This story is inspired by a fantasy shared by one of the many beautiful, sexually charged women on Reddit.

"For years, I'd been the CFO of a thriving boxspring and mattress company. Despite my office-bound role, I often found myself pitching in at customer service. A knack for problem-solving and a willingness to go the extra mile made me a popular figure, keeping me grounded in the company's day-to-day operations."

As was often the case on Fridays, a complaint had been filed, this time regarding a newly delivered box spring. The customer resided a mere ten kilometers away. Trading my suit for overalls, I borrowed a toolbox and set off. When I arrived, a strikingly beautiful woman answered the door. Her curly hair, tanned skin, and voluptuous figure were quite captivating. However, my visit was strictly professional; I was there to fix the bed, not the lady.

She led me into the sanctuary of her bedroom. The bed, once a haven of comfort, now lay in disrepair. A single, errant screw was the culprit. With practiced ease, I remedied the issue. A test of the bed's stability confirmed my success. "House calls under ten minutes are on me," I quipped, "but I've been here a bit longer and could use a drink." Her eyes twinkled. "Considering my plans for the weekend," she began, her voice low and inviting, "I want to ensure this little mishap doesn't repeat itself."

I met her gaze, and in her eyes, I saw a desire that mirrored my own. A flicker of doubt crossed my mind; discretion was the better part of valor. But the allure of the woman before me proved too strong. After all, I was the CFO—the Chief Fucking Officer. Impulsively, I nudged her, sending her tumbling backward onto the bed. 'See?' I smirked, 'The bed is made.' As if on cue, she knelt, offering me a tantalizing glimpse on her big 40DD breasts.

I decided to play along, but on my terms. Swiftly, I retrieved two zip ties from my toolbox and bound her wrists to the box spring—secure enough to assert my dominance, yet loose enough for her to free herself if she wished. Her clothes fell away with ease, revealing her in all her nakedness. The sight of her shaved tight mound ignited a fire within me. As a bulge formed in my pants, I pulled her legs back and tied them. She was at my mercy.

I slipped a pillow beneath her, angling her body upward. Stripping, I positioned myself between her legs. With a single, smooth push, I sank into her. She gasped, her voice a high, sweet cry. I began to pound, hard and fast. She was loving it. Her moans became too loud. I silenced her, stuffing her panties into her mouth. As I continued my brutal assault, my hand tightened around her neck. Her attempts to scream were futile; the fabric muffled her cries.

She climaxed again, and again. Soaked, she was. Liquid trailed from her core, staining the sheets. My own release was near, but too soon. There was more to be done, more to test. I withdrew, and she looked up, a hint of disappointment in her eyes. The tease. She wanted more, and more she would get. I removed the panties from her mouth and replaced them with my hardened length.

Bound as she was, I dictated the depth of my invasion. Testing her limits, I pushed deeper and deeper, until she gagged. Trained, she could accommodate almost all of me. As I thrust slowly into her mouth, my hand found her clit, massaging its sensitive bud. With my other hand, I controlled the rhythm of her ministrations, her hair a puppet in my grasp.

My fingers danced a delicate rhythm across her clitoris, her body already trembling with anticipation. This time, her loud moan was muffled by the thickness of my cock deep in her throat. She was a seasoned player, I could tell. With three more thrusts, I could release my seed deep into her, but I held back. There was one more hole left to explore. When I asked if she was ready for the final test, her nod was eager and assured. Such a beautiful ass deserved to be used.

I position her on all fours, her body a canvas for my touch. As I free one hand, I grant her permission to explore herself while I prepare her entrance. With a gentle caress, I ease my way into her, her gasps a melody to my ears. With each thrust, our bodies become one. Each thrust deepens, the moans growing louder with each. As she nears her release, she clenches, her form tightening around me, fueling my own desire. In a shared crescendo, we surrender, collapsing into each other, breathless and spent.

Once we've recovered, we dress. This time, she offers me a drink, a welcome gesture. We chat, flirt, until it's time for me to go. At parting, I hand her my business card. She studies it, then remarks with admiration, 'So the CFO has graced my bed.' I smile inwardly. Indeed, I think, I’m the Chief Fucking Officer.