Trans[f]erence

Trans[F]erence

I’ve had a thing for my good friend’s (bestie) husband (hubby); long before they became engaged. That’s why there has always been an air of tension whenever I’m around the two of them. Despite all the temptation, I’ve never crossed the line. Although… I haven’t been afraid to walk right up to it; even in the role of maid of honor.

For example, a few months before the wedding the three of us went out for drinks and I was invited to spend the night, rather than risk driving the rural roads home. The night was mostly platonic except for a brief moment shared between her soon to be hubby and I.

Not long after getting in, I changed into my friends light pajamas and went to brush my teeth. While Bestie was in the kitchen putting away the recycling, hubby was off in the bedroom adjacent to the apartment‘s bathroom.

I passed into the bathroom and noticed the bedroom door was open. When I returned, I couldn’t help but glance in. I stood there for a moment as her hubby stood staring back. He was shirtless in the middle of pulling up his sweatpants.

By the time I glanced in, the top of his pants had just passed the groin but had not yet reached his hips. We stood there in silence for what seemed like an eternity. He left the waistband at a point where it wrapped around his pelvis, exposing his toned abdomen and Adonis line. This sharp “v” lead directly to the unmistakable imprint of his bulging penis. He wasn’t erect but may have been slightly engorged by the tension of the moment. In all honesty, it’s hard to venture a guess. My friend had once boasted about his girth.

That night and moment passed without a word and this leads me to the actual story I set out to tell.

It was the couple’s wedding night. As the maid of honor, I had the luxury of assisting my bestie into her wedding dress. It a was a gorgeous A-line gown with a delicate silhouette. However, the back was all but simple. Lacing her up was a finicky process made simpler by a crotchet hook. As I struggled to button-up the dress and conceal my friend’s soft back, I couldn’t help but think of her husband tearing apart my work as he indulged his inner animal.

Later on in the reception, I caught up with hubby as he stood between dances watching the floor in a commanding pose. As his bride celebrated the best night of her life, I felt a familiar tension pass through my body, stirring the demon inside me.

Compelled by this static, I teasingly brought up the couple’s looming intimacy. I described how difficult it was to lace up bestie’s dress and began instructing her hubby on how to unwrap the gift I prepared for him. As I unabashedly described the unbuttoning process, I could see hubby’s tuxedo pants begin to bulge. He entertained my instruction without the cringy suggestiveness of a lesser man. Rather, with mature confidence, he asked questions that demonstrated that he intended to undress and satisfy my friend with an expertise I could only yearn for.

That night, I helped the family clear the reception hall as most guests bussed to the after party. My date had taken the elevator up to our room to change. Before long, I was alone with the newly married couple. I offered to help them carry a few flowers to their first-floor bridal suite. As we opened the door, bestie took the vases from my hand and walked them into the room. I told her how wonderful the night was and that I hoped to see her at the after party. As she faded into the room, I turned to her husband and again felt the familiar tension rise between us. We stared silently for a moment before I handed him the crotchet hook and whispered “have fun”.

Knowing the intimacy that would soon partake between the newly married couple, I headed to elevator and up to my own room a floor above. Without saying much, I straddled my date, undressed him and rode him into the ground unleashing all the tension that had built inside me.

Our happy couple barely made it to the after party. When bestie and I finally spoke, she innocently chuckled that hubby had given her the best, most animalistic, sex of her life.

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/go1xpa/transference