May is my best friend. We met a decade ago in college, and I’ve been in love with her ever since. We dated for a little while, but I screwed things up, life took us in different directions, and long story short, she’s married with a kid now. We still hang out and talk all the time, and love each other very much. Alas, love alone is not strong enough to make things work, so she’s married to a man who does not deserve her, and she stays with him for the stability I cannot provide, and he’s a good father to their son.
Last week, she needed a break from motherhood and came to my house to visit. I live alone, save for my cat, and it’s a nice, quiet, refuge from the noisy chaos of a 3 year-old. We had long conversations about life, my work, and everything. Sushi for dinner. Her enrapturing smile.
May is not a beauty queen. She stands at 5’4”, she’s pale and hispanic, her skin is covered in freckles. Her eyes are the color of the sweetest cola. Her black, wavy hair has a hereditary grey streak she inherited from her grandmother andreaches her waist. She has small, A cup breasts with gorgeous pink nipples. She’s rail thin and has slender hips, but the lines of her abs could hold music. Her rear is not toned, nor fat, but is always the perfect handful with no effort on her part. May is not a beauty queen, but she is my queen.
I am the perfectly average white guy. I’m 6’ even, I’m overweight though I’ve been hitting the gym hard the last few months. I’ve got muscular arms, shoulders, and legs, but the dad-bod-style gut is hard to lose. I’ve got a short, brown beard, and blonde head that I shave down once every few months. Green eyes and a kind smile.
After dinner, we took to the living room to sit on the couch and watch tv. I put on This Old House, as home renovation is an interest we share. At the first commercial break, she pulled out her phone to check reddit, and turned on the couch to lean against me. I lifted my arm so she could lean against my chest, her shoulder tucked into my armpit. I wrapped my arm around her, and set my hand on her hip. On the second commercial break, she laid her head against my shoulder. “God, I needed this,” she says.
I rub my hand on her hip and kiss the top of her head. Happy to provide her comfort. My movement pulls her shirts up slightly and my fingers find her beautifully smooth skin. I gently rub my fingers over her hip, remembering the times in the past when our bodies were entwined. Eyes still glued to her phone, she moves her free hand to my knee, her elbow resting on my crotch, and she begins sliding her nails over my knee, something she knows drives me wild.
While I enjoy scratching, what really gets me going are nails lightly grazing my skin. Run your nails across my back and I’ll writhe like a kitten and you’ll have complete control over me.
Instantly, I get an erection. I’m not the biggest guy. I stand firm at 6”, and I’m only slightly thicker than the opening of one of those large gatorade bottles (I learned that the hard way during puberty). But it’s enough for her to take notice. We continue like this for a while. I rub her hip, beginning to venture up to her waist, she scratches my thigh, her elbow rubbing my cock. She chuckles and tells me I’m wet. “What?” I say and look down. Sure enough, there’s a huge wet spot from my precum positively seeping from my shorts. I laugh and tell her it’s her fault. She puts her phone down and rolls over slightly, resting her head on my chest as she switches hands, this time letting her nails tavel up into the leg of my shorts, dangerously close to the hem of my underwear.
I groan and adjust myself. “I really made a poor choice when I picked what underwear to wear today,” I tell her.
“What underwear did you wear?” She asks in confusion. I don’t answer her, I just stare into her eyes. In no time at all, curiosity gets the best of May, and she starts tugging at my waistband. I stand up to allow her to pull my shorts off, revealing my turgid cock constrained by the boxer-briefs I am wearing. I typically wear loose boxers, but it’s laundry day, so I was down to the style I rarely employ. “Well,” May says. “Let’s help you out there.” She pulls the soaked layers of fabric apart and reaches in to fish out my cock. There is genuine relief as her fingers find purchase, wrap gently around my burgeoning member, and pull it from it’s confines.
May slowly strokes me as I return my hand under her shirt. She lays her head back on my chest and stares at my cock as she pulls my foreskin up and down, hiding and revealing my purple head with each stroke, each stroke urging more pre-cum to ooze forth. She pulls my foreskin back and moves her hand to the bare head, smearing my pre-cum around and causing every nerve in my cock to send fireworks to my brain. I moan loudly and shove my hand down the back of her pants (Thank god women’s jeans are like 90% spandex). I grab May’s ass hard as she strokes me faster. I’m getting close to cumming when she turns to look into my eyes, eager to see my ecstasy. “I wish I could kiss you,” she says, her voice full of lust and regret, desire and loneliness. My heart drops a little, as all I’ve ever wanted was to be with her for real, forever. Her pace never slows, but she knows that I’m not close anymore. “Why don’t we go upstairs where it’s more comfortable?” She offers.
These encounters are not uncommon. Well, they’ve been much less common since she had her child, since she has more reason to protect her relationship with her husband. The last time we had sex was nearly a year ago. The time before that was two years prior, a few months after she’d given birth and I was able to show her how great a dad I could have been. Before she’d gotten pregnant, we would have had sex every few months.
We get upstairs to my bedroom, and I pull my clothes off and climb into bed completely naked. May removes her pants, leaving the yoga pants beneath on, and she takes off both shirts and her bra before climbing in next to me. I eagerly roll on top of her, and put my hand on her stomach, ready to plunge into her pants. May quickly grabs my hand to stop me. “There’s one problem,” she says with remorse. “I’m on my period, so we’ll have to stay above my pants.”
She knows periods don’t bother me, but I respect her wishes and slide my hand between her thighs, applying pressure to her clit. Instantly her eyes roll back, her back arches, and her hand grips my bicep. My fingers are engulfed in a warmth I hadn’t felt in too long, and they are eager to feel more. She whimpers as I rub my fingers up and down, just as she’s taught me over the years. Just enough pressure. Just enough speed. I bring my mouth to her chest and latch on to her nipple hard. My tongue flicks her nipple and her breathing quickens. Her abs tighten, revealing a highway to her crotch that I nightly dream about riding. She reaches down and grabs my hand to stop me. I feel her pussy throbbing as her orgasm waves through her body. Her eyes, half-closed, flicker as if in seizure and her perfect breasts heave with each deep breath. Slowly, her body relaxes, she opens her eyes, and she gives me a big, toothy smile. I grin as well, always happy to provide.
May puts her hand on my shoulder and guides me to my back, my cock at full mast, begging to be inside her. She lays next to me and strokes me, just how she knows I like to be stroked. Long, slow strokes with just the right amount of grip. I’m not sure why it is taking me so long to cum. Maybe I just want to enjoy this for as long as possible, since I never know when the next encounter will be. May stops stroking and slides down the bed. She gives the head of my cock a gentle kiss, a string of pre-cum clinging for life between her lip and my head as she sits up and resumes stroking.
She knows something is wrong, but she never stops smiling. She’s enjoying this as much as I am, but her heart is heavy, and she needs this to be over. She knows what we do is wrong. That it’s not fair to her husband, but she also knows she’s unhappy, and that he doesn’t fulfil many of her needs. Our attraction is undeniable. Our bodies crave each other, we offer each other a comfort and peace of mind that no one else can. So occasionally we succumb and fall in each others’ legs.
“What can I do?” May asks sincerely. She wants me to cum. She wants to make me feel good in a way that I so rarely get to experience. Dozens of options charge through my head like a stampede. Marry me. Kiss me. Suck me. Compliment me. Tell me you love me. Objectify me. Fuck me. Beg me. Too many to choose, unable to find the right one. I just look sadly into her eyes with a weak smile. I reach up and put my hand on her cheek, my thumb stroking just below her eye. She closes her eyes and leans in to my hand, the comfort it brings. She kisses the heel and keeps stroking. My heart surges. I love this woman so much. That’s when I feel it. My balls tighten and my cock tenses up. She feels it and grins at her handiwork. I bring my hands to my head as I’m overcome with pleasure. I groan loudly and my cock erupts. The first rope fires into the air and across my chest. The second lands across my stomach, and the rest runs down her fingers and across her wedding ring. She slowly, gently strokes me as I breathe heavily, staring into the eyes of the woman I want to grow old with.
May climbs out of bed and retreats to the bathroom. I hear the water running as she washes her hands. I lay in bed and pant, trying to catch my breath. She returns to the bedroom with a damp washcloth, and sits beside me and washes my chest and stomach, before gingerly, lovingly, cleaning my softening cock. “I’m sorry,” she says with a soft smile. “I didn’t think you’d cum that much, I would have caught it.” I’m a little saddened, because she should remember how much I cum, but maybe she could sense my anxiety and just didn’t know what to expect.
May threw the rag in the hamper and climbed into bed to cuddle for a few minutes, before admitting that midnight might be a good time to head home. We got dressed and I walked her out, wishing I could kiss her good night. Wishing she didn’t have to leave at all.
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/ohybea/i_got_a_handjob_from_my_married_friend_long
This is almost too well written to be a true story. I like it.
Your story is just so sad and so well written.
You deserve the best life has to offer and someone who loves you as deeply as you just described your love to May