomach was in knots, trying to think how I would approach this subject with my husband. Do I make up some bogus reason for why I quit my job when financially we're not in position for me to quit? I've gotten good at lying to him, so obviously it was my go-to move; however, the angel Kimberly reminded me of all the guilt that I'm feeling now, the hypocrisy I'm preaching when I tell my kids it's better to tell the truth since lying will only make matters worse. I've dug the hole I'm in now because of all the lies, and telling more lies would only make the hole deeper. Hell, what if he already knows? I don't even want to go down that rabbit hole. I don't think I would recover.

But if I'm not going to lie, then what am I going to tell him? Do I tell my loving husband that I had a moment of weakness? Ha, a moment of weakness that lasted over a year. Even when trying to tell the truth, I'm attempting to obscure the truth in hopes of lessening the pain it'll cause me. Lying has become so commonplace for me, that I can't even trust myself with the truth. I'm such a lying bitch to a loving man. He doesn't deserve me. I swear, once I'm back in his arms, I'll make up for all my sins. I'll be the best wife.

I'll definitely miss the nightlife with Brad. Attending parties, dressing up and going to clubs, and pushing the boundaries on what is and what isn't appropriate by societal standards. That was such a rush. And the sex? My god, I had no idea that sex could be that good. Even now, I can hear that stupid devil Kimberly whispering in my ear about that Mediterrean gentleman across the isle in Seat 2A. Is he Italian? Greek? Perhaps a Spaniard? I don't know, but he looks as chiseled as the Statue of David, though I would hope he's bigger in size.

Why am I checking out some stranger on the plane with me? Damn it! I have some severe issues. But maybe that's it? Maybe I'll keep silent about why I quit, and then go see a therapist. Help me get my mind right. Once I can understand why I did what I did, I can then talk openly with my husband about everything. And obviously, he will see that I'm trying to better myself by willfully and self-imposing the need to see a therapist. And not a moment too soon because the plane just touched down.

And the mental gymnastics continue. This time in the baggage claim. There was a driver holding up a sign for 'K Pierce'. Pierce was my maiden name. However, it was the name I used in the workplace. Coming out of college, I was full of feminist ideals. Even though I was married, I wanted to "build on my name". Even being a billing clerk, I wanted it known that my husband didn't define who I was as a person. He married Kimber Pierce. Even after the wedding, I was the same person so my mindset was that I'd still be Kimber Pierce in the workplace.

Though if I were to be honest with myself, holding onto my maiden name made the idea of being a "work wife" all that much easier. Brad and all of his colleagues referred to me as Miss Pierce, not Mrs. Swanson. Eight hours a day, I was 'single' again. Of course, the closer I got to Brad, eight hours a day turned into ten hours a day. If you think about it like that, I spent eight hours sleeping, two hours commuting to work by myself, one hour at the gym, and twelve hours working as Miss Pierce. That left three hours for me to be Mrs. Swanson. And those three hours were not always pleasant as we argued over finances, or the children needed something that we couldn't afford.

But back to the driver holding the placard with my maiden name on it. I say driver, but she was no ordinary limo driver. One, she was dressed in yoga shorts and a sports bra. This dark haired beauty could put me to shame in the gym. Her muscle tone and definition was just enough to show that she was concerned about being fit, but not overly so in a gym rat kind of way. She obviously spent as much time doing squats as I did. She was simply gorgeous. I surmised that since the placard had used my "work wife" name, that Brad had called ahead and arranged for this driver to pick me up from the airport. But even worse, he must have hand picked this particular woman as a cruel reminder of what I would be giving up. The one boundary that I hadn't crossed (yet) was that I would not sleep with another woman. As much as Brad thought it would be sexy to see me make out with another woman and then engaging in a threesome with him, I always told him no. But I think he knew my resistance was crumbling, especially by hiring this particular driver. There is no doubt in my mind that I would be more than willing to have a threesome with her, or straight up having sex with her and letting whoever was in the room watch.

"Damn you, Brad," I muttered under my breath.

I guess it's no coincidence that this happened in baggage claim, as this only serves to show that I'll have plenty of baggage for the therapist once we start our sessions. Reluctantly, I walked over to the driver while expecting the driver to put on a full court press to indulge once more into Brad's lifestyle. Thousands of miles away, and Brad still has a hold on me. I need help.

"Mrs. Swanson!" beamed the woman. No one should be that perky this early in the morning. It's unnatural. It took my groggy brain cells a moment to even comprehend that she referred to my "home wife" name, and not my "work wife" name. I'm sure my dumbfounded look wasn't lost on her.

She repeated, "Mrs. Swanson, Steve couldn't make it. He had to get the kids to school, so he asked me to come get you." She giggled as she looked down at herself. "Forgive my appearance, I was on my way to the gym when he called."

Talk about being thrown for a loop? Steve hired this driver? And it seems that they're familiar with one another? Obviously, I need some coffee or something to make sense of what's going on. How does Steve know someone like this? This will not do.

Slowly, I found my voice and asked, "Who are you?"

"Oh, you don't remember me? It's me, Katelyn! I was the intern before Steve hired me on full time as his assistant? We met a couple of times? When you started working longer hours, Steve realized he was going to need an assistant if he was going to balance work life and home life."

I tuned her out after that. She may have been speaking, but I didn't want to hear any more. She obviously accepted my gruff behavior because she didn't put up much of a protest when I made her collect my suitcase from the baggage claim. Little Miss Fitness didn't even miss a beat, lifting it off the carousel like it didn't weigh a damned thing.

How dare Steve hire her as an assistant without at least consulting with me? Just from looking at her tight little body, he was probably thinking with his little head. Balancing work life and home life? What a bunch of bull shit. And don't think it was lost on me that Katelyn was a brunette. He probably made her come get me, so that he could rub it in my face that he has a gorgeous twenty-something that's working for him, with my original hair color. I wonder what else they're doing? Well, he better damn well get ready to fire this bitch once I get home. I'm not having it at all.

We were on the road for about a half hour before she said something that brought me back to reality.

"I hope Kelli does well on her speech today. She was so nervous last night, rehearsing it over and over again."

What? She knows about my daughter? And not just my daughter, but what homework she has? And her fear of public speaking? Who is this woman? Why does she know all this? Was she at the house last night? She better not have been there when I called.

But wait. How come I didn't know that Kelli had to give a speech today? Did it slip my mind? Kelli has a tendency to mutter and mumble when she feels nervous and can feel everyone looking at her. I know, I had that same problem when I was her age. Why didn't she call me? I could have related with her about all those fears, and some of the things that I did to get over those jitters. Is this Katelyn chick trying to replace me as a mother as well? Oh I don't think so, bitch!

Perhaps Katelyn could read my thoughts because before I could say anything, she quickly added, "Oh, Mrs. Swanson! Don't get me wrong. I'm sure Kelli would have called you for help, but you're usually busy with meeting with clients and didn't want to interrupt your job and get you in trouble at work. She knows that jobs are important. Besides, I was more than happy to help."

I wanted to say that nothing is as important as my daughter, but then I thought back to what I was doing last night. Brad had scheduled a late dinner with a client, and of course, I had to be there since I was the eye candy. That cocktail dress he made me wear was for their benefit. Of course, the after dinner drinks to discuss 'business' lasted for the remainder of the evening. And then, I performed my "wifely duties" with Brad. Somehow all of these things became more important than my daughter. My children. My family. Things definitely need to change, and apparently, it started with me.

Speaking of change, we pulled into the drive a few moments after my husband. When he got out of the car, I didn't recognize him. He looked good, like he had been working out. His beer gut was gone. Even his choice of attire was more becoming. They fit properly, and the color selection was more in line with his skin tone and hair coloring. Had I been blind to all of these changes? Was I so lost in my own selfish little world that I couldn't see what was happening around me?

"Hey, Kim," Steve said with a pleasant smile. He even had his teeth whitened? What's going on? And why didn't he call me Kimber, like he usually does?

Being flabbergasted by all of these changes, it took me a moment to even speak. Finally, I said, "Wow, Steve. You look great."

Steve laughed a little, "Thank you, Kim." He twirled around in an exaggerated manner as if to show off his new physique. No, he was no adonis, but he was definitely in better shape than before.

"Yea, when he had that little scare, I decided it was time to change up his di-..."

I interrupted Katelyn with complete confusion, looking directly at Steve, "Little scare? What are you talking about?"

"Remember, back in June, several months ago? I had chest pains, and thought I was having a heart attack?"

Katelyn added, "But it was just a bad case of acid reflux."

How did I not remember this? What was I doing in June where I would have completely forgotten about something so severe? Oh, that's right. There was a stockholder meeting down in the Cayman Islands. Brad said it was important for me to attend, so that I could keep him in line with who all the stockholders were and the various projects that the company was working on. And that's where Brad suggested that I start sunbathing topless. Obviously not only for his benefit, but for the stakeholders that caught a glimpse as well. I'm such a horrible wife.

Steve must have seen the look on my face as he said, "It's ok, Kim. Seriously, it was just acid reflux. Nothing too severe. You had your stakeholder meeting. I wasn't going to have you fly back just for something as minor as acid reflux. Just think of the expense!"