Jackie Reedly
Sex and the Boss Wife

YH-134
Chapter 1

"This is Station KSZX, Indianapolis, broadcasting on 870 on your FM dial." Scott Forsmo repeated the station's logo, reading it from the copy taped to his console, and then turned up the volume on his theme music. It was a funky rock tune and was supposed to project the image of a swinging, free wheeling show. Scott had chosen it himself. He wished now he had not. He hated the music. It was strident, nerve wracking, and anything but what he was interested in listening to at one o'clock in the morning. He suspected the citizens of greater Indianapolis felt the same. At least it seemed so, if the response he was getting to his new show was any indication.

He faded the theme music and switched on his mike again. "Yes sir, guys and dolls, we're here to entertain you from midnight to eight in the A.M. every night of the week. It's Night Line, boys and girls. Call in and tell us what you think about whatever's on your mind tonight. What about the world? What about beautiful Indianapolis, the star of the Midwest, the Crossroads of the Nation, the Circle City." He almost threw up at having to call Indianapolis beautiful. It was anything but that. He would never have come here had he not needed the job so badly. One thing was true. Indianapolis was the Crossroads of the Nation. At least it had been once. Its two major thoroughfares, Washington and Meridian had been part of the principal North-South route and the main East-West route across the country. That had changed with the building of the freeways, and now the intersection, in the heart of downtown, was as sleepy as the rest of the Circle City.

From where he sat at his console, he could look down on that once famous intersection. It was totally devoid of traffic, and for all he could tell by looking out at one in the morning Indianapolis was a ghost town.

"On with the show, Folks!" Scott chirped, trying to sound jaunty. "The lines are open. While we're waiting for you to call in and tell us what's on your mind, let's listen to the Bee Gee's latest hit. Remember, our number is 447-4730, and we're waiting for your call."

He turned up the volume, and the sounds of the Bee Gees filled the air waves. Scott watched the buttons on the phone with a coldness in the pit of his stomach. No one would call. No one had called all week. The equipment was all set up and waiting to operate. As soon as he picked up the receiver, the recorder would come to life, faithfully noting the call and then replaying it one minute after the caller spoke. That way he could edit out any obscenity without problem. Since Indianapolis was the headquarters of the John Birch Society and the American Legion, its citizens were staunchly opposed to dirty talk. One violation would bring a flood of angry mail. The station manager, Hal Ransberg, had warned him of that his first day on the job.

Well, Scott thought to himself ruefully, maybe he should say fuck or cunt over the air. At least if people wrote in to complain he would have some evidence that somebody was out there listening to his voice. As it was, he felt as if he were operating under a bell jar, his lips moving soundlessly as he addressed a stone deaf audience.

The light on line one lit up, followed by the official buzz announcing that someone was calling. Scott grabbed at the receiver wildly, half afraid whoever it was would hang up before he could say hello. He heard the recorder whirl into action.

"Station KSZX, the voice of nighttime Indy. You're on the air."

"Yeah? I want a twelve inch with sausage and mushroom. Extra cheese and hold the onions," said a slurry voice.

"This is Radio Station KSZX," Scott answered, speaking very slowly and distinctly as the cold feeling returned to his stomach.

"Ain't this Shakey's?"

"No, it's not. You're on the air. Do you have something you want to tell our listeners about? What you think of pizza, maybe? Anything?"

The line went dead. Scott hung up the receiver and hurried to stop the recorder before the idiot wrong numbered conversation went out over the air. It would never do for his public to know he had lost his cool.

The Bee Gees wailed off into silence, and he began another record without comment. He was too discouraged to talk, so discouraged he was afraid his voice would break. How long would they keep him on, he wondered, if nobody seemed to be listening? The worst part of it was, this Night Line business had been his idea. He had proposed it enthusiastically in his final job interview, and station owners, plagued by their low ratings, had brought it. It worked everywhere else in the country. People loved to be heard on the air. Why didn't it work here? Because this was Indiana, that was why, and the tone was so conservative that everyone kept his opinion to himself, if he had an opinion at all. Scott began to suspect most people did not.

He caught the end of the record, made a few more comments, encouraging, practically begging his supposed audience to call in, and began another record, this time Strisand. Thank God, he thought, at least there was one thing he could do to make himself feel good. It did not matter that much that he did not know anybody in Indianapolis and that he found himself not much caring whether he did or not. He had his big, built in friend.

Scott leaned back in his chair and rested his feet on the edge of his console. As they had so often in the past, his fingers found their way to the front of his pants. Slowly and teasingly, he caressed the large tube of flesh that was his penis. He grinned with satisfaction. It was already half hard, just because it knew he was going to use it to give himself pleasure.

Scott chuckled as he ran his fingers over his rapidly lengthening prick. He always thought of it as having a mind and a consciousness of its own. It certainly acted as though it did, turning to throbbing stone at the sight of a nicely rounded ass or a pair of long, tapering legs. There were times when it seemed to him that sex was the furthest thing from his mind, and, then, suddenly, his cock would rise up and remind him that sex was the symbol that held his little world together. Yes, his rapidly erecting penis was his best and closest buddy, no matter what. It had even agreed to move here to Indianapolis, which was more than anyone else had, even Celia. She had actually laughed in his face when he suggested it.

Scott cupped his fingers around the hardness of his shaft. He squeezed it caressingly, thrilling to the tingles of exciting sensation that traveled down his thighs and up into his belly.

Celia used to do that, squeeze his cock lightly in just this same way. She could take his mind off anything, no matter how depressing. All she had to do was cuddle up close beside him and run her fingers up his leg until she was hugging them around the meaty stalk of his big, pulsing prick. He shivered with lonely delight as he thought about it. There had been so many times, like the night they decided they should move in together.

Celia had cooked them an excellent dinner, and they were settling down on the white velvet couch to sip a last glass of wine.

"What do you say we go out to a movie?" Scott asked, picking up the evening paper to see what was playing.

"If you want to," Celia answered indifferently. "I don't know if there's anything good on."

"You don't sound like you want to go. Got a better idea?"

"I don't know. Maybe. I was thinking we could have a fire in the fireplace and just sit and talk."

Scott grinned at her. "And maybe make love?"

Celia giggled. "Maybe, but let's not rush it. Let's be romantic, the way we were when we first met. Remember?"

He wrinkled his brow in mock concentration. "Let's see if I can. It's hard. After all, it's been a long time."

"Idiot," she screamed, poking him in the ribs. "It's been three months. If you weren't so busy fucking me all the time you'd remember. I make it too easy for you."

"Hey, relax. I was kidding." He took her into his arms and pressed her close to him, catching his breath as her firm, pointed breasts pushed into his chest. Hardly thinking what he was doing, he began running his hands up and down her back, feeling the softness of her skin through the fabric of her flimsy blouse, tracing the long, deep indentation of her spine that, for some perverse reason always put him in mind of the tenderly hairless crack of her lush buttocks.

He pressed closer to her, his lips finding hers and kissing them deeply as he thrilled to the gently yielding warmth of her body, the living richness of her mouth, the animal nature of her that lurked so close to the surface, always waiting to be turned loose by just such things as he was giving her now. Celia was a true sexual being, always amazing him with the depths of her sensual passion, taking his breath away with her squirming body and her burning soul.

"Aw, shit, Baby, I don't want to go out to a movie," he mumbled into the fragrance of her long, silky hair. "I want to stay here and screw."

She pushed him away suddenly. "There! That's what I mean. You've lost any feeling of romance. How do you think a girl likes to hear something like that? Can't you be a little more subtle?"

The anger rose suddenly within him. "No, Goddamn it!" he yelled, his face going red. "I can't! I haven't got it in me, and I haven't got the time."

She opened her mouth to scream at him, but he did not give her the chance. Grabbing her roughly and grappling her body with his strong arms, he threw her onto her back on the couch and covered her mouth with him, his full, sensuous lips demanding total compliance. His fully charged erection throbbed against her body.

"No," she mumbled. "No, Scott, not this way."

It was too late. He was bound to have her, and he would take her on his terms, savagely, unremittingly. Pinning her around the neck with one big hand, Scott drew back, his trunk and legs holding down the lower portion of her body. With his free hand, he grabbed the front of her blouse. One sudden, brutal yank tore the buttons loose. They went flying in all directions, and Celia let out a sharp cry of dismay.

"Shut your fuckin' mouth," Scott ordered. "I'll buy you a new one, better than this rag."

"Please, Scott. Please don't do it this way," Celia begged. There was less conviction in her voice than before, and he knew she was becoming aroused despite her fear and loathing of his rapacious action. His constantly thrusting pelvis against her vulnerable loins was having its effect, and she writhed salaciously beneath his sweating body.

"Fuck me!" she screamed. "Fuck meeeeeeeeeee now!"

Celia watched as Scott drew his long, vein covered penis out into the light. It was huge, and she caught her breath at the sight of it, just as she always did. Her eyes burned with hot desire, and she flared her nostrils, breathing in the sweet, musky scent of male sweat and pungent dried urine. Her mouth watered for the taste of that gigantic organ of his, and she licked her lips lewdly as she stared at it.

"You want it, don't you?" Scott whispered, his voice husky with lustful passion. "You want to suck it just like a calf after it's mother's tit."

She nodded her head dumbly, her eyes never leaving the hardening organ of lust. She had to have it or she would die.

"Maybe I'll let you eat on it, and maybe I won't. Before I decide, I want you naked, completely naked. Hurry up."

"Yes, Scott, oh, yeeeeeeeeeees!" she hissed, her body trembling with lewd excitement. She pulled up her short skirt and undid her garters. Pushing her stockings down over her long, tapering legs, she felt the sheer softness of the nylons caressing her sensitive flesh and pretended to herself that they had been made specifically to tease and excite her to further arousal. She pulled her stockings off over her toes. Next she turned her back to him. "Unhook my skirt for me," she whispered.

Celia giggled, turning to him and grinning down at him. "That's exactly what it is. It keeps me for you, Babe. Every time I see some guy I think is hunky, this little elastic pantie keeps me from spreading my legs for him. Don't you like that?"

"Shit no," Scott said, shaking his head. "You ought to be gettin' as much as you can. It's a new age. You're entitled. All women are. Believe me, I get what I can where I can, and you should do the same."

Hooking her thumbs under the top of the elastic pantie girdle, Celia began to worm it down over her wide, lush hips, twisting them from side to side seductively as she did so. As she moved the garment downward, she could see Scott's erection growing more and more pronounced. It jerked with lewd excitement. As her sizzling slit came into view, he gazed at it in open adoration.

"Man, oh man!" he whispered. "That is one beautiful pussy."

"I'm naked," Celia said. "What are you going to do about it now?"

Scott felt his pulse quicken at her saucy response. It was as if Celia had suddenly decided to take control of the situation. That was what he liked about her. They could start out with what was nearly a rape on his part and before long the woman was so turned on that the lewdness of her nature took control of the scene and turned it into a fresh adventure for him. The hardening in his loins was almost unbearable. His cock ached with engorgement, and he longed for climax. It was too soon. He wanted to make it last, to feel the divine tingling of passion as long as he possibly could.

Getting up, his huge erection sticking out of his pants at an abrupt upward angle, he reached into his pants again and scooped out the hugely bloated eggs that were his balls. They flopped lewdly below his cock in their puckered hair-studded sac, and he saw Celia's eyes widen at the sight of them.

"Oh, God," she mumbled in a half whisper, "they look like they're so full, and all of it's for me."

As though he were ignoring her, Scott strode over to the table and picked up a pack of cigarettes. He lit one, taking his time, sucking in on it, letting the match burn down before he shook it to death. He looked at her as though he were seeing her naked being for the first time, appraising her the way a sultan might a slave girl. Celia looked as if she were perturbed at his action, but there was nothing she could do about it.

Slowly, with sure fingers, he loosened the top of his pants. With one quick push he sent them downward to pool at his ankles. He stepped out of them and then reached down to remove his socks, all the time looking at her with the same leering glimmer in his eyes.

Celia shivered, feeling twice as naked because of his stare. It was almost clinical, as if he could see right into her body and as if he knew how her heart was beating, how her body was excited and aroused beyond all belief. She wanted him so badly she thought she might die. His cock was so gigantic, and she knew how wonderful it felt going into her, quenching the deepest thirsts of her passion riddled, boy-loving body.

"Pleeeeeeeeease… " she pleaded, whining to him, holding her arms out toward him imploringly.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked suddenly, the smoke of his cigarette wreathing about his body as if he were being caressed by a ghost.

"What do you think, Baby?" she whispered, her voice low.

He snubbed out his cigarette and moved toward her like a tawny jungle cat in pursuit of prey. "I've got a few ideas," he said, his voice breaking with passion.

Grabbing her by her naked shoulders, he pushed her down onto the sofa. Her legs opened wide of their own accord, and her eyes closed. "Eat me," she crooned softly. "Put your mouth to my twat and eat me out. Pilllllllleeeeeeeease!"

"No way, Honey," he snapped suddenly. Grabbing her by the hair, he jerked her head. Her eyes flew open. She stared up at him fearfully. "What? What do you mean?"

"Not until you do it to me. You eat me, Bitch, and do it good." His lips were twisted in a cruel grin, and again he jerked at her hair sadistically

Celia focused her eyes on the hugeness that was his cock. It was like ripe fruit, waiting for her soft, succulent mouth to taste it. She could see a large drop of clear precum oozing from its dark slit, and she longed for the earthy taste of it. Now she could really smell the hot muskiness of his crotch, and she was excited beyond all reasonable belief.

"Oh, yes," she mumbled. "Yes, I'll eat you. I'll eat you ‘til I drink your cum, every drop of it. I'll suck your big balls dry, Babe. Wait and see."

She reached out and grappled her slim arms around his hips, pulling him to her face. Then she buried her head in his fragrant crotch, digging her face in between his low hanging balls and the hard muscles of his inner thigh. She pulled the air from between his legs, sensing the spicy odor of asshole. At the same time, her hands pulled him even closer to her, melting him into her, smothering her face with his muscular body. She flicked out her small, pink tongue, wiping it over the hairy flesh of his scrotum. Scott moaned, and his ball sac moved as if it had a life all its own. He knew the cum was churning inside it, preparing for its lightning-like journey up and out and deep into her throat or her vagina or wherever she chose to have it.

She licked him again, harder and more insistently this time, soft, low moans coming from her throat, and Scott spread his legs, inviting her on to further exploration. The heady flavor of his ball sweat was driving her mad. Opening her mouth wide, she pulled one of his huge gonads into it. At the same time, she whipped her tongue tip over the hot flesh, starting tremors of total excitement coursing through his body.

Scott's long, hard prick throbbed against her smooth neck, and she decided suddenly that it was time for her to take it. Letting his big, well sucked gonad drop from her mouth, she paused to feast her greedy eyes on his cock. It pointed upward, reaching nearly to his navel.

She took it in one hand, and pulled it down toward her mouth. It's dark pink, pulsating head was only an inch from her lips, and Scott could feel the hotness of her breath on it.

"Hurry," he whispered. "Suck it. Take it all the way."

Closing her eyes, she bent forward, her mouth open wide. The head of his penis slipped between her lush, full lips, and, always, the satiny smoothness of his flesh amazed her. It was by far the smoothest thing she had ever felt. She ran her tongue over it, savoring its texture, and growing in her awareness of its ultimately satisfying flavor.

She circled her tongue tip over the flange of his corona and heard him moan as she touched thousands of excited nerve endings. She began to milk him without mercy, frantically, insistently, literally begging him to shoot his hot cum into her mouth and down her greedy throat.

She took more and more of his long, heavy stalk to her, pushing it down into her gullet and driving him insane with passion. He was fighting to keep from coming, trying to hold off, to retain control.

Celia began worming her long middle finger into the crack of his buttocks, finding his tiny, puckered anus with the tip of it. Pressing against it with her long nail, she demanded entrance. With a grunt, Scott widened his stance, quivering salaciously at this newest perversion. Slowly, she parted his muscles and slipped her finger upward and into his hot, moist rectal opening. Her fingernail scraped into his soft interior, cutting him and bringing jolts of welcome pain. He felt alive, ready to experience it all and to love every lewd second of her ministrations.

The finger wiggled about inside his tube, and he felt as though a hot poker was being shoved into him. His anal muscles clutched tightly around the invader, trying involuntarily to keep it out, but it was no use.

"Oh, yeah, Baby," he cried, throwing his head back and tossing it from side to side. "Finger fuck me up the ass. Yeeeeeeeah! Oh, God, hurts! Hurts so goooooood!"

Suddenly, the tip of her nail touched his swollen prostate, and new, intense jolts of passion ripped through his sweating body.

Jabbing at the small gland repeatedly, she made him soar to new heights. Every nerve in his manly prick screamed out, and he was coming. Without warning in one long release he vomited out gallons of fresh, hot cum into her throat, as she kept poking at his prostate again and again, draining him of every drop and leaving him sobbing in relief.

Celia let his big, half deflated organ slip from her mouth. She wiped her lips with the back of her hand. "There," she whispered, easing her finger out of his well stretched rectum. "Now you eat me. Okay?"

By the time the evening was over, they had made the decision to move in together. They had hardly gotten settled when Scott received the unexpected telephone call from Indianapolis.