She is voracious, she loves sex, and she is my best friend's wife. She made it clear she was not looking for a boyfriend, she already had a husband, Bill, but he didn't know, although I thought he must suspect. I wasn't sure of that, after all, he thought he had married a porn queen. She is a husband's wet dream. I am not sure he thought she'd be faithful, although those of us who she fucked, other than him, knew she played the field, a very crowded field.
The night they were married, before the ceremony, she and I were in the coat closet of the church exchanging bodily fluids. She had made it abundantly clear to me she would not be faithful to anyone. She stood in the closet holding up her wedding dress, her silk panties in her hand, bent over with me behind her, pushing into her in frantic strokes that shoved her ahead each thrust six inches or more.
When she came, she kissed me quickly and stepped into her panties, then rushed off to be married. During the ceremony she kept looking back to me, as if to remind me of what we just had done, a roguish smile on her face as she said her "I do's."
I knew from the start of their relationship she was "available" when once she answered her apartment door naked when I had pulled up to deliver a package I had to take to her on my postal route.
"Do you have some time?" she asked as I stood and admired her, the package in my hand.
"Leslie Lathom?" I said holding the package and smiling as formal as I could pretend to be.
"Come in and I'll tell you," she said with a lecherous grin. After forty minutes I left without the package or much energy to finish out my day.
On her wedding day she pulled me into the clothes closet and had me undressed before I could even get the door closed. Her panties were off, her white dress was up, and she got into position and said, "What are you waiting for? The blushing bride has to beg?"
I had barely come when she was heading for her nuptials to say "I do."
You may asked how can you fuck your best friend's wife behind his back. Well, it was easy. The hard part would have been resisting her charms. She did not take no for an answer easily. One of her favorite things was fucking while he was in the front yard washing the car or mowing the lawn. She would sneak me in the back door and fuck me quick before he finished and came back inside. A few times I did actually leave with my pants in my hand. I am sure the neighbors were entertained by the parade of men leaving from her backdoor carrying their clothes.
One of the most satisfying and exhausting of my times with her was during a skin diving spearfishing tournament when I came ashore and fucked her on the beach one half mile from the competition headquarters. I didn't win the tournament that day, neither did he, but I won the day by getting a little tail that weighed 112 pounds soaking wet. I didn't have to weigh it, because I already knew how big she was from the tiny bikini she wore just before I removed it. She had me crying 'uncle' after ten minutes but I hung in and lasted the whole two hours of the competition. That was one hell of an endurance feat that not just anyone could have accomplished. That is the simple reason why I worked out at the gym religiously.
She liked being naked so I would meet her during the day, thank god for long lunch breaks, at the nude beach and give her a little mouth to mouth resuscitation, with the mail truck parked in the parking area at the beach. My explanation was I liked to eat lunch at the beach, which of course I did but it wasn't a sandwich. On one of the days there I was just about back to the truck when a lady came rushing up and wanted to buy stamps.
I never diluted myself into thinking I was the only one. She even reported gleefully on the phone who she'd just shagged as her husband worked in the yard. And at the college where we both attended night classes and rode to class together, she would show up at my class each break and want to "go home." Which meant she wanted to go park and strip down to nothing and canoodle on the front seat of my car, climb over my legs and lower her middle parts down on mine and wedge me in.
I was always terrified we'd be apprehended by the brown suited highway patrol and carted off to the steel-barred hotel naked and in handcuffs. We never were, but the threat kept me mostly soft and trembling. One night before leaving the college we slipped into the empty football stadium and fornicated on the fifty yard line. Her dress was still on but pulled up to her waist and her legs wrapped around me in a death grip of passion.
Right in the middle of a noteworthy orgasm, the lights of the stadium came on and the sound of one lone observer clapping echoed through the empty arena. A grounds keeper with a sense of humor and the light switch decided to put us on display to an audience of one. "Way to go man," could be heard echoing through the stands as he cheered us on. She pulled me out, bowed to the maintenance person, and pulled her dress down, stepped into her panties and led me to my car. I had never come before in front of 30,000 empty seats and one lone night watchman.
We actually laughed all the way to her house. That was the night she revealed to her husband that we had been fucking after, instead of, or during our night school classes. She got up on the couch and berated me for still having my clothes on so we could perform for her cuckolded husband. She came over playfully and began undoing my belt, unzipping my pants, and pulling them down as I cowered in the corner, not knowing if he was going to watch us or shoot us.
He watched. And she coaxed me into fucking her on the floor in front of her traumatized husband. When we finished she pacified him by sucking him off while I mounted her again from behind, kneeling next to the couch. They argued about whether she could suck me after she did him.
"It is okay," he said. "You can suck him if you want."
