The Friend Who Stole My Wife

My wife Lisa and I grab our towels and walk down the trail from the river. We walk in silence, and I ponder the events that just took place between us. Her encounter with Arnie, who apparently got too greedy with his hands. The story she told me later, about her encounter with an older man at the beach. And my premature ejaculation, even though I wore a condom.

Back in the cabin the atmosphere between us is tense. No one says anything.

At last she says: "Let's do something fun tonight!" She puts some beers in the fridge and finds a couple of wine bottles in the cupboard. "Why don't you invite Arnie over, and we'll have a few drinks?"

I don't answer. Thoughts are racing through my mind. What is it that she wants to happen? Is she thinking about going through with the stuff Arnie attempted up at the river pool?

"Hello?" she says, clearly annoyed at me. "Could you send a message to Arnie, or what?"

"Do it yourself," I mumble as I sit down on the couch.

"I'm taking a shower," Lisa says. She grabs a towel and a change of clothes from her bag and disappears into the bathroom.

I'm left with my confused thoughts. Sure, I got really aroused by what happened up at the river, where another man swam naked with my wife. And actually tried to slip his cock inside her, with me watching. I got even more aroused by the story she told me about after that. That time when she was nineteen and got picked up and fucked by a stranger that was more than twenty years older than her. But, does all this mean I'm losing her now? I can't let her get stolen by my childhood friend, well, bully, right in front of my eyes.

A loud ping from the table interrupts my thoughts. Lisa has left her iPad there. I look at the screen and see that it's a message from Arnie. What the hell? He must have looked her up on messenger and added her as a contact. I open the message. And I'm shocked.

It turns out that Lisa is the one that added him, and sent the first message. From her phone, which she apparently brought with her to the shower. She doesn't know that I can see the messages on her iPad.

Her first message: "Hi Arnie! Fun meeting you earlier 😉" A winking smiley, no less.

Arnie's reply is short: "Yeah hi".

Then my wife sends a picture. A selfie. And the text: "Do you think my boobs are too small, honestly?" The picture is taken in our bathroom, right now. They show her firm, tiny tits.

The reply: "No comment 😂".

"Why don't you come over," my wife messages. "So we can discuss it 😉"

"Not much to discuss," Arnie replies. "Anything else on offer?"

My wife replies with a picture, no text. An image of her body shown from the side in the bathroom mirror. Not too revealing, but she's without panties."

"I'll see what I can manage," Arnie replies.

When Lisa finally emerges from the bathroom, she's like a total stranger. She's put on a black miniskirt and a pretty short and tight tank top. She's wearing makeup, which she never normally does. Mascara. We don't talk. She pours herself a glass of white wine. I realize that my wife is a stranger to me now, and I have no idea what's going to happen next.

An hour later Arnie arrives. My wife giggles like a teen girl, welcoming him, fetching him a beer. Arnie must notice the strained atmosphere between Lisa and I. But he doesn't care. He's just received nude pics from this chick he's barely met. He's in full control.

"Your wife is obsessed with her breast size," he says to me. "Too small, she says. Women and their complexes, eh?"

"They're barely B-cups," she says, striking a pose in front of him. Now I notice that she doesn't wear a bra under her top. "At least they don't get in the way," she giggles.

"Your tits are probably fine," Arnie says, sipping his beer. "I haven't touched them yet."

I give a start when I hear the word "yet".

"What about the rest?" Lisa asks, and twirls around on the floor in front of him. She's actually wearing her Vans shoes inside.

"Well, I did get a glimpse when we went swimming earlier. Nice and tight around the curves, I have to admit. Maybe you work out?"

My wife giggles. "Thanks! I dance, follow classes."

"Lap dance, I hope?" Arnie winks at her.

My wife laughs a high girlish laugh. "Actually, our instructor said that the dance we're rehearsing now has its origin in strip clubs in Tampa."

"Show me," Arnie demands.

"No, it's too embarrassing," Lisa giggles.

Arnie just shrugs and empties his beer. He sits down in the old swivel chair by the table.

My wife stood by the window, looking out into the soft evening light. "You know, I see how you could think we are prudes, Arnie. But I don't think that's the real me. Maybe we became prudes together, after we married. Lost our sense of sexual adventure." Lisa glanced at me sideways. "But I have it in me to live out my slutty side. Earlier today I told hubby here about an experience I had when I was nineteen. That day at the beach I acted like a real cocktease, and went home with that guy, even though he was twenty years older."

"Lots of nineteen year old girls do that," Arnie smiles.

Lisa looks out the window, and I can't help feeling she's posing for Arnie. Showing her curves, her tight ass under that skirt.

She continues: "He fucked me right there on his living room floor." She's ramping up the dirty talk now. I see she wants to be more daring. "I rode his cock until I orgasmed. Then he fucked my pussy from behind. Pulled his cock out, ripped off the condom and came all over my ass."

I get the chills hearing my wife talking like that. I've never heard anything like it.

"And so that was it?" Arnie asked. "You just became a nice girl again, never fucking older men again?"

Lisa smiles knowingly and reaches for her wine glass. "I was in a band at that time. We were probably crap, and going nowhere, of course. But we booked a photo session with this kinda big shot photographer. We were going for a goth look. I wore a tight white shirt, short, so my bellybutton was showing. A plaid shirt. Thigh high stockings. Doc Martens. My hair in pigtails. And posing for those photos I started feeling like, I don't know, an object of craving. If you know what I mean? That I could turn on any man just by how I looked.

"When the photo session was over, we said goodbye, went our separate ways. But I was so distracted by my sexy thoughts I didn't realize I had forgot to change out of my outfit. I went out to my bike, still dressed in the slutty goth schoolgirl outfit. I got some pretty wide eyed looks from people on the street, I can tell you. So I went back to the studio. The photographer let me in. He was at his computer, looking through the pictures. He showed me some of them, and I got really aroused seeing myself dressed up like that, looking hungrily into the lens.

"He asked would I want some more photos, for myself? I agreed and started posing for him, bright flashes going off all the time. It's like I was being hypnotized. So he snapped photos, while he persuaded me to take off the shirt, show my bra. Then to pull down my skirt, so I stood there in my silk panties and stockings. I remember seeing my skirt and shirt laying on the floor of the studio, and that made me feel slutty.

"But after a while he seemed to be finishing up. He didn't ask me to go further. There I was posing in my slutty underwear and fantasising about what's going to happen next. Will he command me to take off my panties? Instead he just says 'These are going to be great,' and takes out the memory card. Starts to pack up. But I didn't want it to be over with that. So I kind of panicked. I took off my panties.

"He looked at me like 'Are you sure, little girl?'. I looked at my self in a mirror at the end of the studio. And it was so strange seeing myself, no panties, pussy out in front of a stranger like that. Before that it had always been boys clumsily pawing off my panties while we're in bed. But now I just stripped off my panties myself in a totally different setting, and I felt this huge rush of excitement.

"I kept my pussy neatly trimmed back then. Mostly because I went a lot to the beach. So there wouldn't be any bush sticking out of my bikini bottoms.

"The photographer pulled up a chair on wheels and sat down with his camera. 'What do you want me to do?' I asked him. 'Whatever you want,' he answered. 'I guess you're in charge now.'

"I struck some clumsy poses. Felt embarassed about how wet I was down there. I mean, there was a drop running down the inside of my thigh. Then I went down on my hands and knees and slowly crept towards him. Seductive looks into the camera. I ended up between his legs. I couldn't stay in character anymore by then. I started giggling, feeling intensely nervous and horny at the same time.

"'What you doing now?' he said as I stroked the outline of his cock outside his pants. 'Feeling your cock,' I said. Suddenly he grabbed my pigtails, one in each hand. Firm. I opened his pants and released his cock. I grabbed it and eyed it up close. It seemed the object of all my desires in that moment. I was a cock-craving slut. At the same time I had a voice inside my head saying 'I can't believe I'm doing this!'

"I caught a look of myself in the mirror nearby. Nineteen year old slut, between an older man's legs. Panties way off on the floor behind her, but oddly her bra was still on. His erect cock in her hands. It's like I was having a conversation with that slutty version of me in my head. 'What the hell are you doing! You're a decent girl, so let go of that cock at once! Get dressed, you little slut!'

"In answer, the girl in the mirror just smiled and kissed the head of that big cock. 'Don't you even think about it, girl! Giving a stranger a blowjob is too slutty and cheap. Oh no, what have you done? His cock is in your mouth now. Are you sucking on it, you slut?'

"The cock sucking slut in the mirror gave him a long, delicious blowjob. She went up on her knees, and wrapped her thighs around one of his legs. Started to rub her wet pussy against his rough pants. This is how this little whore used to masturbate since she was thirteen, rubbing her pussy against something like a pillow, a sofa cushion, whatever. She was leaving a wet spot on his trouser leg.

"I was that slut in the mirror. Sucking cock while feeling my own orgasm coming on. 'What, are you going to cum now, you little whore?' I said to myself. And my body responded by starting to shake. My orgasm came in waves, making me moan with his cock in my mouth.

"He sat on the edge of the chair then. Held onto my hair with one hand, and took the cock out of my mouth with the other. He started jerking it over my face, breathing heavily.

"Oh my god, see what you've done, slut! He's going to cum all over your face now. You've never been cummed on like that before. Just youngsters blowing their little loads in condoms in your tight pussy. And that older guy that blew his load all over the skin of your ass. Never in your face. Never in your mouth.

"Too late now! He's cumming with a roar. And he's got a hold of your pigtails, keeping you locked. Wow, a huge spurt of cum draws a stripe from your chin to your forehead. Feels so hot, almost like it burns your skin. I can't believe you're getting a facial, bitch! Your first facial, just like a porn debutante.

"What the hell are you doing now, girl in the mirror? Opening your mouth, are you crazy? His second load spurts onto your tongue, fills your mouth. The man grabs his opportunity, and pushes his cock inside your slut mouth. So the third spurt of cum goes directly down your throat. What does it taste, little girl? Salty, warm.

"The slut in the mirror takes all his cum. Your face is covered, your mouth is full, your pussy still twitching from her orgasm. The photographer finishes, pulls his cock out of your mouth. He shakes off a few drops of sperm from the tip of his cock onto your face. Cum dribbles out of the corners of your mouth, drips from your chin down onto your bra, staining the silk. A drop lands on your thigh.

"That's when I stopped my conversation with the slut in the mirror. Came back to myself. Stared at the huge, wet cock right in front of my face. Felt all the warm, salty cum in my mouth. I felt kinda proud as I swallowed. I did it! Took my first facial, and swallowed my first load of cum! 'Did you just swallow my load?' he asked. I nodded and laughed. 'Wow, you're really something,' he said.

He picked up my clothes for me. I went to the mirror and looked at my cum covered face. I used my panties to dry off the cum. And because I felt so proud that I'd gone through with it, lived out this dirty encounter, I put my slutty, goth outfit back on. Even the wet, cum-stained panties. Then I said goodbye, went out and got my bike, still feeling the taste of cum on my tongue. All the people I passed could see me as what I was. A slut with her panties full of an older man's cum. Still patches of ruined makeup where I had taken my first facial."

My wife finished her unbelievable story. We were silent, stunned. Lisa emptied her wine glass thirstily. Refilled it.

"That's quite a story," Arnie said, empty beer can in hand. "Now, how about you dance for me?"