A Cucquean Wife a Teen Girlfriend

I love to cheat on my wife. There. I said it. But hear me out. She's in on it. She's always been in on it. We've been together for ten years, since I was twenty-eight and she was thirty-four, and let me tell you... we've had a lot of fun. Beth, my wife, is deeply submissive. Always has been. She's cool with watching me fuck other girls; she sits in the chair in the corner, or in the guest room next door, and watches, or listens, whatever I allow. I admit it-- I know it. I'm a lucky guy. But now.... Well. I'm pushing the envelope a little, now.

See, my wife works as a dental hygienist at the office downtown. And the person she hates most in the world is the little high school girl who works reception after class. You see where this is going, right? Because that little receptionist, Cassie, happens to be the sexiest little girl I've ever seen. And we've been texting. Not a lot. Nothing too crazy. Nothing dirty at all until she turned eighteen last week. But I have a thing for her. And I'm going to fuck her.

I can see why Beth doesn't like Cassie. There's the obvious, physical thing-- Beth's pretty, but Cassie... Cassie's a smokeshow. A 5'2", 100 pound, blue-eyed, big-tittied cheerleader, with perfect white teeth, candy-scented, glossy pink lips, and the most perfect, heart-shaped little ass I've ever seen. She's an angel-- an angel with fuck-me eyes and low-cut shirts and short, short skirts that bare glossy, tan, delicious legs. She's a dream. And then there's the attitude thing-- Cassie's a little bitchy. (Fine, fine. She's... a lot bitchy. She invented bitchy.) And no one holds her accountable for it. She blinks her miles-long (natural) eyelashes, pouts her perfect, puffy (natural) lips, and crosses her arms to display her massive, perky, bouncy (natural) cleavage... and her opponent folds. Every time. Who wouldn't?

So, Beth doesn't like Cassie. At all. Cassie flirts with the dentists. Cassie no-call, no-shows. Cassie doesn't bother to file paperwork. I've heard it all. I don't care.

The day I first met Cassie, I'd dropped by to pick up my wife from work, and wandered in to take advantage of the employee snack corner when Beth let me know she'd be running late. And, bam. There was this girl. She was sitting in the patient area, not behind the reception desk, wearing a tiny, cropped white sweater that showed off her tight, tan stomach, her perfect belly button pierced with a rhinestone ring in the shape of a pair of cherries, and those huge, turned-up tits. Below that, she was wearing a tiny denim mini-skirt, cut short to reveal her long, perfect legs, and a little pair of bubblegum-pink, patent-leather boots. I couldn't take my eyes off her. And when she saw me, she jumped up, those enormous, unbelievable tits bouncing. "Sir! Hi. I'm really sorry. I was just... taking a break." She'd tucked a strand of perfect blonde hair behind her ear and bit into the sexy pillow of her pink bottom lip.

"You must be the new receptionist." I laughed. "Don't worry. Your secret is safe with me."

She crossed the room to me and squeezed my arm gratefully, turning her sensual sapphire eyes up to mine. Her lilac eyeshadow was sparkly. She smelled like strawberries and Victoria's Secret. And I knew. I knew right then that I wanted to fuck her. She'd leaned close after that, pressing against my chest, and I'd been able to detect a waft of candy-scented hairspray, the sweet peppermint of her gum. And then, kicker of it all, she'd turned around to straighten a pillow on the couch she'd just vacated, and I'd been treated to a look at the thin, sparkly pink strings of a g-string above her skirt, and the round, tight globes of her tanned ass beneath it. I was sold.

That night at dinner, when Beth and I were home, she'd bitched about the new secretary, and that night, I'd imagined Cassie's perfect face as I fucked my wife. I've pictured her every time since.

Since then, I'd gone down to the office as often as I could. I'd helped Cassie with her English homework. I'd assured her that Katie Cooley was, indeed, a bitch. I'd watched her fluff her silver-and-blue pom-poms before Game Day. I couldn't get enough of her. She was so supple, so sexy, so perfectly gorgeous. She always brushed my hand, squeezed my arm, gave me a big, breast-crushing hug goodbye. I savored the glimpses I got of her-- her silky thighs, her ever-pouting lips, her shimmering blue eyes that rolled back so dramatically. Her tight ass, that delicious little stomach, the sharp bones that jutted out over her low-slung jeans and skirts, marked by the tan line, half-visible, of a Playboy bunny tanning-salon-sticker.

"I can't stand that stupid secretary," my wife groused at home. "You should've seen her flirting with Steven today, Nick. And she made Celia cry again." I'd run my eyes over her wrinkled white blouse. Her tan slacks that bagged at the ass, her thin lips, and I couldn't help but compare them to Cassie. Months went by. I started taking Beth lunch every day, chasing the five perfect minutes every afternoon I was able to spend with Cassie. I couldn't get enough of her. And then, in September, it was her birthday.

"The office is throwing a party for that little bitch, can you believe it?" Beth was stirring a pot of noodles at the stove, the steam frizzing her already puffy hair. The kitchen around her was immaculate. She was a good wife-- she kept everything spotless; she obeyed my every request and command. (Like I said-- I'm a lucky man.)

"How old is she turning?" I asked, carefully casual.

She rolled her flat brown eyes. "Eighteen."

"That's a big one."

She frowned. "I guess."

"When's the party?"

"Friday."

"Mmm."

"Mmm."

I was so into Cassie I didn't even want to fuck other girls anymore. I wondered if Beth noticed-- how I didn't care how pretty the girls we saw at the bar were; how I didn't banish her to the guest room so I could fuck a guest. I didn't particularly want to fuck her, either. It was Cassie or nothing. I was a man obsessed.

That Friday, I made my way down to the office, ostensibly to visit Beth for lunch. Pink and gold balloons festooned the front room, and a banner proclaiming, 'Happy Birthday Cassie!' hung against the far wall. I'd never seen the practice throw a party like that. Cassie always got special treatment. And, hey. She deserved it. The birthday girl was perched behind the reception desk when I entered, wearing a short, tight pink dress that showed off her perfect little figure, clinging like wet tissue to her every curve. I could see the outlines of her tiny thong, her lacy bra. Hell-- I could tell that she was wearing her heart-shaped belly ring.

"Mr. Ellis!" She jumped to her feet and ran around the desk to hug me, her tits bouncing as she did. I wrapped her up in my arms, smelling the peachy scent of her shampoo and the vanilla of her skin. I wanted to haul her up, have her wrap her legs around my waist. She didn't pull away from the hug, so I kept her close against my chest. If it wasn't my imagination... I could have sworn she snuggled in a little.

"I heard it's your birthday. Happy birthday."

She looked up at me with those big, ocean-blue eyes shimmering. My heart stopped. My cock went hard. I wondered if she could feel it through my jeans. She was so little that her head barely grazed my chest; consequently, my erection was pressed above her belly button, almost at her breasts. "Technically, it's not until 9:45 tonight," she informed me, furrowing her little brow. "But isn't it so nice of everyone to celebrate?" She paused, sucking in her lower lip. "Although... not everyone wanted to."

I pulled back from her, let my arms stroke her skinny, silky upper arms. "You're kidding."

She shook her head. "It's true." A hint of annoyance crossed her face and she quirked her head up at me. "Your wife didn't want to. She doesn't like me."

I shook my head, ignoring all the memories of Beth griping about Cassie at home. "I'm sure that's not true."

Cassie shook her head, her silky blonde locks falling in front of her eyes. "It's okay. Women... you know, of that age... they don't usually like me."

I pushed her back and caricatured looking her up and down. "I can't imagine why!"

Cassie giggled, her cute nose wrinkling. "You always make me feel better, Mr. Ellis."

At that moment, someone cleared their throat, and I looked up to see Beth looking at us from the hallway. "You've got my lunch?" She waddled over to us and I let go of Cassie's smooth arms, already missing the perfect texture of her skin. I picked up the takeout bag I'd let fall to the floor and handed it to my wife. She thanked me, pressing a thin, tight-lipped kiss to my cheek. "I'd stay to chat, but I've got to get back in there."

"I know," I soothed her gently. "I'll see you tonight." She looked as though she wanted to talk, so I added, "Get going." Beth shuffled obediently back down the hallway, her body flat as a board in the clinical fluorescent light. She was always so good at taking direction.

Cassie stifled a laugh, then caught my gaze. "Sorry.... I just... don't understand women like her."

Beth disappeared into one of the rooms that projected from the corridor. Cassie stepped closer to me again. I could see down the front of her dress, see the lacy pink bra that held her swollen tits so nicely. "Thank you for wishing me a happy birthday," she breathed sweetly. Innocently. And then she wrapped a delicate, pink-nailed hand around my neck and pulled herself onto the highest point of her tippy-toes to press a soft, open-mouthed kiss to my cheek. "It means a lot to me." I wondered if she was doing it on purpose. Mimicking my wife's kiss. Showing how much better she was.

My cock was iron in my pants. I let my hand curve around her tight little waist. I bent down and kissed her soft, perfect cheek. She was divine. She was everything. I let myself look her up and down, drink in those sensual curves. I took out my phone. "You should give me your phone number. So I can send you a proper happy birthday when the time comes."

The rest, as they say, is history. Cassie's sparkly lips turned up in one of her electric smiles. "I'd love to!" She bent over the desk to retrieve her phone, treating me to the sight of her dress stretching up over her ass as she did. Her phone was as pink and sparkly as her lips. She hugged me tightly as I left, and I let my hands slide, just a little, over her delicious hips. And I swear, she pressed herself against me more than she ever had, held me just a little tighter.

Beth got home late that night, and got to making dinner just after nine. At 9:45, we were eating salmon and roasted vegetables. My fingers shook with anticipation as I pulled out my phone to text Cassie. Happy Birthday. Comfortable after my second whiskey, I added Gorgeous before I hit send.

My phone pinged a second later. Beth watched from across the table as I picked it up and opened the text. It was a photo of Cassie, topless in her cute pink bathroom. I nearly erupted in my pants. She was so perfect. Her stomach was flat, perfectly toned. Perfect triangle tan lines marked her ballooned breasts. And, fuck, those breasts. They were better than I'd imagined, as if gravity didn't exist in her world. Her nipples were dime-sized, pink as rose petals, sexily swollen. I could almost taste them. A minute passed. My phone chimed.

Have her suck your cock, the text read.

I didn't hesitate. It didn't even occur to me. "Beth," I ordered. "Come here and suck me." She put down her fork at once and trotted around to my side of the table, dropping to her knees in front of me. She loosened my belt and freed my cock, harder than it had been in months.

Is she doing it?

My heart was a fucking war drum in my chest. I texted back, Yes.

Let me see.

I snapped a picture of Beth-- nothing new for us, nothing startling. It was an abysmal picture. Beth's makeup was smeared, her small brown eyes reddened and dingy. Her lips, stretched around my swollen cock, were completely without color, without volume. I sent it.

Cassie texted back: LOL.

I pushed my cock into Beth's obedient, quiet mouth. I closed my eyes and thought of Cassie's glossy, full, luscious lips. Her teenage lips. Her just-turned-eighteen lips. My cock twitched. Beth looked up at me and smiled.

My phone pinged again. I looked down, and felt my cock lurch reactively. Cassie was fully naked in this one, her little body tan and tight and perfect and elastic. Her little pussy was perfectly waxed, her hips lush. I came in Beth's mouth, looking at Cassie. I texted Cassie to tell her as much.

She texted back: Good.

And so it had been, ever since. I'd been drunk on that girl, her perfect body, her unending sass. The next day, Beth complained to me that the slutty little secretary had spilled a glass of water all over her files. That night, I made Beth lick my balls while I texted Cassie how much I wanted to fuck her. The day after that, Beth told me how Cassie had embarrassed her in front of a patient and her boss. That night, Cassie sent me videos modeling the skimpy lingerie I'd paid for. We were inseparable, right from the start. I couldn't help it. Cassie was a blast. She was funny and unafraid and forward. She texted me every lewd and vicious thought that entered her mind. Interspersed with pictures of her luscious breasts, her sexy stomach, her tight, wet slit. I was a man lost. I sent Cassie pictures of Beth sucking my dick while I thought of her.

Those tits are so saggy, she texted, following it up with a photo of her pert, swollen pair. Aren't mine better?

Yours are better.

I'd have sawed off an arm to be able to lose myself in those tits, let alone in her little pussy. Her eighteen-year-old pussy. I'd lost my mind. Beth and I did have rules. I'd never fucked anyone under twenty-five. And never anyone she'd said no to. But Cassie was too delectable. I couldn't help it.

And that brings us to today-- a week after Cassie's birthday. We've texted every day since. And I have to say it. I'm going to fuck her.

So I text her. Can I take you out tonight?

A second later, she texts back, Yes! :)

I find Beth in the kitchen, dutifully washing dishes. My cock's hard inside my jeans. I kiss her cheek. "I'm going out tonight."

She halts her work, looks up at me. "On a date?" Her mouth hangs open ungracefully. Flaccidly.

"Yes," I tell her.

"Oh," she bobs her head. "It's been a long time since you've gone out!" I'm pleased by the glimmer of pleasure, of excitement, that shines in her eyes. But I have to be honest-- I'd have gone no matter what.

"I want you to wait in the guest room for me," I tell her.

Her throat tightens visibly. She rubs her thighs together. "You're going to bring her here?"

"I might. I want you to wait in the guest room, like a good girl. I want you to listen, to see if I bring her back. All night, if you have to."

Beth claps her hands together excitedly. "Oh yes," she breaths sloppily. "I will."

"It goes without saying," I add sternly, "but you're not to interrupt us in any way."

Her submissive mode snaps on like I've flipped a switch. "Of course not, sir. As soon as you leave, I'll go kneel in the guest room and wait for you. Until you come get me."

I pat her cheek. "Good girl." She blushes. She beams.

I shower, letting Beth wash me because I'm feeling generous, and then I dress carefully in my favorite black silk underwear, my favorite black pants and shirt. Beth watches. I think of Cassie, showering and getting ready in a bathroom across town. Her sumptuous body naked in the shower. Her hands sliding over her perfect skin. My cock throbs.

Beth goes to kiss me as I move to leave, and I push her gently away, push her down to her knees. I pat the top of her head like she's a puppy, obedient pet that she is. I don't want to kiss anyone but Cassie. Beth ducks her head submissively, and I duck out the door, knowing she'll head to the guest room like I've asked as soon as it's shut. And then I go to pick up Cassie.

My date meets me at the end of her cul-de-sac-- it wouldn't do to have her parents see me, after all-- and it's better than I imagined. She's dressed in a little black scrap of a dress, cut low to make the most of her perfect cleavage, cut high to make the most of her perfect ass. The material is tissue-thin, almost fully sheer, displaying the tight lines of her abs and the swollen curves of her breasts. Her long, silky legs are bare, her little feet tucked into high, strappy black heels. Her lashes are black, her lips red. She is, in short, a dream.

I take her to Sage, the nicest restaurant in town. I open the door for her and she steps down delicately as a fairy, clinging to my arm. I've never felt better than in that moment, having that perfect, perfect little girl on my arm. As the door opens for us, I feel a collective intake from the crowd, as every head in the place turns to look at us. Every single patron is jealous. Every single man wants to fuck the gorgeous little thing I've got on my arm. Every single woman knows it. Cassie shrinks into me sweetly, sensual and softly shy, perfectly delicate. I realize these strangers probably think she's my girlfriend-- this tiny, beautiful teen twenty years my junior. Cassie looks up at me and my mouth waters. She's done her makeup differently-- just for me. She looks more grown up. Her innocent blue eyes are shadowed by inky kohl. She's flawless. Deeply, utterly flawless.

We make our way to the table and sit down. I watch Cassie's long, elegant legs cross. I watch every man and woman in the place do the same. I go to order her the lobster, the most expensive Pinot Grigio on the menu. (She, thankfully, provides an astoundingly good fake I.D.) She giggles and requests the Shishito peppers and french fries instead-- little things, she explains, that we can share.

We eat and talk. Cassie's funny and sharp, a little mean, delightful. A hundred times better than I'd thought. Every flick of her white-blonde hair and flutter of her sky-blue eyes brings hordes of waiters scuttling to assist her. I think of Beth, kneeling in the guest room at home. Cassie smiles at me and reaches across the table to stroke my arm with her perfect, graceful little fingers. I don't think of Beth again. Beneath the table, I let my hand find Cassie's smooth knee. I let it slide up to grip her muscled thigh.

Across the street from Sage is the best dance club in town, Luxe. "Do you want to go dance?" I ask her.

Cassie smiles up at me and my heart stops. "I'd love to go dance."

At the club, we drink glasses of golden champagne and Cassie wraps her arms around my waist, pressing her head against my stomach. In the harsh light of the club, she's even more beautiful, if that's possible. I can make out the details of her breasts through her flimsy dress. I can't wait to fuck her. We make our way to the dance floor and dance. Cassie's incredible. She pulls me close and writhes over me, grinding and squeezing. She twirls away from me and runs her hands down her own perfect curves, drawing the eyes of everyone in the space. She pulls in close to me again, stretching up to put her haloed head against my chest.

"Thank you for taking me out," she whispers huskily. I can smell strawberries and bubblegum and champagne on her breath.

"My wife is at home," I tell her softly, running my hands down her smooth, perfect hips. "She's waiting in the guest room, and she knows I might bring someone home to bed."

Cassie's angelic blue eyes go wide. "Really?"

I stroke a thumb over her perfect bottom lip. "Does that bother you?"

She shakes her head. "She'd... listen to you fuck me?"

My cock tightens, quavers. "Yes."

Cassie's cheeks flush. "That's so sexy. Does she know it's me you're out with?"

I shake my head. "She has no idea."