This is the first story that I have written in the first person narrative for Literotica.
And that is because this is the first story that is absolutely true and without embellishment, as it comes directly out of my own sex life.
Besides the names, nothing, and I do mean absolutely nothing else has been changed. I obtained permission from all parties involved to put it down in words.
I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy occasionally reliving it, on those days where wistful daydreams dance upon the distant horizons of my spank bank skies.
***
I sat across the table from my best friend from high school, Arielle, and her charming husband Dean.
All through school Arielle and I had been inseparable. We'd met during our freshman orientation and hit it off immediately. She had attended a different middle school than I, but we had loads in common and it became very quickly clear how amazingly we were going to get along. Unfortunately for me, there was a very solid friend-zone vibe straight from the beginning, and like many guys before me in the history of the world, sometimes you sacrifice the intensity of a crush in order to develop an amazing friendship.
I'd be lying if I said I didn't always have a thing for her...but the trade-off of the friendship had been well worth the sacrifice of the fantasy.
Now here we were in our mid 20's, and talking about all of the adult things we'd been up to in the 7 years since graduation. I was working at a publishing company in New York City. Arielle was in her second year of marriage to Dean, whom she'd met in medical school. He was just beginning his residency while she'd recently been hired on as a nurse at a nearby hospital. It was a hectic life, but they seemed to be happy and doing well.
I'd driven down to visit them where they lived in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania earlier that Friday after receiving a surprise call from Arielle the previous week asking if I was free. It had been six months since I'd last seen her and she brought up the idea of me coming down to stay for the weekend. I jumped at the chance.
After packing up a duffle for the weekend and throwing my mountain bike into the back of the SUV I made the three-hour drive down to their condo.
Arielle had rushed out to meet me when I got there and wrapped me up in one of her marvelously tight hugs. Some things never changed.
Now here we were, a couple of hours later sitting around their dinner table laughing at old stories and catching up on new ones. There was an empty wine bottle, six beer bottles, and some shot glasses that painted a fairly clear story of just how our night had gone so far.
Arielle had somehow grown even sexier as she had gotten older. She didn't peak in high school...she just kept, well, peaking. She was like a lava flow building a mountain from underwater. Somehow she just seemed to keep growing into something even more impressive as time went by.
It would be hard to describe in perfect majesty just how hot Arielle was. Hyperbole might seem abundant in the undertaking, but, alas, I must make it very clear to you just what this ball of fire looked like before I continue on with this chronicling. It is crucial that you understand this going in, so that you can fully realize the power she so easily wielded.
Her skin looked liked she slept overnight in a soaking tub full of vanilla-bean lotion. She had blonde hair that she wore layered at a medium-short length, with curls that seemed to jump up and kiss her neck and cheeks like desperate fingers. She had Liv Tyler blue eyes and dimples on her cheeks that seemed more like they were painted on by a pastoral master. When she smiled her soft creamy skin seemed to glow—it was the type of smile that was suggestive, as if she was always up to something. She always seemed to be wearing some strange summer-olive tan, even in the dead of winter. Her freckles charted star formations across her shoulders and neck and softly across her cheeks though less pronounced. Her lips were almost effortlessly naughty...like if she smiled at you in a bar you might go a little week in one knee as if a friend had pushed the back of your locked leg during the middle of a pool shot.
I'd seen men walk into things numerous times as they walked past her in public. I'd seen teachers in class lose their train of thought when she walked in wearing a skirt that was shorter than standardized testing.
Her body curved like Aphrodite. She had these C-Cup breasts that always seem to be lifting out of whatever shirt she was wearing as if they filled with some sort of heavenly helium. She was always wearing some sort of bracelet or necklace that seemed to hang off of her body like dripping water. Her legs were flawless—shea-buttered and curving into perfectly-adorable muscles that angled in all the right places. And her butt...ummfff. This was a butt.
She had a butt that would turn celibate priests AND devoted nuns into immediately unstoppable carnivores of the flesh if they were ever given the opportunity to actually do anything to it. In high school she'd been the shortest girl on the Varsity volleyball team, but that didn't seem to matter. She was tenacious...and I'd gone to many of her games to cheer her on. Also, if I'm being entirely honest, her ass in a pair of tight volleyball shorts was, I'm quite certain, as close to the Garden of Eden as anyone has ever been.
I'd watched all through school as her first lucky crushes and boyfriend's had experienced her magnificent wonders of her first sexual exploration with a quiet jealousy. None of them had ever really stood out enough. She grew bored easily of the men she played with and moved on to the next.
She had a body sort of like Camila Mendes from Riverdale, and the same lascivious facial expressions that made you think she was always up to no good, but with the blonde hair and blue eyes that allowed her to actually get away with whatever iniquities she was chasing.
Dean had been the first guy who'd been able to handle her pedigree. He was chiseled from a similar form of demigod DNA to Arielle and I knew from the first moment I met him and started hearing all of the stories of their collegiate adventures that he might actually have what it took to keep up with the firecracker that was my best friend.
She was stupidly intelligent, wickedly hilarious, and her body was an art-piece of a billion chasing groans...but Dean had been up to the task.
And now they these two stupidly sexy people were married and probably had all sorts of stupidly sexy sex in what I could only assume was a room full of as many mirrors as they could afford to buy.
Dean had gotten up to fetch more drinks and a pack of playing cards as I stared across the table at my decadently beautiful friend.
She was simply dressed. A pair of tight blue jeans and a blue tank top that hung just low enough to show off a light pink bra that hugged her juicy breasts and held them perfectly aloft.
The house was nice and toasty thanks to a fire that Dean had gotten going earlier in the night.
When he returned to the table with three Scotch and sodas he handed the deck of cards over to me so I could shuffle. The table wasn't quite a full rectangle but it wasn't quite a square either. We sat towards one end with Arielle directly across from me while Dean sat the side so that his blatantly naughty wife wouldn't able to steal any glances at his cards.
