I hoped that I, Roger Gathers, would never be put in the situation that I had found myself in. Terry had been my best friend most of my life; we were the stars of the Little League team that came in second in the state, and he was an All-Conference pitcher, and me his All-Conference catcher, in High School. We rented a limo and doubled-dated for the Senior Prom, hung out on weekends, volunteered together at a charity, and played video games. We did almost everything together – except date Brenda that is.
*************
Brenda was Terry's wife. They went to a different college than I did, so the first time that I met Brenda they were already going steady; we were all twenty one years old at the time.
Brenda being with Terry was a crying shame.
While I had had my share of ass by the time that I had met Brenda, I don't think that I was ever in love – except maybe for that college professor's thirty two year old wife that I bonked for four months when I was a junior in college; but she was just using me and I recognized it so I knew that any love that I had for her would always be unrequited even though the sex was incredible. I swear that I was in love with Brenda, however, after I had known her for five minutes.
Why I instantly fell for Brenda is still a mystery to me. While there is no doubt that she is a beautiful woman, I've dated more beautiful ones. She also clearly was near the front of the line when great tits, hips, and asses were handed out – but I've been with women with better bodies than hers. However, there is just something about her that is impossible to describe but grabs the gold ring on my Merry-Go-Round.
Plus she has the best thighs that I've ever seen, anywhere, and I am a leg man.
I was best man at Terry and Brenda's wedding. She looked so hot that I had to cover my crotch with my hands almost the entire ceremony, and fortunately the tent collapsed before I had to walk the maid of honor down the aisle. Fortuitously, the maid of honor was a hot little slut and we left the reception early and I got my rocks off – thinking of Brenda the whole time that I was reaming out her wet pussy – so that I didn't experience the anguish of witnessing Brenda and Terry leaving on their honeymoon.
As karma, destiny, or misfortune – depending upon your point of view – would have it, Brenda, Terry, and me, wound up in not only the same metropolitan area, but the same high rise apartment complex, after we graduated college and Brenda and Terry were married. I had moved there first, and Terry told me that even though he thought that another place was better Brenda insisted that this was the place for them.
The high rise apartment complex was full of people in their 20s and 30s. About half were married, half single, some of the single ones with regular boyfriends or girlfriends, some care-free. It led to lots of parties, and lots of socializing around the pool, tennis courts, game room, or activity center. Terry and I remained best buds, and I did everything possible to suppress my lust for Brenda which – unfortunately – not only didn't go away, but got much worse.
I was already enamored of Brenda before I saw her in a bikini. I soon learned that I couldn't be around her when she was "dressed" like that because there was nothing that I could do to suppress my boner, and whether for better or worse I have a thick dick and large ballsac so that it was almost impossible to hide my embarrassment. I constantly had to have a towel on my lap when on a lounge chair at the side of the pool, and could only swim if I could quickly get into the pool without anyone noticing my "condition."
Even worse was the fact that Brenda caught on to my predicament. Though she had always been super nice to me, for some reason my situation brought out the devil in her, and she would sashay by me with her glorious naked thighs, round ass straining to bust her bikini bottom, and almost completely exposed tits, and try and get me to join her for a dip in the pool, sometimes trying to pull the towel off my lap.
After several times when I left the pool area as soon as I saw her coming, she cornered me at one of the many parties.
"Why do you leave the pool when I show up, Roger? Don't you like me?" Brenda asked with a smile.
Obviously I wasn't going to just come out and say "Actually, my little friend likes you way too much and I'm uncomfortable, especially when you try to pull the towel off my lap," so I tried one of my favorite tricks; turning each of her questions into one of my own. I was successful with that technique in my job, so why shouldn't it work with Brenda too?
"What makes you think that I leave when you show up?" I innocently asked, trying to fake a perplexed look on my face.
"Because you do," she shot back, her smile waning.
"Why do you think that there's a cause and effect relationship between you coming and me going – if that is what happens?"
"Because I see you looking at me, and then immediately thereafter picking up your stuff and clearing out."
"Is there any reason that you can think of that would explain my actions – if they are as you describe?"
"I wouldn't be asking you, Roger, if I knew the explanation."
"Actually, you know very well what the explanation is – that is if my actions really are as you describe – don't you?"
I tried to move out of the corner of the party-apartment den. She blocked my exit. "Is it because I tease you about your hard-on?"
I just smiled.
"What causes that hard-on?" she asked running her finger over my chest and down toward my crotch.
"What do you think, Brenda?"
"Is it little ole me in a bikini?" she chuckled, and then burped. After her burp she covered her mouth with her hand, and then giggled. Brenda never giggles. Not being the most perceptive guy in the world, I apparently had not realized that she was drunk, or close to it, when she was accosting me, probably because she wasn't significantly slurring her words.
After a few seconds of giggling while I probably had a defensive grin on my face, she put her hand on the bulge at my crotch. Damn – I had another hard on.
I gently moved her hand away, grabbed her by her shoulders and turned her to the side so that I could get by and started walking away.
"You're no fun," she giggled.
I only smiled in return, and then left the party. I chalked up her hand on my crotch to her being drunk.
************
After the cornering-at-the-party instance, things really got strange between Brenda and me. She, Terry and I would often double date, or go to events in small groups. I always had a date, and whenever I got affectionate with my date when I looked around Brenda was unrepentantly staring at me. When she now came to the pool she would now wear a one-piece suit instead of a bikini, sneak in so that I didn't see her, sit next to me including by laughingly moving a chair between me and the person next to me if the next seat was occupied, then smile at me and say "Is this suit conservative enough? If so, would you put sunblock on my back, please?" while handing me a tube of SPF 30.
Then came the event that put me in the uncomfortable situation that I mentioned in the first paragraph.
It was the end-of-the-season party at the house of the sponsor of the softball team that Terry and I played on. We were celebrating winning the league championship. Wives and girlfriends were there, although because I didn't have a steady girlfriend at the time and didn't want a date for just a party like that, I was single.
The house was big, the party was wild, everyone was having a good time. After several beers I really had to piss badly and the first floor bathroom was occupied by someone who was obviously retching and might be for some time, so I went to an upstairs hall bathroom. When I exited Brenda was there, sans Terry.
"Did it come out all right?" she playfully asked, wine glass in hand.
