Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Cheating, Oral Sex, Masturbation, Exhibitionism, Slow, .
Desc: Sex Story: Chapter 1 - They were just friends, she thought. But in his time of need she discovered they were much, much, more than that. OK, so even in my stories the husband may occasionally feel really cheated. He wasn't getting totally left out, but he sure as hell didn't like what he discovered.
"Hi, Tom, how's it going?"
"Oh, hi, Bev. OK, I guess."
"That bad, huh? Does this mean we can't have lunch together?"
"No, no, Bev, I'm sorry. I, I'd love to have lunch with you, if you can put up with me. I'm just a bit down today."
"OK, I'll promise not to talk about anything depressing," I reassured him, "see you at 11:30?"
"Right, see you then."
Well, I guess everybody has a right to be down once in a while. I've worked with Tom for two years, and he always seems to have a smile and a funny story. In fact we've really become good friends. Not in a sexual kind of way, or anything, just more like very comfortable with each other. The two of us usually eat lunch together in the cafeteria, and the other girls occasionally tease me about him, but what I tell them is honest to god true -- I can't remember any time when either of us has even touched the other, let alone any of the garbage the girls seem to be wondering about. We're both married, for christs sake.
I made up my mind to see if I could jolly him out of his mood this noon, and to that end I started embroidering the story I was already thinking of telling him anyway, about how my husband and I went to the zoo, and Paul got into a strutting match with a chimp. Cute little fellow, he was (the chimp, I mean.) I got the craziest notion that if I was a foot shorter and on the other side of the bars it would be fun to spend some time alone with him.
Tom did enjoy my story, and even helped me imagine some possible embellishments to it. He decided there was probably a female chimp hiding in the background and watching Paul, and that she was wishing she could spend some time alone with him. So, OK, we do sometimes get into these joking semi-sexual discussions, but I swear it doesn't mean a thing. Well, anyway, the lunch hour went quickly, and we headed back to our desks with Tom in a much better mood.
The next day we met at 11:30 for lunch as usual, and once again Tom had his somber face on. There had to be something going on, and, hey, what are friends for? Almost as soon as we sat down with our trays I started probing gently.
"Tom, I've been thinking, and something hit me that really surprised me. Please don't be too shocked, but I think you're my best friend."
"Yeah, Bev," he smiled a bit wanly, "I know what you mean. I sorta' feel that way myself."
"I think it's really great the way we can talk about things," I pressed on, "I can't believe some of the things we've gone into. Like the time Paul and I had that big fight over money. You remember, we were arguing about whether I could spend some of my salary without telling him what I was spending it on. You really helped me see it from a man's perspective."
"I think I know where you're going with this," Tom said, putting up his hand, palm out, "and thanks for worrying about me, but I'm afraid this is one I need to handle myself."
"Sure, Tom, of course," I smiled at him, "we're just friends, not a couple. We're entitled to have all the secrets we want."
"Thanks, Bev, you're the greatest."
I really can't remember what we ended up talking about for the rest of the lunch hour, maybe TV shows. We're both fans of "Lost". But I know we did avoid any sensitive topic.
The next day he brought his long face to lunch again, and gave me a look that said 'don't ask', so I didn't. Our conversation seemed a bit forced, as we tried to steer clear of any pitfalls. That was especially tough for me, because I didn't know where the pitfalls were.
Well, actually, even though I didn't know, I was starting to get an idea. I realized that he hadn't mentioned his wife once all week. We usually talk a lot about our spouses, and laugh about their foibles, and commiserate with each other, and try to suggest things to make our marriages better.
I kept my mouth shut, though, until the next Monday noon. The poor guy walked in looking like hell; haggard as if he hadn't been sleeping, haunted as if he had a personal demon on his back. My heart went out to him, and I had to say something.
"Look, Tom, I know I promised, but you really need to talk. Please, please, clue me in. There must be something I can do to help."
"I'm not sure there's anything that anybody can do. It's Janet."
"Yeah, I was afraid of that. So talk to me about it. It might help just to get it out in the open."
"Well, it sure as hell hasn't helped to keep it to myself," he exploded, "but I don't feel right talking to anyone else about it."
"I'm not just anyone else. I thought you admitted last week that I was your best friend."
He sat silently thinking about it for a while, then finally looked up, and there was a glimmer of hope in his sunken eyes.
"It's true, but we can't talk here. I don't think I can eat anything anyway. Can we go for a walk?"
We dumped our barely touched plates of food, and headed outdoors. There is a sidewalk all around our office complex that lots of people use to get some gentle exercise at noon. While there were quite a few people out, it wasn't really crowded, and we could stay far enough away from others to have some privacy.
I had to drag it out of him, but Tom finally admitted that he had discovered Janet had a lover. He had confronted her with it, and told her he would forgive her if she would promise to stop the affair, but she would have none of it. Worse, from Tom's perspective, she seemed to want none of him. He had tried bringing flowers and gifts, and being romantic, but nothing worked. Instead she just became more and more angry with him. And then the yelling fights began. He didn't tell me much about those, but I could guess.
We had walked completely around the block twice by the time he told me this much, and we both decided we needed to get back to our work. As I returned to my desk I found myself feeling a new and strange, but very strong, tenderness toward him. And I wondered what the next day would bring.
What it brought was another long walk and his admission that he felt like giving up on the marriage. I pointed out that it wasn't his fault; it was Janet who had created the problem. Why, I asked, shouldn't he just kick her out of the house?
"I can't," he shook his head," the house was hers before we were married. If we get a ... If we get a div ... orce, it will be hers again."
"It's kind of hard to say that word, isn't it?"
"Yeah, but I think I'm getting used to it. I guess I'm just going to have to move out myself. Maybe this weekend..."
But it didn't work out that way. Wednesday he showed up at the cafeteria looking a lot more rested, and I complimented him on it.
He shook his head, "wait'll I tell you what happened."
It was like the old Tom. He spun the story out like a pro.
"I got home last night and pulled into the garage as usual. The only thing I noticed was that Janet's car wasn't there. You can imagine my thoughts, 'Yeah, the whore is off somewhere with her boyfriend again. She's probably f... ' Oh, sorry, Bev. I got carried away.
"Well, anyway, I got out of the car and walked over to the steps leading up into the kitchen. I grabbed the knob and started to turn it, but it wouldn't turn! It finally sank in that the door was locked. We never lock that door.
"And about then I saw the note taped onto the door. The first thing it said was, 'Don't bother looking for the key. I changed the lock.' Well, I knew what that meant, and my brain started spinning at top speed. I'd need clothes, and shaving gear, and what about all the stuff I have in my desk, not to mention my computer.
"But the note went on. 'Your clothes are all laid out on the washer and dryer.' The washer and dryer are in a little nook at the side of the garage, and I looked over there. Sure enough, there were clothes piled high on top of both of them. Sitting on the floor in front of them was my computer. I kept reading. 'I packed most of your stuff in the two suitcases you'll see there beside your computer. Take anything you want that's in the garage. But take it now because I'm changing the garage door opener tomorrow.'
"So I dumped the computer in the front seat, put the suitcases on the floor in back, piled the rest of the back full of clothes, and filled the trunk with tools and the like. Then I went and rented a room at the Comfort Inn for five days. It feels very weird not having a permanent address, but I gave my old one when I checked in."
"Oh, Tom, this must be really hard."
"Uh, ... I feel guilty admitting this, but no, it isn't. Mostly I just feel relieved."
"Anything I can do to help?"
"No, not really. Well, actually, you've already helped a lot. If we hadn't spent the last two days talking through things I'm sure it would have hit me a lot harder last night."
"You mean last night when you saw the note, or when you went to bed alone in a strange place?"
Damn, I shouldn't have said that. Tom just looked down at his food for a while without saying anything. Then he lifted his head and looked me in the eye.
"Both," he said intensely.
Oh, my god, this is bad. This is wrong. I can't tear my eyes away from his. My heart is beating fast, and my palms are sweating. I've got to change the subject somehow.
"Money, ... what about money? Do you have a joint checking account? Or credit cards with both your names on them?"
That broke the spell. "Yeah, I checked with the bank this morning. She drained our joint account. But I got her name off my credit card before she did too much damage there."
I couldn't resist. I reached out and squeezed his hand. "Don't worry, Tom, things will get better."
"Thanks, Bev, I feel like they already are."
I found myself thinking about him on and off all afternoon. The worst part was that I thought of him again after I went to bed. I had this picture of him all alone in a sterile hotel room, and I couldn't seem to get it out of my mind. As I lay there starting to get sleepy, I was wondering how long it would take him to find a place to stay, and how he would be able to rent one if he couldn't write a check.
Suddenly I was wide awake. He wouldn't be able to rent without a check. And he wouldn't be able to write a check until after payday. Maybe not until after two paydays, because his check was probably deposited in the old account, and it would take time to straighten that out. The poor guy was going to be stuck living in a hotel for weeks and weeks. Why hadn't I thought of that while we were talking? Tom probably had, but was embarrassed to admit it to me.
Just as suddenly, I thought of the answer. He could use our guest room. I spent the next 20 minutes thinking about how I could broach the subject with Paul, but now that I knew what to do for Tom I was soon relaxing and falling asleep.
I'm going to skip over the conversation Paul and I had in the morning. It wasn't one of our better moments, but I did finally get him to begrudgingly admit that Tom was in a sticky position, and could use some help. He didn't quite go so far as to say yes, though.
I was confident that I could bring Paul around in another day, so I made a tentative offer to Tom that noon. I expected him to jump at the chance, but he, too, was very hesitant.
"I don't know, Bev, it isn't right. It's not like Paul and I are good friends; he hasn't even met me! I mean, I know a lot about him, because we talk about him, but do you talk to him a lot about me?"
"Well, uh, I guess not. I've mentioned you a few times, but I guess I was afraid he'd get jealous if I talked about you too much. Not that there's anything for him to be jealous of," I added quickly.
"That's what you think. If I was him, and I knew how much time we spend together, I'd be jealous of me."
I laughed, "I'd be jealous of me? That's a good one. I think I'm a little lost there."
"Yeah, I didn't say that very well. OK, you asked for it. Assume that you and I are married, and..."
BAM! Did that ever hit me in the pit of my stomach.
" ... I find out that you have been eating lunch every day with a guy at the office, and having long serious talks with him, and that he has just left his wife. Now you come home and tell me that you want him to move in with us for a while. Jealous? That's not the half of it. I'd be apoplectic!"
"Well, for your information, I already talked to him about it, and he wasn't apoplectic, and he didn't sound jealous. Maybe some guys aren't as possessive as you are."
"Bev, my lo-, my friend, if you and I were married I would be very possessive indeed. If he isn't, it must mean he doesn't appreciate what he has."
Damn! There was that feeling in the pit of my stomach again.
"But I'll tell you what," he went on. "If he really says it's OK with him then I'll at least consider it. And before I snipe any more at your idea, I have to say I am overwhelmed. It's much, much, more generous than I could have dreamed of, even from you."
That night I really went all out for Paul. I brought tenderloin steaks home, and grilled them just the way he likes. I quick "baked" potatoes in the microwave and served them split with lots of butter and sour cream, even a sprig of parsley. For dessert I produced scoops of his favorite cherry vanilla ice cream. I guess I overdid it, because he got suspicious.
"OK," he said, eyeing me warily, "this is very nice, but what's the catch?"
"No catch," I lied, "and the best part is still to come."
After dinner I told him to go relax a bit in his easy chair and watch TV, and I'd bring him his next surprise before long. I dumped the dishes in the dishwasher and dashed up to our bedroom. I stripped out of my clothes, treated myself to some perfumed body lotion, and slipped on a very naughty negligee.
Back in the living room I knelt beside his chair and wrapped my arms around him. Nuzzling up against his neck, I whispered in his ear, "I love you, Paul. Do you love me?"
"Oh, god, yes," he groaned, quickly losing interest in the TV.
"Show me how much you love me."
We started kissing immediately, and things heated up quite rapidly. I started rubbing his crotch, then unzipped his pants and reached inside. His hands were all over me, and it wasn't long before I was naked. Soon both our pelvises were bucking like crazy, and I finally pulled away just long enough to jerk his pants and under shorts down to his knees. Then I straddled him right there in the recliner and started pounding my pussy against his red hot poker.
I couldn't believe how great it felt. I came as soon as he shoved his cock up into me, and I came again when he came. Some time later, after my heart and breathing had slowed to normal, but I could still feel him inside me, I groaned, "let's go to bed."
We both took time for a shower, much needed by then, but within half an hour we were snuggled together in bed, kissing and repeating how much we loved each other. I wasn't about to leave it at that, so I reached down and started playing with his limp equipment.
"My god, Bev, you mean you want more?"
"Tonight I want everything you can give me."
Just saying that had a noticeable stiffening effect, and when I scooted down so I could lick and kiss his penis it really came back to life.
I let him pump into my mouth for a while, than came up for air and whispered, "take me from behind."
He loves that position, and I usually try to avoid it because my clit is considerably more erogenous than my cunt. But tonight I was determined to satisfy him totally. He was more than ready, and when I rolled onto my knees he mounted me with a roar.
The poor dear had come less than an hour earlier, so it took him a while, but when it came it was so intense for him that I wondered if his heart could take it. Once he stopped jerking he let his entire weight sag against me, and lay there on my back for the longest time, gasping for breath. I didn't come myself, but that was OK; I'd already had two climaxes earlier.
I eventually twisted enough to roll him off me and we landed in a spoons position. He hugged me tightly, but neither of us said a word. Soon I heard his breathing slow and deepen, and knew he was falling asleep.
I really wasn't all that sleepy myself, and soon my mind turned to Tom. I hadn't said a word about him to Paul that evening, and that was intentional. I had wanted this to be a time for Paul to feel loved. But now, with Paul asleep, his naked body cuddled up against mine, I was thinking of Tom again.
Tom, lying there alone in a lifeless hotel room, probably wishing that someone could be snuggling up against him the way I was snuggling up against Paul. I started wondering how he would feel if I had my naked ass pressing against his belly and ... below. I'll bet he wouldn't be sleeping! I'll bet I'd be able to feel something very long and very hard pressing against my ass.
Suddenly I realized that my pussy was tingling, and I told myself I had to stop that. But I couldn't stop all of the idle thoughts that kept popping onto my head as I slowly started to slip into sleep. I wonder if he sleeps in the nude. I wonder how big his cock really is. I wonder if he's jacking off tonight.
I think I had some really wild dreams that night, but my rational mind did a pretty good job of suppressing them when morning came.
For once, I woke the next morning without the alarm clock. On weekdays I normally roll out of bed immediately when the alarm goes off, and head for the kitchen after a brief pause on the toilet. I know that irks Paul, who always wakes up with a hard-on, but we'd both be late for work if we did what he wanted. This morning I was determined to give him one more treat, so I rolled against him and gave him a sensuous kiss. You better believe that woke him quickly! It couldn't have been ten seconds before he was sucking a tit and pawing at my pussy.
"Oh, baby," I moaned, "I love you so much."
He tried to say something I couldn't really understand since his mouth refused to relinquish my breast. But I could feel his cock pounding against my thigh and had a pretty good idea what he wanted.
"Come on, baby," I whispered, "give it to me."
With a roar, he was between my legs and mounting me. I don't think he even noticed that I was quite dry. He rammed it straight into me, and I gasped with the pain, but I was determined to let him have his way.
He came in seconds, but lay there shuddering on top of me for a long time. Finally he opened his eyes, looked into mine, and shook his head.
"I can't believe it! This has been the most incredible night I can remember since our honeymoon. You have got to be the sexiest woman in the world."
"You're pretty sexy yourself."
"Oh, god, keep it up like this and I'll give you anything you want."
"I'll keep that in mind," I smiled, "but for right now all I want is to get cleaned up. So if you could get off me..."
He quickly rolled to the side. "Of course, darling, your wish is my command."
I was still busy putting breakfast together when he came down, freshly showered. He came straight up behind me and wrapped his arms around me in a bear hug.
"Have I told you recently how much I love you?"
"Not for at least fifteen minutes," I giggled.
I pulled his arms away from my belly so I could turn to face him.
"I really hate to break this mood, but there is something we need to talk about."
"Oh, I'll bet you mean Tom." I could see the fire die in his eyes.
I reached around his chest and rested my head on his shoulder. "Oh, Paul, I can tell you really, really, don't want this. I'm not going to force it. I couldn't do that. I love you too much."
"And I love you too much to say no. Besides I think I remember someone saying he would give you anything you wanted."
I pulled away enough to look into his eyes. "Are you sure, Paul? It's true I want it, because Tom is in a really tough place, and I know we have a room he could use. But I also know I love you, and don't want to make it hard for you."
We stood there staring at each other silently for a while, then I added, "If it doesn't work out, if you're having any problems with it, please, please tell me, and I'll tell Tom he has to leave. In fact, if you want me to, I'll tell him up front that you have doubts about it, and make him agree that he'll leave immediately if I ask him to."
He shook his head, "No, don't say that to him, and I promise I'll tell you if I'm having a problem with it."
He had said yes! Not in so many words, but it was definitely yes. That morning seemed to drag on forever at the office. I was dying to tell Tom the news, and I did the moment we sat down to lunch.
Tom took a deep breath and shook his head, and I felt like my heart had just dropped totally out of my body.
"Are you sure he said 'yes'? I can't believe he would want me to be there."
"He said 'yes'," I told him firmly, "and he also promised he would tell me if he was having any problem with you being there."
He shook his head again. "Well, it sure would make things a lot easier for me. OK, I guess we can try it, for a few days, anyway. When would you want me to come over?"
This was actually going to happen! I knew I wanted it to happen, but I guess I hadn't believed myself that it really would. Now I needed to get practical. We'd put him in the spare bedroom, of course. We've always called it our guest room, but the fact is we've been using it as a sort of junk room. I was going to need time to get it cleaned out. And he was going to need a place to put some things in the hall bathroom. I would have to go through the medicine cabinet there and make space for him. In fact I probably should find some other place for everything we had there. Tomorrow was Saturday and it looked like I was going to be very busy.
"Would it be OK if you came over Sunday afternoon?"
"Of course, Bev, if that isn't a problem for you. But I hope you're not going to go to a lot of trouble for me."
I started to protest, but then he went on, "Actually, Sunday afternoon sounds like a very good plan. I'll want to meet Paul and spend a bit of time with him before we all get into the busyness of the week. But I don't want to start out with him feeling uncomfortable at me hanging around all weekend."
Once again I opened my mouth to speak, but he wasn't done.
"Actually, I don't plan to hang around your house much, anyway. If I'm still there when the next weekend comes, I'll probably be off somewhere in my car most of the time."
"Oh, Tom, please don't feel that you will be in our way. You're going to be our guest, and I want you to feel like a guest. For starters, you ARE going to eat dinner with us Sunday night. That's a fact, not open for discussion."
He smiled, "It will be nice to have a home-cooked meal for once, but I certainly don't expect to eat with you all the time."
"What's this? We've been eating lunch together for two years, and suddenly you're too snooty to eat with us?"
He laughed out loud. "You're playing games with the English language, Bev. 'We', you and I, have been eating together for two years, but I've never eaten with 'us', you and Paul."
I snickered. "There you go again, 'I've never eaten with us.' When will you ever learn to speak English properly?"