Good friend put a move on my wife one evening, and she didn't stop him.
This is fiction. There were a few real incidents that were the root of this story but nothing quite like this.
This story contains sex between wives and men who are not their husbands, and their husbands approve of the liaisons. If you don't like that type of story, then stop now and go read something else. Don't go to the end and then leave comments about how you don't like cheating or cuckold stories. You were warned at the beginning.
And since this is fiction, and a long time ago, there were no diseases, not much condom usage, and no fears of pregnancy because every sane woman was on The Pill back then.
Also, there are no gigantic boobs or mammoth penises or wild gangbang orgies or other absurd elements that would detract from appreciating the story. Just a loving husband, a loving wife, and a good friend.
We had been married only a couple years, but we dated exclusively for like three years before that, so my wife and I were a solid couple. We had an apartment in a nice neighborhood and both worked in the city. My best friend worked there, too, but he had a small house in a different suburb twenty miles away. We got together a lot, the three of us - or four when he had a girlfriend - mostly at our place, sometimes at his.
We were all very close. He thought my wife was the coolest chick he knew, and wished he could find another one like her. In turn, she thought that he was pretty great - because he was a lot like me, I think. And they were always flirty with each other, fairly hands-y, touching, whispering, hugging, little peck kisses. He might have a hand on her shoulder, or she on his. Or knee, which was more intimate and friendly. Hey, this was the era of "If it moves, fondle it." She and I were both sexually experienced before we met. And since then there have been a few little "encounters," on both sides, but we are not the crazy jealous types so they were not a major problem.
One of those weekends, we three were at our apartment for drinks, movie, dinner, the usual. It was summer and pleasantly warm, so we were dressed appropriately, he and I in shorts, she in a jersey tank top and a short summer weight skirt. We were well into the drinks, some margaritas, some wine. Drinks were my department. She was in the kitchen putting together a snack of nachos and guacamole. His job was entertainment: movie, music.
While I was in the john, he went to help her in the kitchen. When I got back, I saw that he was standing behind her with his hands on her waist. He pulled her hips back to him and leaned into nuzzle her neck. She twisted a little to get away, but that had the effect of rubbing her ass across his crotch. She felt his hardon pressing into her butt when she moved, and he loved her ass massaging his erection like that. He took this as a sign of encouragement.
He held her hips firmly and kissed her neck. His hand gradually crept up her side to her breast, which was so clearly defined by the tight fabric. A beautiful, round, soft mound outlined in that tight knit, with a small nub of nipple in the middle. She reacted, placed her hand over his, but I couldn't tell if it was to stop him or to hold him there. When she hadn't removed his hand after a few seconds, I gathered that she liked it, and so did he. He started squeezing and kneading her breast, gently, lovingly.
I was a little surprised that I liked it, too. It turned me on to see him touching her sexually, or rather I think to see her touched sexually by another man. I was on her side, I was rooting for her team, not his. If she liked it, then it was good, and I liked it. I had my own erection growing in my pants.
She turned around toward him, saw me standing there watching. She looked at me a little questioningly. I didn't react. She smiled, looked down at her chest, with his hand still cupping her breast, then back at me. It was clear to me that she was enjoying his attention.
He was nervous when he saw me. He had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, or, well, on my wife's tits. "Hey, I'm sorry, I got a little carried away." But he didn't let go of her body.
"It's okay. If she doesn't object, I don't object." Did I want this to go further? Well, yes and no. I mean, she can do anything she wants to do, more or less.
"If she wants to proceed..."
She turned back to him. He kissed her, lightly, then with open mouth, and she responded. He held her ass tight, pulled her hips into his hips, smashed her crotch into his crotch. She had to feel his hardness pressing into her. They continued to kiss. She looked at me while they were kissing, smiled with her eyes. Yes, she was enjoying this a lot, necking with him. Her arms went firmly around his neck. His hand came up to her breast again, cupped the soft mound, kneaded and caressed it. She responded deeply to his kiss and fondling, pressed her body hard into his.
They kissed for a long time, her arms around his neck, his hands on her breasts and butt. He kneaded her ass, too, and his fingers pulled the skirt up. A few inches, then a few more. The light fabric uncovered her ass, I could see her bikini panties, and he took the opportunity to feel that, too.
They turned a little, both leaning against the counter. She was facing me, he was at her side. They were still kissing and he was still feeling her up. He was on her breasts alternately, cupping them, weighing their soft firmness, kneading them, stroking the nipples showing through her thin top.
His hand went down to her waist. Then lower. Down her belly. He reached her crotch and cupped it through the skirt. Now this was serious. No longer just a little kissing and feeling. He was squeezing her pussy through her clothes. He was knocking at the door of her woman-ness, and she answered the door. She stepped her legs apart a little and pushed her hips out into his hand. She moaned with pleasure at the pressure of his hand on her sex. Now this was really serious.
She opened her eyes, looked over at me. I didn't object. How could I? I was mesmerized by the scene before me. My dick was rock hard.
He continued feeling, squeezing her pussy through her clothes. She continued to push her mound into his hand as a signal to him and to me that she was excited by the touching, getting turned on, probably wet. She turned her head back to kiss him.
He reached down farther, down to her bare thigh. Then up, up, catching the hem of the skirt. He touched her leg, between her legs, all the way up. His hand cupped her crotch, now through only her panties. She gasped. I gasped. He pushed the gusset of the panties into her slit. She whimpered a higher pitch moan at this touch. She opened her legs farther, pushed her hips again hard into his hand.
She looked at me. Did she want approval? Or disapproval? I didn't know. I didn't object to what was happening. I'm sure she could see the outline of my boner in my shorts. All of us were breathing hard. There was music out in the living room but soft and not distracting.
His hand went up onto her belly above the waistband of her panties. She put a hand on his wrist. She looked at me, asked, "Honey, do you want this to go further?" She glanced down at his hand on her belly just above her mound. "You haven't stopped him yet? Are you going to stop him?" She looks back into my eyes. "Your friend is feeling me up, a lot. He's making love to me. You see where his hand is."
She guided his hand down an inch, two inches, till his fingers touched her panties. "He wants to get into my pants." She closed her eyes. She hissed out, breathlessly, "He will touch my sex, he will feel how wet my pussy is. He will feel between my lips! He'll go into me! He'll slide right into my hole!" She opened her legs more, looked over at me to be sure I noticed her gesture. "Can I let your friend get into me like that, honey? Can he put his fingers inside me?" Softly, almost inaudible, "Do you want him to finger fuck your wife?"
I was almost paralyzed. "Your choice, babe. He's a good friend. Are you enjoying being felt up? Are you hot? Do you want to let him go further? You want to let him into you?"
I walked the two steps over to them, kissed her, felt her breast, whispered to her, "Let him in." I stepped back a few feet. This wasn't at all what I expected for a random Saturday, but it was exciting, thrilling! My wife being manhandled by another man, a good friend, not a stranger to her but a stranger to her body!
They kissed again, hot, passionate, tongue wrestling. Serious kisses that lovers do. He slid his hand under the waistband of her panties and down onto her mound, and then to her lips. She spread her legs much farther apart to open the path for him to get into her easily! She gasped, moaned loudly. We both recognized her whimpered assent to his fingers in her slippery slit.
I could see his hand moving back and forth as his fingers slid over her clit and back to her hole. His hand curled, a finger moved up, up into the entrance to her steamy vagina! She squealed into his kiss and pushed her hips down hard onto his hand to force his fingers deeper into her slippery hole.
His hand moved rhythmically into and out of her crotch. He was still inside her panties but it was clear how he was moving, pushing into her, stroking in and out, reaching for those tender spots deep inside her love hole. I've felt there inside her sex so many times myself.
They broke the kiss, now both breathing hard and fast. She looked to me, "Honey, oh god, oh god, he's INSIDE ME! UP INSIDE ME! HE'S FUCKING ME with his fingers! Oh, oh god, oh god! I want him to fuck me! I'm going to come! YOUR FRIEND IS FUCKING ME! GOOD! HARD! Fucking into me, and it's SO GOOD!"
Then she changed. "I want to take my panties off, honey. Is that okay? I want him to have free rein in my pussy. He can do what he wants. I want you to see him drilling me!"
She asked, "Can you help me with the panties? Help me take them off? . . . You haven't stopped him touching me. You haven't stopped him yet. Do you want to stop him? If you do, I will. If not, help me. Help me open up."
