I remember meeting you at my wedding. I know, it’s not the ideal place to start lusting for someone new, but there was something about you. Don’t get me wrong, my bride was absolutely stunning – even if her mother hated how non-traditional (i.e., revealing) the dress was. There was something magnetic about you though.
I’ve never believed in the idea that you “instinctively” know who you wanna be with – we’re much too animalistic by nature for that, but you made me question that. I don’t know if it was your deep green eyes, your figure and how your cocktail dress both accented your body and left enough mystery to uncover, or your charisma. I do know that while you left the event with my bride’s brother, thoughts of you went with me to the honeymoon and beyond.
From that day forward, I wondered what you thought of me. We never explicitly discussed how we felt about each other; I was your boyfriend’s brother-in-law and, until you married him, you were my wife’s brother’s latest girlfriend.
“Latest.” I’m not going to lie: that word made me a little jealous of both of you. I couldn’t help but think of how much of a player that made him sound like. I already knew he was, but that made me think about how he treats you. Which, of course, led to me thinking about how he fucks you. I’d get jealous and hard, and then I’d, inevitably, think about me fucking you. Suddenly, I’d have slipped away from my wife, and my hand would be wrapped around my cock while I day-dreamt of you.
“Latest” also made me think that you might be expendable to him. That fear was somewhat eased when my wife mentioned that you had been sticking around longer than all of his other girlfriends she remembered. He, too, later confirmed something else I was curious about when he said that he’d never hung out with his sister this much as an adult before. The four of us seemed to be together every couple of weeks, if not more often. He did say that you liked spending time with us. I didn’t want to read too much into the frequency of the double-dates or how much you enjoyed them.
Then I was heartbroken. When he proposed to you, I so wanted to be happy for you. You seemed excited. Hell, you seemed so in love on your wedding day. I suppose that’s what you’re supposed to feel – love for your new spouse, not lust for someone you haven’t met before.
The pain subsided over time, but I’ll admit that I was a little enthused when you and my brother-in-law moved into the ranch next-door. Sure, it was a logical thing to do. I garden, and we specifically bought our property because of the existing grove of apple trees. You loved the fenced in acreage on the next-door lot for your new doggy daycare business. When it came up for sale, you swooped in and snapped it up before the “for sale” sign even got driven into the ground.
It wasn’t too long until we were giving you both a tour of the apple grove, the cidery, and gardens, and we were over your place checking out the kennels and play-lots you’d broken out by dog-size. I feel like you and I did most of the talking on that tour. If there is one thing our spouses have in common it’s that they aren’t outdoorsy like you and I. We were wrapped up in explaining every little detail, and they just wanted us to wrap up and get along to dinner.
Soon enough, the day-dreams returned. I’d be out in the garden and I’d see you around the field, playing with dogs or doing some kind of chores, and I’d have to slip away to the cidery “office” for some alone time. I always wondered if you’d notice me slip away…
…then, one day, you just barged into the cidery. I was seated at my chair, my pants were around my ankles, and my stiff cock was in my hand. I was so close to cumming too; there was something about the day dream I had been having at the time of bending you over my desk, pulling up your skirt to reveal a butt plug, removing it, and fucking you in the ass that was just doing it for me. I was imagining you riding me in my chair with your ass until I was about to cum in my daydream, but you interrupting kept anything from climaxing that afternoon.
Yes, it was funny when I popped up from the chair, eyes wide and cock hard exclaiming “Fuck!” And the look on your face was pretty priceless. I almost wish you hadn’t turned away as I pulled up my pants. I could hear you giggling after you said you’d wait outside. I gave myself a minute and then came over to help you with the new hole someone had dug under one of your fences. It wasn’t as awkward as I was afraid it would be, but seeing you get your hands dirty meant I was going to need more alone time before my wife came home. Then you purposefully bent over to pat some dirt down and joked about how quickly we finished and how still had enough time to “finish what I was doing before the Mrs. got home.”
Yes, it was funny. And yes, I think I started falling in love with you all over again.
The strangest thing started happening after that: you began making more of an effort to talk to me each day. You used to just smile and waive. Now you had started walking over to have a short conversation. The conversations got longer and longer. Over time, you started to playfully touch my arm or shoulder. I didn’t know how to feel at first. The feelings were intense. My chest pounded, my gut told me it was taboo, my lust wanted me to touch you back. One day, I did.
It was just a touch of your arm while we told a silly story about our respective work-focused spouses. I saw you bite your lip. You didn’t pull back right away. I didn’t know if I had done something wrong, but you did seem to find an excuse to cut the chat short and head to the dog kennel-shed.
The next day was normal. You came over to talk to me, we had a good chat, and you touched me. I touched you once more. I could see a reaction in you, and I don’t think it was negative. You did look so antsy after that. Again, you cut the conversation off a little short. Not awkwardly, you said that you had something to handle in the house for dinner.
I wasn’t sure if I was doing something wrong. I started back towards the garden, but I don’t know if I got anything done; I kept looking at the back porch to your house to see if you were coming back out. I feel like I checked every few seconds or so, but the door never opened.
Then I glanced to the left, to your dining room windows. I knew you and my brother-in-law never used the dining room because we always hosted family/holiday meals, but I saw that you had found a use for it. You were sitting on the table, with your knees up and legs spread apart. You still had your flannel top on, but nothing else. You shook as your vibrator rubbed around your sex.
Holy fuck, I was… I was stunned. I didn’t know what to think; I just stood there, watching, arousing. I saw as you scrunched up your face in an orgasmic bliss. I saw fluid squirt from your crotch as you came (I had no idea you squirted, but now it was certainly going to be a fixture in my daydreams of you). I watched you lay back, switch your toy off, and caress yourself in that post-orgasmic bliss. I just stood there.
You eventually climbed down off the table. You got off of it facing away from the windows. Thank fuck you left the curtains open. You grabbed your vibe and walked around the table, briefly facing the back yards before walking into the kitchen and grabbing towels to clean up the mess. I turned away to walk toward the cidery, walking with a painfully hard cock is never easy, but the lust marched me forward.
I never saw you come back out that day, but one thought bothered me through the rest of the afternoon and into the night. I laid there, next to your sister-in-law. We’d had sex, but all I could think about was you, imagining she was you as she rode me, as I bent her over, as I filled her with cum. But, I laid there after our fucking, after she’d fallen asleep, thinking, “Why didn’t she run to her bedroom? Why the dining table? Why were the curtains open?” I could only think of one reason.
The next day started out normal enough. We found ourselves chatting at the fence like we normally do. We were joking, laughing, and exchanging the slightest of touches and flirtations. You had just finished telling me how you nearly burnt the mac-and-cheese for dinner last night, and we were still giggling about it like it was the funniest thing we’d ever talked about. I was resting my hand on the fence post, and you put your hand on top of mine for a moment. It felt like a long, wonderful moment, but I wasn’t timing it or anything. You took your hand away and stuffed them both in your pockets. You took a small step back from the fence line.
“Do you like your wife?” you asked. It caught me off-guard, and all I could muster was a pondering face and an “um.” I feel like that answered your question, in a way. If I did really, truly like her, I’d have said something like, “Like her? I love her. She’s the most perfect, beautiful, sexy woman in the world. No one compares.” But, instead, here I am in love with you and only blurting out a confused “um.”
“I don’t enjoy my husband,” you confessed.”He’s colder than he was. He doesn’t seem unhappy, just content. It’s like the stability is what bring him joy. Not our life, not his or my successes, not fucking me, nothing.”
“I don’t know what to…”
“You don’t have to. I needed to get it off my chest. It’s boring. It drives me nuts to listen to him drone about work, or going out with the boys after work. I hate watching the news or crime thrillers with him. I hate trying to suck his little dick or eat his ass to where he’s hard enough to fuck me. The him I married is totally different from the him I met at the bar five years ago.”
“You eat his ass?” I don’t know why that’s what came out of my mouth. I did always figure he had a small dick though. There had to be a reason all the other girls came and went.
“Oh yeah,” you replied, “If I like someone, I’m a fucking freak. I’ve always been that way. I liked him enough that, the first night I met him, I sucked him off in the bar bathroom, swallowed it all, and came back out for more drinks before I went back to his place.”
“That’s not too freak…”
“How about this: the only time I’ve had any satisfaction with him since we moved here was the time I made his favorite dinner – peach pork chops with grilled asparagus, sat down across from him with slutty lingerie on beneath my sweats at the table, and watched him enjoy everything. I then took him upstairs and revealed my slutty outfit to him. I used my mouth and tongue on his cock, balls, and asshole until he exploded all over himself. The satisfying part was that he was the second man to see my outfit that day, and that first man’s cum was still leaking from my sore pussy when I got my husband off. I’ve never been so satisfied not to fuck someone.”
I was stunned. I couldn’t think of a single word to say.
“No response?” you asked. I shook my head. “He seems to have something big to say,” you said, glancing down at my jeans. My cock had grown incredibly hard hearing your confession, your wildness. You were so much more than my lust imagined.
“I don’t like my wife,” I said. I don’t know what came over me. “I’ve wanted you since I met you.”
“At your wedding?”
“Yes.”
“I hoped you’d say that.” You stepped forward and grabbed my collar. You kissed me, and it was like I’d never been kissed before. That moment was a culmination of everything I’d dreamed of and it was somehow better than I’d imagined.
“Did you enjoy the show in the dining room yesterday? I know you were watching.” I admitted that I did. “When I caught you in the cidery that day, what were you thinking about? I know it was me.” I admitted that it was, what I was imagining, and how I almost came. “I’m sorry I ruined everything that day. Let me make it up to you.”
You hopped the fence for the first time that day. It’s been six years now. We’ve been crossing that fence almost every day since. I don’t love your sister-in-law when I keep the house clean or bend her over or kiss her goodbye in the morning. You don’t love my brother-in-law when you cook dinner or toss his salad or kiss him goodbye in the morning. We do what we need to do for them, but we only cross the fence for each other. I love it, and I think you do too. I wouldn’t want this any other way.