Dirty Rival

I like to cheat on my wife.

There. I said it.

But don’t get the wrong idea. She knows. She wants it.

We’ve been together ten years, since I was twenty-eight and she was thirty-four, and I can tell you with a big, sick-ass grin, we’ve had a blast.

Morgan is deeply submissive. Always has been. She has no issue watching me bang other women. She’ll sit in a blanket-covered easy chair in the corner, or in the guest room next door, to watch and listen.

What can I say? I’m a lucky man.

But lately…

Well.

I’m pushing her a little bit.

You see, my wife is a dental hygienist at the office downtown. And her least favorite person in the whole world is the college girl who works reception after class.

You see where this is going, right?

Because that little receptionist, Bambi, just happens to be the sexiest little chick I’ve ever seen. And we’ve been texting. Ashamedly frequent. Only innocent at first. Nothing dirty until she turned nineteen last week.

But I have a thing for her.

And I’m going to fuck her.

I get why my wife doesn’t like Bambi. There’s the obvious physical factor. My Morgan is pretty.

But Bambi Bridges…

Bambi is mind-blowing.

She’s a five-foot-two, one-hundred-pound, blue-eyed bombshell cheerleader with perfect pearl teeth, honey-blonde hair, glassy, candy-scented lips, and the most perfect and heart-shaped ass I’ve ever seen.

She’s an angel.

An angel with fuck-me eyes and plunging summer shirts and skirts so short, they show off her shiny tan legs.

She’s a dream.

Then, factor in the attitude…

Bambi is a handful. (I don’t want to say “bitch.”) But bitch. She’s a sassy little princess with her middle fingers up to the world.

But no one calls her on it. She bats those mile-long, natural lashes, pouts the shit out of those luscious, natural lips, and crosses her arms to push up her massive, natural cleavage…and they fold. Every time.

Who wouldn’t?

So yeah. My wife isn’t a Bambi fan. At all.

Bambi flirts with the dentists. Bambi leaves the office a mess. Bambi leaves papers unsigned. I’ve heard it all.

Don’t care.

The first time I met Bambi, I was picking up Morgan from work and popped in to take advantage of the snack corner in the employee lounge when she told me she’d be running behind.

And bam.

There’s this girl.

She’s sitting in the patient waiting area, not behind the desk, wearing a white, cropped sweater that shows her lean, tan stomach, a perfect bellybutton adorned with a gem-stoned cherry, and her gravity-defying tits.

On the bottom, she’s wearing a short denim skirt crafted to show her long-ass legs and a cute pair of bubblegum-pink boots.

I can’t take my eyes off her.

And when she sees me, she jumps up, her big, perfect boobs bouncing.

“Sir! Hi. Sorry. I was just… taking a break.”

She tucks a strand of platinum through the stem of her cherry and bites into a peach bottom lip.

“You must be the new secretary.”

I chuckle. “Your secret is safe with me.”

She crosses the room and thanks me, squeezing my bicep, tipping into me with those playful, sapphire eyes. Her lilac eye shadow is glittery. She smells like strawberries and Clinique.

And I know it on the spot.

I want to fuck her.

She leans in, all appreciative, and I can smell her candy-scented hair, a peppermint blast of gum.

And then the kicker — she spins around to fix a pillow she’s discarded on the couch, and I catch a flash of sparkly-pink g-string strings riding above her waistband in a sexy, V-cut formation, and the rounded, flawless globes of her tan ass below them.

I’m sold.

That night, over dinner, when Morgan starts complaining about the new secretary, I imagine Bambi’s perfect features while I dig into my wife.

Only for the first of many times.

Since then, I’ve been heading down to the office on the regular.

I’ve helped Bambi with her English homework. I’ve assured her that Katie Patterson is, indeed, a bitch. I’ve watched her whip out her royal blue-and-silver pom-poms on Game Day.

I could live inside the five minutes I spend with her every day.

She’s so hot, so pretty, so perfect. She always brushes my arm, squeezes my biceps, throws he