She began to consider the possibility seriously.

She might have been even more serious and determined to fuck the teen next door, had she realized that her husband was fucking his teenaged secretary.

Just as Elizabeth had felt horny because they had not had time for their usual morning sex, so did her husband feel the urge to empty his swollen balls. But unlike his wife, Carl had a handy outlet.

Cathy Jenson was eighteen years old.

She could not type without looking at the keys, she could not file, she could barely read and write, let alone take dictation.

But, oh, could she fuck!

Cathy had long blonde hair and big blue eyes and a pair of tits that stuck out like a shelf. A lot of her trouble in filing, in fact, was because her tits got in the way, looming out over the cabinet. Her ass was as round as a beach ball and her legs were long, smooth and usually wide apart.

Carl had lusted for her as soon as she came into his office for the interview. She had been perfectly honest with her prospective employer, admitting to all of her limitations. He had desperately wanted to hire her – at the very least she would be decorative in the office – but he could find no justification for giving her the job. The other applicants were all skilled at secretarial work, but they were mousy creatures with flat chests.

"Well – errr…" he'd stammered.

Cathy had batted her big blue eyes and smiled confidently across his polished desk, as if sure she had the position.

"You hardly seem well qualified," he'd said.

She breathed in. Out came those tits. Carl's eyes bulged. Her tits were colossal.

"I'm sure I can make myself useful," she said.