My Husband and His Best Friend Read online

  My Husband and His Best Friend

  (He Wants to Share His Wife!)

  An MFM Ménage a Trois Erotica Story

  by Regina Walters

  Copyright 2014 by Polaris Erotica

  I just stopped moving my hand, and my fingers were gently clutching at Alex’s cock when he said it. It took me a moment to actually hear the words. It had been a pretty normal but wonderful session of sex; we had screwed in a couple of different positions, and then I had used my mouth to finish him off, pulling away right before he came because, in the twenty-nine years I had been alive, I had never let any man cum in my mouth—not even my husband.

  His cock was still hard and standing at attention even though my hand was covered with his cum. “Excuse me?” I said.

  He took a deep breath and said it again, and this time I heard it clearly. “Sometimes when we are together, I imagine you fucking Ron.”

  I didn’t know what to think or say. I imagine that some husbands and wives have conversations like these, but I thought it should’ve been the other way around. Shouldn’t he have told me who he was imagining fucking? Shouldn’t he have said something like, “Sometimes I imagine I am with your best friend”? No, he was telling me that sometimes he imagined me sleeping with his best friend.

  I didn’t know how I was supposed to react, but my body knew exactly how it wanted to react. When he said the words, I felt a sudden incredible feeling of arousal. I had just had a tremendous orgasm, and usually I needed to recover for quite a while before I was horny again. But right then, when he said it, my whole body seemed to come alive with lust. I lifted my hand from his cock and reached for my shirt, which had fallen onto the floor when we had started, to clean my hand off. I just looked at him, still not saying anything, and he looked back at me. I could tell that he was worried about my reaction. His cock was still hard, so I climbed on top of him. I spent the next thirty minutes fucking him hard, moving on top of him and whispering about what it might be like if his best friend fucked me. I came harder than I had cum in ages, and when he finally emptied himself into me, I collapsed on top of him, breathing heavily and kissing his neck.

  It was strange, and when we woke up in the morning, I think neither of us knew exactly what we should say or how much conversation should happen about the night previous. I made him breakfast like I usually did, and both of us sat and ate quietly while the kids milled around us, getting ready for school. Finally, I sent him away with a kiss on the cheek, but at the door he turned and tried to talk.

  “Look, Alice, I—”

  “Shhh,” I whispered. I hadn’t planned to say anything, but something came over me. I put my finger to his lips, leaned forward and kissed his cheek. Then I whispered in his ear, “If Ron’s up for it, we can do it tonight.” He backed away and looked at me in a bit of shock. The truth was, I was feeling pretty shocked about it myself.

  I suddenly worried about whether or not he was going to feel jealous, so I said, “I’ve never really been attracted to him, but I would do it for you. It would be really exciting and sexy to think about how much you were enjoying it.” He looked at me and then wordlessly turned and left. I would have been worried, but I caught a glimpse of the bulge in his pants. I turned back into the room, my heart beating pretty intently. It had been a complete lie when I told him that I didn’t think Ron was attractive; in fact, there had been plenty of nights when he had moved on top of me and I had imagined it was his best friend.

  I wasn’t dissatisfied with my relationship, and I was extraordinarily happy with the way that my husband performed in bed. But, still, there were days when thoughts of Ron consumed me. I knew it was going to be one of those days, and at that moment, I wanted nothing more than to run to my room and masturbate. Instead, though, I had to pack school lunches and make sure the kids got to their buses.

  Today was Thursday, which meant I worked a half day instead of a full day. Around noon, I got to the office, sighing heavily because I wasn’t looking forward to doing anything other than thinking about what might happen in the evening. On the other hand, I found pretty quickly that typing in the customer orders, managing the receivables, and making the fifty or so phone calls I had to make every shift was doing wonders to keep me from obsessing too much. It was simultaneously making time fly much too quickly. It was crazy, really; I found my thoughts wandering constantly. I had to resist the urge to text my man just to ask him if it was happening.

  It was bizarre and crazy. I had never considered doing anything like this; in fact, other than the idle fantasies that I think most women get during sex where I would imagine being with someone other than my husband, it had never, ever occurred to me that I would ever sleep with any man other than him. Hell, I had also fantasized about a number of music stars and movie stars, but it was just idle fantasy. But now I found myself imagining what Ron’s cock might look like. I found myself wondering if he was larger than my husband, smaller than my husband, or about the same. I guessed it was probable that he was smaller, but that was because my husband was very, very well-endowed.

  Ron was taller than my man, and while my husband had very dark hair and very dark eyes to go with it, Ron was different entirely. He had very short blonde hair, so blonde it was almost white, and his eyes were very clear steel blue. While my husband looked like, well, exactly like what he was (a very wealthy, very successful business executive) that wasn’t how Ron looked at all. Ron looked like a football star. Both of them were very trim, and both of them had good bodies, but they were different kinds of good bodies. My husband’s body was one that showed he took care of it, whereas Ron’s body was one that showed that he pushed it time and time again to the point of its endurance and now it was cut, sculpted by the exercise. My thoughts were just running crazy. I reached for my cell phone for about the twentieth time to text and find out if Ron was coming over.

  But I resisted. Finally, at 4:30, I stood up from my desk, packed my purse, and headed to the car. The kids would be at the sitter’s house, and I would swing by and pick them up. The kids…hell, how were we supposed to do anything tonight if the kids were there? I felt a rush of foolishness and actually giggled at my silly daydreams to think that it would happen. But then my phoned chimed. I picked it up and looked. It was a text message from my husband.

  Are you serious?

  I looked down at it for a moment, and then I typed my response. I want it if you want it. I was about to hit send, but then I added Sweetheart.

  It was important to me that he had to really want this. I didn’t want to risk my marriage over some kind of sexy fling. A second later the text came back.

  We’ll both be there at 7.

  I felt my heart beat crazily, and I immediately dialed the babysitter. It took a promise of an extra fifty bucks, but she agreed to keep the kids overnight and to bring them early in the morning to our place so that they could get ready for school. That done, I looked at my watch. It was 5:00. There was nothing I would have rather have done than get to the hair salon and make myself look beautiful. But there was nothing to be done about it. So, instead, I rushed home to get ready as best as I could.

  A few hours later, I heard the door open, and I rushed to stuff a dozen items back into my lingerie drawer. It had been crazy trying to figure out what to wear, and I ended up choosing a simple bra, panties, stockings, and garter belt assembly. I pulled the sleekest cocktail dress I had over my head, smoothed it out, stepped into heels, and made my way downstairs. When I got there, Alex was already serving drinks. He smiled at me, and I could tell he was nervous. I looked over at Ron. Ron looked nervous as well, and I realized he had already talked with Alex about what was supposed to happen.

  I wa
tched as he handed him a highball glass filled with whiskey or gin or something. I didn’t know; I never drank the hard stuff. Then I watched him make a quick beeline to the wine, uncorking and pouring me a deep blood red. He handed it to me, and I took a sip to steady myself. As it warmed its way down my stomach, I realized just how nervous I was. Still, I wanted to hide it, and it was going to be impossible to hide it if I kept holding onto the wine glass. So I put it down and then sat down on the couch. I crossed my legs slightly, hoping that it would highlight the sexiness of the stockings. I wanted them to enjoy the way that the cocktail dress pulled up just slightly.

  I tried to say to Ron, “Won’t you sit down?” For some reason, though, I couldn’t get the words out. I realized in a moment of clarity that I was terrified of what was about to happen. I wasn’t terrified so that I didn’t want it to happen; it was the kind of terrified that I might feel if I was standing on a high-dive platform and I knew I was going to dive into the pool but there was still this moment of fear. I guess I realized that if we didn’t just get to it, I was likely to back out. I didn’t want to back out. So I stood, and if I was unsteady, neither of the boys seemed to notice.

  I walked up to Ron, and I took his hand. Then I simply pulled him along behind me. I didn’t know if I would make it up the stairs, so I headed to the guest bedroom, pushed open the door, and pulled him inside. And then, before I could think about it, I threw my arms around his neck and kissed him. He was stiff at first, but then his arms came out and he held me tightly as his tongue snaked past my lips. I heard Alex stepping into the room, heard his sharp intake of breath. I started to worry that maybe the sight of me with his best friend was not what he had imagined it would be. But then he said, “Jesus, that’s hot.” I immediately felt those fears wash away.

  I kissed Ron for about ten to fifteen seconds before I realized he was gradually pushing me toward the bed. And then I was down on the bed and he was on top of me. His kisses becoming more urgent, his hands roaming over my body. It was remarkable, wonderful really. There was so many differences between what he did and what my husband might do. It was such a constant awareness that I was with someone other than the man I always slept with, the only man I had slept with for the entirety of my adult life, and only the third man I had ever slept with in my whole life. And, frankly, when you talk about sixteen-year-old fumblings at Inspiration Point or a really strange and awkward summer camp experience when I was seventeen, they didn’t even count. But I could feel his hands moving over me, and they didn’t move the way that Alex’s might.

  I couldn’t necessarily pinpoint everything, but there was roughness in some areas and gentleness in others. Specifically, I felt his hands move up to squeeze my breasts through the dress. He squeezed far harder than Alex might have squeezed, but his hand on the rest of my body was far gentler. It was kind of interesting that he would have such a soft touch on my sides or on my legs, but such a hard and heavy-handed approach when it came to my breasts.

  I loved it. I don’t know if I loved the heavy-handed approach as much as I just loved the fact that he was obviously not Alex. He kissed me, and his hands continued to move over and, gradually, they both ended up at my calves. As he lay on top of me and kissed me, he pulled my dress up. It got over my waist, and then over my breasts, and then he broke off the kiss as he simply lifted it up and over my head. I felt a brief flash of panic that the zipper was going to break, but then I didn’t give a damn the second after I felt it. When I was there in just my lingerie, his mouth found me again, and this time his hands were far more aggressive.

  As he kissed me, he reached between my legs, and I felt him rubbing the fabric of my panties. Rubbing hard. I moaned into his kiss and lifted my hips. He moved his mouth down to kiss my neck, and my head turned, and I caught a glimpse of my husband. He had his cock out and was stroking it softly. I bit my lip, and then I licked my lips and blew him a kiss. Ron continued kissing me, moving down, and my bra was pulled down over my shoulders and then over my breasts. A funny thought hit me that somebody really needed to teach Ron how to undress a woman the proper way. He was pulling things up that should have been pulled down, lifting things that should have been pushed, and yanking things that should have been untied.

  Somehow, though, it was all so damned sexy. When my breasts came free, his mouth instantly found them, his tongue flicking over my nipples before he started to suck on them hard. It was a sudden burst of incredible sensation, but it wasn’t altogether pleasant. To some extent, it was too much too quickly. My hands flew to the back of his head, but I didn’t stop him because it again illustrated that I was with a man who didn’t know my body, didn’t know what I liked. I was fucking a man I never thought I would fuck. And his mouth was just a living testimony to the fact that it wasn’t Alex.

  I moaned, stroked his hand, and then he backed away. I watched as he unbuttoned his shirt carefully, shrugged himself out of it, and set it down. I thought it was hilarious how careful he was with it. He pulled his t-shirt off next, and when his chest came into view, I didn’t give a damn how he had undressed me. I sat up and immediately began kissing his chest, and then his belly. I moved down lower, working at the belt buckle with my hands until I had it open, then unzipping him. I pushed his pants down, his boxer shorts down, and then his cock was there. It was beautiful.

  He wasn’t as big as my husband. It was a little bit thicker, though. I leaned down and I kissed the top, and then opened my mouth. My husband groaned when I did, and I felt such a thrill of excitement to know that he was watching my lips encircle his best friend’s cock. I had painted my lips with cherry red lipstick; I had done my nails that color as well. As I sucked on Ron, I ran my hands over his stomach and watched the way the nails seemed to light up against his skin. I felt sexy as hell, and from the way Ron was moaning, he felt pretty good about it as well.

  He reached around and grabbed the back of my head. That was again something that Alex would never have done. When I gave Alex a blowjob, it was me giving him a blowjob, not Alex taking my mouth. Ron, though, was completely different. He held my head in place and began thrusting his cock, pushing in deeper than was comfortable so that I gagged a little bit. For some reason, it turned me on incomprehensibly. I don’t know if I was turned on by being treated roughly or just turned on that it was different. But I sucked eagerly and I moaned as he claimed me.

  He held tight and actually pushed into my throat several times. I had never done that before—at least, I had never done it when I wasn’t in complete control. As I gagged, I felt thrills run through me. It was excitingly wonderful by now. I was moaning almost constantly. Then, abruptly, Ron pushed my head away. He got up from the bed, and I watched as he finished pulling his jeans off and stood naked in front of me.

  I leaned forward and put my mouth on his cock again, but he didn’t let me keep that up for very long at all. Instead, he reached down, grabbed me by my waist, and flipped me around so that I was bent over the bed. In a second, he yanked my panties down and off of me so that I wore just the stockings and the high heels. I gasped when he pushed me over so that I was bent over the bed, and then his cock thrust into me and I cried out. The sensations were astounding. As I’d said, he was thicker than Alex, so the feelings of his cock inside me stretched me more than I had ever been stretched. I moaned and moved my head back and forth, and in the process caught sight of my man again. He was staring with abject lust and stroking himself. I licked my lips and then, even though it hadn’t been planned and even though I didn’t know if it was part of the fantasy, I called out, “Get over here baby, get over here!”

  Alex just stared at me.

  “Come on, baby, I want to feel you in my mouth,” I wheedled.

  That did it. He climbed onto the bed and positioned himself in front of me. I pulled him forward until he was seated right there, and then I put my mouth on him, and as I did, I realized he was not only feeling my mouth, but he was getting to watch the great fantasy that he had had all those tim
es.

  Ron was fucking me hard. He was fucking me far, far harder than Alex ever had, and every thrust seemed to send sensations of joy over my sweet spot. I moved my mouth deeply, trying to make sure to get Alex as deep into my mouth as Ron had gotten. It was crazy because that wasn’t what I would ordinarily do. But I sucked deeply, went down until he poked into my throat, and even though I gagged, I reached around and grabbed him, held myself in place, and kept going until my nose was finally buried into his pubic hair. He cried out, “Oh god, oh god, baby, I’m going to cum! I’m going to cum!”

  He was warning me. He was warning me because I never let him cum in my mouth. I don’t know what possessed me right then, but I moved my mouth up just a little bit, and then he started spurting, his hot and salty load splashing over my tongue.

  “Oh god baby, baby, I’m—” He didn’t get to say sorry because I moaned so loudly as I sucked on him that he realized I was okay.

  He groaned as I sucked, and I even swallowed it down so that my first taste of cum was also the first time I swallowed. Something happened to me when I did. I felt such a thrill of perversion, such a burst of nastiness, and my orgasm crashed over me. It was crazy. My whole body shook, and I just kept sucking on my husband’s cock as his best friend slammed into me over and over from behind. And then Ron grunted, and I knew he was going to cum. I realized we hadn’t even considered protection or anything like that, so I pulled my mouth off my husband’s cock, flipped around, and fell to the floor. I grabbed Ron’s ass and opened my mouth, taking his cock into it. A few seconds later, he began cumming, and I held myself in place, but I didn’t have to because his hands went right to the back of my head. He held me as he came. It seemed like Ron came a gallon. I swallowed it down, feeling that same burst of horrible and wonderful naughtiness, and then, as he had done before, he pushed in deep. He held me in place as he forced his cock inch by inch into my throat, and then with my nose right against him and his balls resting on my chin, he moaned loudly before he let me go, and I fell back gasping against the guest room bed.