This story is about a cheater. It also has some humiliation. If you don't want to read about that, please find something else to read.
This is also part of a series, including "Fi Just Can't Get Enough". The order of reading is unimportant, but I'd probably read that one first.
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Pete sighed. He was bored, but he didn't want to admit it. Sitting on a stool outside of a fitting room in a Department Store, waiting for his girl to give him a peek wasn't his idea of a good time. He had been here for quarter of an hour.
His girl, Fi, absolutely was his idea of a good time. She wasn't like a model or anything, she had sticking out ears and a little bit of weight on her, but she had the sexiest attitude. It was like she still flirted with him constantly. He was always thinking about sex with her. So he put up with this sort of thing. It was usually fun when they got home.
Fi was in fitting room B, trying out strappy tops and boob tubes. She was bound to be in there for another fifteen to twenty minutes. She had somehow persuaded the manager to let her ignore the three item limit, and had taken at least ten variations on the same theme into the changing room with her. How the heck did she get away with it?
"I don't know how you get away with this, you little slut," the store manager gurgled, looking down at Fi. His eyes were almost locked onto her big, round tits, which currently had his dick between them and a security tagged rainbow tube top covering them. She was slowly fucking him with her tits, while looking into his eyes. Even with those tits on display, even with his cock between them, her dazzling brown eyes stole his gaze about half of the time.
"Pete trusts me," she said with a sly smile, those eyes glinting, wickedly. "That means you get to fuck me."
A wink, and a little lick of the lips, and the store manager lost what little control he'd had. With a grunt and a thrust of his hips, he shot his load into her hot cleavage, splattering the top she was "trying on".
Fi smiled at herself. The manager here was easy to manipulate. Not a very good fuck, but adequate. And there were perks.
"Mmm," she moaned, pulling his dick out from between her tits, making sure to smear the top with his cum. "You came over my tits again."
"Well, I- ash." His excuse was sucked right out of his dick, as Fi cleaned the cum off of it with her lips.
"Meet me at the checkout," he said. "I'll discount that top as soiled."
"The skirt got covered, too," she lied.
"Ok," he acquiesced. "But you have to buy something at full price next time."
"Promise." See how easy that was?
"Did you find anything?" Pete asked her as she came out of the fitting rooms. She handed him a bundle of clothes while taking a furtive glance at the checkout. She caught the manager's eye and made sure that he was watching when she planted a passionate kiss on Pete's unsuspecting lips. Both Pete and the manager could not help thinking about fucking the sexy minx, and that was just how Fi liked it.
"I found a couple of things," the answer finally came, "but you'll have to wait to see them."
Pete raised an eyebrow, quizzically. The promise of a show, later, at home, hung in the air. Pete adjusted his pants.
"Oh, hang those up there for me," she ordered him with a cheeky smile, tuning to walk to the checkout before he got a chance to argue. He found himself watching her ass as her hypnotic hips swayed into the maze of rails. When her ass eventually disappeared behind a rack of ladies pants, he shook himself and turned to the reject rail.
Fi, of course, handed Pete the bag. Although it would have given her great pleasure to have him carry clothes that were stained with another man's cum, she wanted clean new clothes more. The cum stained ones were left behind in the changing room. The manager would find them later. Probably.
As they left the store, Fi considered where to go next. To the shoe store? She had worn the right skirt to give the salesman a good view of her damp panties. On the other hand, she was wearing panties, so it wasn't as much fun. Maybe pop in on Aunt Linz in the Tailors?
"Pete! What's up!" It was a voice from the blue, but it was clearly directed towards them.
Fi looked at Pete. There was a wide smile spreading across his face. Whoever had called Pete's name was in his sights.
"Hey!" He shouted with uncharacteristic brashness. "Mike!"
He threw his hand out and the two bumped fists, then shoulders, then hugged.
Fi cringed at the bro-ness. Reserved, quiet Petey didn't do edgy handshakes. He barely did handshakes at all. Another thing, how had she never met, or even heard of Mike? She was with Pete about every day!
"It's been a minute," Mike laughed.
"Like nearly a year, man!" Pete agreed. "Where have you been hiding?"
Fi was taken back. Pete didn't talk like this with any of his colleagues. Who was this guy?
He was slightly taller than Pete, who was six feet tall himself. He was a little stockier, too. Otherwise, they could have been brothers. Same dark hair, same dark eyes. Fi was mesmerized.
"Who's the wingnut?" Mike asked, referring to Fi's ears, which stuck straight out from her head. These same ears immediately turned red.
"Hey, leave my girl's ears alone!" Pete said, hugging her into his chest. "They're cute."
"Yeah, something to hold onto, am I right?" Mike made a humping action.
"Don't listen to him, sweetie!" Pete said, smiling and holding her close. "He's a big lug."
"No way she can avoid listening to me with those satellite dishes!" Mike said with a belly laugh. It was an infectious laugh, and Pete almost couldn't help it. Fi broke free of his hug and hit them both on the arm. It was mostly playful. Mostly.
Mike invited Pete to grab a drink, and despite Fi's reluctance, they were soon sitting at the bar in a downtown dive. On the other side was a short, muscle bound guy with a beard and a Toronto Maple Leafs jersey.
"Go Habs!" Mike called out to him. He had tried to affect a Canadian accent, but he ended up sounding like he'd never even seen Canada on a map.
"Take a flying puck, eh?" the bartender said in a much better accent, smiling. "What can I get you?"
"Wait," Fi said, tits resting on the bar, "Didn't this guy just," she made a circular motion with her hand, making her tits jiggle. The bartender couldn't help but notice. "Didn't he insult you or something?"
"Oh, no!" The bar guy answered, confirming that his accent wasn't fake, or that he was going to at least keep up the charade. "I've been wearing this Leafs jersey here for weeks and no one even noticed, eh?" He smiled and waved vaguely at Mike. "At least this guy knows, eh?"
Fi nodded, eyes wide. Her face didn't show any hint of understanding. The Canadian laughed and turned to Mike.
"What'll it be, then?"
