The CEO's Cheating Wife-1

TESSA

I was supposed to be living the dream. Married to Victor Flaire, the most powerful man in the city. Yet all I felt was emptiness as I sat in the corner of the boardroom in my tight black designer dress, legs crossed tightly, trying to ignore the ache between my thighs.

Victor stood at the head of the long glass table, droning on about quarterly numbers. He had not touched me in weeks. Not really. A quick kiss on the cheek here and there. That was it.

My eyes kept drifting to Taylor.

Victor’s personal assistant sat two seats away, looking sharp in his tailored suit. He was younger, hungrier, and the way he looked at me made my stomach tighten with both shame and heat. When our eyes met, he did not look away. His gaze burned.

Victor kept talking, completely unaware.

The lights dimmed for the presentation. Before I could talk myself out of it, I slipped under the table. My heart pounded so hard I felt sick. This was insane. This was dangerous. Victor was right there.

I crawled between Taylor’s legs. He tensed but stayed perfectly professional as he answered one of Victor’s questions.

I reached up with shaking hands and unzipped him. His cock sprang out, thick and heavy, veins pulsing along the shaft. The head was already leaking precum. He was bigger than Victor. Much bigger.

Guilt twisted in my chest. I should stop. I should crawl back out and pretend none of this was happening. But the neglect, the boredom, the constant loneliness pushed me forward.

I wrapped my lips around the fat head and sucked.

Taylor’s thigh jerked. His hand slipped under the table and fisted my hair tightly. I took him deeper, sucking wet and sloppy, my tongue swirling around the thick shaft as spit ran down my chin. I bobbed faster, choking quietly when he hit the back of my throat.

Victor’s voice carried over the table. “Taylor, what are the projections for next quarter?”

Taylor’s voice stayed steady. “Strong, sir. Very strong.”

I sucked him harder, hollowing my cheeks, working my hand along the base while my tongue flicked the sensitive underside. The risk made me dripping wet. My husband was presenting to the entire board while I was under the table like a whore, sucking his assistant’s cock.

Taylor’s grip tightened. He started thrusting shallowly into my mouth, fucking my face while keeping his upper body still. I gagged softly around his thickness, tears pricking my eyes, but I did not stop.

Minutes later his cock swelled. He came hard, flooding my mouth with thick, hot spurts. I swallowed every drop, milking him with my throat until he was empty. His cum tasted salty and wrong and addictive.

I tucked him away, zipped him up, and quietly returned to my seat beside Victor. My lips felt swollen. Taylor’s load was still warm on my tongue. Victor glanced at me for half a second and looked away again.

The meeting finally ended. As people left, Victor barely acknowledged me. “I have calls. Taylor will take you home.”

The second the elevator doors closed, Taylor shoved me against the wall. His hand went straight under my dress.

“Stop,” I whispered, even as my hips rolled against his fingers. “This is wrong. He’s your boss. My husband.”

Taylor smirked, pushing two thick fingers deep into my soaked pussy. “You didn’t seem to care when you were swallowing my cum ten minutes ago.”

I moaned despite myself. He curled his fingers, stroking that spot inside me perfectly. Guilt burned in my chest, but the pleasure was stronger.

“You’re such a desperate little slut,” he growled in my ear. “Neglected trophy wife spreading her legs for me the first chance she gets.”

In the private garage, he bent me over the hood of Victor’s Rolls Royce. He yanked my dress up around my waist and ripped my panties down my thighs.

“Taylor, we should not,” I breathed, but my voice broke as he rubbed the thick head of his cock up and down my dripping slit.

He pushed inside me in one brutal thrust, stretching my pussy wide open. I cried out at the intense fullness. He was so deep.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “Your cunt is gripping me so tight.”

He started fucking me hard, hips slamming against my ass. The car rocked beneath me with every powerful stroke. His heavy balls slapped against my clit. I tried to hold back my moans but failed miserably.

“Harder,” I gasped, hating myself for how much I needed this.

Taylor pounded me mercilessly, one hand fisting my hair, the other slapping my ass. “This married pussy belongs to me now. Say it.”

I came hard around his cock, my walls spasming violently as waves of guilty pleasure crashed through me. Taylor kept thrusting through it, then buried himself deep and exploded. Thick ropes of hot cum flooded my pussy, pulse after pulse, filling me until it leaked out around his shaft.

He stayed inside me, breathing heavy against my neck.

“Clean up before Victor gets home,” he said, pulling out slowly. “Or don’t. Maybe you want him to see his perfect wife dripping with my cum.”

I stood on shaky legs, his load running down my thighs, guilt and shame mixing with raw satisfaction.

My phone buzzed.

Victor: Dinner with the board tonight. Wear something tight. Taylor will pick you up at 8.

Taylor read the message over my shoulder and smiled darkly.

“Looks like I get to fuck you again tonight, Mrs. Flaire.”

My freshly creampied pussy clenched at his words even as guilt twisted deeper in my stomach.

This was going to destroy everything and I already knew I would not stop.