Mrs Jekyll and Mrs Hyde

I’ve been having sex with my boss for the past year. Some years ago I would have been disgusted with myself. Sex was kept within the confines of the home with a husband I adored. But then, some years ago, I never had a family and my life was quite different.

When we were newly married our sex life was as vibrant as when we’d first met and it stayed that way until I had my first child who was quickly followed by a second. Kids change everything. They certainly changed our marriage. We were besotted with them. They demanded our full attention and as most parents quickly realise, we had little time for each other. My husband and I decided that it would be best if I stayed at home to look after the children until they were old enough to go to school. During the five years I was at home with them our marriage settled into a comfortable and secure routine. Sex, which had been such an important part of our relationship, was eventually relegated to a fortnightly fumble, usually fuelled by alcohol. It was often performed out of a sense of duty, of obligation, rather than driven by desire.

When the kids started school I was lucky enough to pick up my old job. An employee was on maternity leave and they needed a fill in. I returned to work on a part time basis for five hours a day, five days a week, which was ideal. I didn’t have to rush to get myself ready for work and I had time to take the kids to and from school.

Although the years at home had sapped my confidence I was looking forward to getting back to the workplace. I’d kept myself up to date with developments by taking some evening classes in I.T.  Although I knew I’d be able to handle the work I still felt daunted by the thought of actually starting. My husband was supportive: ‘You’ll be fine love, you used to be able to do this sort of thing with your eyes closed.’

His encouragement didn’t re assure me.

That first day was so nerve racking. I felt shy and a little intimidated by everything, everyone seemed so much more confident than me.

The boss came in to see me that first morning. I’d forgotten how much I’d fancied him. When I’d left he was a newly married manager working for his father, since then his father had retired and he’d taken over the family business. He had a real air of authority about him. He was dressed very smartly in a dark suit, a white shirt and a striped, matt silk tie and I couldn’t help making a comparison with the way my husband usually dressed at home, in jeans and a tee shirt.

‘Nice to see you back Mrs Wilson.’

‘Thank you.’

‘How are you finding it?’

‘Oh, it’s okay, I’m getting there, slowly.’

‘Well,’ he smiled, ‘remember, don’t be afraid to ask, we’re all here to help you, even me,’ and he winked at me and left the room.

I got home that first day on a high, I actually felt quite randy. But by the time I’d got the kids home, made tea and put some washing on I was knackered. When my husband came home I was all ready to tell him about my day but he just flopped into an armchair, loosened his tie and told me how tired he was and what a crap afternoon it’d been. By the time he’d bathed the kids and we’d got them to bed we were both absolutely exhausted.

I had hoped work would improve things at home, but it didn’t. If anything we were even more knackered and never had any time for each other. At work on the other hand, as I re discovered my skills and my confidence returned, I found that my energy levels were at their highest. I suppose this made sense. No longer having to channel energy into the kids and the kitchen sink, I found my sexual urges re awakening. I had more time to think, to be myself, it felt as if I was awakening from hibernation.

And the boss, he was so attractive. He’d often pop into the office for a few minutes to chat to me and the other two girls. I felt my heart quicken whenever he came in, a feeling I’d not experienced for years. I’d listen to him talking to other employees. He was confident, witty and articulate. He was full of energy, vibrant and masculine. As I continued to work there I found his attraction growing. He became sexier and sexier and I began to fantasise about him fucking me. Fucking me in the office, fucking me on the factory floor in front of work colleagues, taking me out to lunch and fucking me in his expensive car.

After a couple of weeks working there I found myself alone in the office one lunchtime. One of the girls had taken the day off, the other was sick. The boss poked his head around the door. ‘All alone, Mrs Wilson?’

I laughed. ‘You can call me Miranda.’

He smiled. ‘Okay, Miranda.’ He disappeared and returned carrying a tray which held two mugs and a couple of paper bags. He put the tray on my desk and handed me one of the paper bags. It contained a sandwich. ‘I’ve got no appointments so I thought I’d have lunch with you and the girls, but as they’re not here it’ll just have to be you.’

‘Don’t sound so disappointed,’ I said, trying to look offended.

He smiled. ‘No, I’m quite pleased, we haven’t really had the opportunity to chat since you started.’

I picked up a mug of tea from the tray, said ‘thank you’ and took a sip.

‘Tell me,’ he said, ‘how do you find being back at work after all this time, and having to cope with a family as well?’

‘I’m really enjoying it.’

‘My wife’s in the same position as you. We’ve got a young family and she’s knackered most of the time. It can put a strain on things, can’t it?’

I didn’t really want to talk about family life, I was enjoying the intimacy of a shared lunch, albeit a sandwich and a cup of tea. It had been a long time since I’d been able to enjoy the company of a man without the threat of kids intruding. ‘Well, it’s very tiring juggling a family and work, you really forget who you are a lot of the time.’

‘Well, if you don’t mind me saying, you look absolutely terrific.’

‘Thank you, you don’t look so bad yourself!’ We continued chatting but the lunch was cut short when his mobile phone went off and he had to go and sort out a work problem.

‘I really enjoyed that,’ he said, as he stood up, ‘perhaps we can do it again some time?’

‘I’d love to.’ I was disappointed. I was aware that I’d been flirting during the lunch and I was enjoying myself, I was beginning to feel like the old me.

That evening I made a determined effort, got the kids to bed early and opened a bottle of wine which my husband finished off over dinner. At about nine o’clock we snuggled up on the sofa and I began to stroke his chest. It wasn’t long before I moved my hand down to his thigh and softly caressed it before unzipping his trousers and releasing his cock. It was thick with arousal and I took hold of it, curling my fingers around the top of his shaft and gently stroked it’s head with the pad of my thumb. As he groaned I whispered into his ear, ‘darling, I really need to be fucked.’

‘So, do I,’ he groaned and I giggled.

I released his cock.‘Why don’t you go upstairs and I’ll be up in a minute.’

He left the room and I went up to a spare bedroom where I kept most of my clothes. I had wanted to surprise him and had intended to put on a basque, stockings and heels but I felt so randy I just wanted to be fucked. I put on a chiffon negligee and sachayed into the bedroom where I found him … asleep! The wine had obviously had some effect. I tried to rouse him but he wouldn’t play and I gave up feeling a little resentful and a little silly.

It was the next morning, whilst getting ready for work that the idea hit me. Still feeling a little resentful, my mind was alternatively wrestling with two images. One was of my husband and the other of my boss. ‘Why not?’ I thought to myself. If I couldn’t have sex at home, then why not at work? I needed to be loved both emotionally and physically. I got the former from my husband at home, why not get the latter from my boss at work? The thought of seducing the boss gave me an incredible thrill. I looked at myself in the mirror. ‘Damn,’ I thought, ‘I’m still an attractive women and I deserve to have a decent sex life.’ I got half ready, doing my hair and make up, dropped the kids off at school then rushed back home to finish getting dressed.I  went back into the spare room and selected some sexy clothing. I put on black stockings and suspenders and a black lace bra with matching panties. These were covered with a pencil skirt and a rather demure looking blouse.  I took care to leave a couple of top buttons on the blouse undone, just enough to attract the boss’s attention. I examined myself in the wardrobe mirror ‘Why the hell not?’ I told myself.

About mid morning the opportunity arose to go into the boss’s office. I offered to make the girls a coffee. ‘I’ll see if the boss wants one,’ I said, thoughtfully and knocked gently on his door and then entered. He was on the phone. He smiled and waved me in. Having caught his attention I strutted up to his desk, walked around it and positioned myself behind him. I bent down, my breast innocently touching his shoulder and whispered in his ear, ‘Would you like a coffee?’ My lips almost touched his ear, my breath caressed it. He looked sideways and nodded and I saw his eyes fix on the open collar of my shirt where the black lacy strap of my bra could be seen restraining a full breast. Having fully caught his attention I leaned across, my breast now firmer on his shoulder, and picked up his cup. I left the office, feeling his eyes on me and added a subtle swing to my gait.

When I returned, he was off the phone and his eyes fixed on me. I leant across the desk and put the coffee in front of him. Whilst out of the office I’d undone another button on my shirt and as I bent I knew his eyes would be drawn to my breasts, an ample cleavage now on display. When I stood up he said, ‘You look really smart today, I love the outfit.’

I gave him a big smile. ‘Why thank you.’ I walked around to the side of his desk and stood by his side, with my hands on my hips. ‘What exactly do you like about it?’

He swivelled round in his chair and faced me. Putting his hands behind his head, he looked me up and down and said, ‘I like the cut, the way it fits you so well.’

‘What about the texture?’

He reached out and ran his hand up the side of my thigh, faltering as he felt the bump caused by my suspender. ‘You’re wearing stockings?’

‘Of course, stockings are so much sexier, don’t you think?’

His hand continued to caress my thigh, but there was a look of uncertainty in his eyes.

‘You know, you really are gorgeous, but I wouldn’t think of taking advantage of you at work.’

‘Why not? Where else would you take advantage of me? From what you’ve told me I suspect your wife is too tired to do anything at home, I know my husband is, don’t you think work provides the perfect solution?’ As I’d said this I’d put my hand on top of his and began stroking it. He was still stroking my thigh, paying particular attention to the area around my suspender.  Then he stopped, hesitated briefly, and then stood up. He put his arms around me, placed both hands on my bottom and pulled me toward him. ‘You really are gorgeous,’ he repeated.  I put my hands around his neck and reached up to kiss him. He bent his head down and I felt his mouth, soft and warm, covering mine and then his tongue, smooth and sensual, filled my mouth and I let myself relax into him, enjoying the pressure of his hands on my bottom as they pulled me into the hardness between his legs. My work colleagues were only feet away in the next office and could have walked in at any moment. This, plus the fact that my boss seemed to have lost his cool control, added to my own arousal.  By now he’d worked my skirt up around my waist and his hands were caressing and kneading the cheeks of my bottom with a sort of frenzied greed. I pushed him away and did something that surprised me, that the demure, homely me would never have contemplated. I sauntered over to a chair, unzipping and dropping my skirt as I did so and then bent down, placed my hands on either side of the seat of the chair, raised my bottom in the air and arched my back. He didn’t need any verbal coaxing. I felt his hands on my bottom which he briefly caressed. I looked over my shoulder to see him fumbling with his trousers. He’d unzipped them and his hand was buried inside his pants trying to release his cock.

’God almighty,’ he moaned, ‘I’m so hard, it’s stuck!’

I let him fumble, excited by his frustration. I turned back to face the door, further excited by the anticipation of his cock filling me and the thought of someone coming in and discovering us. I waited, expectantly. Then I felt one hand on my hip and another between my legs, easing my panties aside. The head of his cock entered me and I moaned as he began to fuck me, his cock squeezing further in with each stroke. After several thrusts I began to push myself back onto him, pressing my bottom into the soft but rough material of his trousers, enjoying the texture as I wriggled against him. His strokes became faster and fiercer and it wasn’t long before I felt a shuddering thrill run through me and my legs nearly buckled. As he came his fingers dug into the sides of my hips and his grip tightened as his pelvis ground into me. It was probably the quickest fuck I’ve ever had but my God was it good. I took a little while to recover then I straightened up, picked up my skirt and put it back on. As I left his office I could feel a trickle of come tickling it’s way down the inside of my thigh.

That evening when my husband got home, he was feeling unusually energetic and took the kids for a swim. I made use of the time by trawling the internet for lingerie and clothing that would turn my boss on.

Four days later I entered his office on the pretext of watering the plants. I stopped by his desk, removed my skirt and lay it over the back of a chair. I was wearing nothing underneath except for a pearl thong. I walked elegantly over to his full length window, bent down and began to water several plants. He took me and fucked me up against the wall while I whispered breathless encouragement in his ear.

And so, that was the beginning, that was a year ago.

When my boss is fucking me I ask him what his wife would say if she could see him, I tease him about what an awful husband he is, what a bastard he is, and it never fails to turn him on. He does the same as he’s fucking me. He’ll make me tell him how much bigger he is than my husband, he tells me what a slut I am, what a deceitful little bitch I’m being and he asks me what my husband would do if he found out.  The taunts and reminders never fail to turn me on.

And he’s such a thoughtful and generous boss. He’s taken me on business trips where we’ve made love in fine hotels and he’s bought me expensive gifts (I always admonish him: ‘what would your wife say if she found out?’). Last summer we broke off from several business journeys to make love in the countryside.

I’m a complete slut at work but at home I’m a thoughtful and caring housewife.

My husband loves me fucking the boss. After all, he is the boss. He suggested going back to the factory where I met him all those years ago. I was reticent at first. I thought working together might be a step too far but seeing him as the boss cast him in a different light. As far as I’m concerned initiating sex at work was a stroke of genius. We’re both too knackered for sex in the evenings, although sometimes he just can’t keep his hands off me and sometimes he just fancies making gentle love to the mother of his children.

I’m Mrs Jekyll at home and Mrs Hyde at work. He loves us both.