Madeline was my daughter's kindergarten teacher.
My wife noticed her penmanship first.
"I like the way she makes her L's," Cassie said. "It makes me wet." She had a way of saying things like that out of left field. It was my birthday and, after taking her kids to Sears, where they picked out ties for me, her sister had them, and it was just me and her, my favorite part of my "special day".
When I saw her standing at my front door, the porch light making a halo of her auburn hair, it took several seconds for me to remember who she was. Slowly, an image of a somewhat dowdy young woman, dressed in colorless navy blue and gray sweaters and low-hanging skirts, came to mind.
"Miss Madeline, is that you?"
I'm not sure how I intoned the question exactly, but both she and my wife, standing behind me the whole time, laughed. I realized I'd been caught looking my little girl's kindergarten teacher up and down a few moments later. It was hard not to notice her, especially having only her teacher-persona to go by. Her hair was let loose from it's tight little bun into a cascade of chestnut-brown. The sweater she was wearing tonight was tight, and a creamy off-white color that offset her olive skin. Finally, denim jeans hugged her gently curved hips.
"And you're Lindsey's dad," she said, primly putting her hand out to be taken. I took it, and led her into the house where she greeted my wife. The two laughed as soon as I'd closed the front door.
"I thought he was going to have a heart attack," Cassie said between gales of laughter.
"Aww, it wasn't that bad. He was just surprised that's all."
The two of them hadn't released their hug, Cassie had her hands draped carelessly over Madeline's ass, like high-schoolers. Cassie gave me a nod that dispatched me to the dining room, where candles and wine were waiting for me. It was only by coincidence that I was at the front door when Madeline arrived, as Cassie called me down from my study for my "birthday surprise". When I noticed the candles flickering from the top of the stairs, I dutifully put the Carson file away and came down the staircase.
Knowing better than to interrupt my wife when she was getting a surprise together, I went into the living room to pour myself a glass of wine. I would have loved a cigar to go along with it, a nice Cabernet from my own collection, but Cassie had a strict "no stogie" policy inside the house.
Instead, I shuffled through my record collection for some suitable music to accompany it. I settled on "Time Out" by Brubeck.
Cassie entered the room first, the staccato clap of her heels coming before her like fanfare. Madeline followed after her, her own heels making a softer impression. I'm drawn to the red heels she's wearing. I hadn't noticed them before (feet were never my thing) but they give off a different tone than the tight jeans and sweater.
Knowingly, I look over to my wife, who winks back at me.
"So, do you like my outfit mister Washington," Madeline asked, pouting slightly, tugging at her finger as she spoke.
"I do," I say, Cassie running her finger across my back as she walks by to get to the wine bottle (which I carelessly left near the records, something she'd have chided me for any other time).
"Why don't you show him the rest of it," Cassie said, the hard edge in her voice could be taken as either a command or anger. I was used to it, familiar with Cassie's games and the roles she liked to play, but Madeline looked genuinely shocked as she began to undo her jeans.
"Slowly," Cassie said as she came up behind me, her footsteps forecasting her presence ahead of her voice. Madeline immediately slowed down, peeling her jeans away from her hips deliberately, her eyes locked with mine.
"That's better," Cassie said from the shadows. A smile spread across Madeline's face as she crawled out of her jeans, tugging herself towards me.
Placing her hands on my knees, Madeline pulled herself up until her breasts could sit on my lap. I was suddenly aware of my smoking jacket, a playful gift from Cassie after we bought the house, and it's silk lining. Expecting to come downstairs to see my wife, I wasn't wearing anything under it. Madeline's breast pressed warmly down on my thickening shaft. Feeling the sensation, Madeline smiled at me and lowered her face to my navel, tugging at the belted knot on my jacket with her teeth while nuzzling her cheek against my cock through the fabric.
