Exploring what could have been [FMF]

Okay, just a couple of things as a warning/notice before I dive into this:

* This story involves cheating on at least one, but probably multiple people. I know that’s not everyone’s cup of tea, and I’m certainly not proud of it.
* It may not be a story that’s hot in the way you’re used to seeing around here. There’s not even full-on, PIV sex involved. It was hot to me on a fundamental, mind-blowing level, for reasons that will hopefully become clear. I’m writing this down for the first time, mostly as some kind of cathartic relief as I revisit this event in my mind every now and then.
* This will probably be pretty long. Skip to the break if you don’t care about the prologue/build up, although I think the build-up helps provide some important context.

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I first met Rachel when I was about 12 or 13. She’s the same age as me. We lived in the same cul-de-sac at the time. I’ll pause right here and clarify that this story does not at all involve underage sex; this is just backstory. We quickly developed feelings for each other, feelings which we could not fully explore. I was raised in a deeply conservative religion, where any form of dating was expressly reserved for two individuals exploring the possibility of marriage. You didn’t really see people of my church formally dating before 17 or 18. Her family, by contrast, was pretty non-religious. Actually, if I had to guess, I’d say they were probably a bit pagan. This was another wrinkle, because dating a non-Christian, even if I’d been of age, would have been a huuuuuuuuuuge no-no.

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Anyway, this religious barrier didn’t stop us from developing feelings for each other that felt pretty strong (yay hormones!). We spent as much time together as we could after school and during school breaks, enjoying each other’s company and slowly expressing our feelings through notes we secretly traded with each other. The secrecy was necessary because we hung out as part of a larger neighborhood group and we didn’t want word getting around to my parents that something was up. I would tape notes to her front door and she would leave me replies at the same place, and our secret relationship slowly blossomed. I fondly recall one note of hers stating that she ‘glowed whenever she talked about me,’ as her mother put it. Yes, if any budding young romance was deserving of a Disney movie and an Ed Sheeran song, it was ours.

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However, it was not to be. Eventually my family moved and I tried to be more of the upstanding Christian boy that everyone expected me to be. I detached myself from her and my other non-religious friends, and eventually wound up dating and marrying someone in my church when I was older. Eventually I broke from my religion and survived a divorce. Whilst I was still navigating the divorce, Rachel and I reconnected. At one point things got mildly physical – a bit of over-the-clothes groping and kissing one evening – but given my emotional state and her hesitation due to my divorce things were pretty awkward and did not go very far. We agreed to hold off on exploring our feelings further until I was more on my feet.

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We never rekindled any semblance of a romantic relationship (though she remained a frequent subject of my sexual fantasies). Rachel started seeing someone and eventually had a kid with him. While they were together, I met and fell in love with the woman who is now my wife. I still kept ties with my old friend and saw her every now and then. She and I shared that special kind of friendship where we always seemed to be able to pick things up right where we’d left them, regardless of how long we’d been apart. By the time I got married again, I still considered her one of my best friends. Thus it came to be that she was part of my wedding party, and was present the night of my bachelor party.

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*****Break for sexy-ish stuff*****

The eve of my bachelor party concluded at a strip club, as many are wont to do. Rachel had been unable to attend other bachelor party events earlier in the day, but I insisted through text message that she join the fun down at the club. Eventually she showed up. I should probably pause here to describe us physically. She is pretty slim, has naturally blonde hair, light-colored eyes and an absolutely beautiful face. She was wearing mostly black clothes, with bright red lipstick that she could really pull off well (I find I dislike bright red lipstick on 95% of women). Of all the women I’ve ever known personally, Rachel is in the top 3 most physically beautiful. I’m terrible at estimating chest size, but I would hazard a guess that at the time she was a large B-cup, possibly a small C-cup. As for me, I’m pretty average: light-colored hair and eyes, average build, and pretty average down below.

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As we ogled the dancers together, she asked me if I preferred asses or tits. I told her I was an ass man but appreciate both, and she vehemently insisted that titties are where it’s at. We were both eyeing this one dancer that appealed to both of us, and the dancer must have noticed because she came to visit us after her set on stage. She offered us a dance together, and against my better judgement I accepted. She led us up some stairs to a private room with a black nylon love seat.

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Now, in my limited experience at strip clubs, strippers will try to disrobe a woman receiving a dance approximately 100% of the time. This was no different. Shortly into the dance, the stripper started kissing Rachel, and eventually started pulling on her shirt. Rachel briefly resisted, raising her hands to pull her shirt back down, but the dancer very firmly insisted, “I’m gonna see these tits.” Rachel relented and slowly dropped her hands, without a word and without daring to so much as cast a sideways glance at me. The dancer pulled Rachel’s shirt and bra up above her chest, revealing breasts with which the dancer immediately started toying between her fingers and lips.

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I was absolutely dumbstruck. I’d once briefly seen Rachel’s chest in just a bra and always imagined that to be the most I’d ever see of them, to say nothing of watching another attractive woman lick and suck on them! My mind reeled at what was unfolding, with powerful thoughts and emotions hitting me over and over. The sexual tension in the room skyrocketed. My cock was immediately as hard as it has ever been. More importantly, the sensible part of my brain was screaming “red alert!” I ignored my better judgment and told myself that I was fine; I could enjoy the view and just look but not touch.

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I’m not sure what look was frozen on my face, but whatever look was there prompted the dancer to pause and ask me what was wrong. Somehow I managed to stutter out a reply: “You’re just all over someone I’ve lusted after for years.” The dancer offered – more insisted, really – that I scoot closer to Rachel and feel for myself just how great her chest felt.

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This was the pivotal moment that tested my resolve, and I failed miserably.

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I scooted right over on the couch and caressed her chest gently with my hand, brushing my fingers over nipples that had grown hard from several minutes of fondling. For the first time since we’d entered that room together, Rachel’s eyes met mine. The tension building between us reached a boiling point – I could see it burning behind her eyes – and our respective dams of responsibility violently and suddenly burst.

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In a moment, Rachel and I were all over each other. It’s hard for me to put to words the intensity of what followed. Our lips met and locked onto each other fiercely. Ours was a primal thirst, un-quenched for years, and we drank deeply of each other’s passion like nomads starved of water who had stumbled upon an oasis in the desert. She ran her hands roughly through my hair, gripping me by the back of the head and pulling me to her. I felt a primal, beast-like energy explode inside me, and I grabbed her hair in response, ripping my mouth from hers to suck and bite at her neck and clavicle.

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The sensations I felt were indescribable, like nothing I’d ever experienced (nor have I experienced since). Every time our lips met, our tongues fought each other in a violent wrestle. Our movements toward and against one another were aggressive, full of desperate passion. I am naturally aggressive when it comes to sex; I would describe my sexual being as very primal. I prefer sex that is as much wrestling for dominance as it is lovemaking, with passionate hair-pulling and biting where appropriate. For all other sexual partners in my life I’ve had to tone that back, and for the first time I felt truly matched on that sexual level. She met every one of my actions with the same intensity. I reveled in the ecstacy of the fire between us, my hands and mouth feverishly exploring every inch of her body that was laid bare to me. I had no semblance or acknowledgement of the passing of time and cannot tell you how long this lasted, nor was there any acknowledgement by either of us of the dancer still in the room.

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Eventually the dancer reminded us of her presence, managing to unbutton Rachel’s jeans and slide them down to just past her thighs. I pulled Rachel to her knees up on the love seat, my hands fervently exploring new flesh. My fingers slid down her back, relishing how the curves her ass felt beneath my fingertips. Finally, I brought a hand around her front, slid my fingers down her stomach and between her lips. Without hesitation from me and no resistance from her, I plunged a finger inside her. She was incredibly tight, the walls of her pussy clamping down around my finger. To date she had easily the tightest pussy I’ve ever known. I fingered her as she groaned into my mouth, her hands on either side of my head, tightly holding me close. I kept one hand between her legs, playing with her sex while our tongues continued to dance and our free hands roamed each other’s bodies. The world around us may as well have ceased to exist.

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At some point the dancer, perhaps feeling bored or left out, decided to take things even further. I felt her hands briefly running the length of my cock through my jeans before she kneeled in front of my groin and grabbed at my pants with some comment about needing to see it, similar to what she’d said before of Rachel’s chest. Rachel’s lips and mine briefly parted, and she stared at my crotch as the dancer slid my jeans down my legs and my member sprung free, precum freely dribbling down my shaft. I caught what might have been a look of even more intense desire spark in Rachel’s eyes as she saw it for the first time (or perhaps I was just kidding myself).

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My cock was only free for a few moments before the dancer set herself upon it and Rachel and I returned to feed on each other’s mouths. This new sensation was almost overwhelming. While lacking in any real passion, this dancer gave me the most technically skilled blowjob I’ve ever received. I’m not huge by any means, but most women I’ve been with have been unable to take my entire length without working at least working up to it a bit. This dancer did so easily, her lips immediately making repeated contact with my pelvis without any indication that she was approaching her limit; clearly she’d had lots of practice. There was perfect amount of wetness as her mouth slid up and down my cock, and she occasionally switched up to shallower strokes which she complemented with a hand twisting up and down my shaft.

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We stayed this way for some time, while I fought off an orgasm more urgently than I’ve ever attempted before. I had no idea how much time passed, but eventually it felt like we had been absent from the rest of our party for quite some time. We were yet to approach one final, pivotal moment. Eventually the dancer took her mouth from my cock long enough to ask what we wanted to do now. My mind spun. I wanted so much that I didn’t know where to begin. I wanted to feel her mouth on my cock, I wanted to taste her pussy, I wanted her legs wrapped around my head while I made her cum with my tongue. I was still so overcome by what was happening that I couldn’t eke out an answer.

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The dancer answered her own question: “I want to see you two fuck.” She pulled a condom from somewhere – a purse? I don’t remember or care – and tore the packaging open before rolling it onto me. She then pulled Rachel to her feet and slid her pants down to her ankles before pushing her back into my lap. Rachel’s ass pressed against me, with my cock saddled between her cheeks. We were literally inches away from escalating this situation even further. She leaned back against me and turned her head into my ear: “I need you to say that you’re okay with this, that you want this.”

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Her words were enough to break me out of my reverie and back to reality. I saw the line in front of us, and took stock of the lines we had already crossed. I was engaged, she was taken. My fiancée and I did play with others, but always together; I had definitely broken the rules and would be breaking another huge one if we pushed forward. I didn’t fully know Rachel’s situation with her man, but I imagined she wasn’t playing by their own rules either.

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I squeezed Rachel’s chest and pulled her tightly against me. “Will you come home with me?” I asked weakly, trying to salvage some chance of continuing our exploration a little more within the boundaries of fidelity. She declined, and slowly pulled herself away from me, standing up and pulling her pants back up. She smiled, told me to enjoy the rest of my dance, and departed.

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In the daze that followed, I pulled myself together and rolled the condom off, getting fully dressed as waves of regret, guilt and relief washed over me repeatedly. I left the room just moments after Rachel. I returned to my seat and enjoyed more naked dancers, enjoying the smell of Rachel’s pussy which lingered on my finger.

*****End sexy-ish stuff*****

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I’ll put a bit of an epilogue here in case people are interested. Nothing further ever happened between me and Rachel. I told my fiancée what happened a few days later, and with saint-like grace she forgave me and we moved on and married. Rachel split from her then-boyfriend some time later and is now happily with someone else. I do often think wistfully about what would have happened had we fully explored each other’s sex; to find out just how well we matched each other’s raw, primal passion; and to see if she really had the same sexual tempo and temperament that I have (and which no other partner of mine has met), or if that was just a one-time phenomenon on her part fueled by years of tension.

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Ultimately though, I’m glad we did not fuck at that club. I’m glad too that Rachel refused my offer to come home and join my fiancée and I in bed, as that would have been exceptionally shitty to my fiancée given the context. Ultimately what I did was extraordinarily terrible, and I’m supremely lucky that my (now) wife forgave me. Aside from my regret over crossing that line, my second largest regret was that I did not invite my wife along to the club. Had the three of us been together getting that dance, the night may have played out even more interestingly (both Rachel and my wife are very bi).

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If you’ve gotten this far, thanks for reading. It was nice to get this off my chest.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/ajjt9n/exploring_what_could_have_been_fmf