My Ex and My Best Friend [MFM] [Rough] [Cheating] [Humiliation]

Nowadays, if a friend or acquaintance asks if I’d like to join in and get high, I get that all too familiar pit in my stomach. You know the kind – the kind that reminds you of all the bad shit. The loss of a loved one, an anxious job, or in this particular instance, being cheated on. I was high the first time I was cheated on by the love of my life. And ever since then, I have never enjoyed reliving that sensation, and I’m about to tell you why.

Emma was all you could ask for in a girl. She was short, perky, incredibly intelligent to match her unbelievable attractiveness. Dark brown hair that turned to rose under dim lighting, and sweet blue eyes that occasionally turned grey. Her skin was smooth and full of freckles, and her personality made even strangers warm up to her immediately. I write about her as if I havent gotten over her, and that’s because I really havent. I still don’t know if I’m to blame, my ex best friend Martin, or Emma herself for whatever happened. I try not to think about it too often. That pit in my stomach always ends up feeling worse and worse. It’s hurtful to admit that through this all, I lost two bestfriends.

Emma and I moved in together shortly after college. Being our first place, we treated it like paradise. I caught up on all those years without gaming, and bought all the consoles and newest electronics. A bit more restrained, she instead chose decorations and focused on our new dog, a golden retriever named Ike. We were a cute happy family, or at least trying to be one, and we spent our time loving each other and strengthening our relationship. Our two bedroom apartment was all we needed, and at the time, we really couldn’t be happier.

I should’ve followed all those r/relationship threads that commented on how such a move was clearly a bad idea. But, I believed our relationship was stronger than most, and the thought hadn’t even crossed my mind. On the summer of 2017, my best friend Martin had been kicked out by his girlfriend in a town a few hours away. We hadn’t connected in years, but we had the kind of friendship where we could reach out and pick up where we left off without any real roadblocks or discomfort. I feel most guys are similar. He never directly asked, but he had nowhere to stay. I talked about it with Emma briefly, and she relented. The very next day, I offered Martin our second room. He was hesitant at first, but after a bit of convincing, I was able to pick him up and help move his few things over. He didn’t have much, some clothes, a night stand, and a lamp. Safe to say that his ex kept most of their things, but it made the whole thing a lot easier. I wish I had never offered him a room. I was naive and too trusting, and that pit in my stomach recognizes a bit of guilt for what happened, as well.

Martin, for all his friendly traits, was a bit of a slob. He hardly picked up after himself, and his room was now mostly filled with random packages, porn magazines, and trash. With no bed, he was still using our pullout couch with some blankets, the same setup with had out for him for months. He never notified his last employer that we was leaving, so they fired him, which made it difficult for him to find a good job. He was the typical lazy guy that got around just fine by doing nothing. After some initiative on my end, I managed to get him a night shift at a local UPS warehouse. I swear, it’s as if I practically interviewed for him myself. Now he’s working nights, slouching through the entire day, while Emma and I work our office jobs through the week. I should have kicked him out then, but kept giving him chances. I figured he must’ve been depressed from his breakup. Emma avoided him and never really liked him, I thought. Just the occasional Hi’s whenever I was around. The only time we spent together was during the weekends, where we shared our living room with our single TV, and watched netflix and hung out together on a new uncomfortable futon we had to buy. We were really just focused on getting by, at this point. Him leaving was hardly ever discussed anymore. This went on for months.

A few weeks before the incident, I noticed a few things that I should’ve paid more attention to. Hindsight is everything. But at the time, I didnt worry about it much. I was stressed with new management at work, and Emma had started a new morning shift. We only really saw each other late at night, or during the weekends. It all felt very temporary.

First thing, I went into Martin’s room one night to look inside our storage closet. While exiting, I found a pair of Emma’s panties just laid out by his night stand. I recognized them immediately, freaked out, and showed Emma. The panties were used, likely from her laundry basket. She made a comment about how long she’d been looking for those, and she genuinely seemed surprised and upset. To this day, I don’t know whether she knew or not. She pleaded for me not to mention it to Martin, but to instead focus on him moving out. I never saw her wear those panties again.

Second, I was beginning to feel concerned about their friendship. During our weekends, they’d now laugh together through inside jokes and random teasing. She started calling him “dork” and he started calling her “loser” both things that rubbed me the wrong way. They also started play fighting and punching each other suddenly when certain phrases were said, like sexual innuendos. I talked to Martin about it asking him to stop, and he did and apologized. But Emma continued to play fight even after speaking with her about it. I’d occasionally catch him holding her in place and her struggling to break free. I wondered what types of games they were up to while I wasn’t around to confront them.

Lastly, but most importantly, my relationship with Emma was now strained. We would occasionally argue about Martin. I was confused with her constant flip flopping between wanting him gone, and asking for more patience. With our new schedules, we also saw each other less. We hardly ever had sex. We never texted much, but now we sometimes wouldnt text for days. She’d stop responding whenever she’d get home, and she’d admit it was due to her “wanting to relax”. But after the first two points I mentioned, I couldn’t help but feel she was spending more time with Martin. In my paranoia, I left work early at one point, positive I’d catch them sleeping together. My heart racing as I walked up the stairs towards our apartment, I was surprised to find them in opposite ends of the living room. Him on the couch, and her against the wall on her iPad. I sighed in relief, and came up with some work excuse for my early arrival. They both didn’t seem too phased, so I began to worry less. Now whenever I was around for the most part, they say in opposite areas of the room as such.

The night where things fell apart, was a long weekend where each of us had Monday off. Emma and I had taken the day to celebrate her mom’s birthday on Sunday, and Martin was taking the day to buy a new car. Progress, I thought. Friday night, Martin showed up with some beers to celebrate, I ordered us some pizza. It was a small celebration between us three, and only a few weeks after my early arrival full of anxiety, I thought it would be a great opportunity to clear the air. It all felt very relaxing. We were in full weekend mode, Emma in some short pajama shorts and tank top, lounging around. She hardly ever wore a bra anymore. Martin in his usual basketball shorts and tshirt. I felt overdressed in jeans, so I joined in and left to put on some shorts. When I came back, Martin and Emma were sitting on the futon together, lighting a cigarette. “I got some weed for us” Martin said. I had nothing against weed, just never tried it. And I knew for a fact Emma never had either. When I had previously offered, she seemed reluctant. Before I could say no, Martin was holding the blunt right up for Emma to inhale, and she did. He followed it with “Good girl, I’m gonna get you fucked up tonight” and they both chuckled. We continued to drink throughout the night and smoke, and I constantly felt like I was in a worse shape than anyone else. The room would turn, and It’s as if I was viewing the world in small bits and pieces, cutting out in certain points. I was sitting on the futon when the paranoia hit, I still remember it all now. I came to at a moment to realize I was alone, I turned back quickly to find Martin and Emma in the kitchen together, side by side over the counter. Martin’s hand down Emma’s shorts from behind rubbing her in a fast motion.

The rest of the night, I felt like my words didn’t matter. I would occasionally say something, and no one would react. I got up to ask what they were doing, and the two dispersed without saying a word. I pretended not to notice, stupid of me. Emma went to her usual corner, across the futon to read her iPad, and Martin sat on the edge glaring right at her. I sat beside him and asked about what he’d do with his old car, but he ignored me. Time seems to fade again, and I came back to to find Martin stroking himself on the futon, dick fully on display, staring at Emma. Emma is staring back at Martin, iPad on hand, with her knees up to her chest. I notice she’s not wearing underwear under her shorts, and the looseness of the shorts have her fully exposed. I angrily tell her to “close those legs” but again, no one seems to hear me. She seems to be exposing herself directly for Martin, as his strokes become harder. Time cuts out again, and I’m alone on the futon. Desperate and scared.

I find the light to the bathroom is on, and I knock. Emma answers. I ask her where Martin is and she says she doesn’t know. Yeah fucken right.

Still in full panic mode, I go into Martin’s room. Another pair of panties by his night stand. These ones are still wet. I shout out for Emma, but no answer. I see Martin’s phone, and in a fury, I grab it and open it. No password. I go through text messages, facebook, Instagram, nothing incriminating. I open his gallery to find a folder titled “WhatsApp” and open it, and that is when I nearly throw up. Pictures of him nude. Pictures of Emma, selfies in various positions. Pictures of her in pjs and other halfnude sleepwear. Pictures of her thighs and legs. Pictures of her taken as creepshots. Pictures of her in shorts pulled up high enough to show a camel toe. I’m furious, confused, disappointed and sexually frustrated. I can’t tell if all of these are sent by her, or taken by him, or what. I frantically look for WhatsApp, all the while shouting for Emma. He has the app hidden inside a folder, and my heart sinks to see the only message being from “Em” obviously from Emma. I open to find a quick confirmation of my suspicions, with previous conversations clearly deleted. I’m guessing the idiot forgot to delete these while getting high and drunk that night.

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I had never heard her talk like this. I couldn’t believe what I was reading. I was angry at myself for being high and drunk at such a terrible moment. I wanted to confront them both and find out the truth, but I could barely keep myself from vomiting or falling down. Was she manipulated into this? Was he? How long had this been going for? What could I possibly do to either of them?

That’s when I heard it.

Muffled moaning coming the wall. I dropped his phone and ran to the hallway to find the light still on from the bathroom, the door open, and the door to our bedroom shut. They were both inside. I pounded at the door, shouting at them holding back tears of anger. No answer. Just the sound of our bed creaking, and the frame hitting the wall sending shockwaves throughout the apartment. Her moaning “please” I couldn’t believe it all. I must be dreaming. I was in and out of what felt like a dream state, constantly awakened by the sounds of my girlfriend getting fucked by my best friend. Based on her moans pleas, It didnt feel consensual, or she was pleasing for him to go slower.

Half an hour must’ve passed. I sat on the hallway like a child, listening in to every sound, dozing in and out of consciousness. After an eternity of moaning, there was silence, and the door opened. Emma came out wearing a different tank top and different pj shorts, hastily put on. I’ll never forget what she said to me next.

“Heyy. I’m so so sorry. I’m really fucked up. I really fucked up. I just don’t know what to say.. I’m so sorry.”

I sat there in disbelief, choosing to avoid looking at her directly. Martin didn’t make an appearance. I could hear him shuffling inside our bedroom. Emma sat beside me, and placed her arm around me, crying softly by my shoulder.

“I just really need this” she said “we really need this. I’m sorry but we do. Just for tonight, I promise. I promise it won’t happen again, it’s just a one time thing. We’re both just really fucked up, and will regret it if we don’t. Please don’t hate me? Just tonight. Do you think maybe you can sleep out in Martin’s room?”

I couldn’t believe her words. She wanted this. It was just a fucken disaster. I’m embarrassed to say, I pleaded with her. I begged her not to do this. I begged her to leave the room, and stay with me. I told her he’d be gone in the morning, and we could start over. I begged her to think about our home.

She ran her hand through my hair the entire time, and listened, never saying a word as I cried. That familiar pit began to develop as I knew she wouldn’t listen, and she had chosen tonight to end it all. She looked me in the eyes and comforted me, saying the usual shit as before, that “just please for tonight, let’s just pretend to be friends and let this happen” 4 years of our relationship gone in a swift instant. She held my hands and pleaded once again “just pretend Martin and I are dating tonight, just tonight please. you’re more the welcome to stay, I want you to. I don’t want you to leave. I promise itll be just tonight, just fucking and nothing else, I swear. I swear we’ll leave the door unlocked too, so we can stop at any point if you feel worse.”

I grabbed our dog and left. I went for a walk. I cried, I shouted in anger, I held my dog and cried some more, all while my girlfriend and best friend fucked on our bed back at our apartment. There was a desperation in me, something I’ve never felt before. An unusual sexual frustration where I wanted her hurt, where I didnt care what she did, or who she fucked, I felt isolated and broken. I felt alone. My knowledge of Martin’s sexual preferences made it all worse, he only ever liked it rough. His favorite phrase was “fuck them until they can’t walk” Emma was experiencing that very thing, right now.

I walked our dog back after an hour, it was practically midnight by now. I opened the door to our apartment and heard nothing, our bedroom door was still closed. I put our dog to bed, and sat there with Ike for what felt like forever. More indistinguishable sounds coming from our bedroom. I went to lay in Martin’s bedroom, on the floor, staring at the empty ceiling. The sounds had now turned to heavy grunts, Martin more vocal than before. The occasional moan from Emma, her pleading for him to be more gentle, and the sound of her ass being spanked. I laid there confused. Angry. Turned on. Humiliated and aroused. Whenever her moans became clearer, he would be quick to muffle them, I’m assuming by covering her mouth. And the night went like this for much of the same. The intensity grew more and more, but she still allowed it to go on.

They moved away from the bed, and moved to the floor. The bed stopped shaking, but the grunts continued. He kept repeating “Just fucking take it” At some point, I could hear her gagging, and him encouraging her to take it “all the way in” as she apologized over and over. I heard him talking about how perfect her ass was. How pink her pretty lips were. How tight she was. How long he’d been waiting to use her like this. I laid there and listened to it all. I heard my name several times, but never clearly heard why. I had heard Martin fuck a girl like this before back in our old parties. Always bragging about how rough he took them afterwards. I couldn’t believe he was doing the same to my girl tonight. A few hours later, they would stop, only to resume after a short period. They would do this again and again. He had her every way he could think of.

I got up, wandered around our apartment, before finally trying for the door, I had had enough. I needed to be free of it all. I needed to kill him for doing this to her. For taking advantage of us both. I needed her to see my rage. I reached for the handle, and the door was locked. I would not let her become just another fuck for him. Not like this. She screamed in pain as he commented on how tight her ass was, and he proceeded to fuck her harder than before. Be wasn’t pleasant. I tried for the door again, wanting to save her;

The door was locked.

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/chsknc/my_ex_and_my_best_friend_mfm_rough_cheating