The Favor (tara's Version)

[Two quick notes:

1. While there is a slight mention of the characters in this story back when they were under 18, all of the sex depicted takes place when they are are fully consenting adults in their thirties.

2. This is a companion to my other story called "The Favor." I think you can read this independently, but check out the other if you'd like both points of view.

I hope you enjoy it!]

I'm sorry to say this because he's a great guy, but isn't Tim the worst storyteller? He gave you this really hot account of what was a pretty wild night several years ago, then tells you about how we saw one another again at our class reunion and ends with us going upstairs and that's it? Maybe he thought he was being clever by teasing you a little, but come on.

So I'm going to tell it. The whole thing. And trust me, I'm going to do a much better job.

I need to go all the way back to our beginning, though, because the context is important. Sure, it's kind of fun to start with your friend proposing that the two of you have sex in front of her husband, but there's got to be a serious layer of trust built up between the two of you for that even to be an idea you'd consider, right?

We obviously went to high school together; technically, we met in the third grade but in the same way I met everyone in my third grade class, which was being in the same room with them every day. We were both in a lot of the same honors classes as teenagers, but hung out with different groups of friends. And yes, I knew he and his friends used to make jokes about my breasts. So many of the guys did. It's not like I could help that I developed early; however, when you're a little taller and bustier than all the petite girls, immature boys make gross sexist comments. And, if you're me, you hide behind baggy sweaters and stay quiet until you can finally get out of there.

It didn't work entirely, but it worked well enough for me to not be embarrassed to show up to school every day and to get into a top university. I knew Tim had been accepted there as well, but didn't even think about it until we ran into one another at a party during the fall of our freshman year. By then, I'd come out of my shell a little, hooked up with a couple of guys, and could go out on a weekend not ashamed of my body.

Prior to that night, Tim and I had maybe had three or four conversations ever and those were probably when we wound up in a discussion group or as lab partners, so we really were meeting for the first time. And I'll admit that he was more attractive than I'd remembered. Now, it might have been that he wasn't dressed like and didn't carry himself like the wannabe frat bros who were everywhere at those parties, but as we talked and had a couple of beers (and he didn't offer me a cup of the "jungle juice", which was also a plus for him), I started to flirt. He flirted back. We headed off into the corner of that dorm room, a little bit away from the crowd, and... then my roommate Lisa stumbled over looking like absolute hell. So I had to excuse myself and head down the hall to hold her hair while she puked up some sort of vile magenta-looking concoction. To this day, I'm glad she found me instead of whatever piece of shit guy had obviously roofied her drink.

Anyway, Tim and I never got a second chance. We either missed one another at different parties, had our own moment in the hall bathroom, or found other people, like I did when I met Dave.

I'm not going to relitigate my entire relationship with my ex-husband for you; let's just say that we were a perfect match until we weren't. The two of us were cutting loose as college started and liked to party. It probably wasn't the best thing for me at first because my grades suffered, but I eventually figured out how to balance crazy weekends and serious weeknights. And we were a great match sexually--two people who didn't have a lot of experience and were willing to try anything out.

Of course, something that is that hot has a flip side and the two of us would fight a lot. I felt bad for Tim back then because he was friends with both of us and often got put in the middle of whatever drama was going on. But he and I connected on a weird level. I think it started with one stupid "Never have I ever" game where he seemed to be one of the few people in the room not clutching their pearls about what I confessed to having done. And from there, we got to a place where we could have really bawdy, inappropriate conversations about sex, whether it be about things I tried or liked to do or whatever he was up to with Michelle, Lauren, Kim, Kate, or whomever he was with at the time.

Then we graduated and didn't see one another as much. Dave and I moved in together and things got even more volatile. Yes, thinking back, that should have been a sign, but I was as lost at 22 as I was at 18 and with Dave, I had all the drugs and loud, adventerous sex I wanted, often simultaneously. And one day? Well, I woke up on a Sunday afternoon surrounded by the remains of my night--empty bottles, bits of coke on the bedside table, and clothes all over the floor, like some cliche rock star--and realized I needed to get my act together. Dave did too, although now I know it was only to make me happy; when he proposed, I said yes. Even at the time, I knew that it was out of obligation. After all, I was already a bridesmaid in two weddings and everyone else seemed to be getting engaged. It was just my turn.

So how do you stay together for fifteen years--married for nearly ten--out of obligation when deep down you know you aren't meant for one another? Well, the first few years were good but then Dave's drinking got in the way and our bedroom more or less died. I saw Tim more and more because he was living near us and while I didn't share all the details of our marriage, I still felt comfortable enough around him to be honest and he felt good about having someone to come to when his relationships went to shit.

But mine was on its way out, so I came up with an idea. And I know what you're going to say--trying to save a marriage by spicing up your sex life is probably the worst idea possible--and I completely agree with you. But I had been raised around the idea of commitment no matter what. My parents have been married for 40 years and both my older brothers are in long marriages. The idea of divorce? Please. You take what you have to and try to fix it where you can.

The inspiration to share our fantasies and spice things up came to me after a night out with some college friends who were meeting in the city to go to a club. I hadn't been to a club in years and considered not going because I was probably going to be at least a decade older than most of the women there. But I said yes because I'd be with my friends, I had plenty of money to throw around, and since I'd kept myself in good shape... well, I know it sounds conceited, but my body was worth showing off.

It was an absolute blast, and about halfway through the night, we met these guys. I was one of two married women among us and Kirstin demured their advances right away. I decided to flirt back with one of the guys--a greasy guy from New Jersey who was not type--and I let it go a little further. Maybe a little over the line, even. The boy was into me and definitely eager and that attention made me horny, so when we were on the dnace floor, I let him grind into me and even cop a feel or two. I even, for half a second, considered letting him take me somewhere; instead, I let him down gently and walked away. He probably thought I was the biggest tease, but I didn't care.

The two or three of us who didn't go off with the Jersey guys got the last trains home and when I got in at around three in the morning, I was half drunk and very turned on. I stripped, got into bed, and gently woke up my husband by kissing his neck while rubbing the oustide of his boxer briefs. And for the first time in I don't know how long, it worked. I didn't even need to say anything; he kissed me and pretty soon I was on top of him with my ass in his face and his cock down my throat. We finished with me riding him until I came then letting him pound me hard while he sucked on and squeezed my breasts.

When we were done and I was laying on top of him, he asked me what brought that about. I told him that my friends were all hooking up with random guys and it got me a little jealous and very horny, so I decided to go for it.

The man was very grateful.

Then I brought up how much I liked it when we were "on" as far as our sex was concerned. It led to conversations about some of the stuff we'd done in past and I asked him if he had any ideas or fantasies or things he was interested in.

We started small, I guess. We watched a couple of porn scenes together. Some were really hot, but a few of them got kind of boring; at least they led to some sex on our couch. Sex outdoors was a disappointment because the ground was more uncomfortable than we both realized. But playing with a vibrator together? Oh, that was really fun. And it all did work; for a few months, our relationship was great. We were getting along a lot more and I felt like we were together more than simply coexisting.

So we decided to sort of challenge one another with something more elaborate. As you know, Dave came up with the idea of watching me with another guy, and I'll get to that night in a little bit. I didn't tell Tim what my side of the deal was because I was enjoying the way things were between me and Dave. But now that it's been a few years after the divorce?

I had always been self-conscious about my body. I was a little bit taller and more developed than other girls when I was in school and that kept up as I grew into a woman who was more curvy than the stick figures you see prancing around in Lululemon pants and acting like Queen Bee at the supermarket. But there's a point in your twenties where your tolerance for other people's bullshit drops and when that happened, I also stopped getting worked up about whether or not something made me look fat. Yes, I joined a gym, but I also saw that there was a difference between working out and starving yourself to get skinny and loving yourself and sculpting your body to make it the way you want it. By the time Dave and I went on this adventure, I was a few years into the latter, so I decided that my wish was to celebrate it.

The idea was a sexy photo shoot. I knew people who had boudoir photos taken, so I looked into that; however, as much as I liked the photographers I researched, it felt like something was missing. For some reason, I thought Dave would feel left out and I also felt that--ironically, I guess--they were too conservative for what I was going for. But a couple of the photographers had "erotic photography" sides to their websites. That was enticing, and In found a photographer who was knew exactly what I wanted.

We set the shoot up for a Saturday and decided to get an expensive hotel suite. She took care of all the lighting and set dressing logistics and I brought five outfits, each one of which was more revealing than the next. The first set of pictures, in a black teddy and high heels, were very classic boudoir; I posed on the couches, the chaise, the bed, and by the windows. With the next set, I went with fishnets and a corset and she made the poses less coquettish.

By the time I was in my fourth outfit, I was bearing my breasts more, the poses were a little more Penthouse than Playboy, and whatever innocence I had on my face was replaced with firey want. Dave was getting more vocal about how hot things were, and I knew the fifth outfit was going to blow him away, because it was something he'd never seen before: a fishnet body stocking.

I put it on in the bathroom and even I couldn't get over how hot it looked on me. Before Dave could see me, I called the photographer over and talked to her about this next--and last--set of photos. I wanted something way more hardcore than when we started, and when I told her what I had in mind, she enthusiastically agreed and went to set up the bedroom.

I came out and Dave's jaw dropped. I posed sexily for both of them, showing my tits through the fishnets, then crawling onto the bed and giving them a view of my ass as I looked over my shoulder. Then, I took the biggest step forward of the day, spreading my legs and showing both of them my waxed pussy. At first, I admit, I was a little self-conscious about it, but as I started to rub myself, my inhibitions melted and I did my best to fuck the camera with my eyes. Then, I reached into the bedside table and pulled out the vibrator I'd asked the photographer to place there when she set up the shoot. I ripped a little bit of the body stocking and began fucking myself.

It felt so amazing and after a couple of minutes of moaning and staring down the camera, I told Dave to come stand by the bed. She kept taking pictures as I reached for his pants and pulled out his raging hard cock. He moaned as I took it in my mouth and sucked him while working the vibrator. It was awkward at times but knowing that the pictures were going to look incredible, I didn't care and I screamed around his dick when I came. Then, I took him out of my mouth and tossed the vibrator off the bed.

"Come on, baby. Fuck me," I told him.

He began to undress but I stopped him, telling him to keep his clothes on because I liked the idea of how it was going to look. It sounded cheesy as hell, but it turned him on and I stood up, bent over the edge of the bed and rubbed my stocking-ed ass on his cock. He reached for the threads and ripped them apart before shoving himself inside me.

Over the next few minutes, he fucked me from behind, making me stand up a little more so he could rip the body stocking off of me, then pushed me onto the bed so he could take me. The photographer circled around both of us as we grunted like animals, grinding against one another. I manged to rub my clit, too, and she got some close up shots of me doing it, as well as close-ups of my face as I screamed with my orgasm. When he came, pumping his load into my cunt, she made him pull out slowly so she could get everything--his cum and mine dripping off his dick and what he'd left behind inside me.

It was the hottest and wildest thing I had ever done. And yes, I was smart enough to make sure he never had access to those pictures. Oh, he saw them, but since I paid for them, he never got a single.jpg.

Then, it was his turn. I'll admit that I was nervous about being with another man for him, although the photo shoot had given me some serious confidence. We started looking for guys on a couple of apps, but everyone we matched up with was either a bit skeezy when we met them or had misrepresented themselves. We were both disappointed until I brought up the idea of Tim.

Truth be told, I really was thinking of him because he was someone we both knew and trusted. Maybe I'd wondered about him once or twice over the years, but I was being logical more than anything. If it's someone you trust, then you can be comfortable and probably have more fun. But I did almost back out after the night at the bar. He seemed so nervous and I felt so awkward. Dave was enthusiastic and pretty sure he'd go through with it, so I didn't say anything and it wasn't until the conversation in the diner where I felt good about it. I hadn't had a one-on-one conversation like that with him in a very long time and it was so easy that I left the diner that night excited about our plans.

Was I nervous? Definitely. But the wine helped, and as we were hanging out in the kitchen, our conversation was casual and didn't even touch on the big thing we had planned. So I wasn't overthinking things and the two of us were relaxed and I was ready--so ready--when we kissed for the first time. What I wasn't ready for, though, were my feelings. As we kissed memories came rushing through my brain and I started to feel pangs of regret for holding whatever this was inside me for so long. I understood his hesitation when we moved into the living room and he began shaking, so I asked, "You okay? You know you don't have to."

"I am," he said, "I just want to make sure this is everything you guys want."

What I wanted was right in front of me. I knew that the two of us were going to put on a show for my husband because this was his fantasy, but in that moment, I ignored that he was watching us from the loveseat. And when I slid my hands over his ass, kissed him on the side of his neck facing away from Dave and whispered, "I want you," I meant it.

And damn, he was hung. Now, this isn't where I demean my ex-husband with a comparison because Dave was nicely endowed and had been satisfying me for a long time. I'm just glad I didn't need to pretend in order to make Tim feel good; I knew that Dave seeing me take such a big dick was going to make that night even better than he imagined, and I knew that I was about to be thoroughly fucked and couldn't wait.

I could have feasted on him forever. He felt so big in my hand and as I sucked him, I felt every bit of him--his throbbing purple head, his stiff rod, his bulging veins--and tasted his sweet precum. I could have kept going and taken his load down my throat. Fuck, I wanted it. But we had a job to do and Tim needed what he'd been thinking about ever since he met me. As I took off my top, I thought back to when we were younger and all of the guys and their crude jokes about my breasts. But it was so long ago, none of them were ever going to see them, and Tim? Well, he'd earned my tits.

I straddled him and put my arms around his neck, then said, "Come on, suck on them. I know it's what you've been thinking about."

I had taken his cock in my mouth a few minutes earlier, but he devoured my chest, taking my right one into his mouth and sucking hard. It made me moan and that meant he would suck harder before switching to the left and pinching the right. I twirled my hips as he kept going, kissing and sucking all over them and between them. I knew he was thinking about coming all over them later and I was going to be happy to oblige, but we weren't there yet.

But it was time for me to take him, and I told Dave to stroke his very hard dick while I rode Tim's. I made sure I spread my legs enough for Dave to see his friend's member filling my pussy and he practically drooled at the sight of it. I'm surprised he held out, especially when I began to rub my clit and ground harder and harder trying to get that cock as deep inside me as I could. When I came, my body stiffened and I gasped, unable to breathe for a moment.

He was pretty close himself, and I know that's why he told me to get on the couch, but I didn't expect him to eat me from behind. His tongue felt amazing and I reveled in the way my sex melted as he started slowly licking me. When he spread my ass cheeks, I got worried for a moment because I'd been very clear about my boundaries. But then he began to tongue fuck my pussy, and I thought I was going to lose it. He took it hard and strong, making me drip, and I literally squeaked when he flicked at my clit.

I ground into him as he continued, telling him to keep going and do it just like that. I was getting close again, and the thought of my coming on his face heightened my pleasure. But the he stopped and put me on all fours.

I know that he could probably say that finishing on my chest is what he remembered the most. When he did come, his load was enormous and he looked so satisfied and pleased to have conquered me. But what I remember most is when he took charge.

He began to fuck me from behind and when I started to put my face into the couch and my ass in the air, he reached out and grabbed my shoulder.

"No."

"No?" I asked. I playfully kept trying to get into that position, but took a handful of her hair and pulled it.