Fucking our Best Friends…at a Funeral [Group]

*Names and minor details have been changed for anonymity*

So this is technically Part IV of “Truth or Dare Ball” if you’ve enjoyed that. But it’s been a long time since I wrote [Part III](https://www.reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/cis7xp/truth_or_dare_ball_part_iii_full_swap_group/) (which is relevant to this story, I’ll explain in a second). If you want to catch up on the entire story it [begins here](https://www.reddit.com/r/Hotwife/comments/9jj99v/swapping_at_a_halloween_party_an_intro_to_truth/), but I’ll do a quick recap if you don’t feel like it.

Hi, I’m Brian. 33 years old, 6′ even, broad-shouldered, barrel-chested, full beard and chest hair. I’m a martial artist, so I can turn heads when I’m training hard. Right now I’m stuck in the house all the time so I’ve got a serious dad-bod going on, but I’m working on it I promise. My wife Michelle and I have been together for 8 years. She’s 29, she’s 5’4”, she’s fit and hourglass curvy. Pale skin with long red hair down her back. She’s a pole fitness instructor, so she’s strong, lithe, and confident. My best friend Mark is the lead singer and guitarist of an unknown but really good band. I say this as a straight guy: I’ve been called handsome, but Mark is fucking hot. My *mom* has a crush on Mark. He’s 5’11 with a swimmer’s body. Punk rock style: a nose ring, tattoos, leather bracelets, a mop of red-brown hair and stubble. His wife Winn is 5’3 and thin. Bright blue eyes with thick, shoulder-length, curly blonde hair. Winn is cute. We’ve all fucked a couple times.

Now why has it been so long since I’ve written about this particular adventure? In the comments of the last part, someone asked if there would be more. I responded, “We’ve planned a session, but it got cancelled because our mutual friend went into the hospital. Fucking in a pile while a friend is sick seemed disrespectful.” Welp…our friend fucking died. Complications from surgery. Which is not sexy, I apologize, but you clicked on a story with “Funeral” in the title so there’s going to be some of that. Embrace it. It’s taken me almost a year to process these events to a point where I feel comfortable about sharing what happened.

Now my comment was indeed correct: What you’re about to hear is *extremely* disrespectful. I know this. I own this. If you want to rag on us for being shitty people, please stop reading now. This is how four mourning humans coped with a devastating loss, and affirmed their own lives in a moment of desperation. Intro complete. Have fun. Wiggly flashback transition.

I sat in the back row of a packed funeral home, my wife Michelle seated to my left. Winn sat to my right, and Mark was next to her. We all had tears in our eyes. Our friend DJ had just passed away and we were all pretty lost. Michelle and I were managing alright; we liked DJ a lot but we weren’t super close with him. Mark and Winn though? They were ruined. Mark and DJ had been best friends since they were kids. They fought off bullies together. They were roommates for years. DJ is the one who introduced Mark and Winn, and was the Best Man at their wedding. So you can imagine.

Michelle had her head on my shoulder and held my hand. Winn was doing the same with Mark, her eye makeup running in streaks down her face. This was the first time Mark had sat down in hours: he’d practically set up the entire funeral. He decided to go grab some water, so Wynn leaned against me instead. I joke as a coping mechanism, so as the girls cried quietly into my shoulders, I said, “This is not how I prefer being sandwiched between you two.” They both stifled laughs of relief. “Thank you, I needed that” Wynn said weakly. I responded with “Seriously though, anything you need to get through this, we’re here for you.” My wife nodded in agreement and grabbed Wynn’s hand. “Well…I didn’t want to say anything because Mark is so devastated but…can I be honest with you?” Michelle almost laughed. “Honey, we’ve all fucked in a pile. There’s no one in this room you can be more honest with.” Wynn nodded in acceptance. “I just…I don’t know if it’s the grief or what but…I’m just so horny. Mark and I haven’t had a minute to ourselves all week and I feel like I’m about to explode.” Here’s a sentence I never thought I’d write: I started getting hard in the funeral home. Hearing her talk like that in her tight, black lace dress with mascara running down her face just hit me in an unexpectedly sexy way. And she had a point: Michelle and I had been feeling the same. Sex is the greatest affirmation of life after all. “Well…would you like to borrow Brian?” my wife half-joked in a hushed whisper. “Absolutely yes please. But…we’ve got family staying with us for a few days more. I don’t think we’ll be free anytime soon” Wynn complained. I took her hand, gave my wife a wink and told her “We’ll be back in a while.” Michelle beamed as I led my friend’s wife to the back of the building.

Wynn bit her lip and said, “Where are you taking me?” I put my mouth close to her ear as we walked past some aunts and uncles and said “Shut your mouth, slut” under my breath. Her face flushed and she started breathing heavily. She liked being degraded. I was looking for a private door with a lock. The men and women’s bathrooms were an option, but we would certainly be interrupted. And what would it look like if the two of us came out of a bathroom together? I saw the scatterbrained funeral director running around like a headless chicken, so I made a beeline towards him. I put my arm around Wynn and said to him, “Hi I’m so sorry to bother you. My wife was best friends with the…departed, and she’s really overwhelmed right now. Is there somewhere quiet she can hide for a few minutes?” He looked warmly at Wynn, her face streaked with tears and eyeliner, and said, “Of course darlings. There’s a private room by my office, just turn that corner you can’t miss it.” I thanked him and we made our way around the corner.

Wynn was breathing heavily by the time we got to the door, but not from crying this time. “So um…you calling me your wife turned me on a lot. Like *a lot*.” Interesting. “I’ll have to remember that,” I teased, opening the door to find myself in a small but inviting room. A leather love seat and chair, some fake plants, and a side table with a lamp. I turned to lock the door but…no lock. Fuck it. I grabbed Wynn by the back of the head with one hand, by her waist with the other, and pressed her against the door while shoving my tongue down her throat. She lifted a leg, wrapped it around me, and whimpered when I took a handful of her hair and twisted her head to the side. I growled into her ear, “There’s no lock. So you’re getting fucked against this door. Yes?” She looked up at me with her big blue eyes and said, “Yes husband.” Well I was already hard, but now I couldn’t contain myself. I reached under her dress and felt her underwear: a lacy thong she had already soaked through. I flipped her around so her face and chest were pressed against the door, and she stuck her ass out for me: I scrunched the bottom of her dress up above her hips, then did something I’d never attempted before: I grabbed her underwear with both hands and tore. She squeaked as the thong split along the seam. “Shut your mouth or we’ll get caught, slut” I said, sinking my teeth into her ass cheek. She yelped. I wrenched her head back, “What the fuck did I just say?” She shuddered, and I stuck a thumb in her mouth. She sucked on it until I forced her to open wide. “If you can’t behave, I’ll make you behave.” Her eyes lit up, and I shoved her sopping wet underwear into her mouth.

I unzipped my fly, took out my cock, and with no preparation shoved myself into Wynn’s dripping pussy. She wasn’t kidding about being horny: this normally took a few minutes of foreplay at least, but today she was ready. She moaned through her destroyed thong as I filled her warm, tight pussy. I fucked her slowly at first, removing my dick completely, then penetrating her to the hilt. She braced herself, hands against the door and pressed back into me as I picked up the pace. After about 30 seconds of fucking, she shuddered. I felt a rush of warm liquid coat my cock. “Did you cum like a fucking whore already?” I asked, jerking her head by the base of her hair. She moaned and nodded, so I threw her over the arm of the couch, her ass sticking up into the air. I mounted her and started pounding her hard. She squeezed the cushions until her hands turned red. It was as feral a fuck as one can manage while still wearing a suit. Her muffled moans picked up, and as another wave of wetness coated my cock, I heard something that made my heart stop: the doorknob turning. I had already forgotten that there was no lock. It creaked slowly open as I stood frozen like a deer in headlights, balls deep in my best friend’s wife as she squealed with her second orgasm.

In walked Michelle with Mark in tow. Thank. Fucking. God.

“Thank. Fucking. God” I said. My wife quickly shut the door and took in the scene. “Well that didn’t take long!” she laughed. I chuckled and flipped Wynn onto her back. “Sit on her face” I ordered my wife. Michelle pulled off her panties and tossed them to Mark, who put them in his pocket. She lifted her dress and straddled Wynn’s head, inhaling sharply when her tongue started working. Mark unzipped and pulled out his cock, and my wife went to work stroking and licking it. I fucked Wynn while my wife blew my friend, and both girls came after a couple minutes. “We’ll guard the entrance” Mark said, sitting on the floor with his back against the door. Michelle pulled her breasts out from the neckline of her dress and eased herself herself down on his cock. My wife stared into his eyes as she ground her hips into him. I thought about doing something similar with Wynn, but she was so wet I’d end up looking like I pissed my pants when we left the room. So instead, I folded her legs up past her ears into my favorite position: anvil. She started coming again after a few thrusts, and didn’t stop until I felt myself about to burst. “Oh fuck, yes fuck me like that” she panted, grabbing the back of my neck with both hands and staring into my eyes. “Where should I finish, wife?” I whispered so only she could hear. As her orgasm peaked she said, “If you cum anywhere but my pussy I’ll never forgive you.” That’s all I needed to hear. I filled Wynn with thrust after thrust of hot cum as her pussy clamped onto my cock. “Holy fuck that’s hot” Mark said, “I think I’m cumming too.” Michelle purred and started riding him harder, with purpose. “Yeah baby, fill me like my husband just filled your wife.” He grabbed Michelle by the hips, and she moaned as he dumped his load inside her.

As we all caught our breath and recovered, there was a light knock at the door. “Everyone doing okay in there?” the funeral director asked. “We’re fine, thank you!” I said too loudly. The others giggled. We fixed our hair and clothing as best we could without a mirror. Mark and I had some wet spots on our pants that needed to dry, but other than that we were fine. The women were a mess of smeared makeup though, so they went to sneak off to the bathroom. Wynn handed me her wet, ripped thong. “Well that’s no use to me anymore. Why don’t you hold on to it for me?” I pocketed her panties. Mark went to give my wife her underwear back, but she refused. “I’m not going to make Wynn walk around a funeral with a load dripping out of her all by herself” she said, smiling evilly. They scampered off together, and spent the rest of the service soaking us in. And honestly? It made the day much more bearable.

I turned to my friend. “So Mark, you wife gets super turned on at the idea of pretending she and I are married.” “Interesting,” he responded. I asked, “Does that freak you out?” “Nope,” he replied, “but what do we do about it?” I smiled. “I’ve got an idea.”

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/hph6bu/fucking_our_best_friendsat_a_funeral_group