Best Friends Forever
Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Romantic, Heterosexual, Tear Jerker, Cheating,
Desc: Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 1 - His best friend and his wife betray him to a degree that is truly beyond the pale, but...
Young people today have an acronym for it: BFF or best friends forever. But, as is often the case in the real world, “forever” is a word that has no substantive meaning. For me, James Clausen, and my best friend Rodney Pollard, both currently and commonly 27 years old, the acronym had, however, been meaningful since the second grade.
Yes we were tight the two of us. And the nature of things being what they were, the gods seemed to making a point that the two of us would in fact be family to each the other. That in part because both his parents and mine had died and that together in an auto accident the night of our common graduation from high school. That particular tragedy had forced us to lean on each other for some time. His parents had left him money, a lot of money, and he didn’t blow it. He’d been raised right. Mine had left me little insurance too, but nothing like my bud’s fortune. But, I was able to get a job almost immediately which insured that I’d be able to take care of my eighteen year old self no problem.
To kind of reemphasize the point being made here: the two of us were—”were” now being the operative term—closer than two actual blood siblings. Rodney had been best man at my and the then Claire Woodrew’s wedding which is another salient fact per this story. That wedding occurred three years gone.
At any rate, all of that was then; and this is now, and things are very different, as indicated, in the current now; but let’s not get ahead of things; this story is complicated enough as it is. Boy is it ever.
Again, the name is James Clausen. I’m 27 years old as of last month. I am three years married to the most beautiful woman in the world, Claire Clausen nee Woodrew: age 26, five-ten, and one-twenty-five, 34B’s, and a backside that can make a grown man cry with longing.
I labor for Allied Shipping. We basically ship farm produce to supermarkets and some restaurant chains all over the southern part of the state. I’m one of the truck drivers: pay’s good, and the benefits the usual teamster package. So yeah, Claire and I are doing okay. Oh, and she doesn’t work: strictly the all American housewife. No kids at this point though we have been talking.
I’d met Claire at a company party, our company’s. She was on the arm of one of the managers, an office guy. She looked good, but she looked out of place on the guy’s arm. I decided to take a flyer at some point during the little soirée. There’d be dancing and nonsense, read drinking, after the three course dinner, the inevitable speeches, and the awards handed out to deserving bureaucrats. Us drivers and loading dock workers never got awards, well, we’re union. We do get invited to the parties though and most of us were more than willing to settle for that.
“Excuse me, ma’am, might I have the honor of this dance?” I said. I was displaying way more confidence than I felt. The woman glanced at her date. He shrugged, and we were off and flowing with the traffic.
As a dancer, I can claim that I can more than hold my own, but she was even better than I was. We stayed out on the floor for two more dances before I felt compelled to return her to mister wrong guy. But three dances were long enough.
Just before I did the honorable thing, I went for it. “Any chance you’d like to have dinner with a blue collar guy like me?” I said.
“A date? A date with you?” she said.
“None other,” I said. She smiled.
“Maybe,” she said, “how’s your memory?”
“Huh? Okay I guess,” I said.
“Good, it’s 997 555 1212,” she said. I didn’t have to ask her what it was that I was supposed to remember.
Delivering her back to her table and politely, if a bit insincerely, thanking the guy for his patience; I handed her off and headed back to my table where Henry Goodman, my fellow tablemate for the evening was signing for a couple of drinks for us. I literally yanked the pen from his hand and wrote her number down on my wrist.
“Scored?” he said.
“Maybe,” I said. “She did give me her number.”
“Looks like a winner to me,” he said.
And it was and she was.
My arm slid down the length of her naked and sweaty body cupping the now soaked and slippery cleft between her long and very shapely legs.
She shivered at my touch. “That tickles,” she said, but she was smiling.
I rolled on top of her, and kissed her. It was a long and sensuous kiss. “Suffer. That was the best ever,” I said.
“It was good,” she said. “You got me off the second time.”
“I could tell by the screams,” I said.
“Yeah, well don’t forget the formula,” she said.
“I’ll be writing it down in the morning,” I said.
The wedding was three months later. My best bud, Rodney Pollard, was best man. A girlfriend of Claire’s, Jenna Courtland, was maid of honor.
The next three years were wonderful; well, they were for me. We had ourselves a four bedroom ranch style—2000 square feet—in the north San Fernando Valley. Three baths, two car garage, and two cars to park in it, well, one car, mine was a pickup truck. Oh, and no kids, not yet, but as mentioned, we were thinking about it.
Our third anniversary night of fun and frolic had been a sexual marathon. She had rolled out of our bed and headed into the bathroom. It took her half an hour to clean the stink of sex off of her. When she came out I went in, same purpose. I only took ten minutes; I guess I was less smelly.
I plopped down on the probably damaged mattress and looked over at her; I was still horny.
“I need to sleep and so do you,” she said, sensing my intentions. “Tomorrow’s a work day for you.”
“Yeah, don’t remind me. I hate Mondays,” I said.
“Yes, well, they need good and alert drivers to get the produce of our American farms to the populace at large, and you are integral to that effort as the driver of one of those great big trucks,” she said, laughing. “Oh and you do need to continue supporting this woman, don’t forget that.”
“Yes, you are pretty high maintenance,” I said. “But it is an honor to be able to fulfill your many and varied needs and wants.”
“So, you’ll be home at the usual time,” she said, turning the conversation to another topic.
“Yes, but if something changes I’ll call,” I said.
“Good, that’ll give me a chance to kick my lover out before you arrive to discomfit us,” she said.
“Oh for sure,” I said. “And, it will keep me from having to kill the guy too. I mean there’s an upside to everything.”
“Yes, well that’s true isn’t it,” she said.
The coffee was hot, the breakfast good, and the kiss goodbye the best: she waved to me as I drove off to support her very important person. It had been a good night had the night before. Claire Clausen was one very good piece, and she was mine.
She watched as his pickup truck faded into the traffic beyond. She sighed. He was a good man was her man, her husband, but boring. The afternoon would make up for it though: she definitely had the cure for “boring.”
She headed back inside to the kitchen. She made the call. She heard it ring. She heard him pick up.
“Yes, it’s me ... Yes he’s gone to work ... after lunch ... Yes, I have to clean up some ... Okay good.” She hung up. The man would be on time. One thing about Rodney Pollard, her husband’s best bud, he was never late for anything.
Dishes done, kitchen cleaned, shower taken, now to do a little housework and wait. She poured herself a second cup of Columbia’s best. She took hers strong, black, and unadulterated with sugar, cream, or any other filler. She had long maintained that she drank coffee, not candy.
She’ vacuumed and did a little care giving to her potted plants. She looked up at the clock on the dinette’s wall; it was 1:15.
She heard him pull into the driveway. She frowned. Their house was pretty much cloistered from those nearby, being at the end of the long cul-de-sac as it was, with tall hedges and trees blocking the view from mostly all but helicopter drivers: the operative term being “mostly.” Even so the man could have at least had the sense to park down the street, no use advertising his visits.
He came in through the unlocked side entrance. He strode toward her robe clad form and planted a scorcher on her lips. She pushed him playfully back.
“Park on the street next time, okay!” she said.
“What? Why? Nobody can see anything unless they come up to the driveway entrance,” he said.
“Just do it. It makes me nervous your car being here,” she said.
“Whatever. Okay, from now on it’s down the street,” he said.
Her robe took that moment to fall open exposing her to his view. “My God in heaven you are a beautiful woman,” he said. He was staring and blinking was a non-happening.
“I gathered you thought that,” she said, staring in her own right directly at the bulge at the front of his pants. He merely nodded his response.
Stepping back to her he took her in his arms, kissed her again, and led her unresisting person toward the living room.
He coaxed her to the couch. She’d let her robe fall to the floor where it pooled at her feet. She eased herself into a sitting position on the couch and spread herself wide for him to do his duty. They’d fallen into a pattern that worked for the both of them. He’d eat her pussy to her first orgasm and ream her butt before he even undressed. She’d maintained it, the routine, got her in a mindset to be able to cum more easily when he did disrobe and finally take her.
He massaged the insides of her thighs licking his lips in anticipation of going down on her.
“You smell wonderful,” he said. She just smiled as he leaned in and began licking and sucking first on her labia and finally her clit. She made little jerking movements as he brought her close to her first cum. God he was good, she thought. If only her unimaginative hubby could do it the way that his best friend could. She’d tried to teach him, her hubby. He just couldn’t seem to get the hang of it; he was always so impatient. Well, it was what it was.
She squirted announcing her fulfillment. She gently pushed him back turning her back to him and assuming a kneeling position on the couch. She pushed her butt back at him almost taunting him. He leaned into her once again and began lapping at her anus. Man she tasted good, he thought. She mewed her appreciation of his appreciation. He adored her for some minutes before literally pulling her down to the floor with him.
He stood dropping his pants and pushing his underpants kneeward. He insinuated a knee between hers coaxing her to spread for him; she did so; he towered over her. Leaning in he gained an easy lodgment of his penis inside of her driving it all of the way in in one slow gentle inexorable stroke. He paused, waiting for her to get settled in for her screwing.
“Now,” she said, “do me.” He didn’t have to be told twice. After some minutes, his moderate seesawing motions got her up close to fulfillment once again. Sensing that she was ready, he began pile driving into her without the slightest regard for her comfort. Nor did the woman ask any quarter: she wanted to be taken hard, and he was doing just that. She screamed her pleasure as she squirted once again.
They lay side by side semi-exhausted. No words were uttered during this time in their ritual. The ritual that they had come to practice once or twice weekly almost since the first days of her marriage to her other man some three years earlier.
“Do you ever think about things? I mean us and Jim and all of it?” he said.
“I try not to dwell on it. We, you and I, are part time; we both know that. I love Jimmy; I need you to kind of fill in the gaps as one might say. But, we’ve talked about all of this before, Rod. The status quo is good enough. I mean isn’t it?” she said.
“So long as we aren’t discovered it’s okay I guess. I could wish that we were free to take things to the next level, but like you say, the status quo is okay,” he said.
“Rodney, I actually do love the guy. In most ways he’s the champ. And no, he is not your equal at you know what,” she said. “It’s just not in him. If it were you might not be here.”
“Yeah, well a woman like you needs a man who is all that in every way not just most ways as you say,” he said.
“Your money is not the draw you think it is,” she said, smiling. “Yes, you’re doing well buying and selling those houses and buildings and such, but so what. Jim makes a living and it’s enough for us. Do I wish we were rich? I guess. It’d be nice, but he’s not and that’s the long and the short of it.”
“Yeah, well, I can dig it. I know where you’re coming from, and it’s good that you’re not some asshole gold digger; it adds to your attraction; it really does,” he said.
“Well, I’m glad you’re attracted,” she said. “You know I don’t feel guilty about what we’re doing. I guess I should, but I don’t. Do you think that’s bad of me?”
“I don’t know. I guess it is, a little bad that is. But I don’t either. I mean I don’t feel any guilt either. You should’ve been mine, but he got in first call, so it is what it is I suppose. Still, sometimes I do feel a bit apprehensive. You know, worried that he might discover us and maybe mess up our lifelong friendship, his and mine, not to mention what you and I have going,” he said.
“Yes, well, I guess you can say the same for me when you get right down to it. Yes, apprehension is the word. And yes, I should’ve been yours and you mine. But, he is one heckuva a husband and a really good guy, so we’ll just keep on sharing and not messin’ with the program. Him finding out would not be good for any of us. So from now on, Mister, park down the damn street! Okay?”
“Okay, okay. Sheesh,” he said.
A man’s hopes and dreams are virtually always, once he reaches adulthood, bound inextricably to the woman of his dreams; assuming of course he has been lucky enough to find such a woman. I had. Claire Clausen, my wife, was that indispensable woman, the woman of my dreams. That didn’t change as I listened to the two of them talking about me. The two of them being my wife of course, and, my soon to be ex-best friend Rodney Pollard. They were still in the bedroom, the guestroom actually. At least they hadn’t had the brass effrontery to be doing each other in my bed, well, Claire’s and mine; I thought that thoughtful of them.
A power outage at the yard and grounded the trucks for the day. That because if the office couldn’t do its thing the trucks couldn’t roll either. Hence, I was home early, very early; it was barely 2:30.
I made the decision to just wait where I was in the hallway until they were done. The more they talked the more I would know. The fact that what I’d already learned in the half hour just past was more than enough notwithstanding.
I heard one of them bounce out of the bed.
“You better get to doing whatever you’ve got to do,” he said. “I have to be going too. I’ve got a couple of afternoon appointments scheduled that are only second to you in importance.” He laughed.
“Yes, well I am glad that I’m in front of your no doubt long list of money making interests and responsibilities,” said my wife.
“You gonna let him have you tonight. I mean you might be a little too stretched out for him to feel much,” he said. Now they both laughed.
My heart broke listening to him talk that way about me, especially him.
“Stop talking about him,” she said. “And as far as whether or not he and I do it tonight is none of your business. Yes, you’re bigger, so what, just let it be, okay? I mean the dissing of my husband.”
“Okay, okay, I love the guy too. I’m just foolin’,” he said.
“I have to get a towel to clean your copious cum off my thighs,” she said.
She wasn’t quite scampering when she came out into the hallway and saw me.
Her eyes got big and her hand went to her mouth in shock. “Jimmy!” she barely whispered. I just nodded.
She ran back inside the room. I heard the muted and excited exchange between the two of them.
“Oh my God!” I heard him exclaim, finally.
It was another minute maybe two before either of them reemerged. I presumed they’d spent those moments dressing. Well, they were dressed when they did come out.
“Jim, I don’t know what to say,” said my used to be best friend. I didn’t immediately respond.
“I know you don’t want to hear anything I have to say right now,” said Rodney, “but you and I—we have to talk sometime. Okay?” he said. I just shrugged, well, it seemed appropriate considering the situation.
Claire, for her part, appeared to be in a state of semi-shock. Well hell, I could relate. The man tendered me a little wave and made his escape.
Claire took a step toward me. She reached out her hand. “Jimmy...”
She’d apparently run out of words. I, for my part, found my voice; it’d been missing for some moments.
“I’ll be moving out right away. Oh, and just so you’ll know, we had a power outage at the yard; everybody got the day off. But it’s early enough that I can find me a place to sack out tonight no problem,” I said.
“No! Jim, please don’t leave me. I know how this looks but it isn’t as bad as in fact I know it looks,” she said.
“Yes it is Claire. It is very bad. And, yes, I do have to move out. What the two of you said about me in there, well, I just don’t know how I’m ever going to be able to deal with it or sure as hell forget it. I just don’t know,” I said.
“Jim, sit down with me. Let me make my case before you do something rash. Please, I beg of you, Jim, really,” she said.
I was on the verge of breaking up. But, in the back of my mind or heart or soul or something, I was for whatever reason curious. What could she possibly want to say to me? There just could not be anything that would make any difference.
“The dinette,” I said. I turned and walked down the hall. Her footsteps followed mine.
I took a seat at the table, she’d followed me, but before she sat, she went into the kitchen. She was gone for but half a minute. She returned with two glasses and an already opened bottle of wine.
“I need it even if you don’t,” she said. I snickered.
“Okay, it’s a little early in the day, but it is a special occasion, I guess,” I said.
“First off, do you want to ask me any questions?” she said. I stared at her. She started to say something when I didn’t immediately respond. But then I short shanked her.
“Yes,” I said, “a couple.” She nodded.
“How long and why?” she sagged back in her seat, looked down, reached for the bottle of wine and poured herself a drink. I pushed my glass toward her across the table; she filled it too.
“How long? I wish you hadn’t asked that, but since you did. Almost since the day we were married, right after our honeymoon actually. We do it about once a week, a little less a little more, depending. I know hearing that you have to wonder how I could keep it a secret like that for so long,” she said. I nodded for her to continue.
“I could say that I just arranged things so that there would be no doubt that you wouldn’t be home even by accident. I could say that Rodney’s schedule, him being self-employed, made it easy to schedule things. I could say that we live in kind of a secluded place and discovery by neighbors would be unlikely if not actually impossible. But, none of those, true though they all are, is not the main reason,” she said.
“Oh?” I said.
“It was easy to hide it, Jim, because I felt no guilt, so there was no tipping you off by guilty looks or words or what all,” she said, “no tells as the gamblers like to say.”
“You felt no fucking guilt! What the hell!” I said.
“Jim calm down! No, I felt no guilt and for a reason. I know that the actual reason might sound a little strange, I mean to you,” she said, “but...”
“But?” I said, and it was a sarcastic but.
“Jim, I felt no guilt because I saw and see you and me and Rodney as family, the same family. Jim, the three of us are like a nuclear family. Rod was, is, kind of a brother husband to you. So, to me it wasn’t cheating. And, I can tell you, Rod feels the same way,” she said.
I sat there stunned. For the life of me I couldn’t hate the two of them, even after having heard what they thought of me. I went for it. Maybe I could learn to hate them, but for the moment I was just sad.
“Okay, you wanna save this marriage?” I said.
“Yes!” she didn’t quite scream.
“Then give him up, him and his outsized cock,” I said.
“No,” she said. I sneered.
“I’ll be moving out today. Have a bad life you and my used to be best friend who just became my worst enemy,” I said. I was kinda surprised; it hadn’t taken very long for me to learn to hate them, the both of them.
“Jim, rethink this. We can get by this. It’s not the bad thing that you, understandably, think it is at the moment. Really it’s not,” she said.
“The hell you say,” I said. “I will not be your willing cuckold!” I got up and went to our room and started packing. At least the stink of their sex didn’t permeate the atmosphere in there. There really is after all an upside to everything.
“You are kidding, right,” said Rodney Pollard.
“No, I’m not kidding. I had no real choice. I just told him the truth. We are a family, or were,” said Claire Clausen.
“And, he reacted how again exactly, I mean tell me again?” he said.
She sighed. “Like I said, he didn’t actually react much at all. He just basically restated what he said earlier that he was moving out. He did make an issue of him being my cuckold, but that was pretty much it, and then he did, move out that is. He hardly raised his voice,” she said.
“Shit! He and I have been best friends since forever. I’m going to miss the guy. The big news is that he’s gonna miss me too. I know that as a great truth,” said Rodney.
“Yes, and he and I will miss each other if I can’t figure a way to get him to change his mind,” she said. “You know, knowing him as I do, I actually thought that I could convince him of the good sense of hearing me out and even agreeing with me, at least on some level. But I guess his feelings were just too raw at that particular moment.”
“Yeah, I’m sure they were. You know, I think it was more what he heard than what we did. Know what I mean,” he said.
“I think you’re right. He sees us as us as having made fun of him. I guess we were kind of laughing at him. But it was all just nonsense nothing was said that carried anything that was actually meaningful,” she said.
“Yeah, well trying to convince him of that now is going to be a seriously tough nut,” he said.
“For real,” she said. “But, that’s it isn’t it. We have to try and convince him. At some point we have to sit the guy down and pin him good and proper. We have to make him believe us.”
“Yes, but he is not going to be having you and me doing each other ever again and that at minimum,” he said. She nodded.
“I know, and there won’t be any way to hide it now that he knows,” she said.
“How long should we wait do you think before we come on to him?” he said.
“I don’t know. That’s going to be a very delicate issue in itself. Too long and he grows bitter. Too short a time and his anger will still be at a high point. So...” she said, shrugging.
“I don’t know either, maybe a month?” he said. She nodded, but it was a slow nod.
The two of them went silent. Each knew exactly what the other was thinking, but neither had the courage to voice it, but, then he did.
“And if he doesn’t cut us any slack? I mean ever?” he said.
She shook her head slowly. “Then he and I will be at an end. There’ll be no choice at that point in time,” she said. “But Rod, we have to do our level best to not let things go that way. Are you with me?”
“You know I am,” he said. “You absolutely know I am.”
The Crossroads is, by any definition a dive. I’d been dropping in from time to time over the past couple of years after long days on the road. Sammy Gilchrist, a fellow driver, and I had tilted back quite a few yellow Pepsis there after work. My sometime bud Rod Pollard and I had also not been strangers to the place.
A dive it was, but it did have a couple of talented bartenders. Marie Semple was the thirty year-old bartender in chief at the place. She’d been holding down the fort at the Crossroads for six years. Oddly, or so it seemed to me, Marie was a college graduate. She’d majored in Art History so she’d said, but, ex post facto, she’d discovered to her eternal dismay that jobs in her field were all but non-existent. Still, her talent at mixing virtually any cocktail and her understanding of people as individuals were pretty much nonpareil. I loved Marie and Jackie DelaTorre too. Jackie was a twenty-two year-old neophyte barkeep that Marie was training though in point of fact she’d pretty much taught her everything she, Jackie, needed to know already.
At any rate these two women were of late my sole contact, on any kind of personal level, with the female gender since my breakup with the love of my life two weeks gone.
“How yuh doin’ tonight, cowboy?” said Marie coming up to me as I claimed my usual seat at the twenty foot bar.
“Same,” I said.
“So you haven’t heard from her at all?” said Marie.
“No, and why would I? She’s replaced me,” I said. Marie just nodded.
“It happens, guy. And the world still turns on its axis and the casinos in Vegas are still not charitable institutions,” she said.
“Yeah, well I guess you’re right on all counts,” I said, “though I’m actually not sure about the world on its axis thing.” She laughed.
“Yeah, well that’s what Einstein said or somebody,” she said.
“Oh well if Einstein said it then it must be true,” I said. She stopped rubbing the last nuances of moisture from the glass she was grinding.
“What?” I said.
“Jim, Your wife, and she’s with your ex-best friend,” said Marie. I didn’t want to turn around, but I couldn’t help it. I did.
They saw me at the same time that I saw them. Her hand went to her mouth. I threw a ten on the bar and made to leave. He beat me to the door.
“Any chance that I could get you to sit down with us, Jim?” he said. I looked him up and down.
“No,” I said.
“Jim, please. Claire and I have been conspiring these past couple of weeks as to how to get you to sit with us and talk and maybe make things right. Please,” he said.
“No,” I said. I turned and walked out leaving him standing there. I had to wonder what he and my sooner or later to be ex would have said to me, I mean besides the usual meaningless platitudes. But, I guessed that the answer to that question would be never in the coming.