Best Man

"He has a what? He did WHAT?!" I couldn't believe what I was hearing. It was my worst nightmare come true.

"He has a girlfriend, sweetheart. And he told her that ya'll fucked. I didn't stutter." My fiancé's tone said that he wasn't taking this nearly as seriously as I was.

It had been less than a month since I had slept with his best friend (the best man for our wedding) at our engagement party. No big deal, my lover and I are swingers and he knew my intentions long before anything had ever happened. But that his friend was involved with someone else...well this was news to me. That he'd had a girlfriend at the time we slept together, and he had neglected to tell me...that was unforgivable.

"You KNOW I never would have helped him cheat! He knows that I'd never...FUCK! Where is he? I'm gonna kill him!" I grabbed my keys off the dresser and headed for the door.

"Babe? Just a thought..."

"WHAT?" I turned around, sending daggers with my eyes.

"I think it would be counter-productive for him to see you, er, dressed like that," my fiancé replied, trying to stifle a laugh.

I looked down, and had to laugh at my own stupidity, as I had been ready to go scream at his best friend while completely in the nude. My sweet lover had chosen to first fuck me, and then tell me of his friend's indiscretions. Giggling, I climbed back into bed.

I took a moment to collect myself, and then said, "But seriously, though. What happened? When did he get a girlfriend? Why would he cheat on her, and then tell her about it?"

"It's kind of a long story. He met Sarah four months ago when he was visiting his parents. They hit it off, blah, blah, blah. Anyway, about this time, you told me that you wanted to fuck him. I didn't know he was involved, so I said sure. He came home, and we approached him about the fucking. He said no—"

"Yeah, yeah, I know that part, silly!"

"Fine. Blah, blah, blah, ya'll fuck. Meanwhile, Sarah is getting pretty lonely up there in Illinois—"

"His parents live in Illinois?"

"Can I finish? Sarah was getting lonely in Illinois, so she decided to give him a call. This was about a week ago. During the call, she said he seemed really distant, and he said she was crazy. She was like, 'What's that supposed to mean?' And he said something like 'It means you're crazy.' So she said he was lousy in bed, and he said, 'Oh, yeah? My best friend's fiancé doesn't think so!'"

"HE SAID WHAT?!"

"Yeah, that was kind of her reaction, too. So anyway, she's coming down here, because she doesn't think they should break up over the phone."

"Oh...oh my god. He's nuts. And she's nuts. Oh my god! Does she know where I live? Fuck! FUCK! This is very, very bad." I tried to wrap my head around the situation, but I couldn't. "I have to go talk to him." I got up to leave again, and almost walked out naked again, but my lover called me back and set me right before I got out the door.

**************

I stood on my fiancé's friend's porch, banging on the door.

"Open up, you schmuck! I know you're in there!"

He opened the front door, but left the screen door locked. "Don't kill me. It was an accident!" he stammered.

"Let me in, buddy. You and me need to have a talk NOW." After some additional gentle coaxing on my part, he finally let me in.

His house was a mess, as usual, and he was no better, clad only in a pair of boxers. Against my better judgment, I let my eyes roam over his body, which was so different from my lover's. Where the latter was tall and lean, with only a dusting of strawberry hair covering his upper torso and head, this one was big and furry, with dark black hair covering his chest, a perfect match to the jet-colored mop on his head. Still, his broad frame wasn't unpleasing, and I knew oh so well how it felt to be held by those strong, burly arms...not that that was an experience I'd like to repeat, mind you. Of course not.

"Who's this Sarah? Does she know where I live? Why are you such a moron?" My questions were rapid fire, as I was so flustered...by the situation, of course.

"Look, I wasn't thinking about Sarah when we...were together," he started. "I was more worried about your upcoming wedding, know what I mean? And then, when she called me, I panicked. We started fighting, and I just blurted it out. I'm sorry."

"Look, it's not like...what we did...was any big secret, okay? It wasn't cheating, it was swinging, as far as I'm concerned. I never would have knowingly done anything that could be considered cheating! I...I don't do that anymore," I said, alluding to my dubious past.

"And I wouldn't want you to," his tender tone surprised me, and I looked up into his eyes, realizing that he'd come close to me, and that he had his hand on my arm. Suddenly, my arms were around his neck, and I pressed my lips against his, our bodies colliding together. But almost as soon as it had started, we broke off the kiss, each of us backing away as if struck by lightning.

"I didn't mean to—"

"I'm so sorry—"

We looked at each other and blushed, our excuses trailing off.

"I think I'm in love with Sarah." His words were so soft, I almost didn't hear him.

"Yes, and I'm going to marry the man I love next August." My reply was so casual! Did I really sound like that?

"So why do we..."

"...always end up like this?" I finished. "I don't know. I can't stand you most of the time. You're arrogant and obnoxious, and you make the worst mistakes with women..."

"Hey, sister, you're no picnic yourself! You're so bold and forward, and you're such a fucking tease..."

"And yet?" I smiled at him, and drew closer once more.

"And yet, if I don't fuck you right now, I think I'm going to explode."

And there it was. Our central conflict, practically spelled out in blaring letters that neither of us could deny. This sexual tension between us, this constant, burning need to just shut up and start fucking...well, it was why we were here in the first place.

I let him reach out and pull me closer, let him lean down to kiss me. And when his tongue pushed past my lips, I didn't hesitate to massage it with my own.

We went into his bedroom, and he laid me down on the bed. His touch was so different from our first encounter, it was almost like being with another person. He pulled off the shirt I had hastily thrown on to come to his place, and his lips closed around one exposed nipple. I was just about to make a smart-ass comment about his soft caresses when his teeth closed around the little bud and trapped it in a sharp embrace. The words died on my lips as I moaned in ecstasy.

"Oh, that's right. Now I remember," he leaned up to whisper in my ear, "You're a masochistic little slut, aren't you?" When I moaned my assent, he bent down and bit the other nipple, harder, making me squeal. "I thought that our little tryst was just supposed to be a one-time deal, slut. But you just had to have more of my cock, didn't you?" He punctuated these words by unzipping my jeans and pulling them off, exposing my shaved cunt. "You know, I didn't have time to appreciate your pretty little pussy last time. I think I'll have to make up for that grievous mistake."

He leaned down and spread my legs with both hands, leaning down to bury his face in my cunt, which was already soaking wet. He parted my engorged lips with his tongue, and found my hard clit quickly, teasing the little nub with a few gentle strokes before closing his lips around it, sucking hard. I bucked up against his mouth, my legs shaking involuntarily with the force of my impending orgasm. He pushed a finger inside me, fucking me quickly and hard. I came in rush, crying out something incomprehensible that might have been his name.

When I came down, he sat up, licking my juices off of his fingers with a sly look in his eyes. "Better?" He asked, smug as ever.

I rolled my eyes. "Dear heart, in the words of Tori Amos, 'So you can make me come, does that make you Jesus?'"

"I'm hurt! Who's Jesus? Is he bigger than me?"

"You are going to Hell!" I tackled him, almost knocking us both off the bed, laughing the whole time. I quickly recovered, however, and mashed my lips against his, tasting myself on his tongue. I trailed the fingers of both hands down his stomach until I came to the hem of his boxers, and then I removed that article, freeing his stiff cock. I wrapped my hand around him and began to jerk him, slowly. "So, what to do? Should I suck your cock like a good little slut, or should I skip the pleasantries and just let you fuck me?"

"My dear, while the thought of your lips on my manhood is certainly stimulating, let us take a rain check, shall we? After all, somehow, I think there's definitely going to be a next time, and right now, I want to be back inside your tight little cunt, if it's all the same to you." Before I could respond, he flipped me over on my back and shoved his dick deep inside my pussy, filling me once again with his unfamiliar girth.

"Oh, god! Fuck me hard!" As soon as he began to fulfill my request, I came again, this time in waves that rippled through my body like electricity. His cock moved within me, fucking me in deep strokes in a rhythm that I quickly fell into step with, bucking to meet his every thrust.

I wrapped my legs around him, crossing my ankles at his back, bringing him ever further inside my pussy, which was clamping down on his cock with the ebb and flow of my orgasm, which seemed to last forever.

Suddenly, I felt his thrusts take on a harder, more frantic pace, and he cried out, "Oh, fuck, I'm coming! I'm coming in your pussy!" His orgasm brought new life to my own, and I screamed, clutching him to me as he came hard.

When we were done, we lay panting, spent, almost too exhausted to un-entwine ourselves.

"Tori Amos, huh? I didn't know you liked her," he looked up from his position on my breast where he had fallen.

"What's wrong with Tori Amos?" I asked, almost too tired to care.

"Yeah, what's wrong with Tori Amos?" asked a voice from the doorway.

I leaned up, and he turned around. There stood a woman a little older than myself. She was petite and round, her curly red hair pulled into a messy ponytail, with tendrils falling to frame her face, which would have been pretty if it weren't for the frown that marred it.

"So. You must be Sarah," I said, not really knowing what else to say.