When you secretly want to fuck your husband’s best friend

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I realized it was because my husband was distracted by watching the map that Tom had been able to stare right down my top while the drive went on. I placed my foot next to his and now my entire calf gently rested against his. I loved the smooth fabric of his pants. The streets were dark, but I thought I saw him adjust himself. Was the exchange of body heat affecting him as it was myself? I knew I wasn’t his type, but I also knew it had been a long time since he had felt that tightness of a woman’s body, most likely. The perfume that I had chosen to adorn my skin with hung ever so slightly in the air, if you were in my personal space, which both men were. I noticed him breathing deeply, eyes closed, gradually speaking less and less.

As soon I started to settle into Tom, we were at the club. We got out and I led them to the table line, where we quickly were led to our balcony table above the DJ. Servers in sexy costumes helped us get settled in and we got acquainted with the list of bottles. Mostly champagne, plus some vodka. Though the servers were dressed like Hooter’s girls, out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw him watching me, focused on my breasts, while the rest of us discussed prices. Flattering, I have to admit. The champagne bottle was popped, then another. My husband’s best friend used his jacket to clean up a mess I made, even. His hand brushed mine in the process and I apologetically grabbed his bicep.

“Fuck, Tom, I’m so sorry! I guess I’m a little sloppy,” I laughed.

“Don’t even worry about it — it’s a cheap jacket anyway. I wouldn’t want you to get wet — I mean get your phone wet, too, you know?” he reassured me.

Tom smiled at me knowingly. My husband was away, watching the DJ over the second story rail. He wanted to wander the main floor, too. I didn’t want to be alone with Tom. I didn’t want to be tempted because I didn’t know if I could resist. He might not strike you as one, but apparently, he is a gym fanatic. I’ve simply never seen him out of business clothes to say if this is true. His arm felt hard and muscular in my hand, so I could only imagine what his own chest looked like. I chugged the rest of my drink and smiled at Tom, with liquid courage filling my own veins. He smiled back.

“You know, Tiffany, I do have to say you look great tonight. Sexy, beautiful, womanly… Jeff is a very lucky man,” he said, trailing off, obviously looking between my breasts.

Tom scooted closer to me. I glanced up to see where my husband had gone and as he’d said, he seemed to be downstairs as he was no place to be seen.

“Let me top off your glass,” he offered.

I turned to him and held out the glass as he poured, watching his eyes. Eventually, I said that he had given me enough, so he stopped pouring and gave me a second to sip on the drink, before it overflowed with bubbles. He held the bottle in his strong hands and smiled at me. “You are wonderful!” I complimented as I dragged my fingertips along the soft cotton of his biceps. Slowly, I traced his arm, enjoying the soft sensation in my relaxed state. As my index finger grazed his hand, I glanced up, not seeing my husband.

Seeing my opportunity, I proceeded to take the steps necessary to make my fantasy a reality. I could not expect Tom to make the first move, honestly. We were closer than we should have been, but no one could tell in the dark veil of the ambiance within the night club. I set down my glass, turned and leaned in as if I was going to ask him something.

Indeed I did.

“Can I rub you?”

“Fuck yes, baby,” he groaned.

I found out he fit the stereotype of the unexpectedly hung nerdy dude in high school who ends up fucking the cheerleader after she finds out about his enormous cock.

“No wonder Jeff is jealous of you…” I muttered.

“What?!”

“Nothing,” I giggled, gently stroking his quickly swelling cock, “Keep an eye out, ok?”

Tom threw his coat across his lap as I nibbled on his earlobe. He continued to sip on his drink, trying to stay calm as I rubbed the outline of his nearly hardened cock with my palm. His fingers wandered up and down the feminine thigh that brushed his own. I thought I could feel him swallow hard and inhale sharply when I grasped its girth. But that was enough; I did not want to tempt fate too terribly much with our adulterous sexual exploration. I turned, then, and kissed him on his cheek.

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