Wife’s friend needs a place to stay (Part 1) [FFM][Bi F]

I had just stepped off the plane and turned my phone on again when the text from my wife came in. “So… Simone needs a place to stay for a while. Let’s talk about it when you get home.” Simone was a friend Robin had met through our daughter’s school where they had done a “mom and me” class thing over the summer. They were instant friends, unlike most people Robin met. That was something Robin and I had in common… we generally don’t like people. In many ways, that’s why she and I bonded so well. We could share our dislike of most of humanity.

“Just stepped off the plane, I can’t wait to see you.” I texted back. She responded with a winky kissy emoji, one that was surely in the top three of her frequently used list. She knew the next 30 minutes of my life were incompatible with texting, and I appreciated the brevity. While I walked through the airport, I thought about what she had said. Much of our lives together included sheltering somebody. Her friend’s younger sister for a few months, her brother for a year. We both thought we were done with hosting refugees for a while when we moved a thousand miles away and bought this house. But , I wasn’t bothered by the idea of Simone staying with us. I couldn’t quickly explain why. That’s what I needed to figure out.

My thoughts wandered back to that as I waited for the Uber. We had both been so relieved to get our space back, so why was she so willing to consider this? And why am I? What is different about Simone? Was it because our kids all got along so well? Surely that weighed into Robin’s decision. I decided to focus on why I was so unbothered by the idea. Why did I think it would be different with Simone? Shouldn’t my reaction have been “hell no?” That’s what I told myself it would be the next time someone wanted to live with us.

First, I had to admit to myself that I wasn’t serious about the “hell no” thing. We’ve been very lucky to afford to take in vagrants here and there, and for friends and family, it isn’t an option so much as an obligation. Robin and I both believe that you get out of the universe what you put into it. This is no different. But that doesn’t explain why I wasn’t bothered by it. So I thought about Simone for a minute.

———

The first time I really I met her was when Robin and I both dropped our daughter off at pre-school. It was the first day of the proper school year, and Robin had made plans with Simone to meet up and go to a little breakfast spot not far from the school where we could all sit in the feelings that come with dropping your toddler off with strangers for the day. I was less concerned with the feelings part, and more interested in the breakfast part, but regardless, it sounded like a good plan. Walking out of the school, Robin and Simone were a step ahead of me, chatting back and forth about the teachers, the kids reactions, and how unsure they were that they were doing the right thing. Before splitting to get in our respective vehicles, Simone said to Robin “I know we are going to see each other at the bakery in like five minutes, but I need a hug.” They hugged, and as they parted, almost as a reflex, I went for a hug with Simone. But she clearly didn’t have the same plans for me. She had turned towards her car, but obviously had picked up my body language in her peripheral vision. She turned to confirm her suspicions, and I said, without really having any direct control over my words, “I need a hug, too!” Simone stumbled out an apology and gave me a polite, but slightly awkward hug, and we got in our respective cars.

That moment stood out to me for months. I wasn’t used to that. All of Robin’s other friends would give out hugs without reservation. I had become tuned to just hug her friends. But Simone wasn’t like that. She only hugged me out of a feeling of obligation. She didn’t know that the only reason I said I needed a hug was because I was reflexively expecting a hug I didn’t really want. We were two slightly socially awkward people hugging each other against both of our wishes in the matter. And from that moment, I knew I liked her. She was real. No fake hugs.

Since the forced hug day, we had all hung out many times, and gotten to know each other pretty well. She was married, but not terribly happily. She got pregnant by her husband early into their dating, and they made a commendable effort to make it work, but they were just not meant for one another. He was a typical southern country boy. She was what Robin liked to call “crunchy,” referring to a preference for things like organic granola over pork rinds. There were other reasons, but suffice it to say they just weren’t meant for each other.

It also became pretty apparent over the months that he didn’t treat her well enough. Simone would see Robin and I together, and would constantly make remarks like “I wish Leo would do that for me!” I’d make sandwiches for everyone for lunch when they were over – a gesture that I didn’t think was anything more than a baseline politeness – and she would say things like “now I know you’re just trying to court your next sister-wife.” This would be accompanied by little harmless flirts, smiles, and just generally playful things, all in plain view of Robin. Simone would direct some Robin’s way, too. After all, she was the “first wife.”

The “sister-wife” joke was a recurring theme in our friendship. Both Robin and Simone would comment on what kind of commune we should all live on, how many other sister-wives I should have, and whether we should adopt a very fundamentalist kind of religion, because that seemed like the thing that people who have multiple wives tend to do. The turn to fundamentalist religion was a way, I think, to keep the though from being too serious. The three of us all considered ourselves feminists, and would never consider such a patriarchal family, not to mention we were all firmly atheist. But underneath the jokes, I could feel myself weighing this as a polyamorous arrangement. What would that look like? What would it feel like? I’d never been in anything other than a monogamous relationship. Robin hadn’t either. She’d ventured outside of men before, but it was always just one partner. Simone also wasn’t entirely straight, but like Robin, didn’t really put a label like “bisexual” on it.

Over time, some fantasies, and getting to know Simone better, I had packed the daydreams about a polyamorous relationship away in favor of not risking my marriage with Robin. I never even talked to Robin about it, as it would surely show my cards if I did. I wasn’t willing to take that risk. It wasn’t worth it for what was essentially a little curiosity tickling the primal parts of my brain. I’d wait instead for Robin to bring it up. If she did, I’d work my way through that a little more, but for the time being, I’d leave it as a little fantasy of my own.

The pandemic came, and we didn’t see Simone, or anyone at all, for several weeks. We then decided to include Simone and her kids into our “pandemic pod,” enabling us to see each other some more before our big move. The little playful flirts, the sister-wives talk, all of it continued. And then, both sad and excited, Robin and I watched the moving truck pull away with our stuff, and we got in the car to drive to Virginia.

———

The Uber driver dropped me off at our house. This was the first time I’d come home from work to this house. I took a moment to take it in. It was a beautiful house. An American foursquare, built in 1924. Red brick construction with simple craftsman white wood columns and features. Slate tile roof you could barely see from the street due to the height of the house, which was unfortunate, because I’d come to really love the look of a slate roof.

I lugged my bags up the patio stairs and opened the front door. “Daddy!!!” my 3 year old beamed and ran to me. She started the hug before I could even put my bags down. As hard as it is to leave for my job, it’s equally magical to come home from it.

Robin walked up behind her holding our 1 year old girl. She looked understandably overworked, but still beautiful. Brown curls framed her face which was looking at me with a cute smile. She was wearing her Trampled by Turtles T-shirt, which I loved because it was just a little too small for her. This accentuated her breasts, which were punctuated with little bumps giving away her nipples and lack of bra. Pajama pants flowed from her waist outward to her curvy hips, and all I wanted to do was to pull her by her waist into me, feel her nipples on my ribs, and kiss her like I hadn’t seen her in a week, and so that’s what I did.

Later that evening, after we got the girls settled into bed, I cracked a beer, poured Robin a glass of wine, and we sat in the living room and talked. We talked about the house, how much she was and wasn’t able to get unpacked. We talked about how much we loved the tall ceilings. The crown moulding. The kitchen that was remodeled by the previous owner who happened to be a chef, and it showed.

All the while, she had her hand on my thigh in that spot that is just high enough up to be intimate, but not sexual yet. I had my arm rested on the back of the couch behind her, and was gently rubbing her neck and playing with her hair, and all of it felt perfect.

Then we started to talk about Simone. Leo was going to have to go back to work three weeks on, one week off. This meant she would be solo with her two girls for three weeks at a time, and that was a lot. Robin and Simone, as a solution, had brought up her driving to Virginia, moving into our basement temporarily, and heading back home when Leo’s work schedule calmed down. It wasn’t a bad idea, at all. Simone’s girls and our girls were friends, and it would be nice for them to have some much needed socialization after months of “no, we can’t do that because of the germs.”

“Do you really think she’ll do it?” I asked Robin. It was a pretty ambitious plan, and I wasn’t sure Simone was actually serious.

“I do. She didn’t seem like she was just brainstorming. I think she really wants to do it.”

“Well, shit. It doesn’t sound bad to me. Let’s do it. At least we know she has a place to go to if it doesn’t work out for some reason. It’s not like the open-ended deal with your brother.”

And with that, we agreed.

Our couch talking turned into couch kissing. With my hand that wasn’t holding the back of her neck, I started sliding up her inner thigh. I always liked the way these pajama pants felt. Thin, smooth cotton let me feel the warmth of her body underneath, the shape of her thigh, and the little bit of give that her curvy figure allowed. When the back of my hand touched her other thigh, she opened her legs a bit. Robin never kept me away. She liked her foreplay to the point.

My hand continued up her thigh, and when I felt the inward turn to the crease between her leg and pelvis, I stopped. I wanted her to want it. With the hand that was on the back of her neck, I worked my fingers into her hair and gently pulled her towards me, strengthening the kiss slightly. I felt her warm breath as she sighed out her nose, and as she did she pressed her hips forward into my hand. I could feel her pubic hair meet my finger through her pajamas. She had no panties on. I continued my progress with that hand and lightly cupped her vulva, letting her press into me. It was her way of telling me how much she wanted right now. I got the message.

Through her pajamas still, I lightly rubbed all around her labia, partially to tease her, and partially to get a mental map of where I was. I went south until I could feel the inside of her ass cheeks. I pressed my middle finger into her a bit, giving her a little pressure on her perineum. She responded with her hips and light moan that sent a wave of tingles through me, culminating in my already fully erect penis.

Keeping the pressure I had, I slid my finger north a bit until I felt the warmth of her vagina, and there I lingered a moment. Tiny circles with my middle finger with light pressure were having the desired effect. I had my pointer and ring fingers stationed on either side of her opening, holding slight pressure while I teased her hole a bit with the tip of my middle finger, and her clit and lips with the length of that finger. I could feel her pajamas sticking to her already. I knew they’d have to go soon.

Meanwhile, she had started finding the outline of my cock through my shorts. She rubbed me gently with the flat of her hand, while teasing my scrotum with her fingertips with each pass. If I could get any harder, I would have, but we were past that point already.

One of the most beautiful things about getting to know someone’s sexual self is in the cues you learn subconsciously. I shifted to get a knee underneath me on the couch, and perfectly on cue, Robin sat up and pulled her pajama bottoms off. She started to take her T-shirt off, but I stopped her. “Leave it, it’s fucking sexy on you.” The element of secrecy was a turn on for me in that moment. I liked knowing where her nipples were, but not being able to see them completely. I liked the way her breasts pushed the side of the shirt out. I liked how the first skin I could see as I looked down her body was her tattoo she had on her lower abdomen that you could just barely see the top of if she was wearing panties. I liked the look of her nakedness coming out the bottom of the T-shirt.

She slumped back on the couch at a bit of an angle, and after pulling my own shorts off, I kneeled next to her. We both knew what was happening next. We were entering Act II of our play. It had happened so many times before, and it was fantastic every time.

She shuffled towards me a little bit, leaning on her right elbow and grabbing the shaft of my penis with her left. I leaned in, and she put her mouth around my glans, squeezed my shaft gently and teased with her tongue. Meanwhile, she had lifted her left knee, giving me free access to her, which I obliged.

She was already so wet. I drew a little bit more wetness up from her vagina to her clit and lips, and worked it in little circles. She rewarded this by taking me in her mouth as far as she could, and shifting her hand to cup my balls and tease my taint. I could feel this wasn’t going to be sustainable. It had been a week, and while I’d certainly jerked off while on my trip, it wasn’t the same.

As if reading my mind, Robin slid her mouth off my cock slowly, letting her tongue contact what felt like the entire underside of my dick, past my frenulum which is my hot spot, and she knew it. One more move like that, and I’d have cum for sure, but instead she stopped and said “go get my vibrator from upstairs. I want you to fuck me from behind.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” I replied, and I snuck upstairs to get her magic wand.

I needed the break in the action to cool down a bit, but I couldn’t wait to get back, either. I came back downstairs to see Robin leaning back on the couch, her legs spread wide and her right hand rubbing her pussy in big, flat circles. She was so wet I could hear it from across the room. Her other hand was pinching a nipple through her shirt with her thumb and forefinger, and the other three were helping her hand cup her tit, which was more than a handful. Upon seeing me, she hopped up, threw a cushion out of the way, and arranged herself on her hands and knees before reaching back between her legs to play with her clit with one hand.

My view from behind her was glorious. Her big, shapely ass emerged from a narrow waist in a display of femininity that could be in a museum. I could just see her fingers massaging her lips below her vagina that was beckoning me to come to it.

I knelt down on the couch behind her, took a moment to put my hands on her ass and take it in. I’d say it was my favorite feature of hers, but that would be unfair to the rest of her. She exuded sexuality with every curve of her body. I hooked my hands around her pelvis and pulled gently, which wasn’t entirely necessary for anything other than because I liked feeling my fingers in the crease her thighs made with her groin in this position. But I didn’t enter her yet. I just let her know I was there, the tip of my dick bumping against her, getting a bit of her wetness on it, and teasing her asshole a little. She traded her hand for her vibrator, and started working her labia with it with a little moan.

I massaged her opening a bit with the flat of my thumb, spreading some of her juices around and working it up towards her asshole. She moaned, her vibrator hummed, and my cock twitched.

When I was satisfied that I had lubricated her asshole enough for some finger play, I switched to the flat of my fingers to play with her pussy and get them wet. Little circles with some pressure were her key. She pressed back against my fingers as a little more of her lubrication came out, and she worked herself just a little closer to orgasm. It was time to fuck her like she asked.

I spread some of her on the head of my penis, and worked it around a bit before pressing up against her pussy. She liked to back into me for the initial penetration, and I had no complaints about this. I watched my glans disappear into her, her lips slipping from it onto my shaft with a satisfying little flick. She pulled away slightly, allowing more of her wetness to be pulled onto my shaft before backing into me again. This time, the length of my dick slid inside her in one slow, satisfying motion.

Robin had said “I want you to fuck me from behind,” but I knew what she actually meant. She wanted me inside her from behind. She rarely liked to be “fucked” in the sense of that word. What she liked was the length of me inside her, while we grind and press against each other. Meanwhile, I played with her asshole with my right thumb, while grabbing her ass and hip a with my left. I could feel the vibrator through her on my cock, and the combination of warm, wet, and buzzing was incredible.

This was our home stretch. My goal was to fight every part of my body that wanted nothing more than to fill her with cum while I pulled her by her hip into me. Because I wanted that, badly. I stopped thinking about that, and instead focused on my breathing. That was how I could draw this out.

As I let my mind wander off of how good it felt to be completely inside Robin, a thumb one knuckle deep in her asshole, grinding and pressing against her while her vibrator sent waves through both of us, I looked up her back to her head, which was faced squarely into the couch in front of her.

Simone’s body shot unexpectedly into my imagination. She was laying on the couch in front of Robin, legs spread the way Robin’s were when I came back downstairs. I imagined her holding the back of Robins head, pulling her face into her pussy that I couldn’t see through Robin’s head.

That thought sent me over the edge. So much for drawing it out. I pulled out and released my load onto Robin’s back and ass. Her body shook at that moment, and I smiled and let out a little half-moan, half-laugh as I watched her orgasm as cum was still slightly spurting out of me onto her asshole.

She came so quickly, too… could she have been thinking of Simone on the couch in front of her, too? Usually she turned her head to the side when we fucked like this, but she was looking squarely ahead. Maybe. That thought could certainly feed my imagination for a while, at least.

We cleaned up and enjoyed the rest of our evening before going to bed.

Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/kfagy9/wifes_friend_needs_a_place_to_stay_part_1_ffmbi_f