Seducing My Husband's (tiny) Boss

My husband came home dejected once more. For the third time he had been turned down for promotion. A promotion that he had more than earned. The stress and our money worries were stacking up so something had to be done. To my obscene mind, the solution was obvious: follow his boss to a conference he was attending. Flirt heavily in the bar. Get him to my room. Film all the filthy action and blackmail that motherfucker’s ass. And do you know what? That is exactly what happened!

THE BAR

My husband’s boss — Mr Reynolds — had a reputation for leering at anything with tits. And this reputation turned out to be bang on. He was already eyeing up the cocktail waitress when I walked into the hotel bar, my heels loudly announcing my arrival. And my shoes were just the start. I also wore a short black bob wig and a low-cut top, leaving all my usual clothes at home. I was here wearing the uniform of a slut who meant business.

I played it obvious from the start, sitting next to Reynolds at the bar. Despite the power he wielded over my husband, he cut a rather pathetic figure. Hunched over a beer, his gut straining a shirt that was obviously too small for him. His thinning hair and horn rimmed glasses completing his midlife look.

I fed him some bullshit about feeling safer drinking with company. That he looked like a decent enough guy. He swallowed it all and offered me a drink. I gladly accepted, choosing an expensive cocktail and sucking on its tiny straw. And from that point on, Reynolds was putty in my hands, the alcohol helping to manipulate his one track mind.

A few drinks in and it was time to play my ace. I went to the bathroom to adjust my cleavage and remove my black g-string. I then reappeared, climbing back onto my stool, revealing a ‘Sharon Stone’ amount of pussy. Reynolds couldn’t look away. Completely dumbfounded. I went for the jugular.

“Hey…let’s go somewhere more private…my room’s upstairs.”

Reynolds hesitated at first, his mind questioning his dick, but as my heels stood up, he followed me to the elevator like a little lost puppy.

THE ROOM

My hotel room was budget but I’d set it up perfectly — just enough light for the hidden camera to capture the action. Reynolds was half-drunk and easy to manoeuvre onto the bed. Sitting there and staring up at me like a high school virgin. I couldn’t help but smile as I watched him fumble with the buttons on his shirt, not quite believing his luck. He even asked how much it would cost — thinking I was a prostitute! “Don’t worry,” I thought — you will be paying for this in your own way!

His shirt came off, revealing his untoned hairy flesh. Pants next, and there it was — his predictably small dick twitching desperately for my attention. I had fucked worst looking guys, and honestly, this was something I enjoyed — my cunt feeding off the power dynamics of it all. The look of gratitude and disbelief on their faces, not quite believing their luck. With this in mind, I stripped slowly, peeling off my dress and revealing my naked pussy. Unhooking my basque and letting my large breasts announce themselves. Watching Reynolds actually drool. I laughed out a vulgar tease.

“Oh…look at you. You pathetic little thing!”