The screen-door slammed shut behind Linda, as she entered the kitchen shuffling the mail in her hands. She discarded the advertisements and mumbled obscenities how the bills should go, too. One letter, though, Linda studied with furrowed brow.
"This looks like a wedding invitation for one of your friends, Joe. The return is from Mr. and Mrs. Baxter. I don't know who they are."
"Are you telling me the Baxters' sent it? Oh no, it cannot be Buddy getting married. I figured him a terminal single man. I knew he would screw up in Texas. He probably got some crazy cowgirl pregnant. I cannot believe this. Let me see it."
Linda chuckled as she tossed the letter across the kitchen table, and it slid into Joe's lap.
"So, your infamous friend has met his match. No more tales of your hero's sexual exploits, like Buddy fucking hundreds of women with his big dick. Buddy with a tongue, so long, that "Kiss" wanted him in their band. And whom you said I hadn't experienced sex, unless it was with his expertise that would have me gushing in orgasm."
"Don't tell me that you didn't love hearing those stories of Buddy and his big cock, Linda. You masturbated while pretending it was he fucking you to so many orgasms. "Super-hog," you nicknamed him."
"I did that for your benefit, dumb-shit. Besides, I think you are queer for him."
Linda teased Joe for his admiration of his friend's sexual conquests. She found the elaborate tales of lust to be full of exaggeration. It was believable Buddy had a bigger cock than Joe did, but referring to him as a one-man gangbang sounded far-fetched. Linda did have fantasies of two or more men, preferably with big cocks, ravage her body. She often played with her pussy in front of her husband with his well-hung friend in mind.
"Wait a minute, Linda--this invitation is for his sister, Rachel. She is getting married. That means Buddy will be coming home for the wedding. I wonder if he needs a place to stay. I should call to jerk him off about his little sister finding someone before he could. What do you think, Hon? Is it all right he stays here with us? It would only be for a few days. You will like Buddy--he has his way with the girls--that's for sure."
Linda felt a rush of excitement from Joe's request. A spontaneous lustful tingle in her pussy made her panties wet. One of her fantasy lovers could be coming in person to their doorstep. Linda hoped to wear her new bikini. She had visions of teasing him with her full breasts and tight butt being half-exposed.
"Well, he is your childhood friend. I guess we should extend our hospitality. He could sleep in the guest room. Which was supposed to be remodeled--and when are you going to start that project, Joe? Anyway, it is up to you; whatever you want to do with your Buddy. I don't care," Linda pretended to be indifferent to the idea.
"I'll call him, now. I cannot wait to see him again. It has been a decade gone by since he moved south. I bet he is bald and fat. That would be funny. Yes, I hope he stays with us."
Linda watched her husband from the kitchen window, as he circled around their pool on the phone to his friend. Her thoughts wandered to tempting scenarios with Buddy in their home. She slipped a hand inside of her panties, while the other massaged her breast. Linda craved more cocks than just her husband's dick alone. A cock like his friend's was what she needed. She prayed Joe was telling the truth of Buddy's ability to fuck for hours and still be hard as a rock. Her fingers jiggled her burning clit, while she stood at the window lost in a fanciful dream. She saw herself in adulterous images riding on his big cock and screaming in orgasm.
"Yahoo!" Joe yelled from outside in joy that his friend is coming; the confirmation had his wife coming, too.
It would be two weeks until Rachel's wedding and her brother's arrival to attend. Linda counted the days. She worked hard on her abs and doubled her time on the treadmill. Naked and posed at the mirror, she admired her breasts and thought about shaving her pussy. Linda wanted to do it for Buddy; but never having a bare snatch before; Joe would suspect her bad intention, her desire to be a total whore for his friend. Late in the evening and high with arousal, Linda watched porn on the internet and masturbated. Some nights, she played until dawn.
It was during one of those sleepless nocturnal sessions, as Linda sat at the computer in a self-indulging whirl, an email came for Joe. She had been watching two huge men fucking a brunette that imaged herself, when the message arrived. It was from Buddy. She opened it thinking he may have a problem, but all he said was hello. Linda thought this would be a good time for introductions and returned the greeting. He wanted to chat.
It started with an apology from Buddy. He was sorry he missed their wedding two years before, but the funds were not there at the time. Linda accepted his excuse and told him how anxious she has become to see him. She mentioned that Joe talked so much about him.
"Oh, what kind of things did he tell you? I hope they are not bad."
"They are bad, all right, but I happen to like bad boys."
"Is that right? I see Joe picked a sexy little devil, did he not? By the way, what are you doing up at three o'clock in the morning?"
"I am always up late on the computer. I cannot sleep with Joe's loud snoring," she partially told the truth.
"What kind of things are you surfing on the net?"
"I am just looking at the usual stuff."
"The usual stuff for me is smut, and I bet that is what you are viewing as well. This late at night and Joe sawing logs, you are watching kinky pornography."
"Buddy, you know me too well already. I won't lie; I was on a porn site."
"Me too, baby--I was stroking my cock while viewing a blowjob scene with a hot chick sucking on a large torpedo."
"You know that you should not be talking this way to your best friend's wife. You are making her wet," Linda joked at his lewd commentary, and she saw herself as that girl on her knees sucking Buddy's big dick.
"Hmmm, I have nine thick inches of hard cock in my hand, now, Linda. I wish you could feel how hot and stiff it is. I am pumping on it nice and slow."
"Stop it!" Linda exclaimed, but she rubbed her clit with flying fingers and edged close to good come. She knew this was all wrong. "I have to go now," she told Buddy and ended the chat. Her pussy creamed a puddle on the chair.
The next night, again very late, she hoped for another visit with Buddy. It was one o'clock with Joe tucked away, as Linda sat naked and surfed for porn on the internet. Her fingers and toys worked magic on her pussy; she brought herself to the third orgasm that evening. Buddy and his nine inches of cock were on her mind. Still horny and sloppy wet, she was in pursuit of number four when his email arrived.
It was titled, "I'm sorry," and inside a plea to forgive. Buddy blamed alcohol for his actions. Linda felt bad for giving him a bum rush the night before and pardoned his behavior. She did not admit to her craving for more of his erotic conversation, for him to talk dirty as hell and make her come.
This amicable connection started with talk of the weather and their livelihoods. Linda cuts hair part-time, but most days, she lays out by their pool working on her tan. Buddy gets his sun as a land surveyor, but he also has training in the modalities of massage. During the evenings, he gives a full body massage to wives of oil-tycoons--and they are big tippers. She asked what comes with it. Buddy said that would be his clients, and several times, too. Linda bartered to cut his hair in trade for a similar satisfying rub down. He made it a deal and then suggested they go cam to cam. She wanted to see him and his big cock, but her laptop crashed, and she shared an old desktop. Buddy gave his condolences with disappointment.
"I'm guessing you were watching porn when it crashed. You have to be careful where you surf. What kind of sites were you on? What do you like to watch? I am into girl-on-girl."
"Here we go again, Buddy; it is all about sex with you. I enjoy sexy talk, too, but Joe can never know of this. Is that a promise?"
"I am not going to say anything, and you better not squeal on me, either. Let us play a game called "Truth Hour." We take turns asking each other one question at a time. The recipient is obligated to answer that inquiry, and it must be with the honest truth."
Linda agreed to the rules. "This sounds exciting. You go first."