The Excruciating Wait – My Husband’s Best Friend [MF]

For a little bit of background, you may want to read my previous post.

>How this arrangement came to be is an even longer story, involving a birthday, my husband, his best friend, the Fiancée, their roommate, and yours truly. It takes place in a sleepy southwest college town in the dead of winter. Maybe I’ll write it down one day, but that’s a long one.

This is me [https://imgur.com/7D2uEct](https://imgur.com/7D2uEct) [https://imgur.com/XJe4oAo](https://imgur.com/XJe4oAo)

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Spring in Salt Lake City. We were staying at an Airbnb. Quaint but giant, perfect for the inordinate amount of children Mormon’s tend to have, it housed our group of eight just so. The floors creaked, especially the stairs, a foolproof signal to mark approach of others. I was the one doing the creaking this morning, as I gingerly crept down the stairs. They groaned in agony beneath my bare feet, I hissed under my breath at the sound. It was 6am, my eyes had opened and would not close again, so I set off in search of coffee, disturbing the peace of the house as I went.

As I opened cupboards and gathered supplies I listened for any stirring from above. Nothing. I didn’t *really* think I’d woken anyone. This group tends to roll out of bed reluctantly, and we’d been up late drinking the night before. I am eternally the first to rise. The second, was always Nathan. The dynamic of our morning conversation had always been easy and fun over the years, but the dialog changed since that birthday weekend. As the coffee began to brew, I shivered a little and rubbed my arms. At home it was already hot, but cotton shorts and a loose tank weren’t cutting it in an old house this far North. My nipples were like glass under the material as I stood against the counter waiting impatiently for the coffee.

I heard the stairs. The footsteps were slow and careful, but just like during my descent the noise was not concealed for the wanting of it. I knew who it was. As he rounded into the kitchen I turned my head to whisper good morning. “Good morning,” he echoed, his voice low and husky from sleep. His shirt was in his hand as he moved towards me at a languid pace, stopping behind me to stretch it over his head. “It’s cold huh?” I comment as I watch him conceal his muscular torso. I rub my arms again for effect, I have goosebumps now, from the cold or anticipation I wasn’t sure. He takes another step towards me and gently squeezes both my arms, his big hands hot on my cool flesh. I shiver a little hoping he thinks it’s from the cold, he steps in to embrace me completely then. His hips against my ass pinning me to the counter in front of the coffee maker.

We stand that way for a while, listening to the bubble and sigh as the coffee brews, the aroma filling the room. We are so rarely alone. The silence is comfortable as I melt into him, leaning my head to the side and back against his chest. He rests his mouth above my ear, breathing into my hair, tracing his hands along my arms, palms open – warming them. My hands stay on the counter tops in front of me. This picture is too intimate for the arrangement we’ve made, we both know it, but still it’s impossible to break contact.

His hands move from my arms to my hips, up my sides, and along my belly sliding over my clothes. His lips are on my neck now, warm and soft, mouth closed, his stubble bristling rough against the sensitive area. He drags his knuckles across along my breasts as his mouth opens on my neck. The wet heat of his tongue and lips and the sensation of his warm fingers on my nipples pulls a soft moan out of me. Unconsciously I press against him, feeling the hardness through his cloth pants. My hand leaves the counter top to meet him when a squeaking door closes above us. Another small sound escapes me, lamenting as he pulls his body away.

I busy myself finding cups and milk in the kitchen while he moves to the living room. I hear grate scraping against brick, and the thud of logs being loaded into the fireplace. Listening still for sounds from above I step into the living room carrying our mugs. I settle into the couch pulling the blanket over me and watch him as he lights the fire. A couple minutes pass, after a sound of water running the door opens again, footsteps – another door opens and closes noisily. Whoever it was, their bed was more tempting than the smell of coffee and woodsmoke. Our gain, but still we need to be careful.

I lean against the arm of the couch, my legs crossed. Once the fire comes to life he sits down beside me, I stretch my bare legs out over his lap. We sip our coffee and watch the flame, his one hand resting on my thigh under the blanket. I ask him how it has been sleeping with two women at once. He laughs and speaking in a low voice, begins to recount the months of experimenting they’ve been doing at home. Most weekends Emily, his fiancée and Sofia the roommate spend hours in bed with each other. He joins and leaves at will, sometimes several times while their bodies stay locked together under the sheets. He can hear their moans and giggles through the door while they explore each other. They do not like him to watch, only to join or leave. He hasn’t had penetrative sex with Sofia. Neither are on birth control, so it’s always condoms at home. He describes to me in aching detail what positions work, and which do not when there are three.

I was fascinated and aroused, the chill had left my body completely. “These were not the best shorts to wear,” I complain. “Why?” He asks, hand still on my thigh. I glance up at him, down to the hand beneath the blanket and back to him with an eyebrow arched. With recognition in his face he begins to slowly move his hand down my thigh, my shorts are loose and thin, there is nothing beneath them. His knuckles meet my slick flesh first, then a thumb sliding along my silky lips parting them. I squirm beneath his touch as he draws his thumb gently over my clit, slipping a finger into me now. I resist my need to cry out but my breath catches in my throat. He leans towards me kissing my mouth greedily, his other hand slipping beneath my ass, gripping tightly. Is it always going be this way with us? I wonder to myself. It feels like we are burning up this couch with need for each other.

Another creak on the stairs. Apparently, we are sending off actual smoke signals every time we touch. “Fuck,” he murmurs, standing and adjusting himself, he goes to tend the fire. I collect our empty cups and walk to the kitchen, combing my hair tousled from our short exertions with my fingers as I go. The newcomer is bright-eyed and plainly here to stay. I walk back up the stairs to take my frustrations out on my sleeping and unsuspecting husband, riding him into quiet oblivion as the rest of the house sleeps on.

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Afternoon. We return from our event. After showering, the eight of us gather on the wooden deck in back. Bathing in the sun on blankets and passing around a whiskey bottle, music plays, we talk and laugh, stripping clothes as the sun slowly warms our bodies. We can hear the neighbors over the fence engaged in the virtuous and productive task of yard work. Nothing against Mormons, but the juxtaposition of ourselves dropped into this serene neighborhood full of faithful souls – half naked, boisterous from drink, and clearly coveting each other’s wives makes us laugh. Someone brings out a pan of hot brownies and a handful of forks; who knew the combination of Jack Daniel’s and oozing chocolate was pure ambrosia? Sofia and Emily lie in my husband’s lap feeding him chocolate and kissing each other on top of him as they playfully hold down his hands. Nathan and I share a look, evidently it has already started, the girls tended to be rather indiscreet when the drink began to flow.

Hopefully it seemed only playful to the rest of the group. We are all close, and each have had our fair share of less than innocuous encounters over the years, but only the five of us have been together. It was impossible to know how the others would react to that information. Nathan and I tended to be careful, even when we were just among ourselves, emotions are high and the boundaries are unclear.

The afternoon revelry continues, drinks are spilled, glass is broken. I spend 10 minutes sitting on a friend holding pressure to his bleeding hand, alcohol may thin blood somewhat, but this guy is just a bleeder in general – this is not the only circumstance in which I’ve spent too long trying to stop the bleed on him. He does not seem to mind me in his lap. Stitches won’t be necessary, reluctantly he permits me to rise so I can clean and wrap the hand. Our activities have made us hungry despite the brownies – now demolished. No one should be driving so I order in Thai food and wait outside on the front porch.

It is starting cool down again, the sun dipping lower. I’ve got on jean shorts and bare feet, and although my t-shirt is back on I hug myself for warmth and lean against the pillar by the stair, hoping for a quick delivery. The front door opens behind me and I’m surprised to see Nathan. His hand grazing my hip as he passes, he walks to the swing and sits down. I move towards him and lean against the rail beside him. That is not what he wants. He pulls me to his lap, reaching up to brush my hair off my neck, he whispers “I’ve been watching you all day. I want to fuck you so bad.” My eyes close and my chest tightens. “I would like that.” I respond breathlessly.

Suddenly he is up and crushing me against the house with his weight, his mouth on mine, hand on my face, the other on my hip. I don’t know how long we stood that way, his hips pressing into me, while I writhe under him standing on my toes. We felt like teenagers, insane with need – the furtive nature making it sweeter and more maddening. I have not seen him lose control like this, or ever take these risks. The app dings on my phone from its place by the stair, we look up to see a car pull in front. He presses me again, kissing me once more, his eyes a little wild he growls and pulls away, heading towards the car.

Back inside we are tear open the food, it smells amazing – giving into drunken gluttony is a feeling of luxury that comes second only to its deadly counterpart, lust. We dive in like starving animals but stop abruptly. “Oh FUCK this is hot!” Someone exclaims. It appears this place had used chilies like we were locals at a street market in the ghetto of Bangkok – instead of a group of milky white tourists safely tucked away in America’s least exciting town. I love hot food, the spicier the better usually, but we literally could not eat it, we were not born nor bred for this kind of heat. Our loss. Instead I began to toast an entire loaf of white bread, smothering the slices with butter and frying up two dozen eggs. The meal may have lacked an element of glamour, but it was made up for by the fact that we could eat it.

Our bellies full, the door and windows closed again to stay the oncoming chill of the night, we play our music loudly, continuing with the whiskey. Laughing, wrestling, dancing we are careful this time not to break anything or each other. Sofia and Emily begin to dance together, it’s erotic to watch, catching every one’s eyes. The mood changes as they grind on one another, moving slow with hands hidden beneath clothes. “You would have to be stupid not to see,” I think to myself, hoping my own actions and desires are not written so plainly. As the song ends Emily pulls Jack up, she is lithe and magnetic, long limbs and graceful as she winds herself around him. This is not uncommon, she loves to dance with my husband, anticipating his lifts and spins, he tosses her around easily, they look good together – *positioned between her legs, her head lying back, mouth parted as he plunges downward, driving her into the couch.* It’s so easy to picture that night as I watch them now.

I look over at Nathan, wondering if he’s picturing the same thing. I don’t think so, he is watching me move my hips to the music. I gesture at him to join me but he smiles and shakes his head, I am not surprised he rarely does. Although the image of the two of us swaying together while he slowly strips me for the first time fills my head, his hands were eager but careful then, testing my boundaries – neither of us knowing at the time that there were none. Today has been torture. Those fleeting moments together were tearing me apart, keeping me on edge with hunger I was not sure would be fulfilled.

We continue to entertain ourselves with games and dancing and I notice that Nathan has gone. The others are laughing and competing in some sport they had made up on the spot, I had not followed the rules and was already out. Our friends accounted for I climb the stairs hoping I won’t be missed. Upstairs the sound of rushing water from the bathroom greets me and my heart pounds. Should I? Probably not. But my defenses were down from the whiskey and my best judgment had been left in the swing on the front porch. The door was unlocked.

Closing the door behind me I lock it, the sound alerting Nathan to my presence; he does not seem surprised to see me. The small room is cloudy with steam. He watches me undress from behind the curtain, the water coursing down his body as he hardens. I walk toward him naked, pulling my hair into a high bun on top of my head, I have enough sensibility left to know that my hair cannot also be wet when I return to the party downstairs. He helps me into the tub, it’s large and claw footed, some serious modifications have been made to permit the shower. I let him know to keep my hair dry, he nods, and pulls me into him.

Heat is pouring off his body where it touches mine, but still with the movement of the air and the splashing water I shiver in his embrace, the flesh raising on my arms. He spins me to face the water warming me, from behind his mouth and teeth are on my neck with hands moving to cup my breasts. I am no longer cold but my flesh stays raised from the raking of his teeth along my neck and shoulder. My hand gropes the wall for support, his hands move lower and his knee pushes my legs apart. On my toes, balancing myself with the wall I reach behind and grasp him, guiding him to me from behind. The hardness meets me, slipping lengthwise against my lips below, gasping at the sensation I rise higher on my tip-toes to angle him inside me. As the tip of his cock begins to press into me he pulls away, I suck in a breath and turn to look at him pleading. “Not yet,” he whispers. My body is tense, I can’t remember a time when I have wanted a cock inside me so badly, I begin to feel a little desperate.

Turning me away from the pouring shower-head he lowers himself to his knees. With both hands he spreads my legs so they meet either side of the tub, comprehension dawning I bend low gripping the lip of the tub and arching my ass to the sky. His hands wrap around my thighs and he moves his face to meet me, I feel his lips first. Softly they kiss my throbbing clit, then mouth parting, tasting, his tongue moves gently lapping, I push my hips to him wanting more pressure, more contact and he closes his lips around my swollen clit and mound, sucking gingerly. My head spins, I tighten my grip on the tub, arching further.

After a few excruciating moments his lips break contact with me and are replaced by his fingers carefully circling my clit. I groan as he slides two fingers inside me with his other hand and begins with a coaxing motion, drawing me closer to that edge. I feel his mouth again, but this time higher; still kneeling behind me his fingers continue to deftly work me – his tongue slides across my exposed asshole. I stiffen, startled by the sensation, no one has ever done this to me, but he whispers reassuringly and begins to lick me again. I melt beneath his hot tongue, bending further and arching into him, my legs begin to tremor. Usually I relax into my orgasm, but I feel it building with a gravitational pull as his hands and tongue work me unceasingly and the water pounds and swirls around us. I suck air and moan in my throat, my head pressing into the wall, hands white from gripping the bath, my hips rock beneath his face. I lose myself then, clenching tightly around his fingers.

There is no time to gather my bearings, still pulsing and panting he stands and plunges into me from behind. I cry out from the pressure and his thickness, lifting myself from the edge to lean against the wall on my elbows, hands splayed for support. Still arching towards him, the dull throbbing residual from my climax begins to subside, leaving me sensitive and aching for more of him, even as he thrusts into me. I look behind me to watch him, attempting to stifle my sounds. His eyes are closed, both hands grasping my hips, pulling me to him has he presses into me. When his eyes open again to find me watching him he gives me an agonized look, tightening his hands and driving deeper but slowing his rhythm.

“More,” I beg, looking at him. Inhaling through his teeth he closes his eyes again, leaning over me and placing a hand over mine supported by the wall he begins to pound into me, his other hand locked like iron on my hip, grunting and losing control. My limbs tingle from holding my position, hips jarring against his. I love it. This moment where I am entirely vulnerable yet powerful. I cannot last forever in this position, but neither can he – his breathing already heavy he begins to groan over each exhalation, his body tight, his cock hardens further and begins pulsing inside me.

His head slumps down, resting on my back as his breathing slows and his body relaxes. After a few moments he straightens and slips out of me, his cum now dripping between my thighs and down my legs. He steps out of the shower to dress as I clean up. I turn off the water and he reaches through the curtain grabbing my dripping body, pulling me to him to kiss me. “I’ll be in my room,” he whispers, “You go down first.” I nod and step out of the shower as he walks to the door. As he grips the handle he turns to look back at me – still soaking wet and steaming, he shakes his head and grins, then quietly closes the door behind him, head still shaking.

I dry off and dress as quickly as I can, looking in the mirror to see that my are cheeks flushed and my hair is wild but thankfully dry. Brushing it out with my fingers I take a few deep breaths and walk into the empty hallway, a good sign, I have no concept of the time that has passed. The music is playing loudly, and I hear them still shouting and laughing, I walk downstairs to rejoin the game, the stairs creaking beneath me as I go.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/a1w8w8/the_excruciating_wait_my_husbands_best_friend_mf