0 comments/ 79943 views/ 9 favorites My Boss' Slut Ch. 8 By: E.Z.Riter The attached work of fiction is intended to be entertainment for adults in locations in which it is legal. If it is illegal in your location, DO NOT read. This is a copyrighted work. Reposting or any other use strictly prohibited without the express, written permission of the copyright holder, except may be posted as part of a review or posted to free-access, non-commercial archive sites. Copyright 1998 by E. Z. Riter. Please! Give me your comments. ***** Becky, my wife and my boss' slut, was telling me about her weekend. At his club, Mr. Williams, my boss, and six other men filled her with their cum after making a bet on which one would get her pregnant. More than that, nineteen other men fucked her all they wanted. Each of those nineteen had to use a condom so they would not interfere with the bet. Becky was very appreciative that they emptied all the condoms into her willing mouth so she could swallow all that man cum. Becky is a world class slut and sluts can never eat enough cum. Becky gave me a beautiful, innocent smile and resumed her story. "While I slept, I dreamed. I dreamed I delivered seven babies at once except they were not really babies. They were about four years old. They were all boys and each one looked exactly like his father, meaning none of them looked like you or me. The city gave me a big parade. I was naked, riding in a float covered with roses. Our seven little sons were standing up by me, waving to the crowd. Oh, Bobby, what a wonderful dream." She looked pensive as a tear floated down her cheek. I knew how much my Becky wanted children, children I could not give her since I was sterile. She smiled wanly, patted my hand, and continued with her story about her weekend. "Saturday morning, Horse awakened me. He untied me and removed my collar and restraints. I was a little stiff from being bound all night. In the bathroom, I removed the golden comb and swallowed down the cum that had been in my pussy, took a shower, washed my hair and, generally, cleaned up. I was starved, Bobby. All that fucking makes a slut hungry. Horse just grinned when I asked for something to eat and handed me a quart milk bottle. It was full of animal cum, courtesy of Mr. Simmons. That was it. They gave me nothing else to eat all weekend except four quarts of cum plus the cum from all those condoms and funnels." No wonder Becky had scarfed that pizza and beer as if she were starved. I wondered what the food value of cum was and if there was any way to find out. "Bobby, come to think of it, I was never really hungry either, not until I smelled the pizza. Then I was famished. Anyway, it was just Horse and me in the club. We talked and played gin rummy. I really do like Horse. If he were fifty years younger, I would be his mistress, his personal slut. Don't worry, Bobby. I'd never leave you for him or anyone else. My god, Bobby. You're so hard. You're hard all the time. I like that, Bobby. Want a quickie?" "Later. Tell me more." "Bobby, I think it's wonderful you like having a slut wife because, baby, your wife loves being a slut. Well, I drank the animal cum as Horse and I finished our gin rummy game. One of the men came in. He took me in the bedroom and fucked me. Nothing wild or unusual. Just a good hard fucking from a good man with a good hard cock. That's how the morning went. Men would arrive and fuck me. Some wanted to take their time. Others had a golf game or something and were in a hurry. Generally, it was fairly calm. I like that kind of fucking, too, you know." She laughed introspectively and squeezed my hand. "I like all kinds of fucking, don't I? About lunch, the other six fathers arrived. They went through the same routine as the prior night, tying me to the bed, using a funnel to fill me with seed, and then sealing my pussy with a golden comb through my pussy rings. In the afternoon, I played cards and visited and fucked whoever asked. About four Mr. Williams told me to take a nap. Bobby, how about a quickie? Please." I could tell by her voice and her face Becky wanted to orgasm. Mr. Williams, once again, had been completely correct about his slut, about my wife. Becky was addicted to sex and loved being that way. I loved her being that way. My sex life had never been better. "I'll eat you," I answered. She gave a little squeal and shoved me on my back. In a flash, her pierced pussy was pressed against my mouth. I do love eating Becky's pussy. This time I wrapped my arms around her thighs to hold her tightly against me. That reduced her movement and made it take longer before she came. Wow! She came over and over, squealing and bucking and begging me to do it harder. I love seeing my Becky cum. "God, that felt great," she said, as she lay against me, those massive tits crushed into me like soft pillows between us. I stroked her ass as she rested. Finally, she stretched and yawned, rolling over on her back. "You have got to hear the rest of my weekend. Mr. Williams awakened me about seven, told me to bathe and dress. What surprised me was he gave me a pair of panties to wear. After all, I had never worn panties around him. But, they were silk and sheer. 'What is going on?' I asked. He swatted my ass hard with his hand. 'Did Bob tell you not to open your mouth unless a man wants to shove a cock in it?' 'Yes, sir. I'm sorry,' I replied. And, I was sorry. I wanted to be the best slut ever for him and his friends. I wanted to do exactly what they wanted me to do. I followed the seven fathers to a van. In about ten minutes we arrived at a gentlemen's club, you know, one of those places were women dance topless. We all went inside. Bobby, there were women, all sorts of women, everywhere. One woman was on the runway dancing, wearing just a G-string. We sat and watched for a while. When we first went in, I was disappointed. Really, since I'd fucked all seven of them, I couldn't understand why they wanted to watch other women. But, in a while, I found out. You know, Bobby, we women are something special. Our bodies are so sensual, so, just so sexy. I was getting turned on watching the other women dance. I'm looking forward to having Trudy, Bobby. It was amateur night and they were having a dance contest. Bobby, I felt sorry for the other women. I mean, they were good looking and sexy but, none of them stood a chance of winning. Not with me there. Not with these tits and these legs. But you know it's more than just looks, don't you, Bobby? Well, don't you?" "Yes. It's more than just looks." Her eyes glowed with excitement and desire. "You bet it is! It's what is inside me, my desire, my need, my happiness at being a slut. That's what turns the men on. They just look at me and they can see it! They know I love getting fucked even more than they love fucking me. It drives them nuts! Mr. Williams talked to me. He told me to think of fucking and of being the best. That's what I was already thinking of. He also told me not to take off the panties because that would be against the law. Bobby, you want to fuck?" "No. I want to hear about the rest of your evening." "Bobby, it's a good thing you let me fuck other men, because I love to fuck. I don't think there is a man in the world who could keep up with me." "I agree. Talk!" "Do you understand what I'm saying? There'll always have to be a lot of men in my life, Bobby. A lot. I love to fuck and suck and swallow cum and feel their hard pricks in me." "I know, Becky. That's fine with me. A world class slut like you should have a lot of men. Now, finish your story." "When it was my turn to dance, Mr. Williams just lifted me to the runway. I looked around at the sea of faces. They were all staring at me, their eyes glazed. I could see their desire for me." She laughed in a wanton, evil way. "But all men want a slut like me. All of them. Oh, I loved dancing for them. I loved the way their faces looked as they stared at me. Bobby, they were dazed. They couldn't take their eyes off me. I loved their catcalls and the hands reaching for me. I loved the whistles and the applause. I loved knowing every cock in the place was at attention because of me. Me. Becky, the slut. I took my time, bumping and grinding to the music. I could feel the sweat pouring from me, feel the sex oozing from my pores. Slowly, I stripped. I kept the panties on just like Mr. Williams said to do. The men watching me could see my juices sliding down my leg, see the rings in my pussy. I heard them comment on the rings. Honestly, I think a guy in the second row orgasmed in his pants from seeing those rings in my pussy through my sheer panties. Really, the panties, soaked in my pussy juice and plastered to my bloated pussy lips, were sexier than if I wore nothing. It makes me so horny thinking about it, I need to fuck. Come on, stud. Fuck me! Please?" "Soon. Go ahead." She sighed unhappily, then smiled conspiratorially. "I won, of course. One thousand dollars. The crowd collected another thousand for me to dance a second time. I would have danced for free, but it was nice to be appreciated. I danced slowly, moving my hips and my legs, showing off my body. They loved my body, Bobby. Oh, I could get to where I really liked dancing like that. After my second dance, when the music stopped, the place was as quiet as a tomb. Everyone was staring at me. Their mouths hung open, their tongues snaked across dry lips. Even the owner and the bouncers stared at me as if they'd never seen anything as sexy, as slutty, as me. Mr. Williams reached up for me. I slid into his arms, wrapped my legs around his waist, and kissed him long and hard as I ground my body into his. I didn't plan to say what burst out of me. But I did. Really loudly I said, 'I want to get fucked right now!' Oh, my god, I thought the customers would tear the place down getting to me. They were wild animals, Bobby, like bulls in mating season and I was the heifer they wanted to breed. As the bouncers fought off the crowd, the seven fathers carried me out and shoved me in the van. After the van screeched away, Mr. Williams gave me a hard pinch on my tit. 'You'll be whipped for that,' he said. 'Okay, if you tie me down, too,' I said with a giggle. They all started to laugh, but when we got back to the club, they tied me over a poker table and whipped my ass. I loved it. I loved it even through my tears. Please, Bobby, fuck me. I need it so. Please! Oh, you stud, the best slut in the world is begging you to fuck her. Begging! Come on, Bobby. Fuck me!" I fucked her. I fucked her hard. What I really liked was that she started cumming almost as soon as I entered her. She came and came, multiple orgasms. When I felt like I might shoot, I pulled out and ate her, holding her arms down by her side, hearing her moans, her begging for me to continue. I ate her until she was exhausted and my jaw was sore. Then, I put my cock in her again and fucked her until I came. Her multiple orgasms did not stop until she felt my cum hit the walls of her pussy. When I rolled off her, she smiled at me, her face soft and relaxed, her eyes sex crazed and unfocused. "Feed me your cum. Take it from my pussy and let me lick it from your fingers. I love your cum, Bobby." I fed her my cum, just like she asked. She slurped and sucked, the noise adding to the joy of seeing my Becky greedily eat my cum, the cum I had left in her. Her eyes closed as she drifted to sleep. I lay by her and stroked her face and body, enjoying this delicious slut that was my wife. Yes, she was a slut, a super, world class slut. She was the slut of my boss, his father and twenty-three of his friends. But she was my slut, too, and she was my wife. After about half an hour, Becky yawned and stretched. She pulled my head down to kiss her and I tasted her and our juices together. "Have you been playing with me while I was asleep?" "Yes, I have." She gave me a slutty grin. "Well, I'm horny as hell and I want to be fucked again." "It's good for a slut to be horny. Makes you all the more ready when a man wants you." "Bobby, you sound just like Mr. Williams. In fact, you're a lot more like Mr. Williams. That's good. I like your boss. I like being his slut. He sure knows how to treat a slut like me. I like you being more like Mr. Williams, Bobby." She yawned and got off the bed. When she returned from the bathroom, she lay down by me again. She slipped up against me and gave me a soft kiss. Then, she continued her story. "You know, after they whipped me, when I was tied over the table, I begged them to fuck me. They just laughed and walked away. My god, I was horny! I wanted it so badly. But they ignored me. That made me feel so slutty. There I was, naked, freshly whipped and still tied down, begging them, anyone, to fuck me. I would have thought my desire would have ebbed as time passed, but it didn't. It seemed a year to me as I lay there begging to be fucked. Finally, they untied me and did what I had been begging for. They fucked me really well. Thank God, there was a lot of them because being tied down and whipped and left to beg really makes this slut horny. Super horny! That night, the seven fathers again put their cum in me using a funnel. It was the fourth time. Again, they sealed my pussy with the golden comb, tied me to the bed, and left me there for the night. Sunday morning was like Saturday. I read the newspaper, sitting naked in their club, quietly drinking my animal cum for breakfast. When a man arrived, I did anything he wanted. Then, Mr. Williams told me to clean the place up. I did. I scrubbed the floors, changed the sheets, everything. The seven fathers filled me again. They put the comb in place and brought me home." A sly grin crossed her face and a devilish look was in her eyes. "What haven't you told me?" I said. "Do you know what a chastity belt is?" "I've heard of them. I didn't know they really exist." "They do. Believe me." She wanted me to ask about it. She wanted me to ask so much she was squirming. Finally, I asked. She grinned evilly again. "Bobby, as I was tied down over the table, after I had been whipped and left there, after I had begged long and hard to be fucked, I got mad. I know I'm a slut, but a slut has feelings, too. And this slut needed to feel a cock in her. 'I'll find other men to fuck, a lot of men, if you wimps cannot keep me happy!' I screamed at them. No one said anything as they arose and started toward the table. I was afraid they really were going to whip me hard, but they released me. Mr. Martinez had this steel contraption in his hands. They held me motionless as he put it on me and locked it. Then, they walked away. I started to examine it. I freaked out when I discovered nothing could touch me between my legs. Certainly no cock was going to get in me. I couldn't even masturbate. I ran to Mr. Williams who ignored me even though I was kneeling by his side, begging him to talk to me. Finally, he looked down at me. 'Becky, you're my slut. You belong to your husband and to me. If I believe you are screwing someone other than me, Bobby, my father, or the other twenty-three club members, I'll lock you in that chastity belt as punishment. I might leave you in it for a month. Do you understand what that means?' 'Yes. Please, Mr. Williams. I'll be good! I'll be faithful to the twenty-six men you named! Never do that to me!' I sobbed. He released me, undoing the chastity belt and taking it off me. It felt so wonderfully free, so absolutely wonderfully alive, to be able to touch my own pussy again. Believe me, Bobby. I'll never fuck anyone unless Mr. Williams says I can. I couldn't stand to not orgasm, not even for a day." She giggled again and stroked between her legs. "I don't even know if I can stand to go eight hours without orgasming, Bobby." A chastity belt. Wow! That would be the perfect punishment for my Becky. No orgasm! Ideal punishment for a slut like her. She'd go insane in less than a week if she couldn't orgasm. I had to hand it to Mr. Williams. He really knew how to handle a slut like Becky. I realized how good it was for me to have someone like Mr. Williams to teach me how to handle a slut like Becky. She had changed since she became my boss' slut. I loved those changes. I was very happy. But I realized it took a special man to love, live with, and manage a slut. I was glad Mr. Williams was showing me how to do it. "Bobby, let's get something to eat. I'm hungry again," she said softly. After we ate, we curled up together in bed, her back to me, her head on my arm, a giant tit in my hand. We fell asleep that way. The next day, I didn't go to work. Mr. Williams had agreed I could have a day or two off to help Becky get her townhouse rented and established. We drove in her new convertible. On Wednesday morning, she started her new career as a professional slut, leaving the house at seven in the morning since her first fuck was at seven thirty. The first week or so, we were adjusting to the new routine. She'd come home from work tired and hungry but reasonably well satisfied. Sometimes she had only one man in the morning and another in the afternoon. Sometimes she had five or six. But she was Becky, the slut. She still wanted to fuck me each night. She always came like a women sexually possessed. Friday, Mr. Williams called me into his office. We actually talked about the company for a few minutes before he changed the subject. "Trudy told me Becky came on to her?" my boss said. "Yes, sir," I answered honestly. "Becky said a slut should have sex with women." "Becky's right. A slut should have sex with women as well as with men. She should have sex with anything - animal, mineral or vegetable - which will fit up her love tunnel. Trudy's a little put off by it, though. I want you to have both of them this Sunday. See that they make love." "Yes, Mr. Williams." "I'm taking Becky Friday night. My Dad has her Saturday morning. One of the club members is having a poker party Saturday night. There will be six guys there for her. Do you want Trudy for the weekend?" "Yes, sir. Please." "She'll be there at eight. That is all, Bob." Trudy and I had a lovely Friday night and Saturday. I was enjoying Trudy. She was a wonderful women. But, to be honest, Trudy was never going to a real slut, not a world class slut like my Becky. Trudy was perfectly happy fucking just Mr. Williams and me. Becky could never be happy with just two men. I knew that. We all knew that. Trudy and I talked about her having sex with Becky, too. I told Trudy Mr. Williams wanted her to have sex with Becky and so did I. She was very apprehensive. Becky got home about four Sunday morning, awakening us with her arrival. Becky was hyper. I asked her what was wrong. She turned and stared at Trudy, her eyes boring into my boss' secretary. "I'm looking forward to having my first lesbian sex with Trudy," she said, desire dripping from her voice and, if I knew my Becky, probably from her pussy, too. I couldn't see Becky's pussy though, to really tell if it was dripping. She had on a leather skirt which started right above her pubis, a leather halter top, and the "slut" charm dangling from her navel. She wore thigh high stockings, as always. The skirt was long enough to cover the stocking tops when she stood. It was an emerald green color. She really did look wonderful, wonderfully slutty, which is what she was. "I don't want to have sex with you, Becky. I'm not a slut like you are," Trudy said shyly. "Oh, Trudy, don't be ashamed by that. It's okay. Not every woman can be a world class slut like me. Not everyone is a professional golfer but a lot of people still like to hit the ball around. You can still have fun and not be a pro like me," Becky said reassuringly as she held Trudy's hands. My Boss' Slut Ch. 8 Becky put her arm around Trudy's shoulder to guide her back into the bedroom. Trudy was naked, having just gotten out of bed when Becky came home. I thought it was very sweet of Becky to be so kind and gentle to Trudy. Then I realized it was Becky's first time with another woman, too. But this was Becky's idea. Trudy watched as Becky undressed which took a second. Besides not wearing much, Becky was becoming very adept at dressing and undressing quickly. I sat in the straight chair I pulled beside the bed to watch. "You and Mr. Williams really want this, Bobby?" Trudy asked, looking at me. "Yes, we do," I replied. She nodded. Becky lay down beside her. Trudy gasped when Becky put her hand on Trudy's stomach. "What do we do?" Trudy asked plaintively. Surprise shot across Becky's face. "Well, I've never done this either, so I really don't know. I bet we figure it out as we go along," she said lovingly. They went very slowly. Becky initiated most everything at first. Trudy lay there, legs slightly spread, hands by her side, as Becky began to play with her. Becky would ask softly, "Do you like that?" or "how does this feel?" I watched Becky. She knew a woman's body, she loved sex, and she was being slow and gentle. Once Trudy shoved Becky's hands away. Becky slapped Trudy hard across the inside of her thigh and told her to never resist. Trudy sobbed and her resistance ceased. I realized Becky was a woman who happily knew what she wanted and was going to get it. She was very gentle but firm with Trudy. I learned some things about how to make love to a woman by watching my boss' slut, my wife, make love to my boss' secretary, my slut. Trudy started to respond as Becky kissed, nibbled, caressed and touched her. They were beautiful together. Two lovely women pleasuring each other. Then, Becky slipped down between Trudy's legs and started eating her pussy, licking her clit. Trudy went nuts, screaming as she orgasmed again and again. I knew everything was all right when Trudy recovered from her orgasms. "My turn to eat you," she told Becky, rolling Becky on her back. Judging from Becky's response, Trudy was very good at eating another woman. Of course, with Becky it is hard to tell. She orgasms so wildly at everything. They went to sleep in each other's arms. I turned out the light and crawled in with them, snuggling up to Becky's back. Becky whispered sleepily, "This slut sure love you, Bobby." Trudy whispered, "So do I." I called Mr. William Sunday morning. His wife answered. She had a lovely, feminine voice that made me wonder was she was like. She called him to the phone. "Hello, Mr. Williams." "Bob, how can I help you?" "Your two sluts loved making love to each other. I'm calling to invite you to a Sunday brunch. We can watch the two of them and then fuck them." "Sounds delightful. My wife is playing tennis at eleven. I'll be there shortly after she leaves." When Mr. Williams arrived, the two of them greeted him at the door stark naked. We decided to fuck them first, so we could rest as we watched them. That was Mr. William's idea. It was the first time I had fucked my wife while Mr. Williams was there except that once in his office when he whipped her before we both fucked her. I fucked Becky while he fucked Trudy. We did it that way because the girls flipped a coin and Becky lost. The two of them gave a delightful show for us. First they sixty-nined to suck up all the cum Mr. Williams and I left in them. Then, they used the two headed dildo Becky had bought. Mr. Williams and I were ready. This time I took Trudy. After the girls licked each other clean again, Mr. Williams took Trudy home. I looked at my Becky lying on the bed, legs splayed, cum and pussy juice and sweat and saliva covering her. Her big tits were moving gently up and down as she breathed. The rings in her pussy and navel glittered and shone. She was a beautiful, desirable woman. She was a true slut, my boss' slut. Most importantly, she was my wife. To be concluded . . . Please! Send me your comments! My Boss' Slut Ch. 9 The attached work of fiction is intended to be entertainment for adults in locations in which it is legal. If it is illegal in your location, DO NOT read. This is a copyrighted work. Reposting or any other use strictly prohibited without the express, written permission of the copyright holder, except may be posted as part of a review or posted to free-access, non-commercial archive sites. Copyright 1998 by E. Z. Riter. Please! Give me your comments. ***** Over the next three weeks, our lives were pretty much like any typical American family. I went to work each week day at the office where Mr. Williams was my boss. Becky went to her job in her townhouse as a professional slut where she'd fuck between two and six of the club members each day. Usually, Trudy had dinner with us. After dinner, the three of us visited and had sex. After Trudy went home, Becky and I cuddled in bed, falling asleep in each other's arms. I never imagined my sex life would be this good. I couldn't even believe that Becky was so hot because before she became my boss' slut, our sex life was mediocre. Not only did I have a world class slut, my wife, in my bed each night, I had Trudy, too. Trudy was sweet, as sweet as my darling Becky. She was more shy and not as good in bed but, she was still damn good. Trudy really surprised me in the way she opened up with Becky. The two of them enjoyed making love, as they called it. I enjoyed watching them, seeing their bodies, smelling them. I knew Trudy wanted no more than the three of us though. She made that very clear. For her, Mr. Williams, Becky and I were the limit. That was fine, too. Not everyone is a world class slut like my Becky. One night Becky was in the bathroom after dinner. Trudy and I were in the kitchen cleaning up when we heard an ear piercing shriek. Becky came running into the kitchen wild eyed. "Blue! Look! Blue!" She collapsed on the floor and began to sob. Trudy and I ran to her, still unaware of the cause of her anguish. "My home pregnancy test is blue! I'm pregnant! Pregnant, Bobby. Oh, god, I have waited so long." The three of us sobbed and held each other, our joy at Becky's pregnancy more than we could stand. The next day a test at the doctor confirmed it. Becky was pregnant. She was pregnant, a child growing in her womb. Of course, we did not know which of the seven men who gambled on her impregnation was the father or what race the baby would be but, we didn't care. Becky was pregnant. I was so thrilled for her, and so was Trudy. After Becky told my boss, Mr. Williams, of her joy, he scheduled a big party for that next Saturday afternoon at his club to celebrate Becky's pregnancy. Trudy and I went to the mall when Becky left in Mr. Williams limo. Becky was so happy she pranced down the sidewalk and flashed her shaved pussy and pierced pussy at Mr. Gleason before jumping in the car. Poor Mr. Gleason. Becky did tease him terribly, allowing him only an infrequent blow job to quench the flames she built in him. I just realized that was unfair to Becky. She wasn't a tease. She was so sexual and slutty that every man who saw her wanted her. That made me proud. Everyone wanted my wife but only Mr. Williams, the men who chose to give her to, and I had her. Becky was happy not only because she was pregnant. She was happy because her pregnancy meant she could fuck all twenty-five of the club members without them wearing condoms. She was very excited about that. "And without condoms. I'm pregnant so they can all splash their cum in me. Oh, Bobby, I do love cum in me," she giggled as she was dressing. About two months later, Trudy moved in with us. She was a great help to Becky during her pregnancy. Both Becky and I enjoyed sex with Trudy. The three of us slept in the big king-sized bed in our bedroom. She was a real member of our family. For the duration of Becky's pregnancy, our lives were normal. Until she started her ninth month, Becky went to work every day just like Trudy and I did. Becky delivered a beautiful, healthy baby boy. The timing showed the funnel and comb had done the trick. When I visited the hospital about three days after the baby was born, Becky was sitting up in bed nursing the baby. We had not named him yet. Her tits were even bigger than they had been and full of rich, thick milk which Mr. Williams, Trudy and I had already sampled. Becky had enough milk for us all. Becky was smiling up at me, happiness and sweetness radiating from her. I preferred she watch the baby. I would have hated it if that massive tit crushed him. "Bobby, I've decided on a name for him. I call going to name him Robert Edward Jones, Jr., after you." While I was honored my wife wanted another man's baby to have my name, I had other plans. "No, Becky. We're going to name him and the others after their fathers, whoever they may be." "Oh, Bobby. Are you sure?" "Yes." "I like that, Bobby. It's so slutty. We'll always think of the father when we call our child's name. But I want to name him now and we don't know his father yet." "Yes, we do. The DNA tests came back today." She jerked, which squeezed a breast, I mean tit, which forced a surge of milk down the baby, which made him choke. She patted his back lovingly and returned him to his meal. "Who is it?" she asked excitedly. "His father is Charles Williams." "Horse? Horse! Oh, Bobby, how wonderful. I was praying Horse would father the first one. Can we call the baby Charlie?" "No, Becky. Let's call him Colt." "Oh, Bobby. That's perfect. Colt. Little Colt, sired by Horse. Darling, little, baby, Colt." She lovingly stroked the man-child heartily nursing as her massive teat, her face with the radiance of a mother, the happy mother she was. She looked up at me. A sexy smile crossed her face. "If he's hung like his father, we'll have to call him Stallion when he's grown." I knew my Becky loved Charles Williams' big cock. I knew of the twenty-five men fucking her (twenty-six if you include me), Horse's cock was the biggest. That's why he was called Horse. Becky and Horse had a very special relationship that extended beyond sex. I think they loved each other. Becky glanced up with a devilish expression in her eye. "If he's hung like his father, I think his mother will have to introduce him to sex." I gasped. "Are you joking?" "No. Mothers need to teach and help their children, don't they? I'll introduce them all, boys and girls. Bobby, none of them could have a better teacher than I am. I mean, I'm a teacher and a slut. Who better to teach sex ed?" I couldn't tell if she was joking or not. The little glimmer in her eye made me believe she was teasing, but something about the way she said it made me think she was serious. I had years to think about that. Horse was so overjoyed at the baby being his, he wept. His son and my boss, Mr. Williams, seemed very happy, too. It occurred to me that Colt was my boss' brother, or half brother anyway. I wondered how he felt about Becky bringing his brother into the world rather than his son. If it bothered him, he never showed it. The next year, and the one after it, produced the same cycle. Becky would be fertilized by the men making the bet, six the second year, five the third, since the winner of the previous year's bet dropped out of the process. Becky would get pregnant. We all continued our work routines. The second child was Jade Li Jones, named by Mr. Li, who won the bet that year, after his grandmother, the clan matriarch who emigrated from China two generations ago. The third was Anna Maria Martinez Jones, named for two lovely Hispanic ladies, the grandmothers of Mr. Martinez, the child's father. After the winner was announced, Mr. Martinez arrived at the hospital with his wife, five children by her and our baby's two namesakes to bless and welcome the new arrival. No man ever had two such beautiful, happy, healthy and wonderful daughters as I did. And none had such a fine son as Colt. Colt had been born in June, Jade in late April, and, Maria in February, of three consecutive years. Becky was dropping babies every ten or eleven months. Although she was very happy and healthy, the deliveries and her profession tired her. Trudy quit working for Mr. Williams two months before Maria was born. She stayed home to care for the children, allowing Becky to continue her profession, and me to continue in mine. I'd received some nice promotions in the intervening years. My status and income were significantly higher. So was my work load. It had been a wonderful, idyllic life. Becky was eight months pregnant with the fourth child when a tragedy occurred, a tragedy which altered our lives significantly. I was at the office when the phone rang. It was Becky. She sounded hysterical. "Bobby! Bobby! I'm at the hospital. Oh, god, Bobby. Horse has had a heart attack!" I broke the news to Mr. Williams, my boss, and Horse's son. He rushed to the hospital as did I. Becky was in the CCU waiting room. Becky looked terrible and forlorn. Her makeup, always put on thickly since she was a slut, was running down her face. Her hair was a fright. She had been wearing a bra since Colt was born, a nursing bra, since she had been constantly nursing one child or another for almost four years. It was her intention to nurse each child for two years, so she was still nursing Jade and Maria. Truthfully, she still took Colt to her breasts sometimes, letting the boy share in her bounty. Her milk laden breasts were a EEE. She was without that bra now. Her breasts were high and firm and huge. Milk was pouring from her. The milk had soaked her blouse which was only a piece of see through cotton. It was running down to her micro-mini-skirt, which was askew. "Oh, Bobby," she wailed when she saw me. She threw her arms around me and collapsed. I helped her to a seat just as Mr. Williams came in. She was sobbing but trying to hold it in. She was so distraught she couldn't help the tears. We all were distraught. A young doctor walked out of the unit toward us. "Are you the family of Charles Williams?" "Yes. I'm his son," my boss replied. The doctor had not looked at any of us except Becky. He could not pull his eyes away from those tits of hers. In fact, every man in the waiting room and a good part of the floor staff has taken up positions to stare at Becky. She was oblivious to them which told me how distraught she really was. My Becky, being a true slut, loved to have men stare at her. If she realized they were looking, she would be showing off herself to them. "Was anyone with him when the heart attack occurred?" the doctor asked. Becky nodded as she wiped her tear stained face with a cloth. "What was he doing?" "We were fucking," Becky sobbed in a loud voice. The waiting room got extremely quiet. I could see men staring at us, mouths open and eyes wide. "You were having sex? I find that hard to believe. Mr. Williams is eighty-four," the doctor said. Becky jumped up, her little fists clenched, arms rigid by her side. She screamed in the doctor's face. "That eighty-four-year-old man is the father of my three-year-old son. He has a cock like a baseball bat. I mean size and hardness. And, he has the heart of a gentle lion. Don't you demean him in my presence!" Becky collapsed to the seat again, sobbing audibly. A murmur of voices floated over the waiting room, probably discussions of Becky's revelation. The doctor was shaken. "I'm sorry, Miss . . . " the doctor sputtered. "Mrs. Jones. Becky Jones. I'm Bob Jones, her husband," I interrupted. The doctor looked stunned. The murmurs started again. "Mrs. Jones. I meant nothing derogatory. Can you tell me, did he give any indication of the attack? Did he say anything that might help us?" "Oh, oh. Poor Horse. He said real loudly 'Oh, God. I'm coming.' I though he was having an orgasm. I didn't know he meant he was going to Heaven." Becky broke down again, sobbing pitifully. Everyone who had heard her was motionless and speechless. "How is my father?" Mr. Williams intervened. "Touch and go," the doctor replied. "I'll keep you informed." The doctor turned to leave, stopped and turned back, staring at Becky again. Mr. Williams went to his side. "If he was having sex with her, I'm surprised your father has lived this long. She looks like she's woman enough to kill any man." My boss replied, "I feel that way every time I fuck her." The doctor's mouth flew open as he stared at my boss. He shivered. I could see his pants were tented. He was mumbling to himself as he disappeared back into CCU. Over the next thirty minutes, other people arrived. Trudy came. It took her some time to find a baby sitter. Christina Williams. Mr. Williams wife, and Mrs. Simpson, Mr. Williams sister, arrived together. Christina was a tall, elegant, classy looking women. She was very beautiful and well shaped. I wondered how she was in bed. If Christina knew about Becky or Trudy, it didn't show. She evidenced no hostility at all to my wife and my girlfriend, both of whom were her husband's sluts. Then, the young doctor came out. He looked tired and drawn. Walking directly to Becky, he said, "Mrs. Jones, Mr. Williams is asking for you." He led Becky into the CCU. The rest of us followed. Horse lay dying, tubes and electrical contacts attached to every part of his body. His eyes were closed. Mr. Williams pushed through the crowd to stand by his father's head. His sister was right with him. Becky stood where Horse could see her. Horse's eyes fluttered and he looked at us. Mr. Williams leaned his ear to his father's mouth as the old man tried to speak. As Mr. Williams turned to speak to Becky, he stood back and moved his sister out of the way. "Take off your blouse, Becky. He wants to see your tits." Becky's tears started flowing again as she quickly undid the two buttons of her blouse which were attached. She ripped off the blouse and dropped it to the floor. A male nurse groaned. A female nurse whimpered. Becky took Horse's hand and held it to her milk filled breast, both her hands over his. "Please don't die. I love you. I love you, Horse. Don't leave me," she sobbed. Horse's hand squeezed and milk shot everywhere, rich and thick and full of life. The milk was still flowing down his fist clenched on her breast when the heart monitor alarm sounded. Doctors and nurses rushed to assist Horse. Becky fell to the floor and shrieked. "Help me, Bobby. My baby's coming," she screamed. One spirit departs. Another spirit arrives. Fortunately, we were in a hospital. The baby was a month premature and came very quickly. The CCU room doctors decided to deliver there. Horse, dead now, was on the other side of a room separator. I was by Becky's side as the baby entered this world. The doctor and nurses assisting looked shocked and fearful, as if expecting a confrontation. They held the baby up so I could see. I held my wife's hand as I looked down at her face. We had already decided on the children's names depending on who the father was. "A very healthy, hearty Leroy Percival Jones has entered the world," I said. "Leroy Percival? Oh, Bobby. I got my black baby. I got my rainbow." Her eyes closed. The doctor gave her medication and she rested. I should say the father's name was Leroy Percival Jones. We didn't think we should use his last name, as we had with the other fathers, because that would make our baby Leroy Percival Jones Jones. One Jones was enough for any baby. The time following was very difficult for my Becky. She was physically exhausted. She was severely depressed. As happy as she was with her children and with Trudy and me, the loss of Horse weighed heavily on her. I think a large part of it was the way he died, having sex with her. The doctor had not given her antidepression medication because she was nursing. She sat and looked out the window most of the day. She refused sex and affection. She ate only because Trudy and I insisted it was necessary to have healthy milk for the babies. Trudy was a Godsend, caring for Becky and the four babies with tenderness and joy. She was very much a part of our family and Becky and I both loved her as she loved us. Becky loved Horse. She loved him deeply and honestly. That didn't bother me. I knew she loved me, too. Becky was a slut, but she had a big heart. It was a heart big enough to love more than one man. Or, more than two or three. I hired a maid to help at the house. Trudy was busy with four children under the age of four and Becky did little except nurse and rest. A month after that day Roy, as we called our son, was born, Mr. and Mrs. Williams and Horse Williams' lawyer came to the house. They had asked us to join them downtown, but Becky wasn't up to it. Graciously, they agreed to come to our house where we all sat in the living room. "Mrs. Jones," the lawyer said in measured and well-modulated tones. "Mr. Charles Williams thought highly of you. He put you in his will." "I don't want to be in his will," she answered in a monotone as she stared blankly out the window. "I want to be in his bed with him between my legs. I want to hear his breathing as he lays on me. I want his hands on me and his cock in me. That's what I want." The lawyer sputtered and his face turned red from Becky's statement. I saw a tear in Mr. Williams eye. The lawyer composed himself and continued, "he left you quite a sum of money." Becky stared at him, no emotion on her face, her eyes dead. "Is this about money? Money? I don't want to hear it." Laboriously, Becky stood. She kissed me softly on the lips. As she walked toward the door, she stopped by Mr. Williams' chair. She kissed him softly on the lips, as she had kissed me, and exited the room. The lawyer and I were watching Christine Williams. She showed no emotion from Becky kissing her husband. Neither of the Williams seemed a bit concerned about Horse leaving part of his wealth to Becky's darling children. My children, too. The lawyer turned to me. "Actually, Mr. Jones, Mr. Williams left the money in trust for your wife. You are the trustee so you'll manage it and distribute the income for her needs. I understand she bore Mr. Williams a child." "Yes," I replied. "He fathered Colt, our son. Colt is the first of our four children." "Mr. Williams fathered only the one boy?" the lawyer asked. "Yes. All four of them have different fathers," I said. He looked aghast. "Amazing. To continue, Mr. Williams is, I mean, was, an unusual man. The trust document provides after your death and that of Mrs. Jones, the trust proceeds will be distributed to all your children equally, no matter who the father." I smiled. Horse loved Becky as she loved him. He knew what was in her heart, her love for all her children. He let it guide his making of his will. I didn't reply to the lawyer who glared at me impatiently. "This is a lot of money. Mr. Jones, we are talking about seven million dollars in blue-chip stocks and bonds," he said. That was more money than Becky or I ever imagined. I knew she would gladly give it all up to have Horse back. Becky was that way. Sweet, loving. She was as loving as she was slutty, and, that's saying a lot. When the business was over, the lawyer left but, Mr. and Mrs. Williams stayed. It was she who broke the silence. "Mr. Jones, can I speak with Becky, and with Trudy?" "Certainly," I replied, wondering if an explosion of cosmic proportions was imminent. However, she seemed very calm and controlled. They were in the nursery. Becky was nursing Roy. Trudy was feeding Jade pablum since they were starting to wean her. Maria was sound asleep in her crib. She was still nursing and I wondered if she had been fed already. We had passed Colt in the living room where he was engrossed in a children's show on TV. My Boss' Slut Ch. 9 As always when she nursed, Becky was naked except for the diaper used as a wiping cloth which was across her shoulder. Becky and Trudy looked up at Mrs. Williams. For a second, they both look frightened and gave Mr. Williams and me a questioning look. Since Mr. Williams appeared unconcerned, so was I. He had been right about a lot of things so far. I suspected he knew his wife. "May I sit down?" Mrs. Williams asked. Becky nodded. Gracefully, she sat. As we all waited for her to speak, I saw the loving and gentle expression on her face as she looked at Becky. "I know all about you, Becky. I know about you being my husband's slut. I know about the club and the bet and the babies. I know about you, too, Trudy." She slowly turned to look at her husband. "And I know about the blonde bimbo in accounting, Arthur." Mr. Williams blushed and shifted from foot to foot nervously. "I said nothing for two reasons. My husband is a stud, which is the names males gave themselves when they call women sluts for the identical behavior. Like sluts, studs need plenty of sex and they need variety. I'm happy my husband is sexually active. I know he keeps me satisfied." Mrs. Williams looked away, her eyes sad, seeing some sight in her mind. "More than that, we lost a child." Becky sobbed audibly. Trudy whispered "I'm sorry." "He died three years before Arthur met you, Becky. I was hoping you could bear him another son. I was very disappointed he has not fathered any of your four." Becky looked up at Arthur Williams, my boss. She had emotion in her face for the first time in a long time. That emotion was sweetness and caring and, probably, love. "Why didn't you tell me? You could have fathered them all," she said softly. He shifted feet again and mumbled as his face turned crimson. He didn't respond before Christine continued. "Will you please have another and let Arthur father it?" Becky was visibly pained. Roy whimpered at her breast as she shifted position. "I'm so sorry. I truly am. But I have had enough," she said sadly. "I...." Trudy said. She was shaking. A tear rolled down her cheek. "Oh, sweet Trudy," Becky said. "I've been so selfish in not thinking of you. You must want a baby of your own and you've never said a word. Why don't you have Mr. Williams' child?" "I'd like that very much," Trudy whispered. She looked at me, seeking my approval and permission. "Do you mind?" "Trudy, I love the idea," I replied. "I like the idea, too. Can we come visit, come see you delightful women and your wonderful children?" Christine asked. "Any time, Christine. Any time," Becky replied. It hadn't occurred to me that Trudy wanted to have a child. I kicked myself for not thinking of it. All women want children. And if Trudy planned to spend her life with us, I wasn't going to give her a child because I was sterile. That's what started Becky and me down this path. Five months later, I was sick with worry about Becky. I had hoped Trudy's pregnancy and Christine Williams visiting would have helped pull her out of her blue funk. But it did not. Trudy was happy, bubbling, floating, her belly extended with Mr. Williams child. It was a boy child according to the sonagrams. We had already decided on a name: Robert Arthur Jones. But Becky was still depressed. She only picked at her food. She refused to laugh, or dance, or party, or even go to the mall shopping. All she did was nurse, care for her children and look out the window. She slept in the nursery with the children. She refused medication since she was nursing. She had not had sex since that time with Horse, the time when he had his heart attack, which was now six months ago. When you think about it, for a woman who loved sex as much as Becky to go six months without it indicated something was terribly wrong. I love my wife, my slut wife. All I wanted when she first became my boss' slut was for her to have children and be happy. She had four children: two boys, two girls; four ethnic groups; all healthy and happy and wonderful. All I wanted now was for her to be happy again. I wanted my wild, giggly, happy, hot, sexy, slutty Becky back. It was my idea, not Mr. Williams or anyone elses. I knew my Becky better than anyone. I knew what I had to do. I talked to my boss and he agreed. We got it all set up for a Friday evening. Becky was sitting in her rocker in the nursery when I entered. Listlessly, she followed me into the bedroom. "I love you, Becky," I said, holding her. "I love you, too," she replied, her voice emotionless. I slipped her arms behind her and handcuffed them together before she realized what was happening. "Bobby! No! Let me go!" she barked. I shoved a gag in her mouth eliminating further conversation from her. Mr. Williams came in just as Becky kicked me trying to get away. He held her as I tied her legs together. We carried her to the car kicking and twisting. At Mr. Williams' club, the other fathers were gathered: Basil Li, Jose Martinez and Lee Jones. Becky fought us every inch of the way as we carried her into the club house and put her on the big bed in the bedroom where she had fucked all the club members at one time or another. She fought as we tied her wrists to the headboard. She kicked as we slipped a rope around each ankle and bound it to her thigh, locking her legs in frog fashion. "Let me go!" she screamed as I ungagged her. I did something I had never done to my Becky. I slapped her. Startled, she stared at me. "Becky, you're a slut, a world class, big titted, hard fucking, baby dropping slut. Sluts needs to be fucked. We're going to fuck you long and hard and constantly until you realize that is what makes you happy." "No, Bobby. Please! No! Don't you understand? Someone will die! Don't do this!" Mr. Williams turned her head to look at him. "Becky, every man dreams of dying while fucking a woman like you, of dying while his chest crushes your tits and his cock fills your pussy. We all want to die while fucking a beautiful, slutty woman who loves us. It's the final male fantasy. You gave him that fantasy, Becky. He died a very happy and satisfied man." "Really? You really think so?" "Yes. We think so," Mr. Martinez said. "Most definitely," Mr. Li replied. As I crawled between her legs, her lower lip quivered and a tear rolled down her cheek. "Don't die on me, Bobby," she whispered. We went twice each, ten long and hard fuckings. I know she didn't orgasm with me the first time. I don't think she orgasmed until Basil took his second turn, which was her eighth fucking of the evening. By then, she was moaning and twisting and covered in sweat. We untied her and left her on the bed. She was either unconscious or asleep. A hour later, all the other club members had assembled. They were visiting or playing cards or shooting pool, waiting to see what happened with Becky. They all cared about their club slut. The bedroom door opened. Shyly, slowly, Becky, naked and with dried cum on her legs, came to me, folding her arms around me. Finally, she looked up at me. "You do know what is best for your wife, for your slut, don't you?" "Yes." "Oh, my darling Bobby, you make me feel so loved." She kissed me softly. "Can I have one more child, Bobby?" "Of course. If you want to." "I do. Lets go potluck." "All right," I laughed. I knew exactly what she meant. She looked at all the men standing around watching her. She knew they were her friends, her lovers, the fathers of her children. She squeezed my hand before walking toward the poker table. A man extended his hand to help her stand on the table top. She looked at them all, a smile on her face. "I want one more baby," she said. "I'm unprotected. Let's go potluck and see who the winner is. Everybody game?" A roar of approval came from them. She teared up again, bathing her face and those massive tits with her tears. "I love all of you," she said. "I love you" came floating back to her from them. She gave a wide, happy, super slutty, grin. "Or maybe I just love your cocks. Pull those cocks out, lovers. Becky the slut is back and she's horny as hell!" The End Please! Give me your comments.