Marks dilemma

Mark lay flat on his back, staring at the ceiling in the dark. His cock still twitched faintly from Emma’s ruthless handjob earlier, but his stomach was in knots. Her voice echoed in his head, that filthy posh lilt, recounting Zack bending her over, using her, filling her.

Mark had cum hard in her hand, humiliated and shaking, but now shame sat heavy in his chest.

She rolled over, pressed a lazy kiss to his shoulder. “From now on,” she murmured, “you don’t touch yourself. Not ever. If you want release, you’ll get it from me. And only if I say so. Unless…” She trailed off, biting his earlobe. “Unless I’m busy. With Zack.”

Mark’s throat went dry. He didn’t answer.

Emma laughed softly and fell asleep, leaving him stiff, restless, and trapped in his own head.

The next day.

Mark was sat at his desk buried in paperwork when the intercom buzzed. “Zack wants to see you. Now.”

He froze. His stomach sank. Slowly, he stood, straightened his tie, and walked the long corridor to the corner office.

Zack’s door was wide open. Mark stepped inside.

On the vast mahogany desk, spread like a fan, were Emma’s photos. Every filthy pose. Every obscene angle. Her tits pushed together, her cunt spread open with her manicured fingers, her eyes daring the camera.

Zack leaned back in his chair, broad shoulders filling his suit, tie loosened. He grinned up at Mark. “Gotta hand it to you, man,” he said, voice rich and crude. “Your wife’s a fucking knockout. Those tits? Christ. Perfect handfuls. Heavy, soft, I bet they smother like a dream. And that pussy…” He tapped one of the photos with a thick finger. “Clean. Smooth. Soaked. She was made to ride cock.”

Mark swallowed hard. His cheeks burned.

Before he could speak, the door opened again. He turned and his heart stopped.

Emma.

She walked in like she belonged there, hair swept back, lips red, that little black dress clinging to her tall frame. Her blue eyes lit up at the sight of Zack, and her smile was wicked.

“I told her to come,” Zack said, not taking his eyes off her.

Emma didn’t wait for instruction. She slid the straps of her dress off her shoulders and threw the dress onto a chair

Mark’s breath caught.

She stood naked in the centre of the office, almost six feet of elegant blonde maturity. Her breasts were magnificent, full, heavy, still defying age, soft but high enough to sway when she moved. Her nipples were flushed pink, tight against the cool air. Her stomach bore the faintest softness of childbirth, her hips wide, lush, made for gripping. Her mound was bare, shaven smooth, lips already glistening with arousal.

“Jesus Christ,” Zack growled, pushing his chair back. “Look at you. Tall, posh, dripping wet before I’ve even touched you.”

Emma giggled, cheeks flushed, and stepped closer. “For you, Zack? Always.”

Mark’s chest tightened. He was rooted to the spot, trapped between horror and aching, shameful arousal.

Marks world exploded he watched as Zack stood, towering over Emma, and dragged her into a kiss so deep it looked like he might swallow her whole. His big hands claimed her tits, kneading, squeezing, hefting their weight. He slapped one, watched it sway, then latched his mouth onto her nipple, biting until she squealed.

Mark couldn’t look away. His cock strained in his trousers, trapped, throbbing.

Zack shoved her onto the desk, scattering her photos. Emma lay back, her pale thighs spread wide, pink cunt glistening under the office lights. She looked at Mark directly, posh accent sharp with glee. “Watch, darling. Watch your boss fuck me.”

Zack unzipped his fly. Mark’s stomach dropped.

The cock he pulled free was monstrous. Thick. Veined. Twice the length and girth of Mark’s own. Emma gasped audibly just seeing it.

“Oh, Zack…” she moaned, running her tongue across her lips. “Please. Please give it to me.”

And he did.

He lined up, shoved forward, and split her open in one brutal thrust. Emma screamed, nails clawing at the desk, her tits bouncing violently with the impact.

Mark flinched. His cock jerked in his pants, humiliated and raging with arousal all at once. He couldn’t stop staring at the way Zack’s cock stretched Emma wide, at how she arched her back and begged for more.

“Fuck,” Zack growled, pounding into her, the desk creaking. “This pussy was wasted on you, Mark. She was made for me. You feel that, sweetheart? How deep I am?”

Emma cried out, voice breaking into filthy delight. “Yes! Oh god, yes! It’s so big, you’re splitting me, harder, Zack, please, harder—!”

Her tits slapped against her chest with every thrust, pink nipples glistening with his spit. Her long legs wrapped around his waist, heels digging into his back as she writhed and moaned, completely lost to him.

Mark stood there, clothed, fists clenched, unable to touch himself, cock straining painfully as he compared himself to Zack. His boss’s cock was nearly double his own, thick and brutal, battering Emma’s insides as she begged for more.

Zack grunted, sweat slicking his chest. He grabbed Emma’s hair, yanked her head back, and came with a roar, pumping load after load into her stretched cunt. Emma screamed his name, arching, tits quivering as she climaxed hard beneath him.

Mark nearly collapsed. His vision swam with shame, rage, and unbearable lust.

When it was over, Zack pulled out, tucking himself back into his trousers with a smug grin. Emma lay sprawled across the desk, flushed, hair a mess, cum leaking down her thighs, smiling like she’d found heaven.

Zack smirked at Mark. “You can go now.”

Mark stumbled out of the office, heart hammering, cock aching, head filled with the sight of his wife, his Emma, being split open by the man who controlled his career.