Visit
by Pan

Chapter 1

“I’m so excited you’re here!” Mike said, holding his arms wide. I returned his hug with enthusiasm. I hadn’t seen him since the start of the pandemic, and it was genuinely great to be in his company again.
I loved my husband and I loved my kid, but it was impossible to deny: being in a house with them for eighteen months straight had started to drive me stir-crazy. I was two parts excited to see Mike, one part excited to be alone.
Well, not alone. But basically.
Mike and I had been friends since we were kids. Growing up, we’d been inseparable – everyone had assumed that we’d eventually get together, but it was never anything like that. I mean, we’d dated for all of five minutes in our teenage years, but it was doomed to fail.
Don’t get me wrong, I love him, but we just don’t have that ‘spark’, y’know?
So we’d stayed close, even as I moved across the country. When I’d gotten married, it had been really important that Mike and my husband got along…they were both going to be in my life for the rest of my life, and I couldn’t imagine not having Mike at my wedding, at my kid’s graduation, etc.
My hubby had been a little suspicious at first. I’d (honestly) assured him that things with me and Mike were 100% platonic, but it wasn’t until they met that my husband calmed down.
He’s more of a ‘manly’ man (exactly my type) whereas Mike is more the intellectual kind. He’s probably the smartest person I know (which I didn’t tell my husband, of course) – so yeah, as soon as they met, my husband stopped feeling threatened.
Despite living a few hundred miles apart, Mike had been there for the birth of my child. Not literally in the room, but he’d stayed down the street for those first few weeks, and been an absolute lifesaver. Grocery shopping, cleaning, just being there when we needed him…it had made a huge difference.
All this to say, you can understand why I was so excited to see him again.
I’d spent my year in lockdown taking care of a two (and then three) year old, working from home, and trying not to lose myself to cabin fever. Other than a video call every week or two, Mike and I had mainly stayed in contact via instant messenger.
He’d spent the year on self-care. He’d started dieting and working out, and signed up for one of those sites that gives you unlimited access to online classes.
If anyone has ever made the most of those deals, it was Mike during the pandemic. It felt like every time we talked he’d finished another course. Managing your finances, how to live off the land, neuro-linguistic programming, cooking for dummies, advanced sales techniques…
Whoever Mike ended up with was going to be a lucky woman. Even in our calls, I could tell he’d become more confident and capable. He’d gone from barely being able to boil an egg to…I won’t say a ‘master chef’, but compared to most men (including my husband), he was right up there.
As soon as the pandemic ended (well, “ended” – as soon as we were both vaccinated) he’d invited me to come visit, and I’d honestly leapt at the opportunity. My husband had been completely supportive; he’d promised me that he’d be able to survive a week with our tiny terrorist, especially since I’d promised him a fishing weekend with the boys once I got back.
And so I’d packed, used some of our miles to get a flight to Mike’s place, and one masked Uber ride later met him at the door.
“Wow,” he said, his eyes running up and down my body. “You look great!”
If it had been anyone else, I probably would have felt uncomfortable with the blatant appraisal of my body, but…I mean, it was Mike. He’d been the first person I’d talked to after losing my virginity, and it had been his shoulder I’d cried on when the guy had turned out to be a dirtbag.
If anyone could admire me non-sexually, it was Mike.
“Thanks,” I said, doing a faux-spin. “The pandemic pounds suit me.”
Like most people (except Mike), I’d put on a little weight during the pandemic. I’d been self-conscious about it at first, but my husband had pointed out that for every pound I put on, at least half of it had seemed to go to my tits. They were even bigger than they’d been when I was pregnant.
Mike picked up my bags, and it was my turn to be impressed by the changes. Like I said, he’d spent the last year working out, and…it showed. His shoulders looked wider, and his waist thinner. I’d always thought he was cute, but now he was downright handsome.
Again, I couldn’t help but be happy for whoever ended up with him. Mike had always been great, of course, but now he was a downright catch.
“Go chill,” he said over his shoulder. “I’ll put these away.”
Mike was still in the little 2-bedroom apartment he’d moved into straight out of college, so I made my way into the kitchen and got myself a drink. I couldn’t help but smile; he’d stocked my favorite beer. I grabbed a bottle and, unable to help myself, poked around his cupboards.
Except for some purchases which were clearly for me (plantain chips and peanut butter cups), it was all health food. I found three different types of protein powder, and a spice collection that put mine to shame.
Again, I couldn’t help but appreciate what a transformation my best friend had seen over the last few years.
When I returned to the living-room, Mike was standing there with a puzzled look on his face.
“What’s up?”
“It really has been a while since you traveled, huh?”
“Yeah,” I said, looking at him like he was an idiot. “Y’know. Because of the global pandemic.”
He gestured to the spare bedroom where I’d be staying.
“You didn’t pack any clothes.”
“What?”
Mike crossed the room until he was standing above me, his eyes burning into mine.
“You didn’t pack any clothes,” he repeated, and I took half a step back. Something about his voice, it was…it was like it made its way straight to my soul. My ears ached; not because he was loud, but because they’d been used to receive words of pure confidence and verve.
“I…I didn’t pack any clothes?” I asked, my voice a whisper. Mike shook his head, and I found my head shaking along, like my face was a marionette and he was pulling the strings.
“You didn’t pack any clothes,” he repeated. I nodded.
“I didn’t pack any clothes,” I said, my heart sinking.
Fuck!
I knew it had been a while since I’d left the house for more than an hour or two, but…I mean, packing clothes was the most basic of basics. How had I forgotten clothes of all things?
My husband had even helped me. Surely he…surely one of us must have noticed that I’d failed to pack even a single item of clothing.
It’s funny. I would have sworn that I’d carefully counted out socks, underpants, shirts and pants for the trip. If you’d asked me ten minutes earlier, I would have confidently told you that yes, of course I’d packed clothes – I could even have listed the specific outfits I’d packed.
But no. I didn’t pack any clothes.
Fuck.
“Maybe I can get my husband to mail some,” I mused, and Mike shook his head. “By the time they arrive, you’ll be packing up to leave. Not worth it.”
“He could overnight it?”
“The postal service is a shit-show right now,” he reminded me, and again I found myself unconsciously mirroring his nod.
“Okay,” I said, my brain running a mile a minute. How had I forgotten clothes?? “Is there a department store nearby? I could…–”
Mike blanched, silencing me without saying a word. “We’re still in a pandemic,” he reminded me, and I agreed immediately. Of course. The deal had been that I go and visit Mike, but we weren’t about to go out partying or anything like that.
Going to a department store was a completely unnecessary risk.
“Amazon?”
“Doesn’t deliver to my area,” Mike replied. My immediate instinct was to question him – over the past few years, he’d mentioned a great number of Amazon purchases…but as his words sunk in, I bit my tongue.
Mike wouldn’t lie to me. If he said Amazon didn’t deliver to his area, of course it didn’t. Perhaps they’d recently changed routes, or his building had been blacklisted for some reason.
I continued wracking my brains, trying to think of a solution. “Could I borrow some of yours?” I eventually asked, and Mike laughed.
“Honey,” he said in the humorously-patronizing Southern voice we often used to make fun of each other. “You ain’t gonna fit in my clothes.”
Again, his gaze lowered to my breasts. Again, if it had been anyone else, I would have felt uncomfortable – it was almost like he was blatantly checking out my tits.
I mean, he wasn’t. It was Mike. But if it had been anyone else, I would’ve thought for sure that he was.
“Well then,” I said, laughing to hide my embarrassment (who forgets to pack clothes??) “…it looks like I’ll be wearing these for a week!”
I gestured at my outfit, and Mike took it as an invitation to scan up and down my body once more. I felt myself getting slightly warm as he did – a year in isolation meant that I’d basically forgotten what male attention felt like.
My husband finds me attractive, obviously, but…well, after three years of marriage, it wasn’t like he was ogling me on a daily basis.
Not that Mike was ogling me. I’d gestured, after all. He was just looking at what I was wearing.
It was a fairly unremarkable outfit. I always dressed down to fly, and today had been no exception. I was wearing a pair of grey yoga pants and an oversized t-shirt – one of my husband’s, which normally fit me with room to spare. With my recent growth, I could feel the fabric straining as it strained against my chest.
Mike hadn’t been kidding when he said I wouldn’t fit into his clothes. My husband was broad-shouldered, although (like me) he’d gained some weight during the pandemic. My best friend, meanwhile, had always been trim.
“I’m going to have a shower,” I said with a sigh, and Mike nodded. I didn’t have to explain to him that I was annoyed at myself, not him.
He got me.
As I lathered up my hair, a thought struck me. How had Mike realized I hadn’t packed any clothes? He’d just been putting my bags into the spare room; there was no need to go through them. I tried to dismiss it – it was Mike, after all – but the thought kept niggling at me, even as I rinsed my hair clean and stepped out of the shower.
A towel was sitting on the sink that hadn’t been there before (I hadn’t even noticed Mike come in)…but my clothes were gone. My one remaining outfit.
I dried myself and, wearing the towel as a dress, stepped into my friend’s apartment.
“Mike?” I called out, and he surprised me by stepping out of the kitchen, handing me my half-finished beer.
“What’s up?”
Again, his eyes traveled up and down my body. Fortunately it was a bath sheet, so even accounting for the size of my breasts, it still ended a few inches above my knees.
I waited for him to finish checking me out (not that he was, like, checking me out), and when his eyes returned to mine, I asked him.
“Your clothes?” he repeated, like it was a new concept to him. “Oh, the stuff you were wearing on the plane? I threw it out.”
“You what?”
“COVID,” he said, like mentioning the acronym that had defined our lives for the last few years was a full explanation. I stared at him, jaw open, until he continued. “You were wearing that outfit around strangers. For hours. It wouldn’t be hygienic to keep it.”
As he was talking, I’d been tempted to interrupt. To tell him he was crazy, that his explanation made no sense.
But as his eyes stared into mine, his last sentence had been delivered…so firmly. So confidently. It was like his words burned straight through my objections, right into my soul.
“It wouldn’t be hygienic to keep it,” I repeated, my voice faltering slightly.
“It wouldn’t be hygienic to keep it,” he confirmed, and I found myself nodding along with him.
Of course. A plane full of potential carriers. Even with the vaccination, it didn’t make sense to take any unnecessary risks.
“It wouldn’t be hygienic to keep it,” I said, my voice as confident as his had been.
“So I had to throw it out.”
Again, I nodded along with my best friend of almost thirty years, before letting out a sigh.
“Damn it,” I said wistfully. “Those were comfortable pants.”
He smiled at that, and another thought struck me.
“Also, that’s all I had to wear for the week.”
“Oh, shit,” he said. “I didn’t think of that.”
“It’s okay,” I said, shooting him a rueful smile. “You did the right thing.”
I chewed on my lip, trying to work out what I was going to do. I’d gone down from one outfit to none, and it wasn’t like I could wear this towel for the entire time I was here.
Could I?
As if he was reading my thoughts, Mike shook his head, and I found myself shaking my head as well. It’s funny; since basically the moment I’d gotten out of the shower, I’d been staring deeply into his eyes. I hadn’t even realized.
“It’s my only towel,” Mike explained. “We’ll need to share it.”
My forehead furrowed. “You only have one…”
I cut myself off. I’d forgotten what a spendthrift Mike was. Why have more than one towel?
“I’ll need to hang it up to dry,” he said, holding his hand out. My eyes widened.
He couldn’t want me to…he couldn’t be expecting…
“Um…”
Mike stared into my eyes patiently, waiting for me to finish my thought, but I couldn’t even think of what to say. He only had one towel, of course I couldn’t just wear it for my entire stay.
“But…”
Again, my best friend didn’t say a word, just waited for me to construct a full sentence. I finally managed to get the words together.
“…but I’d be naked?”
“Yeah?” he said, as though I’d just pointed out that the sky was blue. I suddenly felt myself blush, and Mike grinned at me. “We used to have baths together, remember?”
My blush deepened. He wasn’t wrong…but that had been several decades ago, when we were kids. Things were different now.
Right?
“It’s just me,” he said, and for some reason his words relaxed me.
What was I worrying about? It was just Mike. He’d been there for my entire life. We’d been friends since I was five years old.
It was just Mike.
“It’s just you,” I mumbled in response, and he reached out his hand, putting it on my chin.
“It’s just me,” he repeated, and I nodded along with him.
“It’s just you,” I said firmly, unhooking the towel and letting it fall to the floor.
I had expected Mike’s eyes to drop to my nakedness, but he held my gaze. I don’t know how long we stood there, staring into each other’s eyes, but by the time we stopped, my skin was completely dry.
I couldn’t help but smile as Mike’s eyes traveled up and down my naked body. I was definitely at my heaviest non-pregnant weight, but I knew that wouldn’t bother him. He’s always liked women with a bit of meat on them.
Not that he was checking me out, of course.
My breasts were definitely the highlight, large and firm. My nipples are rosy-red, and my areola are puffy and dark. My waist is narrow; a few years ago I would have described my stomach as flat, but now it’s starting to gather a little bit of extra jiggle. My hips curve naturally outward, and they seem to attract men like bees to honey.
And then there’s my ass.
Even before my recent weight gain, I’ve always been proud of my butt. I know my husband loves it; he takes every opportunity he can to slap it, he loves to grope it when we’re having sex, and yeah – on special occasions, I even let him take me there.
It’s big. It’s round. And it fills out my yoga pants well.
I squirmed slightly as Mike stared at my pussy. I hadn’t shaved since I’d gotten pregnant; the vague plan had been to start again after giving birth, but when you’ve got a tiny human dependent on you for literally everything, it’s hard to make that a priority.
So yeah, my thatch was quite bushy. I know my husband would prefer me shaved, but he’d never complained.
You bear someone’s child, turns out they’ll forgive a lot of stuff.
Mike’s eyes moved back up to my face. It’s rounder than most people’s, with wide eyes and a small nose. His tongue darted out over his lips, and for a moment I had the weirdest thought, like he was imagining what it would be like to kiss me.
Dumb, right? It’s Mike.
“You wanna watch something?” he asked, and I nodded, thankful he was being so cool about my nudity.
Mike had two couches in his living-room, but as soon as I sat down, he came and joined me. I dunno, I guess there’s nothing weird about that. I mean, we’re best friends. We sit on the same couch all the time.
It was my fault. My nudity was making me hyper-aware of everything. He threw on a TV show we’d been talking about watching together, and I had a brilliant idea.
“Do you have a blanket?” I asked. I mean, if I had to be clothesless, at least I could cover up.
Mike stared at me, and as I stared back, my blush returned.
“You don’t want a blanket,” he said, his voice dripping with confidence. “It’s too warm.”
“It’s too warm,” I repeated breathlessly. A second ago I could have sworn it was chilly enough to warrant my request, but of course he was right. I wasn’t sweating, but I knew a blanket would make be uncomfortably warm. I didn’t want one.
“It’s too warm,” he repeated, and I nodded in unison with him.
“It’s too warm.”
With that, he broke eye contact, unpaused the television and stretched his arm across my shoulder.
Again, a completely innocent action. One he’d probably done a thousand times before, if not more. But my nudity made me hyperaware of everything. His hairy arm on my bare shoulders. His hand, stroking a pattern up and down my skin.
How good it felt.
The show flew by, but I didn’t take any of it in. The entire time, I was just far too aware of the unusual situation I’d gotten myself into. I was completely nude in my best friend’s house. No part of me was hidden from him: my breasts, my pussy, my thighs, my arms.
If he’d wanted wanted to touch me, he could.
Not that Mike thought of me that way, of course. It was Mike.
His fingers traced patterns up and down my arm, and as the next episode played, his other arm crossed his body, and his hand began lightly stroking my hip. If it had been my husband, it would have felt good. Comfortable. Arousing, even.
But it wasn’t. It was Mike. It was Mike, and I was naked.
As the credits rolled, the show ended, and I realized that I’d been sitting on my own side of the couch, but Mike had moved closer to me. He pressed himself against my side, and I could feel his leg against mine, his shirt against my side.
If I’d turned to the side, my tit would have been pressed against his body.
Instead, I was sitting stiff as a board, hyper aware of my nudity. Of our physical contact.
Of his hands on my body.
I took a deep breath, but it did nothing to calm me down. Everything felt wrong. I knew I shouldn’t be naked. I knew why I was, but I knew that I shouldn’t be. It was my own fault, but that didn’t make it feel any more right.
I shouldn’t be naked. Mike shouldn’t have been going through my suitcases. His hands shouldn’t be on my naked body. Everything was wrong.
“M-Mike,” I began, but as he turned to look into my eyes, I fell silent. He was staring at me intently, and I couldn’t find words.
“What’s wrong?” he eventually said, breaking the long silence. As we’d been staring into each other’s eyes, his hands had moved. One was now on my stomach, stroking a soft pattern. The other was in my hair, playing with it like a lover.
It felt good. I knew it shouldn’t, but it did.
“Everything,” I whispered. “Everything feels wrong.”
“Like what?” he asked, and I felt compelled to answer honestly.
“You…you shouldn’t be touching me.”
My throat and mouth were dry, and Mike smiled at the words coming out of my mouth. “Don’t be silly,” he said breezily, before his voice dropped almost a full octave. “We’ve always been touchy.”
His words swept over me like a wave. They should have shocked me, but instead they calmed me down. We’d known each other for so many years, and we’d always…we’d always…
“We’ve always been touchy,” I repeated hesitantly, and Mike nodded. I found myself nodding along, like a dog following its master’s lead.
“We’ve always been touchy,” he said again. It was weird; I couldn’t remember any specific instances of being touchy with Mike in the past, but it was undeniably true. We’d always been so close, of course we’d been touchy.
“We’ve always been touchy,” I said firmly.
“So what’s the problem?” he asked, and I shook my head.
“No problem,” I smiled, moving my arm to his.
We must have sat there for a long while, staring into each other’s eyes, our hands casually moving around each other’s bodies. I got to feel the muscles he’d spent so much time and energy building; he made me shiver as he ran his fingers up my back, across my stomach, the back of his hand occasionally brushing against the bottoms of my breasts.
I moved my hands to his chest, happily surprised by how firm and muscular it was. I squeezed the flesh between my fingers, feeling it flex beneath my touch. His hand moved to my neck and throat, and I leaned into the touch. I’d always been sensitive there, something only my husband knew.
And Mike, of course. We’d always been touchy.
His hand ran up and down my leg; even though I no longer maintained my pubic area, I kept my legs shaved. He moved his hand higher, his fingers tracing the shape of my thigh, and I shivered. It felt good, like when my husband touched me.
But this wasn’t like that, of course. It was Mike. We weren’t, like…it wasn’t…
We were just touchy.
He moved his finger back up my leg, and as he did, I shifted closer to him, pressing my breasts against his body. I had to admit I was enjoying the feeling.
“This is nice,” I breathed, and Mike nodded.
“Yeah,” he agreed. There was a long pause, and as I looked up, I realised that the only sound in the room was the gentle hum of the television.
“Well…” I began awkwardly, trying to continue the conversation. “Do you want to watch something else?”
“You gonna do a dance or something?” he asked, and I opened my mouth to object before seeing the huge grin on his face.
“You shit-show,” I laughed, and affectionately pushed him. He grunted as he fell backwards, more amused than offended by my action.
“C’mere,” he growled, reaching out to grab my wrists. I resisted, but his year of working out (and my year of cookies and cake) meant that he was easily able to pull me towards him.
We began to wrestle: my feet against his chest, his arms pinning my wrists against the couch. We must have wrestled dozens of times before, but it all felt new. Different, somehow.
Probably because I was naked.
I squealed as his weight landed on me, wriggling and laughing and enjoying the company of my best friend. His arms wrapped around my waist, and I felt every part of his body on me.
Every part of his body.
I’ve never thought about Mike’s cock before. Even during the ten-day period we dated in high school; it had been more of a “hey should we do this?” (which had been quickly answered with “no, we should not”) than anything…sexual.
But as I felt his tented pants press against my naked body, it was difficult not to be aware of it. There was a moment of hesitation, as our wrestling stopped, but then we both burst out laughing.
“C’mon,” he said, releasing me and lifting his body. “You’ve had a huge day. You should get some rest.”
“Mm-hmm,” I said, feeling slightly dazed. I don’t even know why. It had just been two best friends goofing off. I mean, yes, I was naked, and yeah, I’d felt his hardness, but nothing sexual had happened. It wasn’t until I was laying in bed, about to drift off, when the thought struck me. Why had he been hard?

Visit
by Pan

Chapter 2

I slept fitfully that night, my mind and body tossing and turning. It was like a wall had been artificially constructed in my mind, and only when I was asleep were the thoughts able to penetrate them.
How had I forgotten to pack clothes? It literally didn’t make any sense. And since when did you discard clothing to prevent the spread of an airborne disease?
And why did Mike think we’d always been touchy? It wasn’t like we’d strenuously avoided physical contact, but we’d never been…touchy. Why had Mike said that?
And why had I agreed?
But the moment I woke up, the thoughts were like roaches: scattering as soon as the light appeared. My room was filled with the smell of coffee, and after a few minutes of stretching, I padded into the living-room.
“Good morning,” Mike said, his eyes travelling up and down my body, lingering slightly at my tits. I blushed; I’d somehow managed to completely forget I was naked.
Naked in my best friend’s house.
I was tempted to cover up, to drape one hand across my breasts, use the other to shield the hair between my legs from Mike’s roving eyes.
But I didn’t. It was Mike.
By the time he was done, Mike looked at me with a smile. “How’d you sleep?”
“Good,” I nodded. “Your spare bed is great.”
It was honestly strange to see how much Mike had grown up. Fifteen years ago we’d been sharing toaster strudels; now he was pouring a cup of hand-ground coffee, in a perfectly-kept house with a comfortable guest bed.
Now I was the careless one, forgetting to pack clothing for a weeklong trip. Who does that?
“That’s good,” he replied, handing me a cup o' joe and staring deep into my eyes. “Because I’ll need to share it with you for the rest of your trip.”
“Share it?”
“That’s right,” he nodded, his eyes burning with intensity as he continued. “There’s a leak in my ceiling, so we’ll have to bunk up together.”
I swallowed at the intensity of his words. He couldn’t…there was no way…
“There’s a leak in your ceiling,” I repeated, my voice shaky. “We’ll have to…have to…”
I trailed off, and Mike’s forehead creased.
“We’ll need to share a bed,” he repeated, his voice deep and forceful.
“We’ll need to share a bed,” I immediately echoed. “There’s a leak in your ceiling, so we’ll need to share a bed.”
“There’s a leak in my ceiling,” he said, his voice calm and relaxed. “So we’ll need to share a bed.”
“There’s a leak in your bed,” I said with a calm certainty in my voice. “So we’ll need to share a bed.”
“Enjoy your coffee,” he said, moving his hand off my waist. I hadn’t even noticed him touching me, but the tingle on my skin when his fingers left almost felt like he’d been tracing patterns for some time.
I took a sip of the brown liquid. It was cold. Strange; I thought he’d just brewed it.
Mike had to work that day, so I mostly amused myself. I watched TV, read a book, and played a few games of video poker on my phone. Mike stopped for lunch, which we ate at his small kitchen table: a suspiciously delicious salad (again, not the kind of thing I’d ever have expected him to know how to cook). He ate with one hand, his other stroking and playing with my leg the entire time as we talked about random things. We’ve always been touchy.
If I hadn’t somehow forgotten to pack clothing (and Mike hadn’t subsequently disposed of the only outfit I had) I would’ve taken a walk around the neighborhood in the afternoon. My family didn’t live there any more, but it would’ve been nice to see some of my old haunts. Instead, I caught up on Dark on Netflix (my husband hates watching anything with subtitles) and waited for Mike to finish work.
I couldn’t help but smile as he walked into the room, even if I did feel a little weird as his eyes swept up and down my body once more. Like, I’d been naked for a full day now. What more was there to look at?
“Move over,” he said, after seemingly examining every inch of my bare skin. I guess it had been a long time since he’d seen me naked…or any naked woman, for that matter. Like me, Mike had really locked down during the pandemic. I’d at least had my husband – he’d truly been alone.
I shifted to the side of the couch, and Mike sat directly in the middle. Like the night before, I was acutely aware of his leg against mine (he was wearing a pair of shorts), but I didn’t stiffen or freeze up as he moved one arm into my lap and began stroking my inner thigh.
“Have you seen this?” I asked, unable to stop myself from shivering slightly at his touch. I’ve always been sensitive, and it was all I could do not to squirm as Mike’s fingers traced the shape of my leg.
“No,” he said, turning and staring deeply into my eyes. “Is it good?”
“Uh huh,” I replied, again losing my words at the intensity of his eye-contact. I don’t know how long we sat there, his hands on my body. Just like the night before, I reached out and began touching him, as well.
We’ve always been touchy.
Neither of said anything, we just sat in silence, exploring each other’s bodies with our hands. I gasped as he reached up and cupped my breast; part of me wanted to object, but since my hands had traveled up his shirt and were resting on his bare chest, I didn’t really have a leg to stand on.
I could feel my breathing getting heavier as he groped my enormous boobs with both hands, pinching my nipples roughly. My hands were getting more adventurous as well, as they made their way down to his groin. The bulge in his pants seemed to get bigger and harder as I rubbed it, and I couldn’t help but groan.
It wasn’t until he began to move a hand between my legs that I realized what we were doing. What Mike was about to do.
What I was doing.
I was sitting naked on my best friend’s couh, his hands on my tits, stroking his erection through his pants. I wasn’t…we’d never been like this. I was married. Happily married.
And this was Mike.
“No,” I whimpered. “No, Mike, we…we can’t.”
“We’ve always been touchy,” he reminded me, a half-smile on his lips. I nodded – we’d always been touchy – then shook my head.
“Not like this,” I groaned, forcing myself to remove my hands from his pants. He followed suit, taking his hands off my breasts. It was all I could do not to moan – part of me wanted to lean forward, to follow his hands with my needy tits.
God, what was wrong with me? I’d never been like this. We’d never been like this.
What was happening?
“You need to be touched,” he reminded me. His words were so shocking, I wanted to blink, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t do anything but stare deeply into his eyes, into my best friend’s dark, intense eyes.
“W-what?”
“You need to be touched,” he repeated, and my eyes crinkled as I tried to work out what he meant. I liked to be touched, of course, but I didn’t…–
“You can’t go more than a day without being touched,” he said, and it was all I could do not to fall backwards at the intensity of his words. His voice was low, each word delivered like a dagger.
“I can’t…I can’t go more than a day without being touched…” I said in response. It was true, of course, but how did Mike know?
“You can’t go more than a day without being touched,” he said, a smile on his face.
Of course Mike knew. He knew everything about me. There was no secrets between us.
“I can’t go more than a day without being touched,” I said loudly. Mike raised his hands, and I grabbed them and moved them to my tits, letting out a loud moan. “Touch me. Please. Touch me…”
Mike grasped my breasts, rubbing them roughly. I leaned back into the couch, moaning…but never closing my eyes. I continued holding my best friend’s gaze as he kneaded my breasts. Mike’s touches were firm, but I needed more. I needed him to squeeze harder, to pinch my nipples.
“Please…please…” I moaned.
I was lost in my own world as Mike continued groping and squeezing my breasts. I felt his hands down up my stomach, towards my pussy. I was wet. So wet. How did I get so wet?
“Mmm…” I grunted as I felt his fingers brush along the length of my slit. “Mike…”
“Yeah?”
“Touch me,” I begged. “Please.”
I couldn’t go more than a day without being touched. I’d been away from my husband for more than twenty-four hours, and though Mike had (mercifully) been stroking my skin almost that entire time, I hadn’t been touched. Between my legs.
Where I needed it the most.
Part of my brain was wondering when this compulsion of mine had begun. It must have been during the pandemic, because my husband had frequently gone on business trips before then, leaving me alone for days on end.
But even during the pandemic, there had been days when we’d been so exhausted from taking care of the baby, he hadn’t…
No, that didn’t make sense. I couldn’t go more than a day without being touched. Which was why, on my second night away from home, I was breaking my marital vows. I was letting my best friend, with whom I’d never had anything more than a platonic relationship, touch me.
And it felt amazing.
“Oh fuck…” I gasped as Mike fingered me. “Fingers…yes…touch me…”
I was gasping and moaning like a porn star on her first scene. Mike responded by grabbing my hips and pulling me towards him, making me gasp as I sat on his lap, feeling his cock press against my ass. My knees buckled as one of his fingers slid easily inside me, and I let out a long moan as he began sawing it in and out.
This wasn’t right. This was so wrong. But I wasn’t able to stop. The feelings were too strong, and I was too weak.
I couldn’t go more than a day without being touched.
“Fuck…” I mumbled, gripping onto Mike’s shoulders for balance. “T-touch me. Please. Please, Mike. Touch me. Touch me!”
My words were barely audible as Mike’s finger slid in and out of me. I closed my eyes, shuddering at the pleasure shooting through my body. I clenched my thighs together tightly, trying to force myself to stop, but my body betrayed me, and I let out another loud moan as Mike began thrusting his fingers inside me.
His thumb found my clit, and I moaned loudly, arching my back off the couch. My toes curled as waves of pure pleasure ripped through my body. I was naked on my best friend’s couch as he pleasured me; I was married, but he was touching me.
He wasn’t my husband, but he was touching me. He was my best friend of more than twenty years, and he was touching me.
And it felt so good.
“Yes…” I groaned. “Fuck yes…don’t stop.”
Mike slipped a second finger inside me, and I groaned. I gripped onto his shoulders as I rocked back and forth on his lap, spreading my legs wider as I desperately sought to get closer to whatever pleasure I could find.
God, I was so lucky that Mike understood my needs. My need to be touched.
I couldn’t go more than a day without being touched.
I couldn’t go more than a day without being touched.
“Oh God…” I gasped as Mike began to thrust his fingers inside me faster. “Please, Mike…”
I bucked my hips forward desperately, and I moaned loudly as I came. My eyes snapped open as I trembled, staring at my friend. I wanted to tell him what an incredible job he was doing, but I was too busy panting and shaking as he thrust his fingers inside me.
“Yesssss…” I groaned, biting my lip. I couldn’t hold back my moans any longer, and I let out a loud wail as I came hard.
My entire body went limp as my orgasm finally ended, and I stared at Mike with wide eyes. I was still sitting on his lap, his cock pressed against my ass. It felt huge.
“Are you okay?”
“Mmm…” I groaned as he pulled his fingers out. He placed them on my mouth; I sucked them clean without even thinking about it, licking them like a lollipop, staring into Mike’s eyes as I did.
When i was done he stood up, and I slumped back into the couch, trying to catch my breath. “Th-thank you,” I said with a sigh, and he nodded.
“Of course,” Mike said with a smile. “What are friends for?”
Part of me expected to feel embarrassed, but the rest of the evening felt like it always did with Mike. We sat on the couch, watching TV, occasionally talking or joking around. As we watched the show, his hands continued to drift across my body, occasionally tweaking my nipple or massaging my thigh.
It was colder than the night before; I briefly considered asking for a blanket, but then I remembered: It’s too warm. Instead, I pressed my naked body against his. He reached down and grabbed my ass with one hand, putting the other around my shoulder and grabbing my tit.
All the while, my hand was resting on the crotch of his pants. That was the one thing I felt funny about – I mean, we’ve always been touchy, but…I dunno. Part of me wanted to move my hand down his pants and wrap my fingers around his dick, but I knew that would be crossing a line. Even with what he’d done to me earlier that night.
That was different. I couldn’t go more than a day without being touched.
“Mike…can I ask you something?”
His hand squeezed my breast in response, and I smiled. I’d always communicated with him differently than anyone else in my life. Even my husband. I guess it comes with being best friends for so long.
“Sure,” he said.
“Do you think I’m sexy?”
Mike froze for a moment, his hand tightening on my breast. “What makes you ask that?” he said, and I recognized his tone of voice immediately. It was the exact kind of voice my husband had when I asked him if a dress looked good, or if he’d still find me attractive when I was pregnant.
I couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s not a trap,” I said, giving his cock a comforting squeeze through his pants. “I was just…I dunno, wondering.”
Mike turned to me, and stared into my eyes. I caught my breath. I must have looked him in the eyes a million times in my life, but somehow this trip was different. Every time I stared into those deep, dark eyes, it felt like I was looking straight into his soul.
No, that wasn’t it: it felt like his soul was looking into mine. Like I was completely, totally exposed.
It was probably just because I was naked.
“It’s not like that,” he said calmly. “What we have is different. Special.”
I nodded. He was right, of course. Our friendship was special. It always had been.
“Why do you ask?”
“I just wanted to make sure that, y’know…”
I gestured to…well, everything. My nudity. His hand on my breast. My hand on his crotch.
“…I wanted to make sure this wouldn’t get weird.”
“Of course not,” Mike said, smiling softly. “I mean, you’re my best friend. I know you’re attractive, but it’s not like that.”
“Yeah,” I nodded. “It’s not like that.”
“Not like your crush on me.”
I froze.
“W-what?”
His voice deepened, and he leaned forward as he repeated himself.
“You find me incredibly attractive,” he said, and a pulse went through my entire body at his words.
“I…I find you incredibly attractive,” I replied, my voice trembling in awe.
I did. It was impossible to deny. I don’t know if it was because of how intensely he’d just made me cum, or if it was something I’d always felt, but…I was incredibly attracted to my best friend.
“You find me incredibly attractive,” he repeated, an arrogant grin on his face.
“I find you incredibly attractive,” I said firmly, and we sat there for god knows how long, staring into each other’s eyes, my hand gently running up and down his cock.
When he finally looked away, I realized I was blushing. Not just my face, either – the flush had spread across my entire body, and I was gasping for air.
I couldn’t believe what I was doing. Rubbing my best friend’s cock, admitting my crush. God, how long had I been attracted to him?
Was this why I’d “forgotten” to pack any clothing? Because I’d known it would mean I had to spend the entire week naked with Mike?
Oh my god, was this why I’d organized the trip in the first place? I couldn’t go more than a day without being touched; by going to visit my attractive best friend, I’d know he had no choice but to get me off. He’d be forced to touch me, his best friend.
This entire trip had just been an excuse to get my crush to grope me. And conveniently forgetting my clothes meant that I’d spend the whole time naked, flaunting my body for his attention.
It was so obvious now that I thought about it. Was it so obvious to Mike? He knew about how I felt, of course, but had he pieced the rest together?
God I hoped not. It was embarrassing enough knowing how transparent my feelings for him were. I’d melt through the floor with shame if he worked the rest out too.
And then, of course, there was my husband.
My husband!
All that blood that hadn’t welled in my clit moved to my face as my blush deepened. I loved my husband, I truly did. He was the father to my children, the love of my life. He was my soul mate, the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.
I’d never so much as looked at anyone else since the moment I’d met him.
Except Mike.
My gut churned with guilt as I thought back to how hard I’d tried to convince my husband that Mike wasn’t a threat, that we had a purely platonic relationship. And I mean…it was true. Mike and I could never be a couple, I knew that. We weren’t right for each other, not in that way.
But it was impossible to deny how attractive I found him.
On some level I must have known that, even as I assured my husband that I wasn’t attracted to my best friend. Like a closeted homophobe, my protestations were probably fueled by a subconscious guilt. Why else would I have spent so much energy convincing my husband that I didn’t feel anything for Mike?
And he’d trusted me. He’d trusted me enough to let me come out here, for a week. He’d trusted me so much that even though he’d helped me pack, he hadn’t said anything about the fact I wasn’t packing any clothes.
My husband knew that I couldn’t go more than a day without being touched. But he’d still let me go on this trip, halfway across the country. Because I’d told him that I wasn’t attracted to Mike.
Because he’d had every reason to believe that we wouldn’t do…well, what we were doing right now.
I let go of Mike’s cock like it was a hot coal. I…I couldn’t. I couldn’t do that to my husband. To my marriage.
To Mike.
Even if I’d been single, even if my husband hadn’t been in the picture, I couldn’t do it. No matter how attracted I was to him, Mike had been very clear: he didn’t feel the same way about me.
There were so, so many reasons we couldn’t do anything. That I couldn’t do anything to Mike.
No matter how badly I wanted it.
I took a few deep breaths, staring down at my knees. They were shaking, and tears were forming in the corners of my eyes. All I wanted was to touch Mike, to feel his hands on me again. I wanted to be touched by him, to feel his lips on mine, his cock inside me.
But it wasn’t fair to him. It wasn’t fair to my husband. I had to ignore my hormones and lust, and listen to my brain. My heart.
I loved my husband. I loved Mike, too, but in a different way.
And even if I had loved him in that way, he didn’t love me.
No. We couldn’t cross that line. I couldn’t touch him. I couldn’t fondle his cock. I couldn’t wrap my hand around it, stroke him until he came on my face. On my naked tits. I couldn’t make my best friend coat my naked body with his seed.
No matter how much I wanted him to.
“I should…I should go to bed,” I said, my voice trembling.
“Of course,” Mike said, releasing my tit and standing up. It was all I could do not to jump up and press my body against his, my lips against my best friend’s.
But I couldn’t. He didn’t want me like that.
And I was married.
“Don’t worry,” he said with a smile. “I don’t snore.”
My eyes widened. Oh, god. I’d forgotten…there was a leak in Mike’s ceiling, so we’d have to share a bed.
We’d have to share a bed.
All night. All week. Mike, sleeping next to me. My naked body, pressed up against his.
Fuck.
Fuck.
FUCK.
“N-no problem,” I said, forcing a grin to my face. Mike laughed, putting a hand on each side of my face and kissing me on the mouth.
My eyes widened, but I didn’t protest. We’d always…we’d always been touchy, after all. And he’d just gotten me off.
I didn’t want to make things weird. He already knew I was attracted to him; if I made a big deal about one little kiss, who knows what he’d think?
No. I couldn’t make things more awkward than my attraction to him already did. So after a few seconds, I relaxed into the kiss, moving my hands to his sides, trying to act natural. Trying to remember how I normally acted when Mike kissed me like this.
It was hard to concentrate as the kiss went on, especially when Mike’s tongue got involved. I slid my hand up his shirt, a thrill running through my body at the feel of his bare skin under my fingers. But I kept myself from sliding my hand down, held back by the memory of my husband.
My outer hand reached around and grabbed his firm ass, pulling his body towards mine. I couldn’t help but let out a soft moan as his pant-clad erection pressed against my bare stomach (Mike is a full foot taller than me). One of his hands left my face and grabbed my ass in response; the other softly brushed against the hair of my pussy.
Eventually he broke the kiss, both of us breathing heavily as he stared into my eyes. I could see my own desire reflected there.
“Do you need a toothbrush?” he asked, his voice ragged. My heart leapt at the idea that I’d done that to him, that my lips and hands and body had turned him on…but then reality returned, and I remembered: I’d asked him, very directly, if he was attracted to me.
He wasn’t. Not in the way I was attracted to him.
“No,” I said, trying to sound light and casual. Trying to sound like I wasn’t fighting the urge to drop to my knees and unleash his cock. To show him how good I was at sucking cock.
To show him how good I was at sucking his cock.
“You managed to pack that?” he asked, raising one eyebrow, and I laughed longer and louder than I could have. I couldn’t help myself; I felt giddy, like a schoolgirl trying to act cool with her crush. I wanted to wrap my arms around Mike’s neck and pull him closer, to grind my pussy against his cock and make him cum in his pants.
Instead I pulled away, and went to brush my teeth.
Brush my teeth, and mentally prepare myself for a night in the bed of a man who wasn’t my husband. A man who’d skillfully gotten me off with his fingers. A man who I was extremely attracted to.
My best friend.

Visit
by Pan

Chapter 3

It was simple, I told myself.
Even though I was sleeping in a bed with Mike, even though I’d be naked, even though we were both aware of how attractive I found him, we couldn’t do anything.
We couldn’t.
I was married, for one. Happily married. My husband and I had a child together. We were in love. I couldn’t do anything to betray my wedding vows. The mere thought made my heart ache with guilt.
Yes, Mike had gotten me off last night. But that was different. I couldn’t go more than a day without being touched.
And so I’d let him touch me.
No, not just let him. I’d wanted him to touch me. I’d craved his long fingers, expertly curling inside my wet pussy, stroking me until I’d screamed. I’d wanted his palms on my breasts, his hands all over my body.
So I’d let him touch me.
But my husband knew I couldn’t go more than a day without being touched. We’d never explicitly discussed it, but…he must have known. He must have known what was going to happen when I was away for a week.
Away for a week in the presence of a man I found so incredibly attractive.
Okay, that part he didn’t know. In fact, I’d worked hard to make sure my husband had no idea how attractive I found Mike.
That, I felt bad about. Keeping a secret like that from my husband – especially when I was about to go visit Mike for a week…that felt wrong. It was a betrayal of trust.
And of course, neither of us had known I was going to be naked the whole time. I couldn’t believe I’d forgotten to pack clothes.
I brushed my teeth, then made my way into the bedroom. It was a twin bed, but Mike and I had shared smaller. One time we’d gone to a music festival together, sharing a sleeping bag in the back of Mike’s van the entire time.
It hadn’t been a sexual thing. Truly. It was hard to imagine now, but we’d gone the entire night without issue. We’d barely even touched each other, sleeping back to back.
I bit my lip. No, that couldn’t be right. We’d…we’d always been touchy.
And I found Mike incredibly attractive.
I shook the thought away, and tried to focus on the situation in front of me. I was naked, and about to share a bed with Mike. A bed almost half the size of the kind I normally shared with my husband.
How was I going to get through the night without being unfaithful?
It was simple, I tried to tell myself. I was attracted to Mike, and we’d always been touchy, but…I was a grown woman. I was able to spend a night in bed with a man – even a man I was incredibly attracted to – without being unfaithful.
One night, yes. But an entire week…?
I took a deep breath. I’d handle it one night at a time.
When Mike entered, I was already under the covers. All he could see was my face, poking out from beneath the blankets.
“Hi,” I said, smiling nervously. Not that there was any reason to be nervous. I mean, there shouldn’t have been.
It was Mike.
“Hey,” he said, and a jolt of electricity ran through my body at his smile.
I really did find him incredibly attractive.
“You don’t need those,” he reminded me, and I nodded.
Right. Of course.
It’s too warm.
“Also, I normally just sleep in my briefs," he said, and I blinked twice. Another thing that had changed, I guess. Maybe as he’d lost weight, he’d grown more comfortable with his body. “Is that a problem?”
“Of course not,” I said, trying to sound relaxed. Trying to sound like my heart wasn’t beating a mile a minute.
“Good,” he said with a smile. “I mean, I can sleep naked, if that’d make you more comfortable.”
I tried to laugh along, but I couldn’t help but imagine it. Mike, naked, beside me in the bed. My naked body pressing against his. The cock I’d had in my hand, hardening, slipping inside me.
My best friend of twenty years, fucking me. Crossing a line we’d never crossed before.
“I think I’ll be okay,” I said, my voice shaking slightly. Mike smiled, and I felt my cheeks turning red as he lifted the blanket.
At first I thought it was just so he could get in, but he stood there for several minutes, his eyes running up and down my naked body. His eyes lingered on my breasts, my pussy, then finally moved up to my face.
He was looking at me.
Not just at me. Through me.
It was like Mike was looking into my very soul.
A warmth began to spread through my entire body as we stared; me, naked. Him, still wearing his t-shirt and jeans.
God he looked good in a t-shirt and jeans.
The t-shirt was tight, hugging the lean muscles in his chest and abdomen. The jeans clung to his thighs and bulge of his crotch. I wanted nothing more than to glance down and look at his cock, but couldn’t take my eyes off his.
I couldn’t take my eyes off his.
“You can touch yourself before you go to sleep,” he said casually, and I tilted my head to the side.
“W-what?”
“I do it, to help me nod off.” I tried not to bite my lip at the image: Mike’s hand wrapped around his cock, slowly stroking his erection until he came, his hardness pulsing as it shot thick ropes of cum onto his stomach and chest.
“Oh…” I said, feeling my pussy getting wetter. “Um…okay.”
“You should touch yourself before you go to sleep,” he repeated, and my eyes widened at the forceful way he said it. It was like his words were a sledgehammer, pounding directly my brain.
“I…I should touch myself before I go to sleep?” I asked, my voice trembling a little. I was still reeling at the authoritative way he’d said it.
“You should touch yourself before you go to sleep,” he repeated, smiling widely. I found myself nodding along with him.
He was right, of course. I’m sure I’d read a thousand studies on it. It released endorphins, helped clear the neural pathways.
Plus, of course, it just felt so damn good.
“I should touch myself before I go to sleep,” I said firmly, nodding along with enthusiasm. I was aware of how the motion of my head made my breasts jiggle, but Mike’s eyes never left mine. He just continued staring directly into my eyes, like lovers on a first date.
My cheeks burned at the simile that had sprung to mind. No, not like that at all. We were nothing but friends.
Touchy friends.
Friends who sometimes shared a bed together, practically naked.
I lost track of how much time had passed before Mike finally dropped the blanket. Not to cover me, which surprised me. I knew Mike wasn’t attracted to me.
Not like I was attracted to him.
But he threw it to the side, exposing my nakedness.
“Go ahead,” he said. “Touch yourself. I’m going to get ready for bed.”
I wanted to push back, to tell him that I’d do it later, but I couldn’t think of anything that made sense. Of course I was going to do it now; it was time for bed. I was in bed.
I should touch myself before I go to sleep.
“Mm-hmm,” I replied noncommittally, but Mike just kept on staring.
Crap. It seemed he wasn’t going to start getting ready for bed until I did.
I’m no stranger to masturbation. For as long as I can remember, I’ve touched myself at least a few times each week. It had been a while though; that’s the thing about being married, about living with your partner. It’s not that I don’t still masturbate occasionally; it’s just that if I’m in the mood for sex, I’ll just go seek out my husband.
I can’t go more than a day without being touched.
Mike’s eyes on my naked body, I slowly reached down and began playing with my breasts. I’m as straight as they come, but even I can see the appeal of a huge pair of tits like mine. Not that I’m attracted to my own tits, of course – it just feels great to tease them, to fondle their fullness, to squeeze my nipples between my fingers and enjoy the tingles that ran though my body.
My friend had a soft smile on his face as I slipped my hand down, placing it on my wet slit. I’d only been touching myself for a few moments, so I was surprised by how wet I was already. I guess it had been a while since I’d touched myself with an audience.
Especially one I was so attracted to.
A soft moan left my mouth as I began fingering myself, slowly working two fingers inside my wetness, enjoying the feeling of my pussy stretching to allow my digits' entry. I leaned back against the headboard, closing my eyes, letting myself feel every sensation that coursed through me. My mind drifted off, thinking about Mike, about how much I’d love to bend over and let him fuck me from behind. I imagined his hands on my waist, squeezing me, pulling me closer to him.
“Oh, Mike!” I moaned, before opening my eyes in a panic.
Fuck. Fuck!
My best friend knew I was attracted to him, of course, but…surely it was crossing a line to so say it out loud? To moan his name like that?
I couldn’t imagine how weird it must have been for him, hearing his name from my mouth as he watched me playing with myself. What if he thought it was too close to cheating, even considering how close we were?
To my relief, Mike’s smile only broadened.
“It’s okay,” he said softly, in response to my visible distress. “It’s a compliment.”
“I-it’s a compliment,” I replied. The three words had left his mouth so forcefully; my eyes watered at the intensity of our eye-contact as he delivered them.
“It’s a compliment,” he said again, looking at me earnestly.
“It’s a compliment,” I repeated, the words filling me with relief. Of course. Of course it was a compliment. If I learned that Mike jerked off thinking about me – not that he ever would, of course – I knew exactly how “complimented” I would feel.
God I was lucky to have a best friend like him. Someone so touchy. Someone okay with knowing I couldn’t go more than a day without being touched.
Someone okay with how incredibly attracted I was to him.
There was a long silence after that, my fingers gently sawing in and out of my pussy as we kept eye contact. Again, I expected Mike’s eyes to drift to my exposed breasts, my fingers on my clit, but he just kept staring at me.
I was the first to speak. “I’m s-sorry,” I said, my cheeks burning.
“Don’t be,” Mike smiled. “It’s nice to hear.”
I nodded. Of course. It was a compliment.
“Keep going,” he ordered. “I’m going to get undressed.”
My eyes widened at that. I knew I should get off before bed, and the sight of Mike undressing was going to make that so much easier.
I was so incredibly attracted to him.
Mike slowly raised his T-shirt over his head and tossed it aside. I drank in the sight of his naked torso. I’d seen him shirtless many times before, but this was different. He’d lost weight during the pandemic and replaced it with muscle, and looked amazing.
His abs were ripped, his skin smooth and hairless. As I stroked myself, my thumb rubbing my clit, I allowed myself to imagine what it would be like to run my hands over his body. We’d always been touchy, and I was so incredibly attracted to him.
Stroke by stroke, I worked my fingers faster and faster into my cunt, moaning as my orgasm began to build. “Mike…”I moaned. It was a compliment. “Oh fuck, Mike…”
In response, my best friend removed his jeans, revealing his briefs. I gasped as I saw the outline of his hardness, and my fingers sped up, my legs beginning to shake from the intensity of my pleasure.
“I want to suck your cock,” I moaned. It was a compliment. “I want to lick your balls. I want to taste you, Mike. Oh fuck, I want to use my body to pleasure you…”
Again, he smiled at the compliment, and I felt the bed shift as Mike sat down beside me. Part of me wanted him standing in front of me, where I could see him, where my eyes could feast on his gorgeous body, but I didn’t stop him as he lowered himself next to me.
Dirty talk was fine, right? It was a compliment.
“Please,” I begged. “Please put your cock in my mouth.”
Mike shook his head, that same arrogant smile on his face, but I couldn’t stop. I was so wet, so turned on.
“I want you to fuck me,” I confessed with a gasp. “I need you to fuck me, Mike. Please fuck me, please put your hard cock in my wet pussy. I want to feel you inside me, Mike…please fuck me, please…”
I was losing it. My hips were thrusting uncontrollably, my eyes rolling back into my head as my orgasm built. I was going to come. I was going to come so fucking hard, and Mike was watching. Watching me lose control as I talked dirty to him, watched me beg him to fuck me, watch my naked body as my tits bounced and my fingers pistoned into my pussy.
“Oh god, oh god, yes, yes, YES!” I screamed, coming as my body shook in ecstasy. My fingers slid out of my dripping cunt, and I gasped as my orgasm subsided, my whole body shivering as my last shuddering breath left my lungs. I felt Mike’s hand on my thigh, and when I opened my eyes, I saw him grinning at me.
“Looked like a good one,” he quipped, and I gave him a watery smile.
“Mm-hmm,” I confirmed. “Ready for sleep now.”
“Good girl,” he said, leaning over to give me a kiss on the forehead. My mouth twisted at the words – I’ve never been the ‘good girl’ type – but I enjoyed the kiss.
We’ve always been touchy.
Mike turned the light off slipped into bed beside me. It didn’t take long to realize that we’d both grown since our days of sharing a sleeping bag at a music festival. Either that, or the van had been bigger than I remembered.
At first I tried to lie butt-to-butt, as we had so many years ago, but it felt wrong. Mike kept wriggling, and I did too. It was unnatural, to be as close as we were without…I dunno, cuddling.
I wanted to throw my leg over his, put an arm over his chest. I wanted his arms wrapped around me, holding me tight.
But I didn’t dare.
Mike and I had to share a bed, because of his leaky ceiling. But…I mean, I was still married. He was my best friend.
And I was incredibly attracted to him.
Finally, Mike was the one to make a move. “C’mere,” he ordered with a grunt, and rolled on his back.
After my masturbation I was very ready for sleep, so I didn’t resist. I rolled over too, moving my head to his chest. His hands immediately reached down and grabbed my ass, and I sighed with happiness as he pulled me to him, my cheek pressed against his bare skin.
“You’re so sexy,” I mumbled. It was a compliment.
“Thanks,” he said, and I tried not to roll my eyes.
His hands began roaming across my body – we’ve always been touchy – and I wriggled in pleasure at how good it felt. He cupped my breasts, squeezing my bare nipples, and I allowed my hands to do what I’d fantasized about, exploring my best friend’s bare skin.
His chest was hard yet soft, and his thighs were surprisingly muscular. Mike, it seemed, didn’t skip leg day. And as much as I wanted to touch it, my hands avoided his cock. That would be crossing a line. I…I couldn’t touch his cock while naked in his bed.
No matter how much I wanted to.
Mike let out a soft moan whenever I got close, and I couldn’t help but feel a tinge of guilt. What would my husband say if he saw us now? Me, naked, Mike wearing nothing but a pair of briefs. Our bodies pressed together, our hands roaming each other’s bare skin.
He’d understand, surely. He knew we’d always been touchy.
He knew I couldn’t go more than a day without being touched.
Mike pinched my nipple and I groaned in response, squirming in his grasp as he continued to play with my breasts. My hands ached with the desire to wrap around his cock, to stroke my best friend, to feel his hardness throbbing under my palms.
I wanted to touch him. I wanted to get him off, like he’d gotten me off.
“I should…I should touch myself before I go to sleep,” Mike moaned, and I froze.
“W-what?”
“You want me to jerk off,” Mike said, and there was a strange tone to his voice. It sounded like he was doing something to his throat, causing the words to come out in an unnatural way.
They sounded forced. Staccato, almost. I didn’t know what it was, and I didn’t like it.
“You can’t,” I reminded him, feeling increasingly uncomfortable with my best friend’s hands on my bare skin.
Why was I letting him touch me like this? Why were we sharing a bed together? I was married!
Why was I naked??
“You want me to jerk off,” my best friend again, and this time I sat up. The room was pitch black, and a host of unwelcome thoughts were entering my head. How had I forgotten to pack any clothes? Why had I never told my husband how attracted I was to Mike?
Why had I let him get me off earlier??
I heard Mike curse, then there was a scuffle as he tried to find the light switch in the dark. I winced as the lights came on; Mike’s view was, once more, me on his bed with the blankets up to my shoulders, but this time there was a look of fear on my face.
“It’s okay,” he said comfortingly, reaching out to stroke my hair. I winced at his touch, but couldn’t help but meet his gaze…and immediately lose myself in his eyes.
His eyes.
I was sure they hadn’t always been so…deep. So dark. I felt like I was falling in them, falling into Mike’s eyes as I stared into them.
I don’t know how long we stared; all I know is that my heart rate slowed, my panic subsided, and I lowered the blanket.
It was hard to even remember what I’d been so freaked out about. This was Mike. Mike! He’d been there for every significant moment of my life. I trusted him more than I trusted my husband.
He was my best friend, and always would be.
All the weird stuff that had happened was my fault. I was the one who’d forgotten to pack clothes. I was the one incredibly attracted to him. And of course, I was the one who couldn’t go more than a day without being touched.
If anything, I should have been grateful that Mike put up with all my eccentricities. I was grateful.
I loved him. Attraction aside, he was my best friend, and I loved him.
“I-I’m sorry,” I said again, shaking my head. “What were you saying?”
“Nothing,” he said with a smile, moving his thumb to my face and tracing it across my lower lip. “We should get some sleep.”
He nodded, and I nodded along. It had been a big day – well, not really, but I’d had two of the most intense orgasms of my life – and we had to get some rest.
“I should get off before I sleep,” I said automatically, and Mike smiled.
“Yeah,” he said, leaning back for the show. “But be quick about it, okay?”
“Okay,” I said, laying back down. My eyes closed almost immediately.
I felt Mike’s hand trailing across my stomach, and I couldn’t help but tense up. He’d been standing up the first time I’d masturbated myself in front of him; now he was laying in the bed, close enough to touch me.
Touching me.
My breath caught in my throat as his hand moved higher, and I bit my lip as he gently stroked my breast. My nipples hardened instantly, and I moaned softly as his fingers brushed my bare skin.
I was so turned on. So wet. I couldn’t believe how ready I was. Even though I’d just gotten off, my body was already craving more.
Mike’s hand gripped my tit, and I gasped as pleasure shot through my body.
“Fucking hell,” I whispered, my eyes closing as my hips rocked. I could feel his cock poking my thigh, throbbing. Because of me?
No. No, he wasn’t attracted to me.
Not like I was attracted to him.
My fingers reached between my legs. I was so turned on, so ready. My body was screaming for release. For relief.
I touched myself, and I moaned loudly as I pushed two fingers inside. I was so wet, so ready. I needed to come. I needed to cum.
“Fuck,” I hissed, and I dug deeper. My hips bucked as I slid my fingers in and out of my tight, needy cunt. I wanted more, so I spread my legs wider, pushing my fingers in until they couldn’t go any deeper.
It was so easy to imagine they were Mike’s fingers. Or his cock! That my best friend was fucking me, using my wet cunt to get off. I wanted him to. I wanted him to fuck me.
We never could, of course, but that didn’t stop me from wanting it.
“Mike,” I moaned,. I was so horny, so desperate for it. I wanted to come, I needed to come, and I couldn’t help but think of my best friend.
It was a compliment.
“Mmm?” he replied, his voice buzzing against my ear.
“You’re so hot,” I gasped. “I want…I want your cock. I want it so bad.”
“Good girl,” he said again, and somehow in the heat of the moment it wasn’t so bad. For a moment – just a split second – I could see why some women liked it.
His hands were all over my body, touching my breasts and my ass. His cock poked my thigh. I whimpered, imagining it was his fingers plunging into my pussy instead of my own. Imagining it was his cock.
“Oh God, Mike,” I moaned. “I want you so bad. I want your perfect cock in my mouth. In my pussy. In my ass…”
It was a compliment.
I was so close. I could feel it, the pressure building within.
“Cum for me,” Mike gasped, and I couldn’t help but obey. “Come for me. Come for Mike…”
My thumb brushed against my aching clit (I couldn’t remember the last time it had seen this much attention in a day) and I moaned loudly as my orgasm hit me. A wave of bliss crashed over me, and I screamed as I came.
“Oh god!” I cried, my head thrashing as my body shook with pleasure. My entire body tensed as I rode my own orgasm, my fingers moving faster and faster as I tried to milk every ounce of pleasure from the moment.
It felt so good, cumming with Mike’s hands on me. It felt so good, touching myself while he touched me, while he groped my tits and my ass. While he whispered dirty words in my ear. I’d never felt like this before. Never felt like such a slut.
I never wanted to cum any other way again.
“Good girl,” Mike grunted, his breathing heavy. I considered telling him that I didn’t like being called that, but I had to admit…I was warming to it.
Besides, now that I’d cum again, I was well and truly ready for sleep.
The uneasy thoughts came back that night. I’d thought it would be better, cuddled up in bed with my best friend, but it was like Mike’s presence just exacerbated them.
I dreamed that my husband was watching, crying angrily as he saw his wife – his loyal, loving wife – with another man. As Mike fingered me, as he groped my breasts while eating.
“You promised,” my dream-husband sobbed. “You said there was nothing between you.”
“There isn’t!” I told him, even as Mike’s fingers dug into my ass and his fingers pushed inside me, filling me with pleasure. “I love you! I love you, I love you, I love you…”
I dreamed memories that never happened – packing for the trip, carefully picking outfits to take with me. I dreamed that I even tried a few of them on to make sure they still fit: during the pandemic year, I’d mostly worn loose shorts and tanks, only putting anything else on when I had a Zoom call or a Skype.
In my sleep, I asked my husband if a certain top was too revealing. “Probably,” he’d said. “Even for Mike.”
If that top had been too revealing, how was it okay for me to spend the entire trip naked?
And I dreamed impossible situations: that several times my husband had approached me for sex, and I’d turned him down. I, who couldn’t go more than a day without being touched, ignoring my husband requesting sex after a two-week drought.
It didn’t make any sense. None of it made sense. Either my waking hours were a lie, or my dreams were nightmare, glimpses from a life I’d never had.
Strangest of all, I dreamed about conversations I know I’d had. Real, true conversations with my husband: him, asking if there’d ever been a spark between me and Mike. Me, assuring him that there wasn’t. That I wasn’t attracted him in the slightest.
That conversation had happened, but in my dream…I was telling the truth. In my dream, I wasn’t lying to my husband, trying to reassure him while lying to myself. In my dream, it had been true.
I really wasn’t attracted to Mike.
And we certainly weren’t touchy.
The dreams had that unnatural ring of truth – dreams that when you wake up, you struggle to sort from reality. You can dream of someone you’ve known for decades, and wake up to discover they never existed.
You can dream that your best friend hasn’t spent his life casually groping your tits, running his hands over your body, stroking your inner thighs.
And when you wake up, it’s almost like it’s true.
I woke up with a gasp. The feelings, the memories, the distorted recollections…they’d all felt so real. But I knew they weren’t, of course.
I was incredibly attracted to Mike.
I’d forgotten to pack any clothes.
We’d always been touchy.
I can’t go more than a day without being touched.
Fortunately, I didn’t really have time to reflect on what the dreams had mean, what strange messages my subconscious was trying to tell me. For as I’d slept, my hands had found Mike’s cock, and I’d awoken to find myself slowly stroking it up and down while he smiled down at me.

Visit
by Pan

Chapter 4

It took me a moment to discern fantasy from reality. To realize that what was happening wasn’t a dream.
It was something I must have dreamed about a thousand times; my hands on Mike’s cock. His throbbing erection, between my small hands, as I slowly slid them up and down, lovingly caressing his shaft.
As I did so, I looked up at him. He was smiling, staring into my eyes, clearly enjoying my ministrations. Enjoying the feeling of his best friend’s touch.
His cock was so thick, so hard, and so long. It took my breath away, and I couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel to wrap my lips around it. My mouth began to water at the idea of taking him into my mouth, of sliding my tongue along its length. Of sucking my best friend’s cock.
I could imagine it so clearly. My head bobbing up and down his cock, one hand stroking his shaft, the other playing with his balls. I could imagine my lips wrapped around the tip of his cock, my fingers teasing his testicles as he moaned in pleasure. I could imagine it like it was real.
But it wasn’t. It couldn’t be, ever. I was married. Happily married, with a child. Mike and I were just friends – yes, I was attracted to him, and yes, we were touchy friends, but it wasn’t like that. I couldn’t go a day without being touched, but Mike – as the pandemic had proven – had far more self-control than I did.
He didn’t need me to touch him. I shouldn’t be touching him.
My eyes widened, and I pulled my hands away like I’d been burned. I couldn’t touch him! Not…not there.
He was my friend. I was married. I…I couldn’t cheat on my husband.
I glanced up at Mike. He was grinning at me, his cock twitching slightly from my light strokes.
“I’m so sorry,” I said hoarsely, finally feeling like I was completely awake. I was naked in bed with my friend, and in my sleep I’d somehow gotten my hands onto his cock. The cock of my dreams, in every sense.
“What’s wrong?” Mike asked, tilting his head to the side. My words tripped over themselves in my efforts to explain.
“I can’t…we shouldn’t…”
Mike reached out and took my hand in his, squeezing it gently. “What’s wrong?” he repeated softly, and I took a deep breath. Mike had always been so good at calming me down when I was spinning out; he got me, in a way that no one else ever had.
No wonder I was so attracted to him.
“I’m married,” I said, wincing slightly at the whiny tone of my voice. “I…I love you, but we can’t…I can’t…”
Mike gestured for me to breathe, and I did. “I love my husband,” I said, finally feeling calm. “I can’t cheat on him.”
A half-smile appeared on my best friend’s face. “It’s not cheating,” he said, his voice like thunder, “if you don’t finish me.”
I blinked twice. On the surface, what he’d said was nonsense…but I found myself repeating his words, almost compulsively. Like I couldn’t help it.
“It’s not cheating if I don’t finish you,” I replied, my voice shaking. It sounded just as ridiculous coming out of my mouth as it had from his.
“It’s not cheating if you don’t finish me,” he repeated firmly, his eyes burning intensely into mine.
“It’s not cheating if I don’t finish you,” I said with total conviction.
He was right, of course. It wouldn’t be cheating, because I wouldn’t finish him. Everyone knew that it wasn’t really sex without an orgasm; even my husband would have to agree with that. Even if he walked in to find me on our marital bed, naked, jerking Mike off…if I didn’t finish him, there wouldn’t be anything to be mad about.
It’s not cheating if I don’t finish him.
Of course, there was still the matter of our one-way attraction. I was incredibly attracted to Mike; I had been for as long as I could remember. But as much as I wished he returned my feelings, he didn’t feel the same way. Even when his eyes scanned up and down my body…from anyone else, it could have been mistaken for lust.
From Mike, I knew it was just friendly interest. Absolutely nothing more.
Mike shifted, and I realized my eyes were watering. I had been staring into his deep, stormy eyes for…only a few moments, surely?
I glanced down, and my brow furrowed. He’d been fully erect just a moment ago, but now his cock was flaccid. Even soft, it was so much bigger than my husband’s cock. So much thicker. Again, my mouth watered. I wanted to take it in my mouth so much; I wanted to feel him thicken in my mouth.
I wanted to suck Mike’s cock. I wanted to taste him. I wanted to run my tongue along the length of his dick as I slid my fingers along his shaft.
I wanted to fondle his balls, to move my mouth down and suckle on them. I wanted to tease him with my tongue, to slide it across the head of his cock and leave a trail of saliva all the way down to his balls.
And I could. So long as I didn’t finish him, I could do all of that and more. It isn’t cheating if you don’t finish them; so long as I didn’t make Mike cum, I could fulfill my every fantasy.
If he wanted me to.
But his cock was soft, and he’d been so clear the previous day. He wasn’t attracted to me. I was incredibly attracted to him, but he was not attracted to me.
“What’s for breakfast?” I asked with a soft smile. For a moment I thought Mike looked disappointed like he’d been expecting me to keep jerking him off. To continue pleasuring him.
But then he nodded, and I smiled wider. “Let me get dressed,” he said, and now it was my turn to be disappointed.
I had to be naked; I’d been stupid enough to forget to pack clothes, but of course, there was no reason Mike had to remain undressed. As much as I would’ve enjoyed the sight of his body – his wide shoulders, his flat stomach, and his tight ass – there was no reason for him to stay naked. So trying to hide my disappointment, I watched as he pulled on a pair of jeans and a button-up shirt.
He’s my best friend, yet I was so attracted to him that I could barely stand to look at him. Part of me was starting to wish I’d never come to visit at all – but of course, everything that had happened had been my fault. I’d been the one who hadn’t packed clothes. I knew how attracted I was to him.
And I’d left home with the full knowledge that I couldn’t go more than a day without being touched. That without my husband around, Mike would have to be the one who would give me the sexual release I needed.
Despite all the frustration, despite the one-sided attraction, that had made it worth it. The feeling of Mike’s hand between my legs, the confident way he touched me…it had been better than any orgasm I’d ever had with my husband. Better than any oral sex I’d received from a lover, or any time I’d touched myself.
Better than anything I’d ever experienced. I was starting to get wet again at the memory of it.
I followed my friend into the kitchen, my tits bouncing as I walked. He turned on the stove and started chopping mushrooms, chatting casually as he did.
“What do you want to do today?”
It took me a minute to realize; it was Saturday. Unlike the past two days, Mike didn’t have to work. We’d be able to hang out all day. Just him and me. Mike and his naked, throbbing, wet best friend.
My mind immediately flooded with what I wanted to do. I wanted to rip Mike’s pants off, wrap my hands around his cock, and stroke him almost to orgasm. I wanted to see how long I could tease him, without ever letting him cum.
I wanted to spend hours exploring my fantasy with my best friend. I wanted to touch him in ways I never dared with my husband. I wanted to choke on his dick, wrap my huge tits around it and let him fuck my titties.
After all…if I didn’t finish him, it wasn’t cheating. If I didn’t make Mike cum, I wasn’t betraying my husband.
“W-what do you want to do?” I asked, after the pause had gone on far too long. The only sound had been the sizzle of the mushrooms frying as Mike stared at me, probably confused why it was taking his best friend so long to answer such a simple question.
“Well,” he said thoughtfully. “Originally I’d planned to do a drive around the neighborhood, or walk past your old place. But…”
He gestured to my lack of clothing.
“Yeah,” I said, my cheeks flushed. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine,” he replied, but his tone spoke volumes. Mike was – not unfairly – frustrated by my packing mistake. For a moment I thought of how I could relieve his frustration, dropping to my knees in front of him and offering him my mouth. Taking my best friend’s cock deep into my throat, letting him use me like a fleshlight…so long as I didn’t finish him, it wasn’t cheating.
But he’d already told me that he wasn’t interested.
I shook my head. What was wrong with me? Mike and I had been friends for decades; a real, rich friendship. We’d been through so much together – why couldn’t I think about anything but sex?
All of a sudden a flood of anxieties hit me. Had Mike done something to me? I’d never been so driven by lust in my life, but since I’d turned up here, it was like I couldn’t think of anything but my best friend’s cock, his hands, his mouth, his body…
The way I got lost in his eyes, the strange timbre of his voice, my odd behavior…could my best friend be responsible? He’d always been so kind and gentle, but he’d changed so much during lockdown…and my visit was going so strangely…
I shook my head. No. It wasn’t Mike.
It was me.
I needed to be touched. Back home, my husband could fuck me whenever he wanted. My cunt ached at the memory of my husband’s dick inside me. I wanted to be fucked so, so bad.
Without that release, I was acting crazy. Combined with my intense, undeniable attraction to my best friend (exacerbated, of course, by how fit he’d gotten during lockdown)…of course I was climbing the walls. Of course I could think of nothing more than sex.
Sex with Mike. With my best friend. Wrapping my lips around his cock. Giving him the best blowjob he’d ever gotten. Swallowing him down until I felt his cock swell in my mouth, and my face flushed with embarrassment as I choked, my nose buried in his pubes, unable to breathe while I struggled to swallow him.
Taking him into the bedroom and having him fuck me until I came, until my body shook with orgasm, again and again and again.
But I couldn’t. We couldn’t. Not because I was married – it’s not cheating if I don’t finish him.
But because Mike isn’t attracted to me. Not like I’m attracted to him.
I realized he was waiting for me to reply. He’d asked me what I wanted to do, and I’d gotten lost in lust. I tried to think of something I wanted to do that wasn’t just using Mike for my pleasure, that wasn’t just sucking his dick, but…
“Um…I guess…we could watch TV?” I said, my voice weak.
“Is that really what you want to do?” he asked, and I suddenly remembered.
It’s a compliment. Talking dirty…even if he wasn’t interested, talking dirty was a compliment.
Besides, it wasn’t like he was going to get offended. It’s just Mike.
“No,” I said, my voice suddenly a low growl. “Here’s what I want to do. I want to sit here, and I want you to strip. And I want to stare at your body, and I want to touch you, and I want to lick you, and I want to suck on your cock, and I want you to fuck me until I can’t remember my name anymore. I want you to fuck me until I forget where I am. I want you to make me forget I have a husband. I want to feel your cock in my pussy, and I want to feel it in my ass. I want to be so coated in your cum that I can’t breathe. I want you to fuck me so hard that I can’t walk properly. I want to have the best fucking day of my life, and I want to have it with you.”
“Holy shit,” Mike said, his eyes widening, and for a moment I worried that I’d gone too far. But then a grin broke out on his face, and I breathed a sigh of relief. “What a compliment!”
My best friend reached down to adjust himself, and I realized…he was hard. My compliment had gotten him hard.
So why stop there?
“Can I help you with that?” I asked, sinking to my knees. I could only imagine what it looked like to Mike: his best friend, naked, on her knees, practically begging to suck his cock. It’s not cheating if I don’t finish him, after all.
God. I find Mike so incredibly attractive.
His mouth twisted to the side. “We shouldn’t…” he said, and I knew what he meant. He didn’t find me attractive.
But…well, I know men.
“It doesn’t mean anything,” I lied. It meant everything, but if he thought that, he wouldn’t let me do it. “It’s just…y’know.”
There was a pause, as Mike seemed to be thinking about it.
“We’ve always been touchy,” I added, and – to my great excitement – he shrugged.
“If you’re sure it doesn’t mean anything…”
“I’m sure,” I said, doubling down on my lie. It didn’t feel good, lying to my best friend, but…fuck I needed to taste his cock. I needed it.
No, that’s not true. I needed to be touched. I wanted to taste Mike’s cock.
Mike lowered his pants and boxers, revealing his erect cock. His erection was thick, and rock-hard. I took him in my hand, stroking him slowly.
“You’re so hard,” I whispered, and he nodded smugly. Had he always been this big? It’s not like working out, you can’t just…exercise your cock and make it grow bigger.
I gave his cock a couple of strokes, then licked my lips. “You sure about this?” he asked, and I nodded earnestly.
“Yes,” I said, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s just you.”
He laughed at that, but his laugh died in his throat as I wrapped my hand around him. I started stroking, using my hand on someone other than my husband for the first time since the day I’d met him.
Mike moaned at my efforts, and leaned back as I reached out with my other hand, playing with his hairy testicles as I jerked him off. It was everything I’d dreamed it would be – it felt like every part of my body was alight. It felt like I’d never been so alive.
I loved it. I loved everything about it. Every second, every sensation, every motion, every sound and smell. I loved him. I loved the way his cock felt in my hand. I loved the way he groaned when I played with his sensitive tip. I loved the way he moaned when I caressed his balls.
I couldn’t take my eyes off him. He was so beautiful. I find Mike incredibly attractive, and getting to admire him while I jerked him off was pure heaven.
And god, it was so easy to imagine that he was looking at me the same way. I know he wasn’t – Mike isn’t attracted to me, not like I am to him – but as I sucked his cock with gusto, it felt like his eyes were on me, watching me, admiring me.
“Fuck,” he muttered. I didn’t say anything; I didn’t want to distract from the moment.
He was so hard. He was so beautiful. I found Mike incredibly attractive, and the fact that I was kneeling naked in front of him while I jerked him off made me feel like the luckiest girl alive. The only thing that would’ve made it better was if I’d been able to finish him. If I’d been able to make him cum.
But I couldn’t. It’s not cheating if I don’t finish him, so as much as I wanted to, I had to hold back.
It wasn’t easy. Mike’s breathing was getting faster; it was clear that my hands were having the desired effect.
Did he want me as much as I wanted him? No, that was impossible. But I knew that he was enjoying it. I knew that he was enjoying what I was doing to him.
“Oh god,” Mike groaned. “Oh god, you’re so good…”
My entire body glowed at the tournament. I knew I was good at this, of course, but now Mike did too. I find Mike incredibly attractive, and while he’s not into me, he was enjoying my handiwork.
Maybe, just maybe, he’d think about me while jerking off later. After all…it’s not cheating if I don’t finish him…but I can’t control what he thinks about, can I? Maybe he’d remember this moment, his naked best friend kneeling before him, my hands on his huge dick, his cock throbbing in my grip.
I slowed my movements, letting him regain some semblance of composure. “That’s it,” he breathed, and I knew what he wanted. I sped up, jerking him off faster than before. I wanted to make him cum. I wanted to watch him shoot his load. I wanted to feel his cock twitch and throb. I wanted to see his beautiful cum leave his beautiful dick, and know it was because of me. All because of me.
But I couldn’t. It’s not cheating if I don’t finish him…but, of course, if he finishes himself…
I pulled away.
“Cum on me,” I pleaded. “Touch yourself, Mike, and cum on my tits. Cum on my face. Cum into my mouth. Please, Mike. I need it. I need your cum.”
Mike groaned, and his hand moved between his legs. I was so close, I could still feel the heat of his cock, and my pussy was aflame as I got to watch him start stroking himself.
“Please…” I begged, breathless and desperate. “I need it. I don’t care if you come on my face, or in my mouth, or on my tits. Just…please, cum for me.”
Without a word, Mike did as I asked. He slid his hand between his legs, and started stroking his cock. I watched his fist moving up and down, his other hand on the back of my head.
He was so hard. So big. So perfect.
I find Mike incredibly attractive.
“Cum on me,” I groaned, and my eyes widened as I felt Mike grip my hair tighter. “Come on me, Mike. Come on my tits. On my face. In my mouth. Just cum for me. Cum for me, Mike. I need your cum.”
I’m not sure how long he lasted, but it felt like an eternity. He never stopped jerking himself off and I never stopped begging.
“Oh fuck…oh fuck…” he groaned. “I’m gonna cum.”
I watched as his cock twitched, and then the first rope of his semen landed on my cheek, followed by another, then another, and more, and more. Soon, it felt like my entire top half was coated, Mike’s thick cum on my face, my chin, my chest, my cheeks. Some of it landed in my mouth, and I swallowed it down greedily.
It’s not cheating if I don’t finish him. But there’s no reason I can’t reap the rewards.
I’m not sure how much time passed. Time had lost its meaning. All I know is that when Mike finally finished, I was covered in his cum.
“Holy shit,” Mike murmured. I smiled at that, and gently wiped his cum from my face, before licking my fingers clean. I was unsurprised to find that I loved the taste. Mike watched as I moved more of his cum into my mouth, swallowing it down noisily.
God, how long had I been fantasizing about this? It must have been…
My brow furrowed. It was strange; I find Mike incredibly attractive. I have done for years. But for some reason, I couldn’t think of a single time I’d fantasized about doing something like this.
I’m a woman with an overactive imagination, so that made no sense. I had a list of sexual fantasies a mile long, but as I stopped to think about it, I couldn’t think of any featuring Mike.
My eyes widened. What did that mean? I’d lusted after Mike for years, but I’d never fantasized about him?
I couldn’t believe it.
Noticing the look on my face, Mike’s eyes caught mine. There was a soft smile on his face.. “You should keep my cum on your tits,” he said, distracting me for a moment. “You look good covered in my cum.”
The words hit me like a hammer. I blinked twice, repeating the words back before I realized what I was doing. “I look good covered in your cum.”
That…that wasn’t right. Was it?
“You look good covered in my cum,” Mike repeated, his voice firm and strong, his eyes staring into my soul.
“I look good covered in your cum,” I said, and I immediately knew it was true. Of course it was true. That was why pornographic films always ended that way, right?
I looked good covered in Mike’s cum. It made total sense. And as I reached up and smeared his cum across my tits, a thought struck me.
I looked good covered in Mike’s cum. He’d noticed. He’d noticed how good I looked, covered in his cum.
Did that mean…he was attracted to me?
It almost felt like too much to hope for. We’d been friends for so long, close for more than a decade. He’d been so clear in all that time; even though we’d always been touchy, he wasn’t attracted to me. Not like I was attracted to him.
I find Mike incredibly attractive.
But…had I found an exception? A loophole, almost?
Mike didn’t find me attractive…but I looked good covered in his cum.
I looked good.
“You like?” I purred, rubbing his cum into my hard nipples. My heart leapt as Mike nodded.
He liked!
Mike liked me. Mike thought I was attractive, covered in his cum.
God, that was so hot.
“You can cum on me anytime,” I promised earnestly, looking up at him. I was still kneeling, naked, in front of my best friend. His cock was just inches from my face…and to my delight, I saw it start to harden again.
“Do you want me to…”
I trailed off.
“Want you to what?” Mike asked, his cock growing hard and stiff. He’s so hot. I find Mike incredibly attractive, and the sight of his erection sent shivers through my entire body.
“D-do you want me to blow you?” I asked, my heart pounding. I tried to remind myself that it was okay. It’s not cheating if I don’t finish him. We’ve always been touchy.
It’s just Mike.
Before he even opened his mouth, I could tell he wanted to say no. Just instinctively, y’know? We weren’t like that. We were just friends. Friends who touched, sure, and it wasn’t cheating if I didn’t finish him. But he and I had never been like that.
But then his eyes flicked down to my tits, coated in his cum. I look good covered in his cum.
And my pussy throbbed at his response. Just one word, hoarsely delivered. “Yes,” he said.
It was all I could do not to jump up and down with delight.
“Okay,” I said, trying to play it cool. “I, um…”
I had no idea why I was still talking. I’d gotten everything I wanted. I trailed off, then reached up to grasp Mike’s cock again.
Even though I’d just had it in my hand a few minutes ago, I still marveled at how incredible it was. How incredible it felt.
I gave his cock a couple strokes, teasing him, wanting him to get even harder. And as it hardened, I opened my mouth in anticipation. I love Mike’s cock. I wanted him to fill my mouth more than I wanted anything.
It’s not cheating if I don’t finish him.
Moving my head down slowly, I took just the tip of Mike’s cock into my mouth. I savored the feeling of his shaft sliding against the roof of my mouth, the taste of his cockhead against my tongue. And then I went deeper.
“Fuck!” Mike cried out, and I felt my pussy tingle as he thrust his hips forward. I kept going, taking more of his cock into my mouth. I moaned softly as I felt his hands grasping my head, holding it steady.
I took more of his cock into my mouth. More and more until it was all the way inside. I wrapped my lips around him, sucking hard, bobbing my head up and down, loving the feel of his cock deep in my mouth. It was everything I’d imagined it would be. More. Better. Stronger. It filled my mouth completely, every inch of his cock.
I find Mike incredibly attractive.
I sucked his cock. Slowly at first, enjoying the sensation of having his cock in my mouth. Then faster and faster, until I was fucking his cock with my mouth, trying to take as much of his cock into my mouth as possible, sliding his entire length into my mouth until my nose pressed against his pubes. My tongue swirled around the head of his cock, teasing him, tasting him.
Mike moaned at that, and leaned back as I began to bob my head up and down, sucking his cock.
His hand was back on my head, controlling me, urging me to move faster. As he did, I bobbed my head with even more enthusiasm, taking him deeper into my mouth, until I could feel him pressing against my throat, his pubes tickling my nose.
Mike was breathing heavily now, groaning louder than my husband ever did. I loved it. I loved making him feel good, giving him pleasure.
I kept going, bobbing my head up and down his cock, loving the sound of each groan he uttered as I went deeper and deeper on his cock. The more I sucked him, the more I loved it.
I’m married. Part of me knew I shouldn’t be enjoying this. But I was.
I find Mike incredibly attractive. It was so easy to imagine finishing him with my mouth, allowing him to cum while I sucked his cock. To swallow his cum down. To finish him.
A sudden sense of panic washed through me. No. I couldn’t do that. I could never do that.
It’s not cheating if I don’t finish him.
If he came in my mouth, I knew I would swallow. I knew that I’d savor every drop of his cum. But I couldn’t let him. I wouldn’t allow it.
I’m married.
And despite how attractive I find Mike, I didn’t want to cheat on my husband. I couldn’t. He was at home, alone, on the other side of the country, taking care of our child. I couldn’t do that to him.
I pulled away from Mike’s cock. “Let me know when you’re close,” I said, looking up at him earnestly. He nodded, filling me relief.
God, I don’t know what I was so worried about. It’s just Mike.
My guilt dissipated as I resumed sucking my best friend’s cock. God, I love his cock. I loved how it felt in my mouth, how it tasted. I loved that I got to do what I had fantasized about for so long.
And I loved that soon enough, he’d be pulling out and covering me in his seed.
I look good covered in Mike’s cum.
I stared up at him, watching as he watched me suck his cock. I wondered if my devotion, my obsession was obvious to him. Was it clear as he watched me how much I enjoyed sucking his cock?
It’s not cheating if I don’t finish him.
I smiled at that, moving my head faster, bobbing my head up and down his shaft. He’d just cum, so I’d known it would take a while for my best friend to cum again.
I didn’t care. I’d do this all day if I could. I wanted to make him cum. Wanted to give him pleasure.
I found Mike incredibly attractive.
I looked good covered in Mike’s cum.
I moved my hand down between my legs, fingers curling around my clit. As I rubbed myself gently, I began thinking of my husband. Wondering how he was doing while I sucked my best friend’s cock. Wondering how he was feeling as I gave my best friend a long, slow blowjob.
He could never know about this, of course. He knew I needed to be touched, but this? He…he wouldn’t understand.
Besides, I’d promised I wouldn’t. I’d promised I wouldn’t touch Mike’s cock.
It’s not cheating if I don’t finish him.
A soft climax wracked my body as I sucked Mike’s cock, followed by a second a few minutes later. I kept stroking myself, bringing myself off. I couldn’t help it. I love Mike’s cock. I love Mike’s cum.
I look good covered in it.
It must have been half an hour and half a dozen orgasms later before I felt it; Mike’s orgasm was approaching. He must have been distracted, because he forgot to warn me – it was only because I recognized the signals that I was able to pull back, release him from my mouth before he exploded.
It’s not cheating if I don’t finish him.
My eyes widened in delight as my best friend began to shoot his cum onto my tits. I moaned as I felt his warm fluid cover my body, splattering over my breasts, running down my stomach, dripping onto my thighs.
I look good covered in it. I look so good covered in Mike’s cum.
He must have thought so too, because he beamed down at me.
“You’re so good at that,” he growled, and I beamed at the compliment. It was one of the nicest things he’d ever said to me, and I knew he was right.
It’s a compliment.
“Your cock tastes so good,” I replied, my voice soft and breathy. “I could do that all day.”
“You can,” he said, and I smiled, then licked my lips. “Or we could go further.”