[M]y still married [F]riend blew my mind.

My name is Dean. I am 32[M], 6’2″, brown hair and blue eyes. I’m taking a walk down memory lane. Back in the day, I was a water polo player. You get the idea. Lean, toned, v-cut abs, etc. These days, I look like I retired from the pool to lift weights, nap, and drink beer. Ya boy got a bit thicker. It happens. However, THIS story is from the glory days.

I met Sara when I was 23. We have mutual friends. Married people seem to hang out with other married people, and in this case, I was invited along to liven things up and generally be that wild and single 5th-wheel. Sara was 28, whip smart (with a freshly minted STEM graduate degree and a promotion), and very married. Basically, she was a functioning adult with her shit together. We kept in touch for the next two years. She would tell me about being a grown up and I’d regale her with my stories of debauchery and sin. Still married, though I eventually heard rumblings of discontent through the grapevine. Her husband never quite warmed up to me. Weird.

Fast forward to 25. I found myself in a new city with a new job. I reach out to Sara to ask her for advice, and what do you know? She also recently moved to the city for a new job AND she was doing a trial-separation thing to get some space from her husband. At this point, it seems fair to describe her. She is 5’6″, almost pale skin, with dark brown hair (with blonde highlights) to her mid-back and dark brown eyes. She can do the doe-eyed thing like a pro. Apparently, she had also taken up running and yoga as a way to cope with stress, so she was…lithe.

—

“Dean, I’m fucking bored. Lets go grab a beer or something. It is a Friday night, don’t be a nerd.”

“Alright, meet me at [some local student-y patio bar]”

She beat me to the bar, and when I hopped out of the Uber, I noticed three key points. 1) she already had a beer for me, 2) her make-up was heavier than usual and expertly done, and 3) her green flannel shirt was buttoned lower than one would expect for a catch up with a friend.

We caught up over a few rounds of drinks and the tension was becoming more palpable. She was technically still married. However, that smile, grabbing my arm when she laughed, the playful punches when I told her about the deviant shit I’d been doing all suggested that maybe this had potential.

“These kids are crowding this bar, let’s go somewhere else” she says.

“Sara, they’re college students. Just because you’re in your 30s now doesn’t mean we can’t have another round.”

She hooked her arm with mine, leaned her head on my shoulder, fluttered those endlessly warm eyes at me and said “well let’s go grab another round at your place and put on a movie.”

—

I grabbed the remnants of a 24-pack of Bud Light, flipped on the TV, and plopped down on the couch. Sara cracked a beer, sat down next to me and then draped her legs across my lap as we continued our conversation. I tried to be as nonchalant as possible as we discussed our respective career moves, and despite wrestling with the moral quandary of having a (beautiful) married woman in my apartment, I began to trace my fingers across her legs. Soon enough, Sara feigned a yawn, arched her back to stretch and I caught a peek of a lacy black bra beneath her flannel.

“How about I just crash here tonight and you can take me to get my car in the morning? Let’s go to bed. I just want to cuddle for a little bit.”

“Yeah, Sara, of course. Lead the way.”

My heart was pumping in my eardrums as we walked across my living room to my bedroom. *Why is there a knot in my stomach? What the fuck, she’s married. Be cool man, she’s just being flirty and wants to cuddle because the separation is difficult for her. Its nothing, be cool.*

Sara sat on my bed, turned on the lamp, and pulled her boots off. Then, without a moment of hesitation, she peeled off her skinny jeans and did a little hop when she finally got out of them. Sara looked like a idealized pop culture version of the cute girlfriend, standing there in a little black thong and a flannel that had somehow had another button undone. And goddamn, all of her stress-driven running and yoga had sculpted her legs and butt beautifully.

“Okay! Bed time! Come cuddle.” as she turned off the light and hopped into my bed.

—

I stripped down to my boxers in record time and slipped into bed after her. She pulled me over to be the big spoon, and sort of scooted herself into my arms. She was soft and warm and her perfume was intoxicating. She was my friend, and vulnerable, and MARRIED. This was worlds apart from my usual Tinderella sport fucking. I was rock hard.

“Mmm, this is what I needed. Thanks for coming out with me tonight.” She nearly purred as she began to grind her ass up against my dick. I drew my hand up across her thigh, over her stomach and cupped her B-cup breast as I pulled her into me harder.

“Sara, I don’t know what you want right now, but I want you. Fuck, I want you.”

“Haha, I can tell. Just keep cuddling me.” As she said this, she created a bit of space with her hips, reached back and began to rub my cock through my boxers. “You tell me all of your stupid stories, just slow down a bit and cuddle more.” I gently bit her shoulder in frustration as she continued to slowly rub.

“Goddamn it Sara, fuck.” I rolled her onto her back, straddled her and put my hands on either side of her shoulders. “What are we doing? You’re killing me here.” She bit her lip, smirked, and pulled my boxers down a bit. As she wrapped her hand around my cock and massaged my balls she said “Just relax Dean, let me show you something. Take those off.” As I very elegantly ripped my boxers off, she finally took off her shirt and bra, revealing a pair of breasts that had been seemingly understated in her outfit.

She laid there on her back, almost entirely naked, and pulled a pillow underneath her head. “Come here.” I tried to kiss up her thighs to taste her, with every intention of hearing her moan my name and feeling her run her hands through my hair. Nope. She wiggled underneath me and crossed her knees. “Nooope. Come here.” She pressed her breasts together, smiled at me, and said “Dean, up here.”

Alright, a bit of a commanding tone and I guess she wants me to tittyfuck her. Sweet.

I straddled her and stroked my cock above her breasts, enjoying the view beneath me. This scene, with this gorgeous woman underneath me and my perception of the power dynamic, fired off all of the dominant neurons in my lizard brain. This woman is smarter, more mature, more successful, and simultaneously vulnerable, much smaller, and pinned beneath me and….wow, my cock feels fucking huge in her hands, fuck yes. I had no idea what was about to happen.

—

Sara arched her back up, pressed her breasts together, and wiggled a bit as if to instruct me to put my cock between them. With all the grace of a rhino, I braced one hand on the headboard and pushed my cock between her breasts with the other and began to stroke away. Sara looked down to admire the view, and up to me again with those huge soft eyes. She reached down to my cock and pulled me even closer up towards her head. With the base of my 6″ cock above her chin, she licked agonizingly slow from the base all the way to the head, with a little extra attention paid on the underside of the head. It was incredible. I involuntarily shuddered and said “holy fuck, Sara, please…”

“This will be fun” she said before once again running her tongue along the underside of my cock. I’m on my knees, straddling this woman, resting my forehead against the wall of my bedroom and Sara grabbed my ass and pulled my cock into her mouth. I could only manage a guttural “fuuuuck” as her nose hit my abdomen and I felt her gag just a bit. She dug her nails into my butt cheeks and held me in place for what seemed like an eternity in paradise before she pushed me back and caught her breath.

“Time for you to do some of the work. I want you to fuck my face like you do those random bar sluts.” She quickly wiped her mouth and opened as wide as she could. I slowly pushed my cock back into her mouth and gave some gentle thrusts until she once again dug her nails in to signal me to thrust harder. Alright, bet. I started with exaggerated thrusts and was basically fucking her head into the pillow. Lizard brain was all about this. After a bit, I pulled my dick out of her mouth to let her breathe. She caught her breath and wiped at her make-up that was starting to run a bit from the corners of her eyes back. “fuck yesss, harder. fuck my face.”

This was shocking. I’d never expected this from Sara. Never thought I’d see her naked, let alone see her mascara running down her face from being facefucked. (r/blacktears) Anyway, she asked, so I reached down to grab a fistful of her hair and resumed my previous efforts. The wet sounds of my cock in her throat mixed with my grunts and her muffled moans. I think she was rubbing her clit with one hand, but my attention was focused on her face. I could feel an orgasm building, so I stopped again to let her catch her breath.

“Why’d you stop?”

“If we keep that up, you’re going to make me cum.”

“Oh yeah? Not yet.”

I went to get off of her so we could switch it up. I wanted to see her bent over my bed and 1,000 other ideas. She grabbed my hips and stopped me. “Not yet” she said for a second time, before she went back to work. She took me to the hilt every time, working in a tempo that started slow and sped up. She massaged my balls. I was getting dangerously close to a massive orgasm, so I pushed her head down and pulled my cock back. “Sara, I’m so close, I’m going to cum, give me a second.”

Again, this whole event takes place with my straddling her shoulders, basically. I’m looking straight down at a wicked smile, fuck-me eyes, and a mess of pre-cum, saliva, tears and mascara that is effectively coating her cheeks. This should be one of my proudest dominant moments, but in an instant, the whole experience shifted.

“Well, we don’t want you to cum just yet, settle down for a bit.” With another excruciatingly slow lick from base to tip, Sara took me right to the edge. I’m panting, squirming, just desperate to cover her in ropes of cum. And then she stopped, wrapped her hand around my cock and squeezed. I’m sure she could count my heartbeats as I tried to get any last bit of friction from her hand so I could put myself over the edge. Instead she squeezed tighter, took one of my balls into her mouth and started humming between giggles.

I have never been so close and so far from the edge. I was a bungie jumper on the platform, leaning forward, ready to dive if they’d only just let go. She did not let go. My head was swimming, my heart was pounding, my thighs were on fire. And all the while, Sara was humming along, squeezing my cock like a stress ball and generally playing me like she was first chair in the Vienna Philharmonic.

Sara began to alternate between gently sucking on my balls to get them further from my body, and humming on them. As the immediacy of my orgasm faded, she stopped the squeeze-release pattern with her hand and once again took me into her mouth. She swirled her tongue around the head of my cock with a degree of softness that I had not yet experienced. I rambled. “oh my fucking god, Sara, what the fuck, this is incredible. don’t stop. where the fuck did you learn this?” and so forth. Again, she increased her rhythm until I swore my cock was going to explode. The second time at the edge, and I’m begging her “Sara, Sara, I’m going to cum, please don’t stop, I’m going to fucking cum .”

“Not yet.” she gasped.

This was an emotional blow. I was frantic, I had lost any semblance of control or dominance or power. I was dynamite in her hands and I began to plead “Sara, I need to cum, please just let me cum.”

“Not yet.”

I arched back at the waist to stretch and relieve my hip flexors. Sara kept her hand squeezed around my cock in case I tried to roll away. As she pulled me back towards her, I noticed that the mess I’ve made of her face has extended to her hair. I think to myself “fuck, this is so hot. She looks like an absolute porn star, gagging on my cock like this. Her husband is a fucking idiot, I’d never let this go.”

My brief reunion with my ego was shattered when her tongue made contact with my now throbbing cock and she resumes bobbing her head up and down. I’m being driven harder and harder to an infinite horizon. My hips started bucking with her rhythm. My head is driving into the wall behind my bed and I’m gripping the headboard like a strongman contender trying to rip a phone book in half. “Sara, please, please, just let me cum. Please make me cum, I can’t take it anymore.”

She stopped. Grinned. Squeezed my cock tightly and licked some pre-cum off the end. “You sure? You want to cum now?”

“Fuck… Sara, please, make me cum.”

“Okay, you can cum this time.”

She gave me the sexiest, sweetest, and most depraved smile I’ll ever see before she stuck out her tongue and invited me to finally, finally, get release. I grabbed a handful of her hair again, without any of the previous concern about her comfort and pushed my cock back into her mouth. Tennyson should have written about me. “When can his glory fade? O the wild charge he made! All the world wondered.”

It didn’t take long for my orgasm to come roaring back. In my mind, I was saying things like “fuck Sara, I love fucking your little mouth like this, I’m going to cum all over you, you need this fucking dick because your husband is a fucking idiot” and so on, but I imagine it came out mostly as aggressive grunts. She matched my energy by moaning what sounded like “mmmhmmm, cum for me” around my dick.

Sara was still massaging my balls as I barreled towards the point of no return. Then she took two fingers and pressed on the spot behind my balls and that. was. it. The pressure built deep and rushed through the length of my cock. My vision narrowed as the edges of my sight greyed out. My hearing got fuzzy. All that mattered was Sara’s frenzied “fuuuuck yesss” as she stuck her tongue out and the first rope of cum draped across her forehead and hair. “god, yes, Dean” she groaned as I frantically adjusted to hit the rest of her face and tongue. Second rope, nose and eye. Third rope, finally hit her tongue. Forth rope, chin and neck. Fifth rope, back to her mouth. The sixth spurt was pretty weak and just plopped on her breasts and mixed with the sweat that had beaded up across her chest.

I could barely speak as she gently milked the last of the cum out of me and onto her tongue. I did manage a yelp when she licked my cock clean. It felt like exponentially stronger static electricity, but I also desperately needed that warmth and tenderness that followed as she took me into her mouth again and let me down slowly.

Finally, I rolled off and laid next to her. “hooooly fuck Sara, that was mind blowing. I’ve never had an orgasm like that before.” She wiped some of the cum on her face into her mouth and swallowed what she could. I rubbed the cum on her breasts into her skin because I was captivated by the beaded sweat and her perky nipples and watching them rise and fall as she caught her breath again.

She winked and gave me a smart ass “aww, that’s sweet” before walking to the bathroom to clean up.

Of course, the guilt followed quickly behind the post nut clarity.

“fuck, Sara, I’m sorry.”

“Oh my god, Dean, you have nothing to be sorry for. I just needed to feel good for awhile, and watching you twitch and squirm made me feel really fucking good. Don’t make it weird. Here, I’ll be the big spoon for awhile.”

So, my friend first expanded my mind with her expert edging and head game, and then provided emotional aftercare. I fell asleep as the little spoon and woke up the next day as the big spoon.

“You okay Dean?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. hahaha, that was seriously the most phenomenal thing I’ve ever experienced.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. Thanks for coming out last night and letting me crash here. Wanna get some breakfast and take me to my car after I wash my face again?”

“yeah, okay, cool.”

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/rv7x6q/my_still_married_friend_blew_my_mind