Sedulous Boss Chapter 2
Liliana
It’s been a few months since Julian told me about his fantasies, and we’ve decided to bring them to life. Our lifestyle looks more promising with every step we take. However, for the first time since I started sleeping with Mark, my husband’s boss and my current lover, I was having some thoughts that were consuming me.
One of those Friday nights when Mark couldn’t come home, I was in the living room, drinking wine and thinking about him. Actually, I was thinking about scenarios involving him: the substantial weight of his cock in my mouth, how it stretched my jaw and made my eyes water from the effort of taking him deep.
Even though Julian was relatively modest in that department, it seemed hypocritical to deny my love for impressively endowed men. As I mentioned in our previous story, his penis isn’t tiny; I wouldn’t exaggerate or be cruel. However, it’s nothing compared to the magnificent ten inches Mark possesses. I disagree with those who claim that technique is everything and size doesn’t matter. Perhaps that was true for some women, but not for me. The difference between Julian’s five-and-a-half inches and Mark’s substantial length was the difference between satisfaction and transcendence.
I thought about how Mark’s larger hands felt when they claimed me and how his fingers could reach places that Julian’s never could. This wasn’t meant to diminish my husband. I love Julian, but desire is desire. Mine has always been drawn to the kind of cock that makes me feel completely possessed.
My thoughts drifted to that first time I’d taken Mark into my mouth at the wedding reception, the way he’d filled me so completely that breathing became secondary to the exquisite stretch of my lips around his girth. Ten inches of thick, veined perfection that had made my pussy clench with anticipation even as my jaw ached from the effort. The weight of him on my tongue had been substantial, meaty in a way that made every nerve ending sing with satisfaction. When I’d run my tongue along his length, from the broad head down to where his shaft met heavy balls, the journey had seemed endless, each inch a new discovery.
The taste of him was incredible: salt, masculinity, and something indefinably Mark that still makes my mouth water. I loved the way his cock pulsed against my lips and the way pre-cum leaked steadily as I worked him with my lips, tongue, and teeth. Taking him deep had been a challenge that awakened something primal in me.
Julian’s penis had never required so much effort from me. I could take him completely without strain, and I could breathe easily around his modest girth. Mark’s impressive size simply didn’t allow that. However, that ease came at the cost of the overwhelming sensation I craved: the feeling of being completely filled and having to surrender control to accommodate something substantial.
I took another sip of wine as I remembered the way Mark had groaned when I’d finally managed to take him to the back of my throat. The sound had been pure masculine satisfaction, the kind of response that came from a man who was used to overwhelming his partners. Julian’s sounds of pleasure were sweet, grateful in a way that touched my heart but didn’t ignite the same fire between my legs.
I contemplated the beautiful complexity of my situation. I could acknowledge these differences without guilt, without feeling as though I was betraying my marriage. Love and lust operated on different frequencies, and I was fortunate enough to have found ways to honor both. Julian’s willingness to share me, to find his own arousal in my pleasure with other men, had opened doors I’d never dared imagine.
The arrangement we developed wasn’t meant to replace what Julian and I had. Rather, it was about supplementing it by adding layers of experience that would enhance, not diminish, our connection. When Mark fucked me with his impressive cock and stretched me in ways that Julian physically couldn’t, it didn’t make me love my husband any less. In fact, it made me appreciate Julian’s emotional generosity and his ability to find excitement in my satisfaction.
The wine was making me languid and philosophical about desire and its complicated landscape. There was no shame in wanting what I wanted—craving the feeling of being split open by a truly impressive cock and loving the challenge of accommodating something that pushed me to my limits.
Mark understood this about me in a way that was both thrilling and dangerous. He knew his size was part of his appeal and that his ten-inch cock gave him power over me that went beyond mere physical pleasure. When he looked at me with those commanding blue eyes and told me exactly how he was going to use his magnificent cock to make me scream, he acknowledged a truth that some might find uncomfortable: size mattered to me. There was no point in pretending otherwise.
I finished my wine and stood up, letting the robe fall open completely as I prepared to go inside. Tonight, Julian and I would make love with the memory of Mark’s touch still fresh on my skin, and my husband would find his own satisfaction in the knowledge that I’d been thoroughly claimed by another man’s superior endowment.
There was no hypocrisy in loving them both for different reasons, in taking what each could offer without apology or shame. I was a woman who knew what she wanted, and I’d found two men willing to give it to me, one through emotional devotion, the other through physical dominance. The arrangement suited me perfectly, and I intended to enjoy every moment of it.
My husband thinks our arrangement has reached its natural conclusion, that Mark’s regular visits and his own voyeuristic participation represent the fulfillment of his deepest fantasies. But Julian doesn’t understand yet that this is just the beginning. What we’ve established so far—Mark fucking me while Julian watches, my husband cleaning me afterward—these are merely the foundation for something much more profound.
I want complete surrender from Julian, total submission to my desires and Mark’s dominance. I want him to understand that his role isn’t just to watch and clean up afterward, but to actively participate in offering me to superior men. The fantasy that’s been building in my mind for weeks involves much more. The image makes me shiver with anticipation and power.
But Julian isn’t ready for that level of submission yet. His willingness to watch, to taste Mark’s cum, to accept his inferior position—these represent significant progress, but they’re still essentially passive roles. What I crave is his active participation in my pleasure with other men, his conscious choice to facilitate my satisfaction even when it emphasizes his own inadequacy. Julian thinks he’s given me everything I could want, but he was about to discover that my appetite for power and submission extends far beyond what we’ve explored so far.
I went to the room, where Julian sat propped against the headboard. He held a book in his hands, some financial thriller he’d been trying to finish for weeks; but I could see his attention wasn’t on the pages. His posture was tense, shoulders rigid with the kind of anticipation that had become familiar since our arrangement with Mark had begun.
I moved through the doorway, my silk robe whispering against my thighs with each calculated step. The wine had left me feeling bold and ready to push our boundaries even further. Julian’s eyes lifted from his book as I approached, and I saw the familiar mixture of love and nervous excitement that always accompanied our most intimate conversations.
I settled beside him, close enough that my bare thigh pressed against his leg through the thin cotton of his pajama pants. I could feel the heat radiating from his body, could sense the way his breathing quickened at my proximity.
“We need to talk,” I said softly, my voice carrying the kind of intimate authority that had developed between us. I reached over and gently closed his book, setting it aside on the nightstand.
Julian swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing with nervous anticipation. “About what?”
I smiled, letting my fingers trace lazy patterns on his arm, feeling the way his muscles tensed beneath my touch. “About taking this further. About giving me something I’ve been dreaming about since this all began.”
His pupils dilated slightly, and I could see the war beginning in his expression. Fear and arousal battled for dominance. “Lily, we’ve already…”
“I want you to become my complete cuckold,” I interrupted, the words falling between us like stones dropped into still water. “I want you to submit to me and my lovers completely. Starting with Mark.”
I leaned closer, my lips nearly brushing his ear as I spoke. “I want you to undress me for him,” I said, feeling him shiver at the words. “I want you to offer me to him like a gift. I want you to watch me submit to his superior cock while you acknowledge your own inadequacy.”
Julian’s breathing turned shallow, quick little gasps that told me everything I needed to know about how my words were affecting him despite his obvious distress. “Lily, I can’t…”
“And as the final act of surrender,” I continued relentlessly, my hand sliding up to cup his face, forcing him to meet my gaze, “I want you to guide his cock into me. I want you to feel the difference, to understand exactly what ten inches feels like compared to your modest five and a half.”
The book he’d been reading tumbled forgotten to the floor as his whole body shuddered. I could see the bulge growing in his pajama pants, the physical betrayal of arousal even as his mind reeled with the implications of what I was asking.
“No,” he said, but his voice lacked conviction. “I can’t do that. It’s too much.”
I smiled, letting my fingers trail down his chest, feeling his heart hammering beneath the thin fabric of his shirt. “Your body disagrees,” I observed, my gaze dropping pointedly to his obvious erection. “Look how hard you’re getting just thinking about it.”
He followed my gaze and flushed deeper, one hand moving unconsciously to try to hide his arousal. The gesture was futile; his need was written across every line of his body, in the quickened rise and fall of his chest, in the way his thighs tensed when I spoke.
“Think about it,” I whispered, my lips brushing against the shell of his ear. “Think about how it would feel to truly give yourself over to this. To stop pretending you’re anything other than a man who gets hard watching his wife take superior cock.”
Julian made a sound deep in his throat, half protest and half moan. His free hand gripped the edge of the mattress so hard I was surprised the fabric didn’t tear. “You’re asking me to humiliate myself.”
“I’m asking you to be honest,” I corrected, my hand sliding lower, closer to where his erection strained against his clothes. “About what you want. About what we both want.”
I could feel him trembling beneath my touch, could see the war playing out across his features. The idea terrified him, I could see that clearly, but it also excited him in ways that his rational mind couldn’t accept.
“I’ve watched you,” I continued, my voice low and hypnotic. “I’ve seen how you react when Mark takes me. How your cock gets so hard it hurts. How you can barely contain yourself when you hear me screaming his name.”
“Stop,” he whispered, but his hips shifted slightly, pressing into my touch despite his protests.
“You love it,” I said with certainty. “You love knowing that another man can make me feel things you never could. That his cock fills me in ways yours simply can’t.”
Julian’s resolve was cracking. I could see it in the way his eyes fluttered closed, in the way his breathing became more labored. The bulge in his pants was impossible to ignore now, it was evident how much my words were affecting him.
“Imagine it,” I said softly, my hand finally making contact with his erection through the fabric. He gasped at the touch, his whole body jerking with the intensity of his reaction. “Imagine undressing me for him. Imagine offering your wife to a superior man. Imagine guiding his massive cock into my pussy while you acknowledge that you could never satisfy me the way he can.”
“Lily,” he groaned, my name torn from his lips like a prayer.
“Think about how it would feel,” I continued relentlessly, my fingers tracing the outline of his modest length through his pants. “To truly surrender. To admit what we both already know, that you’re not enough for me physically, but that you are man enough to ensure I get what I need.”
His eyes snapped open, meeting mine with a mixture of terror and desperate arousal that took my breath away. I could see him teetering on the edge of submission, his mind and body at war with each other.
“I need time,” he said finally, his voice hoarse with need and confusion. “I need to think about this.”
I smiled and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, tasting the fear and excitement on his breath. “Take all the time you need,” I said softly. “But we both know how this will end.”
