My Friend Watches Me with His Wife

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I’d always valued Aaron and Megan’s friendship, even more so after my divorce. When I split with Angie two years ago they had been there for me, the only couple from of our shared pool of friends who had. But then Aaron was my oldest friend. I’d known him since we were lads.

Now we were both in our late twenties and saw each other only intermittently. Three or four times a year I would visit their Derbyshire home, a converted farmhouse just outside Bakewell. Usually I’d stay for two nights.

Did I fancy Megan? Of course I did — who wouldn’t. Aged twenty-four, only five-one and sumptuously curved, she was certainly a tidy little package. No! That doesn’t do her justice. She was gob-smacking gorgeous: her brown eyes were large and always penciled darkly, and with her hair a shade of moonless midnight-sky she presented Mediterranean swarthy beauty.

I was determined not to spoil our friendship by making a move on her. Not that I’m a ladies-man, or arrogant enough to even imagine success would be a given with someone like Megan — not even that I thought Megan was a woman in need of seducing. It was just the way she looked at me sometimes suggested she found me attractive, though it had never got to the stage of even flirting.

Most times when I visited, the three of us would spend the day on long walks. We no longer did the usual beauty spots; Tissington trail, Dovedale, and The Manifold valley. They were old hat. Megan and Aaron’s local knowledge meant we would trek well off the beaten track. In the evening it would be a pub-meal. Other times the pair would share the kitchen and cook for me.

What happened on my last visit, and what I am about to tell, came completely out of the blue. I had no idea these old friends of mine were so inclined.

Don’t get me wrong; I’m no prude. After all, I visit this site and sometimes post — besides, my ex-wife Mandy and I dabbled in swinging. A Couple of ads placed, the eventual results of the second led to the break up of our marriage — her going off to live a bizarre new life in a m├ęnage-a-trois with that pair of cunts Ian and Phillipa. Their wealth and glamorous life-style lured her from me and off she went to share their home in the south of France. But that is an entirely different story.

This particular night with Aaron and Megan began a little differently than usual. To start off with, when I got to their place Aaron greeted me on his own and apologised for Megan not being present to welcome me. He said she’d gone out to celebrate a friend’s twenty-first. They’d forgotten all about it when we’d arranged my visit.

Seven-thirty in the evening when I arrived. After I’d put my bag in the spare bedroom, we walked the half-mile to the pub and had a bar meal. Afterwards we talked of old times and I told him my plans for the future now I was over the divorce. It felt good to be with Aaron again, just Like the old days. The dynamics were different than when Megan was with us and I felt I had re-connected with something long neglected from my past..

Back at the house we drank beer and watched season one of Better Call Saul. He knew I was a fan of Breaking Bad but had not seen the spin-off.

We were two episodes in by the time a taxi dropped Megan home. She wasn’t dead drunk, but was more that a little tipsy. In all the years I’d know her I’d never seen her at all affected by drink. This was a side of I’d never seen. Yes she would share a bottle of wine with a meal, but it was only a third of a bottle, and with food. So now it was disconcerting to see her not her usual self.

She was dressed in a shoulderless, black, Bardot frill jersey dress, the hem, with fine tights. Her high heels giving her another three inches. But wearing them did not seem to come natural to her and she tottered about unsteadily — or it could have just been the drink.

Aaron could see I was taken back by his wife’s condition. “This is how she gets when she’s had too much. That Alice is a Bad influence,” he said.

Before Megan returned, Aaron and I had shared the four-seat sofa while watching the flat-screen mounted over the fire place. Now Megan poured herself a white wine and came over to join us.

“Bunch up, guys,” she said, wriggling her butt ostentatiously as she squeezed between us. “Hold this.” She told her husband, passing him her glass. Then, wagging her finger “And don’t you dare spill any.”

I quickly moved a little to one side to make more room. She’d almost settled when she suddenly diced to take off her s hoes. She leaned forward and clumsily undid the straps and then kicked then way, saying “Horrid things.”

After discarding her heels she seemed to almost deflate, slouching and resting her head on her husband’s upper arm. Aaron placed the glass he had been holding down on the side table, then started to stroke her hair affectionately. We all settled down to watch the screen.

Ten minutes into a new episode, from the corner of my eye I clocked Megan adjusting herself. Abruptly her legs stretched right bahis firmalar─▒ out and her calves came to rest on my thighs, her stockinged feet pressing against the leather arm of the sofa. I realised she no longer faced the screen but had turned and stretched out onto her back, her head now resting in her husband’s lap. Her Eyes were closed.

I confess here and now that I have always had this thing for women in fine hosiery, so to have a pair if shapely legs like Megan’s casually stretch across my own legs was a jolt to my composure. I looked down at what rested just below my groin and my heart began revving like a performance engine. The hem of her party dress was now hitched up so high that the full length of her shapely legs were displayed. I tried not to stare but out of the corner of my eye I could see the blur of her white panties beneath the barely-black denier. I couldn’t help myself: I turned my head and stared unashamedly, my gaze eventually settled on the fine seam that sliced her crotch. I noted to myself the body of her tights were not reinforced, were as sheer and transparent as the rest.

Aaron looked at me and smiled. “You okay, mate?” he said.

“Sorry . . . I’ll move.” And I began to try and gently extract myself from beneath his wife’s legs.

“Oh, Dan. Please don’t abandon me.” Megan said. Her voice sounded dreamy and distant. “Be nice and rub my piggy-wiggly toes.” She raised her head ever-so slightly to look at me through half closed lids. Then saying, “Pretty please.” her head flopped back down in her husband’s lap. She commenced to wriggle her toes and started to giggle as if she had said the funniest thing possible.

I was embarrassed now and started to get up, but she pressed her legs down on my thighs so that I couldn’t move.

I looked to the side and to my complete horror watched as Aaron began to peel away the shoulderless dress from Megan’s breasts, folding the material over on itself and taking her strapless bra with it. No tan lines spoiled Megan’s weighty but beautifully toned breasts. I watched in fascinated awe as Aaron slowly drew the backs of his knuckles over her exposed flesh, allowing them to gently glide down to her stiffening nipples.

In a flash I realised I had been set up. In that moment I completely understood what they were about. I have read many accounts of guys getting off by watching their wives fucked by other men, and I completely understood that whole cuckold thing. Even so, I could not believe it of Aaron and Megan, people I’d known for so long and thought I knew so well.

Aaron said. “Ah, Don’t leave us, mate. Don’t you think my wife deserves a bit of pampering. She’s such a good wife . . .”

And even though a crowd of thoughts of what this might mean for our friendship clamoured in my mind, I placed both my hands around her nylon clad feet and began to knead her chilled soles.

From a place far inside herself, Megan moaned, “Mmmm, you have a lovely touch, Dan.”

“That’s right, mate. You take care of down there and I’ll look after her up here,” Aaron said,

Then his face loomed over Megan and he began to kiss her. She tilted her head back to receive this kiss from above as if she were a nested fledgling, mouth gawping for poppa-bird. They kissed in such a way that I could see their tongues coming and going — just for my benefit I realised; married people didn’t kiss so ostentatiously, did not let their tongues linger and play outside the lushness of mouths in that manner. By now my cock was ready to explode.

I let my hands travel up her legs, over her shins and then knees, arriving at the softer flesh of her thighs. For a while I was happy to stroke her legs up and down from knees to hips, all the time knowing what a rare and precious moment this was. I lifted the hem of her skirt and folded it further back. In fact I eased it all the way back so that it met the downward fold of the top part which Aaron had peeled from her breasts. I stared at her skimpy white panties hugged by micro-mesh and stretched over her belly, the seam of her tights being a kind of watershed.

This was my absolute heaven. My breathing was marathon-run fast. I kept telling myself to stay calm as I traced up and down the seam-line of her tights with my index finger, over and over, hardly believing what was happening was real. Her body was an offering given freely. I was a now a player in a scenario I could not have envisaged two hours ago.

I took her right leg in both my hands and lifted it to my mouth, awarded my lips the pleasure of tasting her inner thigh. I began lapping the fine fibres until the fabric was sodden with my saliva, enjoying the softness of the flesh beneath. Next I bent her knees so that her foot came level with my lips and gnawed her sole unashamedly. But even though for years my fantasy often entailed females wearing tights or stockings, little by little I saw that it was not really what I wanted. No! What I wanted was to hold Megan in my arms, have her all to myself. I wanted to be alone ka├žak iddaa with her and kiss her on the lips, tell her how gorgeous she was.

And besides, the position I was stuck in was making it difficult to give a beautiful woman like Megan the attention she really deserved. So once more I began to extricate myself from under her legs, and as I did so I continued caressing her, so she would understand I was not abandoning her. I planed to go down on my knees at the side of the sofa and finally remove her tights and panties, then finger fuck her pussy, lick it too.

But before I could initiate my scheme they were rising with me. Aaron up on his feet taking Megan’s hand and pulling her gently upright, holding her around the waist with one arm to keep her steady. For a brief moment she stood supported, in a bit of a daze. She appeared to be making an effort sober herself, brushing her hair from her eyes and looking at me with her large dark-lined eyes as if trying to understand what was happening. I heard Aaron quietly say to her, “He’s all yours now.” and she seemed to understand, because she smiled a pleased-little-girl smile and came to me with a newly awakened clarity in her eyes.

“I’ve wanted this so often,” she said . Then she put her arms around me and rested her head on my chest.

I encircled her with my arms and breathed in the fragrance enveloping her; the civet-musk of perfume, subtle residuals of shampoo and conditioner. Her large God-gifted breasts pressed against my diaphragm and I felt their rise and fall with each breath. From behind, Aaron began removing her dress, which had become a mere belt of material around her waist. He went down on his knees tugging until it fell at her feet. Then he was up tall and pressing himself against her from behind, Megan becoming the rich filling for our two-man-flesh-Panini.

She became a small creature trying to escape the hands of a wood-be capturer, slipping from between us. Once free she did not run but merely turned to her husband and said, “Please, Aaron? What we agreed? Just me and Dan — for a while, at least.”

She turned back to face me and I saw her determined intent, her complete need for me, her earlier tipsiness banished. “Upstairs in our bed,” she said. “I want you in our bed.” Emphatic now: “Aaron must watch, though.”

And she took my hand and led me from the room and out to the hall and to the foot of the polished oak stairs. She went up ahead, almost skip-and jumping, two steps at a time. I watched her plump buttocks softly rolling as she took each step. The waist-band of her panties had slipped below the cheeks of her buttocks to reveal most of her Butt-fissure.

Once in the bedroom I was ambivalent about removing her tights. After all it was my favourite fetish, my very own peccadillo. I did so love to see women wearing nice hosiery, liked the look of legs attired like so. Often I imagined touching the legs of women I saw wearing them out in the world — which was not often these days.

But overriding this was my need to taste Megan’s actual naked flesh, every inch. And so with reluctance I hooked my thumbs into the waist-band of her tights and peeled them down. When the material met her ankles I had to kneel and lift each foot in turn to free her legs. The fine material became elongated and thin as I clumsily pulled hard to complete the chore. Before discarding them I held them in my palm and then lifted them to my nose and inhaled their musky fragrance, scented by long her night in them. The essence of Megan blotted out all other thoughts and sent a delicious shiver coursing through my nerves.

The I looked up at the her bare legs stretching above me, so tanned and smooth I wondered why she bothered to wear tights at all. I kissed her legs all the way up until I arrived at her pubes, where I let my tongue play in her wiry patch. Among those curls, I breathed in the sweet aroma of her shower-time. And beneath that sweetness I gleamed the same essential femininity that I had inhaled from her hosiery..

She parted her legs for me as she stood there and I lapped between labia lips and tasted the tang of her freshly exposed tissue, and I lapped what seeped from her. Then her hands on each side of my head encouraging me to rise. My tongue still coated with what I had tasted below delved between her tart-lips, and she met me with a total wanting. A wanting that took my breath away.

To have Megan in my arms naked, her breasts pressing into my abdomen, our tongues clashing deep in her mouth, was something I would never have dreamed could happen.

She broke from me, going down on her knees, her hands fast and deft, unzipping my fly. My pants about my ankles, my cock smartly commandeered and taken fully into her small efficient mouth. Slowly her over-ripe lips glided to skim up and down, intermittently the friction of her teeth grating before reaching my cock-tip.

Her skill would soon have undone me so I reached down and encouraged her to rise. We kissed again and then she took my hand ka├žak bahis and led me to their King-sized bed, its surface barely visible for all the embroidered cushions — which were brusquely pushed aside as we tumbled together onto the chilled, crisp Duvet.

Not passive at all, Megan was feisty and determined. She all but pinned me on my back to the bed, quickly straddling me while taking my cock in hand and easing it easily into her exuding cunt and letting her full weight descend. She was tight — but so well greased, so that I filled her with piston ease. I placed my hand on each side of her full, soft hips as she began to fuck me with slow but intense rotations of her hips. She pinched her nipples as she rocked to and fro and then letting her hand slide down to her clit she began to rub herself between her legs, her nails occasionally scratching the base of my cock.

I’d never though of Megan as an athletic girl — though I knew she had once played netball competitively. Now it was time for her pace and stamina to impress me. I watched her almost rippled stomach muscles tense and un-tense while being used to power her hips.

Somewhere in the room I remembered Aaron was watching his wife use me like this. The thought of his presence added another dimension to the entire thing.

But I cum before she reached orgasm. I moaned in pleasure as I pumped into her — but also in self-disappointment at failing to stay the course. My deflation drove Megan into a frenzy of exertion, as if trying to salvage from my dying cock the last dregs of pleasure. But her desperation caused my cock to slip from her cunt, slathered by our mingled secretions. But still her hips continued to work me, using the surface of my lower abdomen to generate friction against her secreting cunt. Her fingers in a blur of speed continued to rub.

He breath heavy and fast, she threw her head back when finally her belly muscles rippled and juddered in orgasm. It was as if small detonations were going off somewhere deep inside her, the electric thrill of completion then spreading out from its source, racing to every corner of her body. “Oh-god-oh-oh-god-oh-god,” she cried out, over and over.

She rolled off me and came to rest on her back by my side. Now Aaron came over to the bed. He was naked, his bloated cock was seemed to lead him to her. She spread her legs for him and he was in her in an instant. My cum still trickled from her as his cock slowly sank among her cunt-flesh. I turned on my side, resting my head in one hand propped by my arm. I studied both their faces as they fucked — No, they did not fuck, they made beautiful love, just as a man and wife should. I felt jealous of the love they still so obviously had for each other. Angie and I had shared a similar love many years ago.

The way they held each other’s gaze touched me deeply. She cradled his head in her palms as he stared down into her eyes and they kissed passionately as he gently fucked her. I watched his buttocks rise and fall while she drew her knees back, her painted toes pointing high. Then he went up on arms like pillars, his pace increasing. Now she turned to look at me and I knew I was it kiss her. And so while her husband fucked her, I placed my lips on her and we kissed long and deep.

It is quite something to be kissing a beautiful woman in the throws of an orgasm brought on by the cock of her husband. Now it was my head her arm reached for and cradled. I continued to kiss her while her nerves, muscles and synapses fizzed and sizzled in a stir-fry of orgasm.

Then he was Cumming too. Boundaries blurred, felt myself subsumed in their actuality as a couple, privileged to be a part of their love making. Already I was hard again and as Aaron eased himself from between Megan’s legs I moved quickly to take his place. My cock soon wallowed in the sumptuous stew her cunt was brewing newly awash with his freshly extracted jizz.

Knowing my cock swam in his cum spurred me on. I became frantic, my speed and pace beyond anything I had previously experienced — beyond anything I though I was capable of. My cock went as-deep-as-deep-could-be; and when I was deep like that, my pubes grated her pubic mound. I must have pleased her greatly because she moaned deliciously, grunted wholeheartedly.

But I ejaculated before I could match Aaron by bringing her to another climax. I pulled out fast, my cock slathered and dripping. I wanted to continue to please her and so went down between her legs with my lips and tongue to induce the orgasm she had been so close to reaching. Her lovely cunt masked my face as she went into complete bodily spasms. And even though Aaron’s and my cum dribbled from her I still lapped it up as if it were all my own.

She slept between us that night and I caressed as she fell to sleep while thinking how beautiful she was, how privileged it was to have been allowed to share my friend’s sweet wife.

I was in there bed alone when I awoke. When I got up I saw the tights she had worn the night before tangled on the floor. I picked them up and put them to my nose and inhaled deeply, as I had the previous evening. Immediately the reality of her, how she had smelt, felt, and tasted came back to me and my cock grew hard.

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