A Holiday Party Hall Pass

Readers: My LIT muse delivered a curious inspiration for my first story of 2025. And that inspiration actually got totally written out of the story. Maybe it will show up later. This offering is my first effort at one story told sequentially from a his-and-hers point of view. It's also turned into one of those stories that you just need to go ahead and finish (with apologies to O. Henry)... just to get it to some closure. Ignore the impracticality... turn on your willing suspension of disbelief. And I hope you enjoy it. Thanks as always for your votes, your comments, and your feedback. P_E

A HOLIDAY PARTY HALL PASS

My name is Kyle and I'll tell you right now, I am NOT crazy about my wife's office Christmas parties.

I still go to them, but only because she wants me to.

Sometimes she pays me back with a pretty nice fuck after we get home.

But I digress... (already)...

Back when I was in management (once), my first boss gave me some advice:

"Kyle my boy," my boss said, "do you really want to know what your people think of you? Then talk to their wives or their husbands at the company Christmas party.

"You'll find out right away."

From that day on I've been careful how I behave around my wife's superiors during these affairs.

My wife is Kelly. She's a mid-level manager in a med-tech company in our town.

And, at forty-three years of age, she's a goddam smoke-show.

We met in college.

I was trying to play football and she was trying to be on the cheer/dance teams. We both got cut the same day.

We walked off the practice field together and -- except for my work -- we've hardly been apart since.

Kelly is a pixie of a girl.

She's barely five-feet-two, depending on the shoes she's wearing. A hundred pounds, soaking wet.

She has always had an amazing body, and she's kept herself in good shape through all the years we've been out of school.

Her eyes are green, bright, and piercing. And she has a beautiful head of shoulder-length dark auburn hair. She styles it in a way that it always looks naturally tousled with bangs gracing her forehead.

If we had children, Kelly would be the textbook example of a MILF.

Kelly is also very, very, very good in bed. We fucked on our second date, and I was smitten.

She loves to experiment with new things between the sheets.

She's incredible tactile; she loves to touch me and she loves for me to touch her.

Sometimes I feel like I'm struggling to keep up with her.

Kelly is three levels down from the gang in the C-suites at work, and she's perfectly happy where she's at. She's even turned down opportunities to move higher up the company ladder.

Even though they're in the med-tech business, Covid really did a number on the company's profitability.

My wife's department isn't affected at all (thanks to Kelly; a fact I'd like to tell somebody important tonight.)

Nevertheless, HQ has sent a new Vice President-slash-Associate Director to shape things up.

He got here a couple of months month ago.

He's got a reputation as a world-class sleazeball, and he's already cut a wide swath and rolled lots of heads in several departments.

This is his first Christmas season with this office. He's here tonight with his wife, and he's working the room like a used-car salesman.

He wants to schmooze with literally every lower-level manager in the room all night long.

Word is that he's looking for his next victim, and it's probably going to be a Level Three Manager... and also probably a woman.

And my wife is the only one matching that description.

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Hi, Y'all... I'm Kelly. Kyle is my husband.

We've been married since just after we got out of college. No kids.

Kyle has a degree in sports and health management. I'm a numbers girl; I have a business degree.

Kyle tried to go the management route with one of the fitness chains for a few years after college, but it just wasn't his jam. He's now a professional trainer; companies hire him to learn about their product, and then train sales associates, mostly, on how to sell it.

After college I latched onto a low-level position in a little start-up med-tech business in our town, and I've worked my way up the chain.

Now I manage a department involved in getting the materials we manufacture in the right place at the exact right time.

It's a job I'm good at. It's a job I'm happy with.

Now I'm just trying like hell to keep it.

Our headquarters up in New Jersey seems to think we're not pulling our weight down here in the south. My department is, but our overall company is still recovering from a major drop-off in business during Covid.

So they've appointed a new divisional something-or-other to straighten it all out.

His name is Adam Elkin.

Everybody says he's an asshole. A sexist asshole, even in this day of wokeness and equality and all that shit.

I heard he thinks "DEI" should stand for "didn't earn it." I don't necessarily disagree with that, but it's surprising hearing that one of the honchos said it.

I have a friend, Lisa, who worked with him in Jersey. She and I talked on the phone last week and she told me all about his M-O.

Lisa says he's ruthless. And he wants managers to be ruthless back to him, rather than try to find "cooperative participation," as the cretins in H-R like to say.

He also fucks around on his wife.

Lisa says she would never be able to prove it, but she swears that he was fucking a bimbo Level Three manager at the facility up there.

He hand-picked her for a position she didn't deserve, just so he could have her handy whenever he wanted her.

She says there are a hundred reasons the bimbo should have been canned, but she never was.

Well, I'm Level Three down here. And I ain't no bimbo.

But if fucking the boss is what I have to do to keep my job, goddamit, that's what I'll do.

Because...

Kyle doesn't know this, but I've been fucking other men for a while.

Kyle's work takes him out of town for trainings and seminars every two to three months. He'll be gone a week or two at a time.

So that's when I can fuck other men.

I'm very discrete about it. We meet a time or three to determine compatibility, if it exists.

Then we fuck on my rules. Always on neutral territory... never my house, never his house.

I have two men I call on mostly. A third one travels a lot and isn't available very often. He's a great fuck when he is available, though.

I don't want a relationship. I don't want emotional attachment.

I don't want anything other than a big cock, and a man who knows how to fuck me with it.

I'm not a hotwife. I'm not a swinger. I'm just a forty-three year-old woman with a raging sex drive, and a need for a larger-than-average cock.

It's not something I'm proud of, but it fills a need for me.

Kyle is a fantastic husband, and a good-enough lover. I love making love with him. I love the attention he lavishes on my body.

When we were dating, we would get all starry-eyed and tell each other how perfectly our bodies fit together. Kyle's cock was -- and still is, I guess -- just the right size for my pussy.

And that's the problem.

I'm a small girl. Always have been.

And, after I started having sex on the regular in college, I realized that I wanted more than just the "right sized" cock inside me.

When I fuck I want -- no, I *need* -- my pussy to be stretched open. To be filled... to be over-filled... with my lover's meat-pole.

And maybe... that makes this new Adam Elkin-VP-asshole guy a part of the game.

Lisa says the bimbo in New Jersey got drunk at a department lunch and couldn't stop talking about "her lover."

The bimbo didn't realize that everybody knew she was talking about Elkin.

And she said he was hung like a fucking race horse.

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Kelly all but crashes through our front door a few months ago. She slams her computer satchel and her purse into their customary positions by the front door.

"Kyle," Kelly all but screams into our house, "I cannot... CAN-NOT... lose this fucking job!!"

I'm fixing us a light dinner in the kitchen. Shrimp salad and a nice white wine.

I look up and smile at my wife, but I don't get pulled into her crisis just yet. Because this is not a new conversation.

Kelly is as much a babysitter at work as she is a department manager.

In addition to her business degree, Kelly has a certification in what's called MRP - Material Requirement Planning. Her company manufactures and assembles all kinds of monitoring equipment for the medical field. Some of these devices have dozens of parts -- many of which are insanely expensive.

The team Kelly leads is responsible for making sure that all those parts are available the moment they're needed, without loading down the balance sheet with a bunch of expensive inventory sitting on the shelves.

In spite of that, her team can still be absolute idiots.

Trust me... I've heard the stories of all the assholes Kelly works with (both men and women).

I've also learned that my wife is quite capable of managing her little pack of idiots. She doesn't need any advice from me.

Tonight's issue isn't with her staff. It's with her new boss.

"I was on the phone with Lisa all the way home tonight," Kelly informs me as she shuffles through today's mail.

Lisa is Kelly's best friend from work.

"This Adam Elkin asshole fired two people from her department, and two more from Amanda's," Kelly continues. "And he didn't even talk to Lisa or Amanda about it!"

"That doesn't seem... proper," I contribute.

"He doesn't give a fuck about being proper!" Kelly retorts. She runs her hand through her tousled hair. And glares through the kitchen cut-out at me.

"So why the hell would he want to replace you?" I ask.

"He doesn't think he needs a reason," Kelly answers curtly. "He thinks he's God's gift to restoring our profitability... and firing people is the way to do it!"

"Maybe he's just trying to scare everybody?" I ponder.

"Yes, Kyle," Kelly replies in a cold sing-song voice. "Fear is a motivator.

"But so is a firearm. And I'm about ready to start making every day "take your gun to work day."

It's a funny, unexpected thing for her to say. And I laugh out loud. Kelly only offers me a meek smile.

She's pissed. And I learned a long time ago that my suggestions as to how she could navigate problems at her work were decidedly NOT welcomed.

So, I offer her the only thing I can, which is sympathetic compassion.

"What can I do for you, Kell?" I ask her quietly.

Kelly knows that I get her. I understand her. So my beautiful wife sighs and looks at me with a soft smile.

"I'm going to go take a shower," she says quietly.

"Then you can meet me in the bedroom and fuck this madness out of me."

So, dinner is going to be delayed. I put some plastic wrap over the salad that's already in the bowls and put them and the shrimp salad back into the refrigerator.

I've opened the wine but it won't hurt for it to breathe a little more before we drink it.

By the time I'm finished I can hear that the shower is off. I turn down the lights and make my way to the back of the house and our bedroom.

I open the door and my beautiful wife is sitting on her side of the bed, facing the door. Her wry smile says several things all at once:

1) She knows that I know how she feels about the challenges of her job;

2) She realizes that a good romp between the sheets will help her take her mind off work problems;

3) She knows -- at the very least -- that I'm going to feast on her beautiful pussy until she has an explosive orgasm.

Because that's my secret sauce. I love cunnilingus and Kelly knows it. She loves it too.

I told you earlier that we fucked on our second date. I ate Kelly out to an orgasm on our fourth. It was her first experience with it.

"All the girls say it's icky," Kelly told me at the time. "They all say their boyfriends hate it."

"Then they're just not doing it right," was my reply. And I proceeded to prove it to her.

Now, Kelly is sitting demurely on the side of the bed. Her bountiful red hair is towel-dried but still quite damp. She's wrapped in a bath towel and her legs are crossed at the knees.

I step through the door and close it behind me.

Staring at my wife, still smiling her sly smile, I strip off my polo shirt, and unbutton, unzip, and drop my shorts to the floor.

Then I slide my briefs over my hips, allowing them to drop to the floor, and I step out of them.

It's not a sexy strip-tease. It's an intentional one.

My eyes haven't left Kelly's and Kelly's beautiful green eyes haven't left mine, except for a quick glance at my stiffening cock -- followed by another wry smile -- when I dropped my briefs.

I take two soft steps toward my wife until I am standing just in front of her. Kelly uncrosses her legs, keeping her knees together.

I reach forward and grasp the edge of the towel that's tucked into the cleavage of Kelly's gorgeous boobs. A slight pull and the fabric loses the tension holding it to her, and the towel drops away, revealing my wife's beautiful naked body.

Probably every man that Kelly encounters - (and maybe some women) - at work, at the store, at church, at a party... I'm pretty sure they want to see her boobs. And not just see them. They want to fondle them. Squeeze them. Lick them. Maybe even cum on them.

Kelly's boobs are spectacular. For a woman with a small frame, Kelly's breasts demand your full attention. After we were married I snuck a look at the drawer where she stows her every-day bras and panties. The bras I looked at had a tag that listed them at thirty-six-D.

Even at her age, her glorious orbs sit high on her chest. There's a soft sag because of their size, but they don't lay flat against her chest. There's plenty to fondle... play with... slip my cock between.

Kelly's areolae are about the size of a silver dollar, slightly oblong, and are the color or her tongue. She has slight bumps around both. I like to very softly stroke those bumps (I learned they're called Montgomery glands) with the tips of my fingers, when i want to drive Kelly crazy during foreplay. Her nipples are visible but not prominent. They're also very sensitive. Kelly has been known to cum from extended nipple play.

Kelly showed me her tits on our first date. And it's probably one of the main reasons we fucked on our second date, instead of our first.

Here's how that went down:

We're making out on the couch at my apartment. It gets hot and heavy, and escalates quickly.

We had both been cut from our athletic-program dreams that afternoon. We needed to heal, and suddenly realize we have each other for that.

We have a burger or something to eat, and maybe a little too much to drink, and then we end up at my place. My roommate is away for the weekend fucking Callie, his out-of-town girlfriend.

I am entranced, obviously, with Kelly's body. We make out for a while and she lets me fondle her boobs through her T-shirt.

Suddenly, she pushes me away from her and, in one quick, swift motion, strips herself of both her T-shirt and her bra. Then she lays back down on the couch and gives me a look that says, "And???..."

Holy fuck! Kelly's glorious globes are free, and mine for the taking.

I waste no time. I go back in for a kiss, and my right hand grasps Kelly's left breast. I'm squeezing... fondling... exploring.

Kelly's soft moans into my mouth tells me I'm on the right path.

And then...

A clatter on the lock and the front door to my apartment bursts open. My roommate's frame is the silhouette that blocks the westward-streaming sun suddenly crashing into my pre-fuck reverie.

Kelly squeals in response and I lurch forward to cover her exposed chest.

My roommate, fortunately, is drunk and either doesn't know or doesn't care that I have a gorgeous, half-naked woman on our couch.

"Oh, hey... Dude," he mumbles as he stumbles into the apartment. "Sorry... Callie's got some stomach-flu thing.

"I'm going to bed." And he continues his stumble through our apartment and down the hall to his bedroom.

Kelly and I are left to laugh our way through our interrupted foreplay.

I collect Kelly's bra and T-shirt from the floor. She takes them from me with a dazzling smile.

I decide to be bold: "Can we continue this maybe the next time we're together?"

Kelly whispers back: "I'm looking forward to it."

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Now I'm looking at those gorgeous globes as my wife sits on the side of the bed, looking up at me with a wicked smile.

I grasp her head in my hands. And I lean down and give my beautiful wife a kiss.

From the first time I kissed Kelly, on our first date, I was pretty sure there was nobody who would kiss me like that again.

Kelly's kiss -- how do I describe it -- it absorbs you. It's more than lips grinding on lips, or tongues dancing with tongues. It's a consumption. Almost symbiotic. And Kelly isn't shy about letting you know how she feels about it. Like now.

"Mmmmmmfff..." she moans into my mouth like that very first time. "Mmmmfff..." Then the kiss breaks and Kelly takes a breath. "Oh, fuck," she whispers, "... the way you..."

And she kisses me again.

But Kelly gave me instructions a few minutes ago. Now it's time to fulfill her wishes.

I break the kiss and gently push my wife's shoulders away from me. She complies and lies back on the bed. She stretches her arms loosely above her head. Her fabulous boobs roll gently up on her chest.

I don't follow her down to the mattress. Instead, I bend over and begin a trail of soft kisses, beginning at her neck, then down to and over her breasts, and across her stomach.

I'm now on my knees and I gently put my hands on Kelly's knees and push them outward. She willingly complies.

Kelly shaves her vulva. She leaves a tiny triangle-shaped patch of very short hair just above her clit.

My kisses now venture down to the insides of Kelly's thighs. They also slow down and deepen. Kelly's soft moans guide me the rest of the way.

"Mmmmmmm..." Kelly purrs. One hand moves to my head and softly strokes my hair.

I very purposefully run my tongue along her vestibular bulbs and I see and feel them them swell as they become engorged.

My attention now focuses on the outer lips of Kelly's pussy. I gently run my tongue up one side and down the other, breathing hot breath out of my mouth and onto her cunt. Her inner lips are still pursed together but a drop of moisture is running out from between them.

"Yes... there," Kelly whispers, "... right there."

The smell of Kelly's pussy is intoxicating. My cock is straining to slide inside her.

But not quite yet.

I harden the tip of my tongue and run it carefully between Kelly's pursed inner lips, separating them as I move slowly from bottom to top.

At the top I twiddle softly over Kelly's clit, which is beginning to peek out from its hood.

"Oh, fuck...Kyle..." Kelly moans.

My arms move up under Kelly's thighs and I pull her crotch harder into my mouth.

Now I'm kissing, sucking, moaning into Kelly's quivering quim.

Kelly's juices are flowing freely and the taste as they dribble out of her cunt is intoxicating.

I harden my tongue again and slide it as far as I can into Kelly's love hole.

I slide a hand up to Kelly's left boob and squeeze the nipple softly between my fingers.

"Ooh... shit..." Kelly moans. "That feels... urmmmm..."

I feel her Kelly's pussy beginning to pulsate. Her head is pivoting back and forth against the bed. Her legs are beginning to shake a little.

"Kyle," Kelly growls. "I want to cum. And I want you inside me."

I get off my knees and stand at the side of the bed.

I grasp Kelly's ankles and hoist her legs straight up and place one on each of my shoulders.