Ever had that one good friend who'd do anything for you but they also would engage in a bit of informal competition with you? To see who had the better job, the better car, the hotter spouse - that type of thing? Well this is the story of how I probably ended such a contest.
Andy had been my best friend since high school - we'd been thrown together as lab partners and after he'd cover for me during an "unfortunate" lab incident, we've been best friends. Throughout University, throughout the dry spell when we couldn't find jobs after, through his first marriage (and divorce), through various trials and tribulations. He was more of a risk taker and as we grew older, his risks paid off financially (and well bedroom wise). And he made sure I knew about it over the last 20 years. It never bothered me - well bothered me much, because I knew (if I could muster up the courage) I had him beat in one area.
During our last year in University, I had caught the eye of a certain tall, half-white, half-black Caribbean girl. Tall and toned, naturally bronze skin, with brown afro curls and the perkiest breasts I had ever seen. She was perfect and knew it. To anyone else she would be "miss prim and proper" but after some weeks I learnt that she had a perverted mind that matched my own. Yet this was my secret, especially as she would arose me with tales of spying on her roommates and past conquests. We got married and kept on building that sexual resume as partners, just our secret.
I think Andy knew there was something more to her but she was unattainable to him and he knew it.
Fast forward to the present day. Andy had finally returned to our hometown after six years - just himself, his family was too busy to accompany him. To be honest, we - both in our early forties - lived it up. Drinking binges, hunting trips, generally relieving our youth. It was a good time. The last few days before he was due to fly back, he had asked me to run some personal errands with him and at the end of the day, we sat on my porch slowly consuming beers and chicken wings. My wife had taken the kids out to a sleepover so it was just the two of us and the talk drifted into the realm of reminiscing and old sexual conquests. Eventually he spoke:
"You know, you're the best. Although I would admit I could never do what you did."
"Do what?" as I took a swig of beer.
"Fuck the same woman for 20 years straight. Don't get me wrong - your wife is perfect but dude, tell me, just tell me that it does not get boring." He said it to me whilst waving the half-drunk beer. I felt weird at that moment, oddly angry, like I needed to defend my wife's honour.
"It's hot outside, the game's about to start. Let's take this to the living room". And I got up.
As Andy gathered up the beers and food, I calmly took my laptop's HDMI cable and plugged it into the tv. The desktop popped up and I began searching for it. Andy was confused and started to grumble about what I was doing. I knew what I was doing, especially as the media player began the video.
On the tv was a shot of a bathroom, with tiles along the wall, a shower steaming hot water, the shower curtain lazily swaying. Andy was confused.
A few seconds later, a body wearing a robe comes in - a woman, the slender hands reach towards the camera and make some final adjustments. No face is seen. The woman walks towards the shower, back towards the camera and the robe slowly drops. A toned back is seen, the bottom of some curly hair along the delicate neck. The lower back has two dimples, just above where the round ass begins, the crack of it barely visible from this camera angle. You could see the muscles flex in her shoulders as she raises her arms to ensure the hair is tied, the steam slowly causing her bronze skin to glisten.
She takes a step forward and enters the shower, the first rivulets of hot water eagerly flow down her back and caress her firm, but small round ass. Water splashes off her long toned legs, the steam building around her calves as see starts turning around to let the water hit her breasts, casting a quick glance to the camera.
I hear a thud on the wooden floor next me - Andy's mouth is open and eyes fixed on the screen, the beer bottle emptying at his feet where he dropped it. "Shit..." is all he can say as his eyes begin to water, almost afraid to blink. I look back to the screen and my wife is now facing the camera, dark nipples on perky breasts visible, as water flows down her flat stomach over towards her smooth shaved pussy. She picks up a body wash and cloth and begins to slowly lathers herself, making eye contact whenever possible with the camera, the viewer. A wry smile is on her face as she soaps her breasts, making sure those nipples are clean. Her hand moves towards her stomach, then one leg, then the other. Eventually she begins to soap the smooth, hot skin of her pussy, lingering there teasingly.