Nuts for Breafast

"Hey you both. Come on in." I open the door and grin at my two best friends. "Look at you both, all happily married now. How long was it since..."

"Four years," he smiles, tugging at a huge suitcase. "Four years since I predicted you both were meant to be," I shake my shoulders, emphasising the 'I' part.

"Rubbing it in, are you?" She jumps on me, wrapping me in a tight hug. My huge boobs collide with hers where our bodies connect, both jiggling from the impact. She laughs suddenly, peeling herself away. I give a nervous laugh, very aware of the situation. She bends as if to hug me again but instead whispers in my ear, "Feels like nice airbags. Your hubby is very lucky." I mock punch her and grab her handbag, showing them to the guest room.

I have replaced the earlier sheets with floral ones and sprayed some room freshener to ward off any unwanted smells. With children in the house not even 5 hours ago, who knows what things are stuffed anywhere.

"You didn't have to," she says, taking in the view of the entire room. I have strung fairy lights on the little plants on four corners of the rooms which was giving it an overall warm glow.

"Where are your family?" he asks, speaking for the first time since he had stepped into my house. He has always been very reserved and it felt familiar to remember him being just as he was 6 years ago when I first met him. He was just a twenty something young lad and he joined my then company and I had to mentor him. We had shared a very deep connection once. We became friends and confidants and then she walked in and the equations changed. It became the trio instead of the duo and I wouldn't have it any other way.

"They've gone to meet my sister-in-law and her family. They'll be out for three days."

"Oh sweets, you should've gone with them. The kids will be missing you," she pouts. "Yeah, we could've stayed at a hotel," he adds.

"Give this mama some break. Because of you guys I'm finally getting some free time in like fifteen years since I got married. Besides, no best friends of mine come to town and stay at a hotel." I waved off all protests.

"You are a good mom," he gives a sweet smile, flipping open the trolley, taking out his home clothes for the night. She on the other hand has already scampered to the kitchen to see what I had made.

I catch her bending over the dinner table, lifting each cover and smelling the dishes. Her pert little butt jiggles in the air as she goes around the table. She is definitely a cute girl with soft curves in all the right places. I used to call her cute often. Why won't I? I met her when she was hardly 20 and now she is a full woman in her late mid twenties, filled at just the right places. She was never skinny, but that inherent chubbiness was more attractive than anything. I stand at the doorway, admiring her cute figure jumping like round pancakes.

"I love paneer," she announces, seeing me standing at the door. Then suddenly remembering something she bites her tongue. "Sorry. I should've asked."

"My home is your home. When did we start formalities?" I wave her off, setting the plates. "Go, wash up."

.......

"Hey, you want any of my..." I look around the room. Neither of them were there. "underwear," I finish my sentence, sliding apart the door to the balcony. No one. It's then that I hear the sound of giggling, mixed with the sound of running water. They are having the time of their lives in the shower.

"New spark," I shake my head, remembering the days when I was first married. I had a child early so never got to enjoy the exclusive sex-life but hubby makes up for that always and we have some pretty active nights occasionally.

The sound of water stops. I quickly try to scramble out of the room, to avoid the awkwardness of catching them together in the shower. But they don't come out. Instead I hear the water running again but slower and there was another soft sound almost in a rhythm with the water. She was moaning softly at whatever he was doing to her. I hear soft gasps and muffled giggles, two voices, so in love with each other.

It brings back memories of something which I had been ruminating on for a long time now. Once I had a video call with them early in the morning and they had talked about having nuts for breakfast. I wasn't fully sure what had been going on on the other side of the screen, but I remember his slips and he is very confident and never falters in his communication. An image of his flushed face and sweaty forehead appears in my mind's eye. There was a different glow to that look, a post-orgasmic look that I could identify anywhere -- I have a husband for heaven's sake but obviously I could never bring it up because how can you? It's not only inappropriate but it's wrong. You can't just go and say to a couple, "Hey, I suspect you gave him a blowjob early in the morning."

The shower stops again and this time I don't risk it and scamper off.

.....

Dinner is a quiet affair with lots of chatting and catching up. Time and again I see them catching each other's eyes, silent communications flowing between them.

" So... " he says, breaking the silence of cutlery sounds. "What do you girls talk and giggle about?"

"Girl talk, babe. Boring." She stabs a piece of potato with her fork.

"Yes, just girl talk." I raise an eyebrow at her.

"Come on. You are my friend too. You can't always keep on having secrets from me and sharing with her," he insists.

"Should I tell him what you asked me once upon a time?" I chuckle.

She put down her spoon and hid her face, shaking her head.

"What?" he leans forward, obviously interested.

"She asked me what it feels like to orgasm."

He blinks, licking his lips, trying his best not to react. I admit he looks pretty handsome when he does that. She turns red like a beetroot, unable to meet my eye.

"I was twenty one and confused, come on," she whines.

"I stated a fact. Nobody's blaming you," I winked at her husband. He gave a good natured grin, probably embarrassed too.

"Not only that. She asked me if I use my fingers," I laughed.

"Not the best dinner conversation." She hid her face again. He put down his own spoon and gently pried her hands open. "Hey, you were young and curious. It's okay to ask..." he looks at me for a confirmation.

"Yes, I didn't mind at all," I say quickly.

"My late-blooming flower," he says affectionately, placing a quick kiss on her forehead. The kiss feels like a cloud of euphoria sprayed into the air. The little chaste kiss has suddenly heated up the atmosphere.

"Ahem, so do you?" he asks.

"Do I what?" I ask, pretending to be completely oblivious.

"You know, he trailed off, playing with the spoon."

"That's a very personal question to ask your best friend of the opposite gender," I laugh.

"Sorry," he blushes, a deep red spreading swiftly underneath his almond skin. I laugh and wave it off, but his question keeps on circling in my head. I had never really done that stuff. I had sexual encounter early and my husband's goodies gave me good orgasms. I've always believed a dick does a better job down there. Now after all these years, will I ever be really willing to experiment with something I had never tried?

We finish our dinner amid all such little bickering and teasing and after desserts they retreat to the guest room while I prowl around the house, closing doors and windows.

"Hey, do you need anything else?" I push open the door and pop head in.

They freeze in their position. He has her cornered against the wall, her hands over her head, held in place by him, his body pressing against her, his place planted on her cleavage.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to... " I turn back abruptly,my face flaming, "It's just that I'm not used to having guests over in the house."

They unlock from each other and give me a sheepish grin when I turn back at them.

"Sorry. He just can't get enough of me," she blushes.

"Right after dinner that too," he teases, grabbing her waist with one hand, pressing a soft kiss on her cheek.

"Ah, well..." I fidget with my fingers nervously. "I just came to see if the balcony door is locked." I scamper to the other side and double check the bolt, feeling like a fool, but also incredibly aroused.

"Well, close the door." I give a nervous laugh and exit the room without looking back.

...

I groan over and turn in my bed. I am unable to sleep at all. My fingers trace the cold sheets beside me. I miss my husband.

Slowly I grab the bottle from the nightstand only to realise that it's empty. Dejectedly I push myself off the bed and trudge to the kitchen to fill water.

It's then that I hear the sounds again. Soft moans of pleasure floating from the direction of the guest room. Every fibre in my body protests against my legs moving towards the direction of the sound.

"It's just listening outside the door. Nothing wrong," my brain keeps singing.

I stop short outside the door. A little light is streaming from a crack. Damn they have forgotten to lock the door. My fingers hover slowly at the edge of the door, fighting against the desire to watch. I had wanted it since the day of the video call. The young couple had aroused something in me that I had forgotten long back, an insatiable desire to be pleasured.

Sex with my husband is nice but my body feels like it needs more. Different techniques, different simulations, not just the usual banana in the cupcake with a bit of foreplay. I had never imagined me having a wild side, but here I was, slightly pushing the door open on a couple who is surely having sex on the other side of the door.

I hear a soft whimper, my eyes focusing on the scene unfolding in front of me. She's propped up on pillows wearing just a spaghetti slip on top. Her nipples are pert like peas, straining through her top, her chest heaving slowly, leaving nothing to imagination. She is naked from waist down and his face is buried between her legs. He makes a satisfied noise at the back of his throat and comes up for air, before diving back on her inner thighs, slowly kissing his way up to the honey pot, circling around and moving to the other thigh. His tongue follows the pathway next and she bites down on her lips to stop a scream. He traces the white skin lazily, up and around, his tongue hovering over the pussy lips, just teasing. She jerks her legs. He uses his hand to hold them apart and thrusts his tongue inside her. She puts her hand on her mouth to stifle a moan. She almost melts into the bed while he eats her with a fierce passion, his tongue attacking the best bits of her leaving her a trembling mess of pleasure.

I can feel wetness pooling between my legs steadily. It is incredibly arousing, watching it in real life, especially people I know. "It's wrong," my mind screams. It's too intimate, too personal for someone like me to watch but the embarrassment has long evaporated as I stand there watching him bring her to a quivering orgasm before he slowly moves up, along her belly button, tracing his tongue over her stomach, slowly easing up her top. She wiggles her shoulders and the boobs pop out like toys in a surprise box. He catches one of them with his lips, gently tugging and pulling. I am aware of my own nipples hardening. I look down at my silk nightgown and the big nipples straining hard against the soft material. Slowly I trace my fingers on them. They grow harder. I catch both of them between my thumb and forefinger, rolling them like a pill. The sensation strikes straight at my groin, my juices pooling faster, a warmth spreading in my nether areas.

I look at them again. Now he's on the bed, his shirt off and a distinct bulge visible in his underwear. She's all over him, kissing, licking, sucking, slowly making her way over his fluffy chest before putting her hands into his underwear and bringing out the semi hard member. He smiles lazily at her, putting his hands behind his head, relinquishing control to her. She kisses the tip of the tool softly, working her hands up and down it. My fingers on the other hand creep between my legs from under the nightgown and I feel the wetness coating my fingers. Slowly I trace my fingers on the edge of my bottom lips, stroking in a circular motion, using the wetness as a lubricant. The sensation feels good. I wonder why I never tried it. Beliefs maybe, self imposed restrictions.

She had already given his member a few licks and kisses and she is playing with his balls. He sighs softly on contentment as she takes the balls into her mouth. My fingers probe deeper, finding the little nub of pleasure, coaxing it out with slow circular strokes. Nothing happens at first, so I press down deeper, circling faster in rotatory motion. A pressure starts to build up slowly and I clamp down on the urge to moan.

She slides upwards on the bed and grabs his tool, slowly easing herself on his pole with a little wiggling of her hips. He gasps, holding her chubby hips to help her in position. She then rises up slowly and lowers herself again, earning another moan of pleasure. His hands grab her lovely white mounds, his thumb tracing the nipples, playing with them as she bobs up and down on him in a slow, sensual rhythm. My fingers almost sync to the motion of her going up and down, slow, fast, slow. The pressure between my legs feels like it'd explode. My legs feel like Jell-O. I know I should take myself to the bedroom but I am rooted to the spot, seeing her gallop on him, her boobs jiggling like white marshmallows. He thrusts his hips to match her rhythm and my finger traces the nub one last time. My insides explode in a rush of euphoria. I close my eyes softly, letting the new feeling take a hold. When I open my eyes, I see her staring at me. I freeze. She is looking directly at me, her eyes trained on the hand inside my underwear. She doesn't stop however. She continues to hold my gaze with her lusty eyes as they both ride into an orgasm. She looks at me one more time, her cheeks flushed from the post orgasmic glow before settling on his chest, her arms encircling him. They kiss once more, lying there, breathing softly while I make a quick exit from the scene.

I get into my bed and ride up my dress, putting my hands in again, slowly tracing the remnants of my juices on the lips. I feel free suddenly, as if I am floating. It's liberating to be able to have control of your own pleasure. I replay the scene over in my head, slowly stroking my clit again, which sings again to the call of my fingers as I dive into the infinite pool of possibilities between my legs and bring myself to one more orgasm.