The strip club throbbed below like a living beast, basslines vibrating up through the floor of Jack's private office. Downstairs, the chaos of flashing lights and grinding bodies fueled his empire, but up here, behind the soundproofed walls and tinted windows, he ruled a different kingdom. The air was heavy with bourbon, sweat, and the sharp tang of lust, a heady cocktail that matched the scene unfolding before him.
Sasha, his thick brunette prize, was a vision of depravity—naked except for the black leather collar locked around her neck and the thigh-high stiletto boots that clicked with every move. Her curves were obscene: full, heavy tits that jiggled with each breath, a waist that flared into wide hips, and an ass so fat it begged to be spanked. She straddled his lap, grinding that juicy backside against the monstrous bulge in his slacks, teasing the fat, black, twelve-inch cock she knew was waiting beneath. She was his dirty secret, a stripper he owned in every sense, and she reveled in it—especially knowing his wife, some prim socialite, was clueless back home.
"Fuck, you're hard tonight," Sasha purred, her voice a husky drawl as she rolled her hips, pressing her bare ass harder against him. The friction sent a jolt through Jack, his cock throbbing under the fabric, straining to break free. She braced her hands on his knees, arching her back to give him a full view of her bouncing cheeks, her pussy already glistening between her thighs. "Wife not keeping you satisfied?"
Jack smirked, leaning back in his leather chair, one hand swirling a tumbler of bourbon while the other rested casually on her hip. "She doesn't need to," he said, voice dripping with smug control. "That's why I've got you, slut. Now stop talking and work that ass."
Sasha shivered at the command, her body responding like it was wired to obey. She ground down harder, spreading her legs wider across his lap, letting him feel the heat radiating from her core. Jack's grip tightened, fingers digging into her flesh as he guided her rhythm, his eyes locked on the way her ass rippled with each thrust. The bourbon clinked as he set it aside, both hands now free to roam—sliding up her sides, cupping her tits, pinching her nipples until she gasped.
"Take it out," he growled, shoving her forward so she slid off his lap and onto her knees between his thighs. "I want that mouth on me."
Sasha's fingers flew to his belt, unbuckling it with practiced ease, tugging his slacks and boxers down just enough to unleash his beast. His cock sprang up, a towering twelve inches of thick, ebony meat, veins pulsing along the shaft, the head slick with precum. She moaned at the sight, her hands wrapping around it—barely—stroking him as she leaned in, tongue flicking out to taste him.
"Fuck, it's huge," she breathed, her lips brushing the tip before she opened wide, taking him in. Jack groaned, one hand fisting her hair as he shoved her down, forcing her to swallow half his length in one go. Her throat bulged, the outline of his cock visible as it stretched her, and she gagged, spit dribbling down her chin.
"Deeper," he snarled, hips bucking up to meet her, ramming into her mouth until her nose pressed against his pelvis. "Choke on it, you filthy little whore."
She did, eyes watering, mascara streaking as she sucked him hard, her tongue swirling around the shaft. Jack fucked her face with ruthless precision, the wet, sloppy sounds filling the office as he claimed her throat. He came with a guttural roar, pumping thick ropes of cum straight down her gullet, holding her there until she swallowed every drop.
But he wasn't done. Not even close.
"Up," he barked, yanking her to her feet by the collar chain. Sasha stumbled, legs shaky, but he didn't give her time to recover. He spun her around, bending her over his desk, her tits flattening against the polished wood as he kicked her boots apart. "Spread those legs. I'm gonna fuck you 'til you can't walk."
Sasha whimpered, obeying instantly, her ass jutting back as she gripped the desk's edge. Jack lined himself up, the head of his cock nudging her dripping entrance, teasing her for a split second before he slammed in—twelve inches burying deep in one brutal thrust. She screamed, the sound raw and desperate, her walls clenching around him as he stretched her to the limit.
"Fuck—too big—" she gasped, but her hips rocked back, begging for more.
"Shut up and take it," Jack grunted, gripping her hips as he set a punishing pace, pounding into her with enough force to rattle the desk. Papers scattered, a pen clattered to the floor, but he didn't care—his focus was on her ass bouncing with each thrust, the way her pussy gripped him like a vice. He slapped her cheek, leaving a red mark, then reached around to pinch her clit, making her sob with pleasure.
"You love this cock, don't you?" he taunted, leaning over her, his chest pressing against her back as he drove deeper. "Better than anything that prissy bitch at home could dream of."
"Yes—fuck, yes—" Sasha wailed, her body trembling as an orgasm ripped through her, soaking his cock, dripping down her thighs. Jack didn't stop, fucking her through it, his balls slapping against her as he chased his own release. He came again, growling her name, filling her with hot, thick cum until it leaked out around his shaft, pooling on the desk beneath her.
Panting, he pulled out, leaving her slumped over the wood, a wrecked, satisfied mess. But the night wasn't over yet.
As Sasha caught her breath, Jack's phone buzzed on the desk, the screen lighting up with "Wife." He smirked, wiping his cock on her ass before picking it up, hitting answer as he sank back into his chair. "Yeah, babe," he said, voice smooth and casual, like he hadn't just fucked another woman senseless.
Sasha, still trembling, slid to her knees again, crawling between his legs. She knew the game—knew he loved the thrill of cheating right under his wife's nose. Without a word, she took his cock back in her mouth, sucking the head as his wife's voice purred through the speaker.
"Jack, I'm so horny tonight," the woman whined, oblivious. "When are you coming home? I need you."
Jack's eyes glinted with dark amusement, his hand guiding Sasha's head as she bobbed deeper, her throat bulging once more with his girth. "Soon, baby," he lied, thrusting up slightly, making Sasha gag quietly. "Just wrapping up some business."
"God, I want you so bad," his wife moaned, the sound tinny through the phone. "I'm touching myself thinking about you."
Sasha sucked harder, hollowing her cheeks, her tongue tracing the veins as she stared up at him, daring him to lose control. The bulge in her throat pulsed, obscene and visible, as she took him all the way, spit and cum from earlier mixing on her lips.
"Good girl," he muttered, and his wife giggled, thinking it was for her. "Keep going—I'll be there soon." He bucked into Sasha's mouth, fucking her face while his wife rambled on, oblivious to the slurping sounds muffled by his hand over the mic.
"Cum for me, Jack," his wife begged, her voice desperate.
"Oh, I will," he growled, and he did—right down Sasha's throat, a second load spilling as she swallowed greedily, her eyes locked on his. He hung up mid-moan, tossing the phone aside as Sasha pulled off, licking her lips, a smug grin on her face.
"Better than her?" she teased, voice wrecked.
Jack smirked, tugging her collar. "Always, slut. Now clean yourself up—we're not done."