I Fucked My Best Friend’s Wife
friend, horny, wife

I have been best friends with this man my entire life. He is still closer to me than any family member. Somehow, out of the blue, he landed a lingerie model for a wife. I couldn’t understand since he was so incredibly inept when it came to women. Nevertheless, he won the big prize. But after seven years of marriage, they were on the rocks for reasons that were none of my business and that I wouldn’t learn of until much later. One night they had invited me to dinner at their house and afterward, we were sipping cocktails in the living room and the talk turned to favorite movies. This was in the time of VCR tapes, before DVD or other technology and it was a big deal to have a tape library. They spoke of a movie they loved, something I had never heard of and now forget, and offered to lend it to me. I shrugged and agreed to watch it and at that moment their infant upstairs began to cry. The couple looked at each other – the infant was their last gasp at finding something to keep the marriage together. It’s always a mistake to bring a child into the world as a talisman against divorce. My friend caved first. “I’ll go check on her,” he said, “she probably needs changing. You get him the movie.” and he got up to go upstairs. His wife and I went down to the tv room in the finished basement to find the movie. I was standing behind her while she stood in front of a bookshelf of videotapes. I was looking at her body, not the tapes. Rarely had I contemplated any kind of adverse action with her – she was off limits and it was never an issue. But now, even after seven years of marriage and a child, her former-model body was still lithe and tight and tonight she was wearing a gauzy blouse with lacy cuts at the midriff that showed her belly. And then she reached up to get the movie from the top shelf. Without thinking my hands went around her top and I cupped her breasts and began to fondle them. My ears were burning with shame, and I suddenly felt pent up lust, humiliation, anticipation, and the expectation of a slap and angry words. But all she said was, “oh!” as I massaged her breasts from behind. I could feel her nipples hardening in her b*a. And then she found the movie she wanted on the top shelf and pulled it down. She turned with the movie and I noticed her eyes were unfocused and dazed. She put the movie on a small table and whispered, “hurry,” and walked over to the lounger in front of the tv. She undid her jeans and pushed them down and leaned down on the arm of the lounger. “hurry!,” she whispered in a husky voice, more insistently. Now my heart was racing. I could still turn and run up the stairs but I didn’t. Without thinking I undid my belt and pulled my pants down and found myself ready. I saw her perfect naked ass raised for me, her head down on her arms, her hair obscuring her face. I took advantage. It was quick. The excitement, the anticipation, the unexpected lust, the danger all contributed to making it incredibly satisfying as were her soft grunts. She pulled her jeans up over the wetness, ignoring it. I pulled myself together. The entire episode hadn’t taken three minutes I would guess. She grabbed the VCR tape and bounded up the stairs and I followed. When my friend came downstairs the tape was on the coffee table. He went to the kitchen sink to wash his hands and the conversation picked up where it left off. There were no significant glances between his wife and myself but I felt evil, dirty, guilty, and like a conspirator. I never had any secrets with my friend before – he even knew my pin number. Now, this was a huge wedge. When I drove home that night all I could think of was what I had done. It was so wrong and yet it felt so fucking good the entire short time. I had rarely felt so fully satisfied. It was all I could think of for the next few days. And then, out of the blue, she called me. “we have to talk,” she said to me, and I didn’t have to ask what about. We agreed to meet at a coffee place near her house. As I drove to the coffee shop my heart was in my throat thinking she was going to say, “I’m pregnant,” though I knew it was too soon for her to know. When I got there, she was sitting at a table with coffee for both of us. I sat down in silence. It was awkward as hell. “I’ve never done anything like that before,” was the first thing she said. She didn’t need to explain, I knew what she meant. I said nothing. “that was incredibly wrong of you,” she said, “of us .” I felt like shit. She put her hand on mine to make a point and leaned over. I stretched out with my finger and stroked her breast. She looked me in the eyes and pursed her lips. Then she grabbed my hand and dragged me out of the shop to her car where we fucked in the parking lot of Starbucks. After it was over, clothes askew, panting, she just said, “we’re getting a divorce.” Many years later I still feel bad about what I did. But as their marriage disintegrated into a vicious and acrimonious divorce I was engaged in the most satisfying sexual adventure of my life. It lasted for two years, always in secret. No one knew I think. At least, it never got back to me. Many years later when we would meet by chance at a party or event she would look me in the eye and we would sneak off to a hotel or to her car for a quickie and then return. It didn’t even matter if she or I were with some other partner. We had the chemistry. It was wrong, so incredibly unforgivably wrong on every level. And I don’t regret one precious second of it. Eventually, she moved far away. We haven’t seen each other in years. 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