Demoted and...

Did it bother me because Jeremy was everything I wasn't? At 27, he was six years younger than Carrie and I. He'd worked in the warehouse since we'd started the company and his body showed it. He was young, in shape, and I'm sure possessed a virility and stamina necessary for moving crates and boxes eight hours a day. Was it because I feared that he could give her something I couldn't? I knew that it was my fault we couldn't conceive. Was I that scared that Carrie would find me too worthless to keep around? Was all this "I'm your boss, you're my secretary" stuff just a way of transitioning herself into a stable position in the company so she could reduce her need for me there, too? I was starting to make myself sick and I was hesitant to blame the scotch. It was far too easy to blame Carrie.

Fuck the guest room. It was eleven o'clock and Carrie still wasn't home so if she wasn't going to use the master bedroom, I was. I undressed and sprawled out, taking up as much of our king sized mattress as I could. Maybe there could be something positive here. I let myself succumb to the effects of the scotch and faded out.

The sounds of Jeremy fucking my wife filled my dreams and, even in an alcohol fueled stupor that should have had me comatose until the morning, I slept awfully. In my dreams I could feel the bed moving and Carrie screaming as Jeremy filled her with his cock. I awoke with a start to find that it wasn't a dream at all. There she was, bent over on the bed, her face just inches from mine as Jeremy fucked her from behind.

"Oh, he's awake!" She said, taking a quick break from gasping for breath. I tried to roll away and jump out of the bed, overwhelmed with what seemed like an alternate reality but my legs wouldn't move. Before I knew what was going on, Jeremy grabbed whatever was binding my hands together behind my back and brought me into a sitting position. He knelt on the bed in front of me, his enormous cock dripping with Carrie's juices.