It all started when I had become single for the first time in nearly three years. I had dedicated three years of my life to one woman and I had done very well at being faithful even through the hard times. There were plenty of opportunities. I consider myself to be an attractive man, and being slightly above average with words I have this way of saying things that make everything sound that much more enticing. I am a liar, but I am a damn good one. More than once I have convinced a woman to love, or lust for, me through words alone. It disgusts me, but at the same time it gets me what I want more often than not. I am manipulative, but I am damn good at it.
As with any long term relationship breaking up, there was a lot of hurt. You've just spent three years with someone who already was, or had become, your best friend. You try to do the "staying friends" thing, but it never works out and you end up either never talking to each other again because it hurts too much, or you never talk to each other again because you can't stand to. In my case, it was both. It hurt a lot, and even the thought of talking to her made me so angry it would throw off my mood for the rest of the day. So in step my friends. And I have to tell you, I have a great many good friends that know very well how to distract me.
There's the booty call friend who has always wanted me and is not going to miss out on this chance she has. I am a serial monogamist and she knows it. I don't stay single for long.
Then there's the really good guy friend who invites me over for anything, whether it be to down a few brews on the front porch, play some games, or even just shoot the shit for no good reason. He's the one that's there. He's the one I depend on a lot even though he doesn't know it or feel like I am.
There's the soul mate that lives two thousand miles away, stuck in a relationship she herself has said she isn't happy with. She is trying to make things work, but the going is slow. We would be perfect together, but two thousand miles is a long walk.
There's the girl that is offering a steady relationship, but I don't want to get into one right now. I keep the flame kindled just enough for when I'm ready to take that step again, but no more.
Then there's the best friend since childhood and his wife. They have offered me a place to stay, but I don't want to do that just yet. I'm good with moving back home for a few months to get back on my feet after moving out of the Ex's place. He has always been there for me when I needed him most, and he's there for me now. They take me out to dinner, keep me entertained. Providing that distraction is invaluable and they both know it. But the wife has this way about her of having fun with that distraction. We are both flirts to the N'th degree, and my best friend finds it hilarious when we flirt with each other. But lately, or so since I have become a single man once again, that flirting seems to have increased to a fever pitch. It's not like it was before. It's more..... involved.
It was innocent enough to begin with. Always in my friend's presence, and always good for a laugh. A short reference to gay sex between my friend and I, based mainly on the fact that we joke around about it often. Then an reference to her interjecting between us, perhaps a threesome. "No," I say, "that wouldn't happen. I would steal all of the attention!" More laughs.
Then it was like a spike on the Richter Scale, we both kind of turned it into high gear. References to private time. 'What would happen if-' type things. She was growing closer every time we were around each other. We were getting to be around each other more and more often. We both knew it was innocent, but something would nag in the back of our minds that kind of doubted that entirely. It was always there, we both knew it. Then she invited me over to talk while my friend was out of town. He goes out of town quite a lot for business working for a professional show company. Suddenly I got this uneasy feeling. This was my best friend's wife inviting me over while he is out of town. I know he knows though. She tells him whenever we are hanging out and where it will be. He has joined us on occasion. But this felt... different? I had it set in my mind that I was not going to do anything and I was going to shut down any advance that might happen.
Nothing happened. We talked about it, because the tension was there. I explained that she was my best friend's wife and that nothing would ever bring me to sever my friendship just for a good piece of nookie. Nothing. She agreed, stating that she would never sleep around on him. It was just the "Game" that was fun.
By "Game", I merely mean the entirety of flirting. Many people flirt with an agenda. Whether it to be a kiss at the end of a date, or to sleep with a stranger based on suave alone. I happen to enjoy flirting just to flirt. A party that reciprocates that flirting is always preferred, because it makes both of us feel good to know that we can be found attractive. Flirting makes you feel great, and makes everything seem that much more fun. I call this the "Game"; the entire act of flirting just to flirt. No agenda to be had. No intentions of getting into anyone's pants. Just having a good time and seeing who bows out first. It's a game.
A week or two later, myself, my good friend that invites me over all the time, his fiance, my best friend, and his wife are all at a Mexican restaurant for Karaoke night. My best friend's wife is sitting next to me, and my best friend is sitting across from her. The flirting is inevitable, and it starts up almost immediately. It's an absolute blast, and I get quite a few margaritas in. My best friend gets up to sing a song, and his wife brings up the night I previously addressed. I told her how nervous I had been about coming over, and in my drunken state, with my filter switched off, I let slip that in another lifetime where she wasn't my best friend's wife, there is no doubt that I would be all over her in a heartbeat. She's an attractive girl with a great body. A man would be a fool not to be.
From then, the details get hazy but a few things I remember distinctly. In my mind, I am dead set against anything happening between the two of us. Then I feel a foot running up and down my calf from my left side. It sends a shock wave right through me and I catch my breath a little bit in surprise. I look at her and whisper stop. She does, for a while. It doesn't take long before she gets back to it, and I give her a menacing glance. She apparently finds it playful and continues, so I wait until her husband isn't looking and run my hand up her inner thigh just high enough to get my point across. She then stops, looking at me with surprise and starts laughing a bit. I play it off.
I get far too drunk to drive that night, and they took me to their place, saying they would bring me back to my car the next day. I don't remember much from that night other than some more flirting. A reference was made to her cats liking to jump onto the bed and sleep between her legs. I remember replying with something along the lines of "Wish something else could be between your legs," and she lifted her eyebrows and just gave me an "Mmmmmm" before handing me a pillow and a blanket. I lock myself in the guest bedroom for the night and take care of the raging erection I had been fighting to hide from the moment I had gotten her text in the car saying "What you did was not fair!" There was a short exchange of texts, but that was all it took.
Then we find ourselves out to dinner, just her and I once again. This happens relatively often when my friend goes out of town, just kind of a "Hey keep me company for a bit" thing. But this dinner feels slightly more intimate than the others for reasons that should be obvious. Our conversation tended to stay around sex, with her explaining that I happen to be a pretty good influence on her sex life with her husband. I asked how, and she went on to say that when I am around and I get flirty, or touchy-feely like I did the one time at the Mexican place, it turns her on to the point that she jumps her husband as soon as they get private time. I actually take a bit of pride in that. Mainly just know that I can turn someone on that much.
Once dinner is over, she asks what we should do next. He wasn't going to be home until late that evening, so we had more time to kill. She suggested a movie, so there we ended up, sitting awkwardly next to each other in the theater. I had already raised the arm rest between us, stating that I wasn't against a cuddle during the movie, but we still didn't make any move toward each other. But my hands were burning. I wanted to touch her again. I would find out later she wanted to touch me again as well. The empathy was almost unbearable in its scope, and eventually I took her hand in mine and started giving her a gentle hand massage just to occupy myself. After a few moments of this, I put her hand down on my leg, letting it rest there and I put mine on hers. We kind of looked at each other, both of us appearing very comical in our 3D glasses, and the game of Chicken was on. Almost immediately she move her hand farther inside my thigh, close to the knee but enough to get the point across. I gripped her thigh tighter in return.
Her arm was draped over mine, so my reach was slightly diminished. I was already halfway up her leg whereas she was closer to the knee. She had a head start this way, so to take things slowly I just started rubbing her thigh gently, scratching with my nails against her tight jeans. When I made a lot of slow and tantalizing movement, I saw her breath get more labored and slightly faster. I knew she was already getting turned on.
As she moved her hand farther up my thigh and deeper inside, I responded by doing much the same, a lot of the time I would grip slightly harder on her inner thigh as I got closer and closer to her most private parts. I was turned on, and it was showing but I don't think she noticed. After all, we were close to each others' forbidden zones, but neither of us had made contact yet. I was so close to her vagina I could feel the heat she was giving off and it was intoxicating. I was maybe an inch away.
I leaned away slightly, pulling my hand up her leg and ran my pinky in the crease between her thigh and pelvis, moving away before I made contact with anything in between and resumed my spot an inch or so away from her moist pussy. She responded, moving another millimeter up my leg, but adjusted her arm and hand slightly. I don't think she realized it, but when she did, I felt her finger make the absolute lightest contact with my right testicle. I wrote it off as a mistake.
In my mind, I was racing through all the possibilities and outcomes, all of the different things I could do to her, all of the vast pleasures I had learned to inflict over the years. I fantasized about taking her when we got back to the truck, both of us climbing into the back seat with its tinted windows and giving in to this madness we had been brewing. I moved my hand another millimeter closer.
She let out a very very quiet little moan, and again my mind was back to the what-if scenarios. I could run my hand over her pussy, feel it through her jeans and press firmly against her clit. I could, but I don't.
It was all a rush of exhilaration. This forbidden thing we were on the verge of doing, and yet both of us holding our ground in this horrible and torturous game of chicken we had started. My jaw was clenched shut. I couldn't go any farther. Something was holding me back. I like to believe it was guilt. I have this problem with conviction. I tend to feel guilty. I blame my morals growing up, the southern gentleman way I was always raised with.
The movie ended, and at the same time, both of us stopped our game and made ready to leave. She needed to visit the restroom, so I waited outside. When we finally exited the place and were walking to the truck, I asked "So how bad was it?", referring the wetness I had worked her into. "I wouldn't necessarily call it bad," she responded, giving me a wry and playful smile. I laughed as we got into the truck.
She had lifted the center console away and bolted into my lips before I had even gotten into the seat fully. I didn't resist. Hell, I started fighting her for domination in the kiss, jockeying for position as I adjusted myself to counter her weight pressing against me. Her hand bolted down to my crotch, where I was already well on my way to another erection and she gently coaxed it into full being. I grabbed a handful of her hair, pulling her higher as I returned the favor and got my other hand against the crotch of her tight jeans. She was so wet I could feel the moisture through the denim. Logic and Reason had come to a boiling point in their war within my subconscious, and logic had just made the final killing blow. I was doing this. Fuck the consequences.
We found ourselves clamoring over the seats after we moved them forward, giving as much space as we could in the back seat before stumbling back. As we did so, both of us were fumbling with our clothing, half tearing, half removing them as carnal instincts began to take full effect. Once we found ourselves in the back seat, I put the center console, a leather box type deal, about a foot and a half wide, back down and forced her onto it, pants off, panties lost somewhere along the way. I lifted her legs high, burying my mouth into her with a fiery vigor I hadn't used since my teens. She tasted fantastic, practically leaking her juices all over my chin and into my beard. I just kept lapping up everything I could, teasing and nibbling, sucking on the clit then flicking my tongue over it quickly and heavily. Her tits were hanging out, the D cup bra also lost in translation somewhere alongside her panties. I hadn't even caught their color or style in the process of removing them.
"Fuck me," she moaned. "Gladly," I said before lifting her up, turning her over so her chest was resting on the console. I sat back on the back seat, taking my rod in my hand and guiding it into her waiting hole. She sat down and stayed there for a moment, clenching around me before she came almost instantly. I grabbed her hips and pulled her as far down as I could, shoving myself into her as deep as possible. I felt her cervix pressing against the head of my cock. She seemed to like it, but it may have been the orgasm too.
After letting her get the first rushes of her orgasm, I began using my arms to raise and lower her hips, forcing her to ride the rest of her orgasm out. There were people walking around the parking lot, but we were near the back and she was trying her best the be quiet. Some things you just can't hold back, and there was more than one profane word stated loudly. She started to take over on the riding, slamming herself down onto me over and over and over. I hadn't seen a woman so eager for cock since the beginnings of my previous relationship. She was crazed. I was okay with that.
I can't say how long we went like this before we peeled away from each other and she turned around, mounting me once again, this time pressing her breasts against my face as she rode. I grabbed both of them, just now realizing that it was the first time I had truly paid attention to them since they had been freed of the bra. She had immaculate breasts, still perky and youthful in her mid twenties. I ran my tongue around a nipple, sucking on it while she rode me gracefully and with just enough force to keep getting me closer and closer.
Finally, I leaned her away from me, she reached back to brace herself on the passenger and driver seats as I put one hand on her pelvis and the other on her ribs and started bucking myself into her hard and fast. I could feel it coming, and it was going to be god damn wonderful to let this aching load go. Harder and faster, I plunged again and again until I felt it explode deep inside. God damn it felt like heaven. I saw stars, rainbows, and fucking unicorns, but I didn't stop fucking her. Again and again, I released spurt after spurt until I was dry firing and still I fucked her. The oversensitivity was all but unbearable but I didn't care. I could feel her getting close to a second orgasm and I wanted her to come again.
She obliged a few seconds later, reaching down and violently rubbing her clit as she came all over my dick. As she was cumming, she was letting out these sounds somewhere along the lines of a whining plea for more and a scream of "YES!" I kept fucking, my erection staying solid as a rock. I haven't been this turned on in years and by God I was taking full advantage of it.
She leaned forward, once again our lips found each other, kissing hard and long as both of us twitched. I was still inside of her, slowly growing soft as I felt my cum leaking out around my shaft. I stopped kissing her. We were both sweaty and I leaned my forehead against her shoulder as she ran her fingers through my hair. We were both breathing hard. "Oh fuck...." I said, letting it hang there. My conscience was starting to come back, Reason coming back from the dead with a vengeance and tearing down the fort that Logic had built in its absence.
She seemed to get my drift. "Our secret?" she asked.
"I don't know," I said. I was starting to get physically sick at what I had just done.
"Yes," she said, I could hear it starting to effect her words as well. "Our secret. It will never happen again. We just go on with our lives the way we always have, and that's it. This is over."
"I suppose you could say that... I hate it. I hate myself. I hate this. Why are we here? What have we done?" I'm starting to panic. She grabs my head in both hands, looking me dead in the eyes.
"Stop it. This never happened." she says
"No," I say, setting my jaw, "It didn't."
