It’s pretty common for a group of us to get together and go out for dinner, drinks, and so on. Everyone’s busy, everyone has kids, and so these nights are episodic – when everything lines up right to get everyone in the same place at the same time, it’s always a great night. It’s pretty common for last-minute lineup changes as people have pop-up work events, sports practices, and so on, and we often carpool because parking in our town can be a hassle.
This particular night we’d all agreed to meet at a local pub we all liked, right next to the railroad tracks downtown. Besides me and my wife, there were three other couples who’d said they were in. I wasn’t sure who all would actually show up, but I was super pleased when my friend T showed up with her husband J. T is a stunning brunette—big dark eyes, absolutely gorgeous legs, perky boobs, and (most importantly) an outrageous flirty spirit. She’s usually a jeans-and-T-shirt gal but tonight she was rocking a mid-thigh-length burgundy dress, dark sheer stockings, and black flats. She noticed me checking out her legs when she walked in and smirked at me—which was pretty typical of our relationship really. See, she’s known for years that I’ve had a thing for her, and there’s terrific tension between us, but the timing has never been right.
After a little wait, we all got seated and I ended up sandwiched between T and another friend of ours. The usual bullshit chitchat ensued. Occasionally her knee would brush mine while we were sitting around talking, but that’s totally normal. After a couple of drinks, I was feeling a little adventurous so I casually brushed my fingers against her calf, feeling a tingle in my cock as I trailed across the silky fabric. She was warm, too. After a few casual brushes, I was already feeling my cock stiffen, so I used that hand to pick up my drink and continued chatting. Every few minutes I’d repeat the pattern, gradually traveling a little higher on her leg… but because of the angle where we were sitting I could only reach up to about the top of her knee.
T excused herself to the ladies’ room and, as you might expect, the other girls all went with her. I was a little surprised a couple of minutes later when my watch buzzed. “Someone has sent you a message,” it said. I discreetly checked my phone and saw that T had sent me a picture from her stall—the hem of her dress was hiked up over her hip on one side, just enough to reveal a small band of smooth soft skin over the top of her thigh-high stocking. The caption said “I know you were wondering.” I felt my cock jump involuntarily at the sight. This was a little more flirty than usual for her, which I took as a good sign.
I had another sip of beer, joined in the table banter, and tried to let my thermometer cool off a bit before the girls came back. Soon enough, there they were; T took her former seat but managed to bump her high-top stool a little out of position so that it was closer to me than it was before, but turned a little more at an angle. I found that this gave me an easy reach from the top of her foot to just under the hem of her dress… right where I knew that band of skin was hiding. Frustratingly, it was just out of reach, at least unless I wanted to be obvious and bend towards her. I settled into just rubbing her leg, up and down, going as high as I could manage. Was that a faint flush I saw creeping into her cheeks? I thought so, but there was no way I was going to be able to get any closer or higher up her leg unless I moved my chair, and there was no way my hardon was going to allow me to leave my seat. I was temporarily saved when our food arrived and I was distracted by a fresh plate of chicken and waffles.
At least I was semi-distracted. T kept occasionally bumping her leg against mine. Each time she did I’d start thinking of how it would feel to run my hand up to her bare skin and that got me riled up again. By the time I’d finished eating, though, I’d succeeded in calming myself down enough to let me get up and go wash my hands. As I was waiting in line for the men’s room my watch buzzed again. This time, T’s message said “Where’s my picture?” I decided that turnabout was fair play, so I sent her a photo of my unbuttoned pants revealing the outline of my rigid cock—no skin showing, and yet simultaneously leaving nothing to the imagination.
I came out of the restroom to find our party moving towards the exit. It took me a minute to absorb all the logistics, but the result was that my wife was going to drive one of the other wives home and the rest of us were headed across town to another bar. This place is known for two things: the lack of indoor lighting and the overall noise level. Since we’d carpooled, I ended up packed into the folding jumpseat in the backseat of J’s truck. This put me at a 90-degree angle, knee to knee with T, behind the driver’s seat. This was exactly the perfect angle for me to run my hand up the back of T’s shapely calf, up her hamstring, and then over her hip, right to that little strip of skin.
Then good luck struck. Before our traffic light changed, the crossing arms on the train crossing descended. The train wasn’t moving very fast, though, and then it stopped dead. We were sandwiched between cars in front and back, and with the train stopped there was nowhere for us to go. I moved my hand up a little higher on T’s hip and found that by flexing my elbow a little bit more I could trail one finger across the front of her panties. Once again, though, I couldn’t reach my target without moving. I dragged a fingernail back and forth just above the waistband of her panties and T shivered a little.
Then she shifted her left foot inward and folded her knee out and down, like she was about to sit cross-legged. That was enough to give me room to take that tracing fingernail and run it right down the front of her panties, brushing for the first time against her clit. I could feel the small bump of her piercing through the thin fabric so I wiggled my fingertip against it a bit, settling on a small circular motion every few seconds.
We sat like that for a little while, watching the train… I mean, I wasn’t watching the train, because I was locked on watching T’s face for any hint that my teasing was visibly getting to her. With the noise of the slowly passing train and the conversation level inside the truck, I couldn’t be sure but I thought maybe I heard a quiet, muffled squeak from her throat once or twice.
I varied the rhythm of my little wiggles every so often, then decided to slip the tip of my finger under the side elastic of her panties and found her soaked. That seemed only fair, considering how hard I was. Covering my motion with a fake cough, I slid forward enough to get the tip of my finger nestled inside her. She flexed her hips just the tiniest bit to push my finger a little deeper then looked me directly in the eye and, with agonizing slowness, licked first one lip and then the other.
Shortly thereafter the caboose of the train finally rolled through the intersection, the gate lifted, and J cranked his truck into gear. The sudden lurch gave me an excuse to give my finger an extra deep thrust into T before I removed it. While no one was looking except her, I gave it a quick taste—as delicious as I’d always expected. She might’ve rolled her eyes at me a little; it was hard to tell in the truck’s dim lighting.
The rest of the ride to the bar was boring. So was the bar, if I’m honest. We were all sitting around drinking beer, as one does, and all the usual suspects were there—the drunk smoking guy, the big-haired shouting drunk soccer moms, and so on. I had a really good buzz on by this point and was enjoying watching T do her social flitting. I was drunk enough to still be thinking about the feel of her under my hands but was sober enough to know it was getting late and I probably needed to get home. I excused myself and pulled up Uber, which I knew would take a while since we live in a pretty small town and there aren’t that many drivers. I got about ten steps from the table and felt someone grab my elbow—it was T. “I left my phone in the truck,” she said. Sure, fair enough, we’ve all been there.
We walked out together and I walked her over to the truck. On the far side of the truck, she looked me dead in the eye and said “You didn’t really think you were going to get me all turned on and then go home, did you? You owe me.” I opened my mouth to say something snappy but, before I could, she leaned in close and growled “Use your mouth” in my ear. I didn’t need to be told twice.
Quickly squatting before her, I used one hand to lift the hem of her dress in the front. As the material slid up, my question was finally answered: her panties were black, and small, and clingy. I didn’t waste any time admiring the scenery, though. I pressed my mouth against her and breathed in the delicious musky scent, then used my free hand to drag the elastic of her panties to the side. She shivered a little as my tongue made first contact, but I got a little frisson myself because she tasted delicious.
I started with slow, flat strokes of my tongue all over her labia and up to her clit, pressing and wiggling on her piercing as I went. I gradually sped up, finding that when I hit just the right spot it would make her knees tremble a bit. Every so often, I’d purse my lips and suck her clit between them for a few quick pulses. The hem of her skirt was sort of draped over my forehead, so I couldn’t see her face, or much of anything, but I could feel her slick smooth pussy against my lips and hear an occasional sound, like the grit of her shoe against the asphalt as she shifted her weight. Her taste and smell were intoxicating; my pulse was roaring in my ears as I licked her faster. To change things up, I pulled my head back and slipped a finger inside her, stroking it up and in against her G spot before going back to sucking her clit.
She moaned something. I couldn’t hear what, so I paused for a second. This time it was more clear: “keep doing that, you fucker,” she commanded. Her thighs quivered a little as I sucked harder, moving my finger in steady small circles inside her.
One thing T had previously told me: she’s not a talker. I was expecting lovely animalistic noises from her but I guess she was trying to be quiet, because I could hear a steady stream of dirty talk. “Keep licking my pussy… fuck, yeah, just like that. Ohhhh,” she moaned. I didn’t change a thing, just kept on in my steady rhythm. With one slim hand, she grabbed my head and pressed my face against her, surprisingly hard, and started to rock her hips against me. I knew she was getting close to exploding, so I added a second finger inside her and started finger-fucking her as hard as I could while concentrating my suction on her clit.
That did the trick. With a wordless shout, she started to cum, and I felt her pussy clench around my fingers as she fucked her hips hard against my face. I kept going, wrenching the orgasm out of her in wave after wave until finally she relaxed her grip on my head. I stood up, leaned close in to her and whispered “taste it” before giving her a long, slow, deep kiss. I felt a buzzing in my pocket and realized that, oops, I still had an Uber on the way to take me home.
“Your ride’s here,” she said, “you’d better go catch it”. Nonchalantly, as though I hadn’t just been eating her pussy. “Wait a second, though.” She quickly kicked off one shoe and slipped out of one stocking, stuffing it into my trouser pocket. “You might need this later, “ she smiled. “But I expect a full report.”
I got the hint. That was as far as we were going. At least for now.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/ut8ple/drinking_with_my_friend_t