That Friday afternoon started out like every other since the emergence of Covid. I wrapped up work in my home office and went downstairs, completing my two-story daily "commute" as I had for nearly 5 months now. As I entered the kitchen and pulled a beer from the fridge, my wife said "the Jenkins are coming over" without looking up from her mobile phone.
I nodded and took a sip of beer, considering the routines that had dominated our lives since the pandemic struck. There was such a blurring in so many areas of life- between work and home life, the days and weeks, and even in our relationships with friends and family. There were close friends and family that we hadn't seen since the crisis erupted- and likely wouldn't see again until it subsided- while on the other hand there were a few neighborhood families that had transitioned virtually overnight from passing social acquaintances to practically living at each other's houses.
The Jenkins were one such family; my wife had counted Becky Jenkins as one of her many friends before the pandemic- but not an especially close one- and I had shared maybe 20 minutes of polite conversation with her husband Mark at parties over the past few years but found him to be somewhat of a grating personality. But due to a few factors- our close proximity, the fact that we had children of similar ages, and our shared affinity for enjoying a drink- our families had been pushed much closer together than we ever would have expected.
For the past 5 months we had spent several days a week together at either the Jenkins' house or ours, with the kids playing while we relaxed over drinks. I grew more accustomed to Mark but knew that whenever things got back to normal we would probably go our separate ways; ours was a friendship of circumstance. Meanwhile, my wife Sara and Becky could happily talk for hours about virtually anything, and most nights there would be a few empty wine bottles between them by the end of the evening. After they left Sara would talk about whatever interested her from the conversation. One night it might be news about Mark's job or their finances, another night details about how Becky really wanted another child but had recently given up after being unable to conceive. One week it might be chatter about school plans or a driving vacation they hoped to take, and another it would be gossip about mutual friends they hadn't seen in recent months. Most recently, Sara shared how Becky had grown depressed because she felt she was losing her figure and beauty with age.
It was this last revelation that amazed me, as I considered Becky quite attractive. She had a classic hourglass figure, with a healthy bust and feminine hips, and she routinely wore sundresses that accentuated her curves while revealing a tantalizing amount of skin. Her blonde hair was usually styled in a neat medium bob cut, with a perfectly made-up face that exemplified her Scandinavian ancestry, with high cheekbones, light blue eyes and a warm smile. Perhaps her best feature, in my opinion, were her shapely legs- tanned and toned and always on display beneath the mid-thigh length of her sundresses. In recent months I'd had ample opportunity to discreetly enjoy Becky's figure during our regular get-togethers, and while we never interacted much on a personal level, by now I knew her curvaceous form and feminine features by heart. So I was surprised to hear that Becky found herself growing less attractive; in fact I believed the changes she was going through to be increasing- not diminishing- her sexuality and allure: for instance her breasts growing even larger, and her hips and ass growing rounder and more supple.
I snapped back to reality as the front door opened and the Jenkins entered, their kids sprinting by to join my children in the backyard. I finished my beer and poured myself and Mark a cocktail, silently telling myself to put aside my thoughts of Becky and keep a healthy distance from her so as not to cause an issue. I recognized that my feelings of attraction to Becky were exaggerated due to three factors; first, her curvy figure sharply contrasted with my wife's petite and slender physique, giving it a certain novelty for me. Second, there were simply no other options available; in normal times we would be going to large parties or bars and restaurants, and there would be plenty of women to admire, but in the days of Covid Becky's frequent presence provided virtually the only opportunity to look at a woman other than my wife. And thirdly, a chill had developed in my own marriage over the past year- with my wife growing more distant and less loving by the month- and Becky provided an outlet for my growing sexual frustration. Regardless, it was an illusory and passing infatuation, I told myself, which seemed especially true since I hardly knew Becky and she rarely talked with me or showed any interest in me whatsoever. In fact, my wife routinely told me that Becky didn't like me whenever we argued, which unfortunately was frequently these days.
Mark and I stepped onto the porch and made light conversation about the markets and sports before he continued onto his favorite topic of conversation: complaining about Becky and relaying all of the recent altercations between them. I enjoyed my drink and tried my best to tune him out, watching the children play and mixing in an occasional nod whenever he took a pause. After a while we returned inside to refill our cocktails and then sat in the living room, where I turned the television to a game Mark wanted to see. Sara and Becky were sitting at the kitchen island, and between the empty bottle of wine and the frequent laughter I could tell they were enjoying a nice buzz. Mark and I continued to talk about work and the kids, although the conversation was slower now with Mark intently focused on the game.
After a few minutes enjoying the relative lull in conversation, I glanced toward the kitchen and suddenly realized that I had a direct view of Becky just over Mark's shoulder from where I was sitting. The set-up couldn't have provided a better angle, or a more discreet way to enjoy it: from our armchairs I could engage Mark in conversation, and while appearing to be looking at him (and with Mark focused on the television) I could see Becky's tanned legs, exactly at my eye level from her seat at a high bar stool. She faced me nearly directly but was focused on her conversation with Sara, and my wife sat with her back to me chatting away, oblivious to what was going on.
My heart raced with a mix of excitement and fear- this provided an easy opportunity to admire Becky, but I also didn't want to get caught ogling my wife's friend. I tried to distract myself and think of something else, but it was an impossible feat since anytime I looked at Mark I couldn't help but see Becky's legs just to the left of his face- crossing and uncrossing, her manicured feet bouncing, every movement attracting my gaze.
This went on for five, ten, fifteen minutes- Mark happily engrossed in his ballgame, Becky and Sara focused on their conversation and drinks, and me sipping my bourbon discreetly enjoying my view of Becky. As she occasionally repositioned herself on the bar chair, her dress rode up little by little, revealing more bronzed skin without a hint of tanline. At one point she brought a foot up to her bar seat and held her knee to her chest, and I was struck breathless to realize that I could suddenly see all the way to her panties, including a partial silhouette of her ass pressing against the chair and the slightest glimpse of that inviting gap between her thighs. My mouth watered and my heart pounded in my chest as I caught sight of red lace panties, before catching myself and abruptly looking away so as not to get caught leering, pretending to check on the kids playing outside.
Eventually I collected myself, and upon looking again over Mark's shoulder I was relieved to see Becky's legs neatly crossed again, her crossed leg leisurely bouncing a dainty, manicured foot in a platform sandal below. Then, just as I regained composure, Becky slowly uncrossed her legs and her knees parted, only a few inches apart but enough to give me a clear view of her inner thighs and lace-covered pussy. My jaw dropped slightly, and just then I looked up and saw Becky staring directly at me.
I froze for a moment, realizing I had been caught, and then stood up and muttered something about needing to check on work. I raced out of the room to the front of the house and into the guest bedroom, shutting the door behind me, and tried to calm myself down as my mind raced through scenarios of what might happen next.
Just then, the door opened behind me, and Becky stepped in. Stone-faced, with her eyes locked on mine, she said "Just what do you think you were doing out there?"
For a moment I froze, unable to decide between denying it all or confessing and apologizing. Becky took a step closer, her eyes unflinching, and continued "Well if you have nothing to say I'll tell you what I think: you were ogling me from across the room- staring up my dress. Am I right?"
I was still locked in place, more spectator than participant to the events that were unfolding. Without breaking eye contact, Becky slowly took two more steps until she was standing practically nose to nose with me, and I braced myself for the slap in the face or kick to the groin that was surely coming my way.
Instead, I was surprised to feel her hand against the front of my pants, cupping me through the fabric with my penis beneath her palm and her fingers delicately cradling my balls. She leaned forward and gave me a soft kiss, as her fingers made their way over my balls and stroked my hardening cock a few times through the pants. She noticed my growing erection between her fingers and smiled mischievously, whispering "I thought so."
I was about to speak but she pressed a finger to my lips and mouthed "shhh." Then, she continued, "I won't tell Sara or Mark. It's nice to feel pretty, to feel wanted- Mark hasn't looked at me that way in a long time. But you'd better cut it out or they'll notice."
She turned to walk out the door, looking back to flash me a mischievous smile over her shoulder as she slipped through the doorway. Then she was gone, leaving me alone once again in the darkened room, my heart pounding in my chest from the unexpected turn of events.
_____
By a few weeks after my run-in with Becky things had pretty much returned to normal. Our families continued to get together regularly and Becky acted as though nothing had happened; I took her lead and continued to hang out with Mark as usual, trying to keep more distance from Becky, and sitting with my back to her where possible. I chalked that night up to too much alcohol, the boredom and stresses of quarantine, and the growing sexual frustration in my own marriage; and I was grateful that Becky had discreetly called me out and put a stop to it, and was gradually putting the mistake safely in the past.
"Bourbon and baseball at my house?" read the text from Mark that buzzed on my phone that Thursday afternoon. I welcomed the invitation; given how chilly my wife had grown toward me an escape for a night sounded like a great break.
