The Christmas Bonus

You're standing in the bathroom doorway. Your wife is finishing her makeup. Her long blonde hair looks soft and wavy. She wears a red satin robe with white lace trim and as she leans forward the bottom of her ass shows.

"I'm sorry," you say.

She opens a tube of red lipstick, purses her lips, and applies it. "It's okay," your beautiful wife replies once it's finished.

"It's really not."

She sets the lipstick down, steps back, and looks at herself in the mirror. She turns from side to side to ensure that her makeup looks perfect from every angle. She is, in that moment, the most beautiful woman you've ever seen.

Your wife turns and you see that her nipples are gently poking through the soft satin of her robe. Your pulse quickens for a moment and you wonder if she's cold or if some part of her is excited for what she's about to do.

"I failed," you say. "And because I failed, you have to do this."

She approaches and offers the softest kiss on your cheek. "That's true," she says. "You failed. You tried, though. You worked hard this year. You just weren't quite good enough to provide our family with everything we needed. But that's okay. Now I can contribute."

"You shouldn't have to."

She steps past you and into the bedroom. You turn and watch as she unties her robe and pushes it from her shoulders. Even from the back she looks incredible in the red lace thong and bra that you bought for her just a day ago.

"No, I shouldn't have to do this," she replies. "And in a perfect world you would have secured your Christmas bonus yourself. But we don't live in a perfect world."

Your wife steps into the walk-in closet as you remain in the bathroom doorway. She emerges just a few seconds later carrying a pair of red leather boots and a black dress. She sets the boots down, pulls the dress from its hanger and unzips it.

"Can I help?" you ask.

Your wife nods and you approach and take the dress from her. You drop to your knees and she steps into it. You stand and pull it up her lithe body. She turns around and you zip up the tight, figure-hugging, low cut dress. You kiss the back of her neck and she leans into you. You put your arms around her waist and pull her a little closer. Your hands move up her chest and you cup her breasts through the dress.

"That feels so good," she whispers. "It makes me wish that you were the one that’s going to enjoy me tonight."

"I can be. We don't need that bonus. We'll be just fine next year without it. I could get a part time job."

Your wife steps out of your grasp and sits on the edge of the bed. "Will you help me into the boots?"

You take a deep breath and fall to your knees. You unzip the red leather boots and help her into them. You sip them up slowly, completing her outfit in the process. You remain on your knees as you look up at her.

"It's just one night," she says. "And while it's not how I'd prefer to spend the night, it's just one night. Plus, we do the need the money."

"We can put off the renovation."

"We'd lose our deposit," she replies. "And we'd lose our contractor and he's damn near the only honest guy in his profession in the county." Your wife leans forward and caresses your face. "It's just one night, baby, and it's not even really that. I'll probably be back before midnight."

"I know it's just one night but...it's the things you'll have to do tonight...won't that make you hate me?"

Your wife laughs softly. "Sweetheart, no, of course not. I know you tried your best this year. I know you worked incredibly hard. You just came up a little short. Your bonus is smaller than those of most of your fellow VPs because you didn't produce this year, at least not like they did. In some ways, I'm grateful that your boss was willing to give you another way of earning your bonus."

"But..."

She presses a finger against your lips. "I know you know this, but it's not like I was a virgin when we met, sweetheart. I've had sex with lots of men. Adding one more to the list isn't going to make me hate you. Plus, your boss isn't exactly unattractive. He's older, sure, but he's very distinguished-looking. Honestly, I'm kind of surprised he was willing to make the offer he did. I can't imagine he has any trouble finding women to sleep with."

When your relationship got serious, your wife confessed to you that she'd had a period in her twenties that she described as her 'slut phase.' She hadn't given you an exact number, but she said she'd been with at least two dozen guys in that time. You weren't the slightest bit put off by her confession. Instead, you attributed her skill in bed to her experience and you found it rather flattering that she found sex with you pleasing enough that she was willing to become your wife.

"Trent's an asshole," you say. "How could he be anything other than an asshole?"

Your wife smiles sweetly. "I'm not sure he's an asshole. I think he's just a man that gets off on exercising his power. At least he made sure it was a good offer. You have to agree that giving you the full Christmas bonus in exchange for a night with me is rather generous of him."

"That's not all he wanted though, is it?"

"I suppose not. He sent his test results, though. He's clean. Plus, he's had a vasectomy so there's no real risk," she answers.

"But...it doesn't bother you?"

She shakes her head. You're baffled by her reaction. She doesn't seem the slightest bit bothered by your boss's insistence that he have unprotected sex with your wife, that he be permitted to cum inside her multiple times that night if he sees fit.

"Why?" you ask. "Why doesn't it bother you?"

"I'm not sure," she replies.

Your wife stands, reaches down, and pulls up the bottom of her dress. She sits on the bed once more and spreads her legs. You watch intently as she pulls her red lace panties aside and reveals her pussy, which she shaved at your boss's request.

At first, you're not sure why she's showing you her pussy. Then she begins to masturbate. It takes a few moments before you realize that she's wet. Soaking wet, in fact. You can see it, but it's the sound of her wetness that makes it most obvious that she's turned on.

You look up and see the pleasure on her face as she rubs her pussy. You see that your wife is, in fact, aroused by the idea of having sex with your boss, that she might even be aroused at the idea of him cumming inside her.

"What's going on?" you ask.

She stops masturbating and plunges two fingers into her pussy. They emerge soaked in her wetness and a moment later they're in her mouth. Your loins stir as you watch your wife suck her fingers clean.

"I'm not sure," she admits before her fingers disappear in her pussy once more. "But I like how I've felt since I agreed to Trent's proposal."

Suddenly, your mind is awash with imagery of your boss fucking your wife. Her fingers plunge into her pussy, but it's another man's cock you see. You close your eyes and shake your head to try and wash away the offending imagery and a moment later you feel your wife's fingers against your lips.

You open your eyes and see her leaning over and smiling. You part your lips and her fingers push between them. You taste the delicate sweetness of her juices.

Your wife slides off the bed and onto her knees in front of you. She kisses you with her fingers still in your mouth. Her tongue joins them and her other hand moves between your legs to massage your half hard cock into a fully erect state.

Then it's over. She stands and walks away. She grabs her little red clutch - another new purchase - and steps into the bathroom to tuck a few makeup items in it.

"Will you walk me out?" she asks.

You stand and follow your wife out of the bedroom. You open the front door for her and see a car waiting in the driveway. She steps into your arms and kisses you softly.

"You don't have to do this," you say.

"I know. I want to, though."

She turns and leaves. The driver gets out of the car and opens the back door for her. She thanks him and gets inside. Soon enough the car backs out of the driveway. Your wife will soon be delivered to your boss's penthouse apartment in the city. She'll spend the night being his plaything. She'll spend the night pleasing another man's cock while you sit at home and wallow in the fact that you failed to provide what your family needed this year.

You shut the door and head for the kitchen to make yourself a stiff drink. With your drink in hand, you drop onto the living room couch and try to find something diverting to watch.

You begin with a mindless Christmas movie on Netflix. The blonde star reminds you of your wife, so you keep watching.

Your phone buzzes. You pull it from your pocket. Your boss has sent a text.

"Your wife has arrived. I promise, I'll take good care of her and send her home completely satisfied."

You squeeze your phone hard enough that you're momentarily worried you might break it. You toss it aside. There's no need to respond to Trent's taunting text.

You turn your attention back to the movie. The pretty blonde star wears a sparkly red dress and green tights. Her cleavage is showing, but it's not scandalous. She's attending a Christmas tree lighting ceremony with a blandly handsome man. They share a kiss.

You think of your wife kissing your boss in his penthouse. You think of him grabbing her ass. You think of him lifting the bottom of her dress and squeezing her bare ass cheeks as she moans into his mouth.

You get up and make yourself another drink. You resolve to consume it slowly so you don't get shitfaced.

You find another movie. Something full of murderous action. You choose Violent Night, featuring a Viking-turned-Santa that foils a group of gun-toting burglars on Christmas Eve.

Halfway through the movie - right around when Santa begins wielding a sledgehammer and crushing skulls - you get a text. For a few minutes you don't bother looking at it. You watch Santa stab several men in the throat with a sharpened candy cane instead.

Eventually, though, you can't resist. You grab your phone. You pull up the text from your boss.

"Your wife looks beautiful with my dick in her mouth. Would you like to see a picture?"

You toss your phone to the other side of the couch. You sip your drink. You try and put his taunting text out of your mind.

You fail at doing so. It's all you can think about. Did he really take a picture of your wife blowing him? Did she really let him do that? Would she really do that? If he did take a picture, is it something you'd enjoy seeing, or would it be painful?

Your phone buzzes and the screen lights up. You set your drink on the coffee table and crawl across the couch to see what your boss sent.

"Your wife's an incredible cocksucker. I think I'll reward her by cumming in her mouth."

She was right about him. He gets off on exercising his power. Yes, he could easily find someone to have sex with. It's the thrill of fucking an employee's wife that he gets off on, though, and he knows very well that neither you nor your wife is going to say a word about it to anyone, so he's safe to be as taunting as he wants to be.

You reach for your drink. You want to down it all and let the boozy haze overwhelm you, but you don't. You take a sip. You concentrate on the movie. You watch Santa turn someone into a shredded human with blood spurting all over. You laugh.

Your phone buzzes. You look at it. He sent a picture.

At first you're not sure what it is. Then it becomes obvious that it's an image - a close up image - of your wife's mouth. It's open. His cum is on her tongue. He sent you a picture of his load in your wife's mouth.

"She swallowed like a good girl," he texts.

You hate this. You hate that your wife is at another man's house. You hate that your failure at work led to her being at his house. Most of all, though, you hate that you're feeling a little bit aroused by the whole thing. You hate knowing that you'd likely have little trouble cumming if you were to lower your pants and start jerking off.

You finish the movie without hearing from your boss again. You're quite buzzed so you skip out on making another drink. Then a message comes in.

It's a picture of your wife standing with her hands pressed up against the glass of the floor-to-ceiling windows in what looks like his living room. She's still clothed, but her dress is up around her waist and she's pushing her ass back. Her panties are around her knees.

"Should I fuck her up against the glass?" he texts.

You don't answer. You can't possibly answer. You know that's not really what he wants. He just wants to taunt you. He wants to get off on taunting you.

You make another drink. When you return to the living room you see you've received another message. It's a video.

You tap the screen. You see your wife's hands against the glass. The camera pans down. You see your boss is behind your wife and filming from his POV. You see that he's fucking her from behind.

He reaches up and grabs a handful of her blonde hair. He pulls back. She moans. He fucks her harder.

"Does that feel good?" he asks.

"Yes!" your wife answers. "Your cock feels so good in my pussy!"

The video ends. You wonder if he's still fucking her. You wonder if he's already cum inside her. You wonder if she's really enjoying it or if she's just putting on a show for him to earn your Christmas bonus.

You sip your drink, set your phone down, and put on another movie. You watch for a few minutes and then grab your phone. You watch the video again. Then you watch it again, and again, and again.

Your cock is hard. You didn't even notice it getting hard, but it's hard.

You watch the video and rub your dick through your pants. You get hard as a rock. Arousal courses through your body.

You take a deep breath, set the phone down, and stop masturbating. You can't. It feels weird and wrong.

You go back to the Netflix movie. You're more than halfway through it - and you've finished another drink - when you get another video.

Your wife is on top. She's naked. They seem to be in his bedroom. She's leaning back and riding him vigorously.

"Cum inside me," she says. "Cum in my pussy. Send me home to my husband with your cum dripping out of me."

You toss the phone across the room. Your dick is hard and you didn't even touch it. You're anxious. You're horny. You hate this. Weirdly, it kind of feels like you like it, too.

An hour later a car pulls into the driveway. You stand up and head for the front door. You open it and watch the driver get out and open the back door for your wife. She steps out, thanks him, and heads towards the house. He waits in the driveway until she's at the front door.

"Welcome home," you say.

Your wife smiles and steps into the house. She kisses you on the cheek. You smell her perfume. You smell him, too.

"Follow me," she says.

You shut and lock the front door. You follow your wife to the bedroom. Her ass sways in the black dress. The boots look amazing. You're still quite buzzed from the drinks you had and you're not thinking all that clearly, though you suspect that in this case, that's a very good thing.

"Help me out of my dress," she instructs.

You unzip the dress. You push it off her shoulders. You work it down over the gentle curves of her body. The dress falls to the floor and your wife steps out of it. She turns around. Your eyes roam over her body. She looks astoundingly hot.

"There's something you need to do," she says. "One more condition he added if you want to receive your bonus."

"What is it?"

She slips her fingers into the waistband of her red lace panties and slower lowers them. She crawls into the bed and rolls onto her back. She sits up on her elbows and spreads her legs.

"You need to eat my pussy," she says.

You move to the edge of the bed and stare between her legs. There's only one light on in the bedroom and her pussy is cloaked in shadow, but you can tell that it's wet and messy down there.

"If you don't, he won't issue your bonus," she says.

"Really?"

Your wife nods.

You stare between her legs. You know what you're likely to taste if you eat her pussy. You know what he left inside her.

"Baby, I want you to do it," she says.

You look up and see your wife grasp one of her breasts as she bites her lower lip.

"I want you to eat my pussy. I want you to taste him."

"Really?"

She nods. "Please, baby, eat my pussy. Put your tongue inside me."

You move to crawl into the bed but she stops you.

"Get naked first."

You strip. You think of her pussy as you do so. You think of what it's going to taste like. You think of how it's going to feel to do what your boss wants. You're oddly grateful that you're a bit drunk because otherwise you don't think you'd be able to do this.

You're naked. You crawl between her legs. You settle onto your stomach.

The smell of sex fills your nose. It's almost overpowering. Your loins tingle with unexpected desire.

You look up and see your wife smiling at you. "Eat my messy pussy," she says.

A surge of excitement courses through your body. You shift your hips and reach down to stroke yourself. You get hard in almost no time. You move a little closer. You put your tongue inside your wife.

"Fuck," she says softly.

You taste sex. You taste sweat. You taste her pussy. You taste his cum. It's not good, but it's not overwhelming. The drive home was long enough that most of him likely leaked out of her.

Then it hits you. You're licking your wife's pussy after another man fucked her and came inside her. It's hugely humiliating.

You pull back but she grabs your head with both hands.

"Don't stop," she says. There's lust in her voice. Genuine lust. She's turned on. How could she be turned on? You don't understand it, but it's true.

You put your tongue back inside her. You try and push aside the humiliation. You lick your wife's messy pussy. You taste him. You taste her. You stroke your cock. You feel a deep sense of arousal build between your legs. You surrender to it. You let it happen. You let it envelop your body.

"That's it," she says. "Get your tongue deep in me. Get it deep in me and lick up his cum."

It's humiliating. It's a turn on. You do as you're told. You push deeper. You taste more of him. The taste is more potent. You don't care. You lick it up.

It's humiliating, but it feels good. Why does it feel good?

"Fuck, baby, I'm cumming!" she cries out.

Your wife climaxes as you clean another man's cum from her pussy. You eat her pussy until she pushes your head from between her legs.

You look up and see her looking at you with a hazy, beautiful smile on her face.

"Come closer and roll onto your back," she says.

You crawl next to your wife and get on your back. She straddles you and takes your cock inside her. She leans down and kisses your neck.

"I have a confession to make," she whispers. "He already paid your bonus. He didn't say anything about you having to clean my pussy. That was my idea. It turned me on so much to even think about that I had to make you do it. I had to make you clean his cum from my pussy."

You want to object. You want to yell at her. You want to fight.

You can't, though. Her pussy feels too good. She's riding you. Her hands are on your chest. She's grinding back and forth. She's bathing you in her wetness, in the heat of her cunt.

"Cum in me," she says. "Just like your boss did. Be the second man to cum in your wife's pussy tonight."

You wish you could resist. You can't, though. You cum inside your wife.

It's the best orgasm you've ever had. Your whole body shakes with pleasure. A big smile crosses your face as pure bliss envelops you.

"Was that good?" she asks.

You nod.

Your wife leans down and kisses you. "That makes me happy, because I have a date with your boss next weekend."

"What?"

She smiles. "Tonight was so good that I asked if I could see him again. He told me I was welcome back at his penthouse next weekend. I'll be staying the night. He'll send me home to you in the morning and of course his cum will be dripping out of me."

It looks like your wife has secured a Christmas bonus for herself, too, and you're absolutely certain there's no talking her out of claiming it multiple times during the month.

Your orgasm was great, though, so maybe it will be a bonus for you, too.