The wife was 20 feet away when our houseguest made me hard [MF] (Part 1)

So a few years after college, after a breakup, then a get-togther, then another breakup, and then ANOTHER get-together, the girlfriend and I finally got married, and things were good. I had settled down, never even looked at another woman once we got engaged.

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A few years later, not quite the seven year itch, but close, a friend from college moved in down the street. She had been part of the triathlon club, and we hung out together, but nothing special, we weren’t even really that good of friends.

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However, once she moved in down the street, we started riding together occasionally, and jogging as well. We ended up working out 3 or 4 times week together and became fixtures in each other’s houses. She lived with a couple of girlfriends, and went through boyfriends like other women went through shoes. She was a great athlete but terribly insecure and needy otherwise, whether it was the personality that caused the boyfriend hamster wheel, or vice versa, who knows. I tried not to pry.

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I didn’t consider her super attractive, but she was very fit, had a great tight little body, and obviously I’d seen a lot of it, in running shorts, triahtlon outfits, halters.

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One night after a workout she had come back over to my house to talk about upcoming workout plans.

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I was sitting on the floor stretching my hamstrings, and she offers to walk on my back. The walking on my back progressed to a back rub, her straddling me. You’d think I’d know better….

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And then gets me to turn over. And she’s still on top of me, straddling me, her hands working over my my chest, then my neck. Tight little runner body, firm legs, small breasts. I laid there with my eyes closed, feeling her on top of me, as she moved her hands, her body followed. She began to grind against me. Didn’t take much to get an erection, of course, and my hands found her waist, then her ass, and found she wasn’t wearing any panties under her thin warmup pants.

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“Laundry day”, she said.

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I let my hands slide up her sides, found the bra strap under her shirt, and mentally was a bit disappointed. She read my mind, saying “no, just underwear in the wash.” At that moment, I really wish she’d have left her bra at home, I wondered if I would have had the nerve to move my hands to her breasts.

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Then she laid down on top of me, and my hands on her butt, it was only natural to squeeze her. Doing so caused her to grind down against me, at the same time she began kissing my neck, cheeks, chin.

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Then she slid over to her right, so she was lying half on top of me, half next to me. And she starts letting her hands wander over me, over my belt, down to my hip. She let her fingertips move up and down, getting closer and closer to my zipper, to the point that she could very clearly tell how hard I was.

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I kept waiting for her to touch the ridge in my jeans, she never did. I felt myself throbbing, fully extended Was she waiting for me to say something? Or to take her hand and move it the inch or two over to touch my bulge? We laid there for maybe 10 minutes, or 15, until it became clear that she wasn’t going to go any further, and I wasn’t going to prompt her. But it was clear she was definitely interested, and flirting, showing me she wanted more than our friendship. Nothing explicit happened, but we had crossed that line.

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A couple of days later we went running, and when we got back, my wife was in the back yard raking. We had gotten something to drink, and we were sitting on the couch, wearing our running clothes. We were both wearing running shorts, those thin nylon shorts that were fashionable in those days. In those days, mens shorts were still quite short, and womens were even shorter, like volleyball shorts are today.

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She was looking very good in her tight little t-shirt and short running shorts, skin tight, exposing lots of skin. And our conversation became a little flirty, then a lot flirty. Sitting next to me, we were already close. Then she let her leg brush against my leg, and looked directly at my crotch.

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My shorts gathered up at my crotch, exposing my legs all the way, and outlining a very distinct bulge. She made it clear she was interested, again. But we heard my wife outside, raking, not even 20 feet away, through just one wall.

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I can’t believe I did this next thing…. I stood up, facing away, my t-shirt hanging down, slipped off my shorts, then my sport briefs, then put my shorts back on. Then sat back down. And then just wearing my shorts, those thin nylon shorts, a lot more freedom to grow inside my shorts, obviously, and the outline of that growth was way more visible through the thin nylon.

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So she began touching my leg again and of course I began to grow immediately. She could see the cylinder inside my shorts move, the outline growing, the ridge very visible. What was worse, more exciting, but worse, was that my wife was outside in the back yard, working on the garden. You can imagine how excited I was, the illicit sensation, and wondering if she was going to touch me. I wanted to orgasm so badly, it would have only taken a slight touch to pop.

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She moved her fingers back down to my legs, to the hem of my shorts, and began teasing them, tugging at the them, knowing it would take just a slight adjustment to reveal what was underneath. She would move them a bit, up towards my stomach, threatening to show what was underneath, then let them fall back down.

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Occasionally her fingertips would graze the bulge of my balls down below, very lightly, but distinctly too.

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Then she let her fingers wander all over my shorts, not quite touching the ridge, but oh so close…. the ridge is very visible, including every detail of the knob. And it’s throbbing, literally moving of its own accord.

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Did I mention her tight tight shorts? LOL She had quite a cute little ass, and they were so snug in front, in the crotch, not leaving much to the imagination either.

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Then again, teasing me by running her fingers along the hem, slowly pulling the hem up, more, more, until finally she did it, pulled the nylon cover up to expose the orange liner underneath.

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And by then I had leaked enough to generate a very visible wet spot in the liner.

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Her fingers danced all over my legs, over the nylon shell, and near, but not on the ridge in the orange liner. The ridge continued to grow, until it was fully extended.

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And she’d run her fingers along the shaft, on the material, but not touching the shaft itself.

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And she’d run her fingers up one side, then around the knob, kind of like sailing around Cape Horn in Africa, and then down the other side. Never touching but getting so close….

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And I’m lying back, eyes closed, my erection feels like it’s the size of a baseball bat, pointed out at my hip. I’m listening to make sure we hear my wife come in the back door, because this was SO wrong. The other night, well, it was late, it was not proper, but… could almost be excused. Almost.

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This time, this is explicitly sexual.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/bv2vvn/the_wife_was_20_feet_away_when_our_houseguest