Hey, I’m [32 F], been married 6 years, no kids, and I’m pretty sure my husband is cheating on me ‘cause I can’t get pregnant. Our marriage is a total shitshow, I swear we've been trying to fix it. So I decided to confront his assistant, J [30M], about where my husband’s at. I’ve had a bad feeling for weeks—him coming home late, dumb excuses—and it’s been eating me up. One night, I was plastered on vodka, falling apart, and I called J, all shaky, “Where’s he at?” “I don’t know, ma’am,” he said, real polite but tense. “Just come over, please,” I said, and he showed up, looking kinda nervous.He walked in, and I lost it—pushed him against the wall, crying, “YOU KNOW SOMETHING, RIGHT?” He grabbed my wrists, soft-like, going, “Mrs. *******, you’re upset, take it easy,” but I dropped to my knees, unzipping his pants down. His dick popped out, big and getting hard, and I just went for it, sucking him deep, all sloppy and needy. “Whoa—no, we can’t,” he said, kinda panicked, trying to push me off, but I looked up, tears everywhere, begging,“Please, J, fuck me—get me pregnant. It’s the only way he won’t leave me.” He went quiet, breathing hard, “This ain’t right,” but I kept sucking, licking him up, and he stopped fighting, getting stiff in my mouth.We tripped over to my husband’s little home office, stuff flying everywhere. I shoved everything off his desk—papers, pens, all that crap hitting the floor—and bent over it, skirt up, no underwear. “Please,” I said, voice all cracked, and J paused, then said real low, “If you’re sure.” He slid in, hard and deep, desk wobbling every time he thrust. “I shouldn’t,” he mumbled, hands gentle on my hips, but damn, he fucked me so much better than my husband—bigger, stronger, making me feel alive. I was moaning, all messed up, “Fill me up—give me a child, I will let him know. Please.” and he went faster, the sound of us all wet and loud. I came hard, shaking, dripping on him, and he let out this soft deep moan, pumping me full—warm cum shooting deep, leaking out as he stayed in there, giving me what I asked for.It didn’t stop. Every night my husband dragged in near morning, clueless, J was already over, screwing me good, filling me up, way better than my husband’s sorry-ass tries. One night, my husband came home early, and I freaked—J was supposed to show up any second. He headed for the shower, and I hung by the bathroom door, heart pounding, going, “Oh, you’re home early tonight.” “Yeah, just washing up,” he said through the water. “Got a meeting later, then a party—same old.” Total bullshit. I kept eyeing the clock, scared J’d knock, when his phone buzzed on the counter. Some shady app popped up—locked tight. I knew his code, 0418, from watching him all the time. Hands all shaky, I typed it in, and it worked.A message pops: “Hey, won’t swing by your place today. Got your schedule done for tomorrow, so we can fuck all night and roll into the office around lunch. Clean those holes .” I nearly dropped the damn phone, legs wobbly—he was cheating. I was shaking bad, ready to lose it, when another buzz came. A pic: some guy’s hard dick, wet and ready, and the hand holding it had a watch—steel, with “J.E. 2015” scratched inside. I knew that watch, as I've been seeing it every night when he visit... I couldn’t breathe, hands trembling, phone slipping—holy fuck, it was him.

Hey, I’m [32 F], been married 6 years, no kids, and I’m pretty sure my husband is cheating on me ‘cause I can’t get pregnant. Our marriage is a total shitshow, I swear we've been trying to fix it. So I decided to confront his assistant, J [30M], about where my husband’s at. 

I’ve had a bad feeling for weeks—him coming home late, dumb excuses—and it’s been eating me up. One night, I was plastered on vodka, falling apart, and I called J, all shaky, “Where’s he at?” “I don’t know, ma’am,” he said, real polite but tense. “Just come over, please,” I said, and he showed up, looking kinda nervous.

He walked in, and I lost it—pushed him against the wall, crying, “YOU KNOW SOMETHING, RIGHT?” He grabbed my wrists, soft-like, going, “Mrs. *******, you’re upset, take it easy,” but I dropped to my knees, unzipping his pants down. His dick popped out, big and getting hard, and I just went for it, sucking him deep, all sloppy and needy. “Whoa—no, we can’t,” he said, kinda panicked, trying to push me off, but I looked up, tears everywhere, begging,“Please, J, fuck me—get me pregnant. It’s the only way he won’t leave me.” He went quiet, breathing hard, “This ain’t right,” but I kept sucking, licking him up, and he stopped fighting, getting stiff in my mouth.

We tripped over to my husband’s little home office, stuff flying everywhere. I shoved everything off his desk—papers, pens, all that crap hitting the floor—and bent over it, skirt up, no underwear. “Please,” I said, voice all cracked, and J paused, then said real low, “If you’re sure.” 

He slid in, hard and deep, desk wobbling every time he thrust. “I shouldn’t,” he mumbled, hands gentle on my hips, but damn, he fucked me so much better than my husband—bigger, stronger, making me feel alive. I was moaning, all messed up, “Fill me up—give me a child, I will let him know. Please.” and he went faster, the sound of us all wet and loud. I came hard, shaking, dripping on him, and he let out this soft deep moan, pumping me full—warm cum shooting deep, leaking out as he stayed in there, giving me what I asked for.

It didn’t stop. Every night my husband dragged in near morning, clueless, J was already over, screwing me good, filling me up, way better than my husband’s sorry-ass tries. One night, my husband came home early, and I freaked—J was supposed to show up any second. He headed for the shower, and I hung by the bathroom door, heart pounding, going, “Oh, you’re home early tonight.” “Yeah, just washing up,” he said through the water. “Got a meeting later, then a party—same old.” Total bullshit. 

I kept eyeing the clock, scared J’d knock, when his phone buzzed on the counter. Some shady app popped up—locked tight. I knew his code, 0418, from watching him all the time. Hands all shaky, I typed it in, and it worked.

A message pops: “Hey, won’t swing by your place today. Got your schedule done for tomorrow, so we can fuck all night and roll into the office around lunch. Clean those holes .” I nearly dropped the damn phone, legs wobbly—he was cheating. I was shaking bad, ready to lose it, when another buzz came. A pic: some guy’s hard dick, wet and ready, and the hand holding it had a watch—steel, with “J.E. 2015” scratched inside. I knew that watch, as I've been seeing it every night when he visit... I couldn’t breathe, hands trembling, phone slipping—holy fuck, it was him.

A woman, desperate and heartbroken, seeks solace and answers from her husband's assistant, J. Their encounter turns into a passionate, forbidden affair in her husband's office, exploring themes of betrayal, submission, and the intense desire for intimacy and control.

I've been fucking my husband's assistant and and he’s fucking my husband too

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