My Wife Had Sex With Her Boss For Her Husband's Job

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"My word," Bill quietly responded, but emphasizing.There was quiet for a moment, then, "Oh, Bill. I've done some despicable things ... I'm so ashamed. I'm trash..." The tears began — and the memories."Hush," he said, lightly touching her lips. "You only did what you were forced to do by that animal who calls himself a man. You are my wife, just as you always were." But ... I ... I fucked them. They made me do things ... Oh, God, Bill," she sobbed. "How can you ever forgive me?" Hush," he said, his voice shaky. "There is nothing to forgive, Baby. Nothing. You haven't done anything wrong."Kathy buried her face next to Jill's as they lay side-by-side, and talked quietly in her ear. "Hush. We know. We know," Kathy repeated. "Don't cry. We all love you. We're all in this together with you. You did nothing wrong. Your husband loves you. Linda loves you. I, your sister-wife, love you." Sister-wife?" Jill repeated, the sobs quieting for a moment, her voice a little curious now."Yes, we're. "Then why did you go along with this?" he asked instead."Because it seemed so important to you," Heather laughed. "And because I love you and want to see that you get what you deserve." I really am a lucky guy," he said as he kissed her."Honey, you don't know how lucky," Heather said as she started for the door once more, "but you're about to find out."As they entered the bar, it was still mostly empty. The usual after work crowd not yet having arrived. Their expected guest didn't seem to be anywhere within sight either."Are we too early?" Jordan asked."No, we're right on time," Heather said as she glanced at her watch. "I'm sure she'll he here any minute." I hope she didn't have to cancel or anything like that," Jordan said, worrying that if it didn't happen tonight, it might not happen at all."I talked to her this afternoon, just to be sure," Heather said as she sat down on a barstool and ordered for both of them. "So stop worrying." If you say so." I do, and..." Heather started to.
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After consuming the best part of a bottle of cheap rum, I awoke with a mouth that would kill at a thousand paces, a head that couldn’t decide whether it was sore or still drunk, and a stomach that was undecided about its preferred location. I drank half the carton of orange juice as I changed into some sports gear and running shoes. The juice doesn’t really help with the hangover but it makes your vomit taste nice. I went for a long run. Mind you, in the state I was in, anything further than my own length, constituted a long run. I found the tow-path and ran along the canal. After about a mile my stomach decided it wanted out. Anywhere else it would have been pavement pizza, but here I was able to project about a quarter of the way across the canal. It was very wide at this point, honestly! That set the tone for the next mile. I was glad of the orange juice. I turned at the lock gates and returned to the hotel feeling much fresher. Showered, freshly dressed, and having made good.

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