My Wife's Girlcrush

I groaned, loudly, in frustration. It was nearly half past 8:00 on a late August night and I was still chained to the desk in my small home office, working. I knew that I really only had myself to blame, but it didn't make my disappointment easier to bear. I rubbed my eyes under my glasses while I waited for what I hoped would be my last dataset to compile for the night.

"Do you like her?" my wife asked, leaning against the small round window of the little room, staring down into our backyard in quiet contemplation while she dragged a brush through her long brown locks.

"Hmm?" I mumbled, dragging myself out of a waking nightmare of tasks left unfinished to devote all of my attention to my loving spouse.

"Nessa. Do you like her?"

"Oh, uh, yeah. Yeah, she's alright. I guess..." An insistent error message on my screen demanded my attention again, and I cursed under my breath.

"I'm glad," Ellie said distantly, eyes still glued to something in the yard. I spotted the error in my sheet's config variables and let the thing run again, taking a tender sip of the drink she'd brought up for me. It was mostly bourbon, just how I liked them. She was an angel.

"And what about us?" Ellie asked, actually looking across to me for a change.

"What do you mean?"

"Do you think she likes us?" She looked quite serious, like the answer might really matter somehow.

"Well yeah," I said, leaning back from the desk to cross my legs and regard my wife in earnest. The low light of a dusky sunset shone just bright enough to trace the shapely curves of her body through the short nightgown. I'd have taken a picture of her, there and then, if I thought it wouldn't diminish the moment to do so. "Yeah I think she likes us just fine. She likes cashing our cheques, anyway." I smiled, hoping the weak joke would land.

"I'm serious, Tom!" she chided, "I really want her to feel at home with us." An affirming notification let me know that my set had compiled successfully; I leaned forward to send it off for review.

"She does, sweetheart; I'm sure of it."

"I really hope so," she muttered, returning to her study of the property below, and resuming the long pulls of her comb.

I'd happily sat there, in that very spot, and watched my wife comb her hair out nearly every single night since we'd married six years earlier. If it wasn't from this chair, it was from the comfort of our bed, with her looking out that room's window instead. Regardless of location, the effect was the same; my heart swelled with nothing but a totalizing affection and all-encompassing adoration for the woman who'd knocked me over the head and set me up across the alter from her before my nerves ever gave me a chance to question what she was doing, or why I was lucky enough to be the one she'd picked. She was my everything; rock, partner, pillar, confidant, confessor, co-conspirator, friend, and love. I'd do anything for her.

"What about me?" she asked, almost too softly to be heard as I shut the lid of my laptop quietly.

"Oh Ellie," I said, pushing my chair back and beckoning her away from the window to sit in my lap. Reluctantly, she tore her eyes from the only thing that could have been dominating her attention so. She padded over to me and curled her soft body up against mine, pulling her feet up off the ground to tuck herself wholly up on me. I hugged her tight to my chest and kissed her head tenderly. "I'm sure Nessa is very fond of you. Really. She told me so, actually."

Her eyes lit up as she turned her face to look at me hopefully. "She did? She really said that?"

"She did! She said you're kind, and sweet, and caring, and that I'm very lucky to have you." I wasn't lying; she really had told me all of that. The fact that she'd done so while clamping a hand to her leaking pussy to keep my cum inside her didn't make it any less true. Ellie squirmed happily in my lap, nuzzling herself into my chest in perfect contentment.

I wrapped an arm around her. I kissed her head. Took a sip of my drink. Grinned from ear to ear. Outside, a soft splash broke the evening silence as someone dove into the pool for a late night swim.

*******

"Good morning, you two!" came a happy call down the stairs. "How are my two favorite people this morning?"

"Good morning, you!" Ellie said, lighting up as Nessa came into the well-appointed kitchen in her usual sleepwear; a tight fitting white tank that left absolutely nothing to the imagination, and a pair of thin cotton shorts that left a healthy amount of her underbuns free to enjoy. She tied her dark hair into a high ponytail as the slap of her bare feet carried her across the tiled floor to accept a steaming cup of coffee from my wife.

"Good morning gorgeous!" she said to my wife before planting a kiss on my cheek on her way to the fridge, "and good morning to you too, papa!"

I looked up from my paper at the two of them sharing a conspiratorial grin; they looked absolutely devilish, like two peas in a tremendously mischievous pod. "You can't call me 'papa', young lady. That's just...not allowed! Hey, come on now!" They fell to fits of giggles together, and I was sharply reminded just how outnumbered I was when it came to things around here anymore. It was at least half an act on my end; it did my heart well to see both of them happy like this, especially my Ellie.

"Oh, come on Tom! Don't be such a grump!" Ellie rebuked, "At least she stopped calling you 'Daddy', didn't she?" The two of them sipped their coffee in unison, shooting furtive looks over the rims of their mugs at each other and doing a terrible job of hiding their shit-eating grins; I still got called Daddy more often than I cared for. I shook my head, laughing, and checked my watch.

"You're both trouble, you know that?" I said, folding my paper. "I've gotta go; it should be a shorter day for me today, so do you want me to pick something up for dinner, or meet me somewhere maybe?"

Ellie looked to Nessa, happy to defer to her as usual.

"Oh I don't know!" said the younger woman, chewing her bottom lip in thought. As hot as it was for me, the barest twitch of my wife's eyebrows told me that she'd have flooded her underwear if she'd been wearing any under her morning robe. I smiled at her openly while she pretended to ignore my gaze. "Why don't I cook tonight? For you two! Does that sound fun?" Her bubbly exuberance at the idea, coupled with the snappy bounce of her little titties under the thin shirt, visibly melted my wife entirely. It was hard not to love having her here with us.

"That sounds great," I said, reaching for my briefcase, and daring my wife to look me in the eye; she wouldn't do it. "I should be back by 5:00. What are you two getting up to today?"

"Well," Nessa said, eying my swooning spouse next to her obliviously, "now that your wife has a hot date with a handsome man tonight, I think I had better take her shopping for something to wear! How does that sound, lovely?"

"Good. Great! Yeah, great! Let's...let's do it!" Ellie said, snapping out of whatever profane daydream she'd let herself tumble into; I was certain it involved the younger woman's bare pussy on or near her face. It was incorrigibly cute.

"Great!" squealed our houseguest, looking to me excitedly, "I'll have your wife looking so good tonight, you won't know what hit you! A full tummy and empty balls await you tonight, papa!"

I could only shake my head ruefully, drain my mug to hide my amusement, and rise to leave. "I have no comment," I said, sweeping my keys off the corner of the island "other than that my wife always looks so good." Ellie stepped up to kiss me goodbye, laughing against my lips as our resident little pervert chimed in with her commentary again.

"Is that why your bed was squeaking for so long last night?"

"I'm leaving; see this? I'm walking away, out the door now," I called over my shoulder, my wife's snickers mingling with Nessa's playful teases.

"I'm just saying! I could hear it down the hall! Whatever; have a good day! Daddy! We love you!"

I slammed the door shut for dramatic effect as their peels of cackling laughter chased me out of the house.

*******

The day flew by in a blur of meetings, consults, meetings disguised as consults, consults masquerading as meetings, and touchpoints that managed to toe the line of both. Playful texts from my wife, sent from various fitting rooms around the city, were a welcome distraction throughout the day; several shots of her delicious ass in nothing but a skimpy excuse for underwear or her dark nipples barely covered by her hand gave me reason enough to keep a genuine smile painted on right up to quitting time.

Nessa also sent regular messages; proof that the pair of them were working in unison to tease me thoroughly. Things like 'did you like that last outfit she sent?' or 'how about that one? Smokeshow, right?' tailed my wife's messages by less than a minute each time. I played along with their game, refusing to point out that not a single shot had actually included Ellie in more than her own bra and panties. More than one image featured an errant knee or elbow to be glimpsed in a background mirror that didn't belong; it was clear that Nessa was responsible for actually taking most of the pictures.

I watched the clock hammer closer and closer to 5:00pm impatiently. My seniority meant that I should have felt free to leave whenever I wanted to, but our CEO had actually made a rare appearance that day, and I refused to let him see me walk out prematurely. With 8 minutes to go, I took another scroll through my texts and admired the body of the woman that I was, even after all these years, madly in love with.

I was, obviously, a lucky son of a bitch. It was almost too good to be true, truly. Ours was a marriage of equals, and not in the fifty-fifty split sense; we both gave the relationship everything we had each and every day, and were strong as hell because of it. We never hit a stumbling block that we couldn't heave each other over, or met an obstacle that didn't part before us through our combined force of will. Indeed, not even our inability to conceive together had offered more than a momentary hiccup.

Maybe it was two moments. At any rate, Ellie's insistence that we just go ahead and try to find a live-in surrogate had sounded hellish alarms in my mind when she first served it up; there's not a married man on earth who wouldn't immediately dread the impending jealousy or complications that something like her plan would bring into a home. But the fights never came. Not when we discussed it, not when we agreed to it, not when we started looking, not when we began interviewing candidates, not when the shortlist invariably meant having conversations about actually fucking someone, or when we settled on the little devil who'd moved in a few months ago. We just...kept working. If anything, Ellie and I enjoyed each others' bodies more often since Nessa had arrived.

And we were still working, well. Ellie had been adamant that the surrogate had to be living at home with us so that we could get her to appointments, provide her with a good diet, and comfortable conditions to carry our baby; I never questioned why any of that meant I had to *put in the work* myself until she showed me what kinds of costs a more clinical approach might incur. My salary was admittedly ridiculous, but I didn't mind saving tens of thousands of dollars if the tradeoff was that I would be dumping load after load into someone as perky as Nessa had turned out to be.

I grinned from ear to ear as the last minutes of the working day ticked by, saving a photo of my girls to my camera roll; I'd missed the happy double selfie they'd sent from brunch this morning, but it was too cute not to keep. She might have come into our lives for a very specific, yet-to-be-fulfilled, purpose but Nessa had really become a part of our family, and a dear friend to my wife. Frankly, it was almost hard to imagine how our home had ever been half so joyful before she came around.

Of course, my wife's overwhelmingly intense crush on her might have had something to do with it.

The clock struck 5:00 and I raced down to the parking garage, eager to get home. I reflected on the drive, amusedly, how the whole thing had developed. It started with the looks; I should know what Ellie looked like when she wanted something - she still gives me those same eyes to this day. The long, intense stares. The hunger. The lip nibbles. She was in deep. Then, of course, came the laundry; I don't know when she started stuffing her face into the worn panties, but it probably wasn't long after I caught her clutching them to her chest while she watched Nessa sunning on our pool deck through the laundry room window, hand stuffed desperately down the front of her own shorts. The verbal admission had come later that same week, though it was entirely unnecessary by then. She might have well told me that the sky was blue.

It couldn't have mattered less to me. We were madly in love, entirely in tune with one another, and the fact that one of us was hopelessly obsessed with Nessa while the other was fucking her raw never stood a chance of changing who we were to one another in the slightest. She'd never replace anything integral to our marriage, even if she had become a central pillar of our home life.

*******

"Hello?" I shouted as I pushed through the front door, expecting an array of delicious sights and smells to await me. A pan crashed loudly from the direction of the kitchen.

"Ah! You're home!" Nessa cried, out of sight. "You're early!" She stuck her head around the corner of the hall in panic, "you can't come in yet!"

"Did you say something?" came my wife's voice from the 2nd floor.

"He's here already!" shouted Nessa.

"What? On no! No, you can't be home yet, Tom! Go away!"

I laughed, dropping my keys into the bowl by the front door. "And where am I supposed to go?"

"Go get the mail or something!" Ellie shouted as further clanging erupted from the kitchen. "We'll let you know when we're ready!" Nessa's top half reappeared around the corner to point sternly at the door when I didn't immediately retreat.

I had no choice but to obey.

"Evening, Tom!" called my neighbor from across the street as I retrieved a bundle of envelopes from the posted letterbox at the end of my lane.

"Gary," I said in dry reply. "How're you now?"

"Not so bad, not so bad," the slovenly retiree said, coming over to chat. "Say, you got someone new doing your yardwork?"

"Eh? Oh, kind of; we have a, uh, boarder staying with us. I think she's been helping Ellie out with a bit of it."

"She's living there with you?" he asked, arching a quizzical eyebrow.

"Yeah, yeah; she's been here since spring I guess," I said, suddenly wondering what my signal to re-enter my own home would be.

"Cute little thing huh, real spunky looking." I bit back a smart reply; I was sure the old horndog would love to know just how spunky she was. "She going to school around here?"

"Yeah, school," I lied as the porch light blinked on and off three times.

"I see, I see," Gary mumbled, "looks like you got a bulb workin' on dying there, huh?"

"Looks that way," I said, turning to wander off back up the lane, "I better go do something about that now, while I'm thinking about it."

"You do that. And, hey, send your little gardener over this way sometime why don't ya; I got some seed that needs spreading! Ha!"

Stupid old fuck.

*******

"Can I come in now?" I called as I reentered the front hall.

"Yes, you can," replied Nessa smoothly as she stepped into view from the adjacent dining room, planting a quick kiss on my cheek and taking my jacket. I should have known better than to let myself be surprised, but her outfit was outright scandalous. Strappy black heels made her legs look a mile long even before I noticed the glossy sheen of thigh high stockings that clipped to something around her waist, barely concealed by a skirt that hardly deserved the name; the black pleated strip of fabric made her skimpy little pajama bottoms look modest by comparison. Something like half of a white blouse was knotted just under her bust in a way that showed off her taut little tummy, which had so far refused to fill itself with a viable pregnancy. A ridiculously expensive looking black bra showed itself off nearly entirely, even as it crammed Nessa's perfect little B-cups up under her chin. A shockingly outdated stretchy plastic choker and messy twin hair buns completed the 'sexy waitress' look effectively. I had no words to offer, so I chose to simply stare unashamedly instead. "You like?" she giggled, twisting on the spot to give me half a peek at her rear. I reached out to lift the edge of the skirt with a single finger to admire the handprint I'd left there two days prior.

"I paid for all of this today too, didn't I?" I chuckled, letting the skirt drop again.

"Oh, come on Daddy," she pouted playfully, "don't you like my outfit?"

I hated how much the infantilizing routine got to me, but gladly conceded that she looked positively edible.

"Well that's better," she said with a grin, "do you like my choker? It's vintage!"

I winced at that; I wouldn't tell her that the cheap things had been all the rage when I was in junior high. It was just another reminder of the near-decade between us.

"Yes, yes; it's very cute," I admitted as a door shut audibly from upstairs.

"That will be your date," she said with a beaming grim, turning to face the staircase with me.

Ellie stepped into view on the landing above us and my heartrate spiked measurably. Aside from the white number she'd worn to the chapel a handful of years ago, I couldn't recall a dress ever looking so good on her; a black, fitted thing with a tapered skirt that split to her mid-thigh on one side, and a boxy neckline that cut straight across her ample chest adorably; the whole thing worked together to compliment my wife's already stunning figure. Her hair had been worked into wavy tumbling tresses that fell about her shoulders loosely and paired with a dainty gold necklace to frame her face beautifully. I'd given her the delicate chain as a gift on our first anniversary, which was all I could afford at the time; we'd eaten instant ramen on a futon in our cheap apartment to celebrate, and fucked on the living room floor until the sun came up. She was a vision; my mouth worked to find words that refused to come. She looked down at me warmly, pinching her ruby red lips inwardly to resist the urge to smile shyly.

"Doesn't she look wonderful?" Nessa asked quietly. I'd quite forgotten all about her being there for the moment.

"Elenore," I breathed, eyes glued to the only woman in the room that I cared about as she began to descend the wooded steps of the staircase delicately, unused to doing so in heels.

"Hi," she said, blushing beautifully as she stopped to stand before me.

"Hello, you," I replied. I couldn't take my eyes off her. My stomach was a knot of nerves.

"Hungry?" she asked.

"Starving," I replied, glancing shamelessly down her cleavage.

Nessa led us into the dining room where a candlelit table was set with what looked to be every plate, bowl, knife, fork, glass, and spoon I thought we owned. I'd been to enough fundraisers and formal dinners to know that I was looking at the makings of a long, drawn out affair of at least a half dozen courses. The younger woman disappeared into the kitchen to begin retrieving water and wine while I made a show drawing my wife's chair out for her; she treated me to an loving kiss as she sat down.

We held hands across the table and made doe-eyes at each other as dinner was brought before us in progressively more elaborate offerings. Something custardy that appeared to have been seared with a blowtorch convinced me that almost none of this had actually been cooked in my house, but I wouldn't call them out on the ruse. I was in heaven. Ellie and I talked and talked about nothing at all, basking in each others' company cheerfully as our scantily clad hostess bustled in and out. We shared private giggles after being treated to an entirely scrumptious view of Nessa's bare ass as she bent to retrieve a fork that she'd clumsily let fall to the floor; my wife fanned herself dramatically with her hand while chugging her wine, obviously flustered by the generous show she hadn't expected to enjoy with dinner.