Weird Wendy

I never knew why my best friend's wife didn't like me. Actually, I guess that's an understatement -- she actually seemed to despise me although she was too cultured to be obvious about it around other people. The main reasons that I was sure that she didn't like me were because she rarely smiled around me and because she always said weird stuff to me, often when my best friend wasn't in earshot.

By the way my name is Richmond Nester, "Rich" to my friends.

Jerry Sentry was my best friend since 3rd grade. We did almost everything together all through High School. We never directly competed and always cheered each other on. Two examples:

-Jerry was great in math and I helped him study for the school math contest in 8th grade, which he won. I was good in spelling and he quizzed me in that and I won the school spelling bee in both 7th and 8th grades.

-In High School Jerry was a great point guard; I was a power forward. Whenever I rebounded I immediately threw the ball to Jerry usually for a fast break. At least half of my points were assisted by between good and great passes from Jerry.

We went to different colleges but stayed close by doing things together on breaks, and by visiting each other at least once a school year. Jerry got an engineering degree and then an MBA. I became a lawyer.

Jerry met Bernice Wendy Phillips his junior year in college, but if you called her anything except Wendy you would get a cold stare or maybe a kick in the nuts. Wendy is from a rich, privileged, family from Boston. I could see why Jerry was initially attracted to her because she's nice looking with substantial mammary glands (in appearance I'd rate her a nine on a ten point scale but I thing that Jerry rated her a 9.9), dresses classy, seems intelligent, and is kind to dogs and cats. However, I was sure that after he got to know her or was with her for a while and any animal attraction had dissipated he'd dump her because she's haughty, entitled, aloof, and sarcastic, and lacked empathy. [I know, I should tell you what I really think, ha, ha].

I'm pretty sure that Wendy didn't like me from first contact. My opinion of the reason for that was that I didn't worship at her shrine; you'd have to ask her what the real reason is if you don't accept my opinion because I've never confronted her about it. Jerry seemed oblivious to her distaste for me and has never mentioned any discussions between him and Wendy about it.

To give you some idea of the weird shit that Wendy said to me:

-My tolerance for imbeciles is low today; I used to have immunity but there is obviously a new strain out there.

-Yet despite the look on my face you're still talking.

-I regret some of the things I said to you yesterday. After sleeping on it I came up with some better insults.

-Sarcasm is an art; if it were a science I'd have a PhD.

-What self-created drama are you whining about now?

-You're entitled to have an opinion; I'm just letting you know that it's wrong.

-Forgive and forget? I'm neither Jesus nor do I have Alzheimer's.

-Remember that you're only young once but can be immature forever.

-Some relationships are like a walk in the park--Jurassic Park.

-You seriously need a speed bump between your brain and mouth.

-Stood up by your date again? Maybe try mouthwash.

Sweet, huh?

Despite my expectation of Jerry breaking it off with Wendy that didn't happen and shortly after Jerry got his MBA, while I was in my last year of law school while working as a paralegal, they got married.

The wedding was a multi-day affair. In a lead-up to it the wedding party went to an amusement park, golfing (or riding on the cart if you didn't golf), bowling, clubbing, and other activities. I got to know Wendy's parents fairly well since they interacted with us and bankrolled almost everything.

Wendy's father Warren is an average looking guy, but a hell of a businessman considering how successful the company that he is CEO of is. He's also a level-headed and friendly man who doesn't take himself too seriously and can carry on a conversation about almost anything.

Wendy's mother Abigail is about ten years younger than Warren and at about 45 years old at the time of the wedding hotter than a Roman Candle. She had to be a legitimate 9.9 in any sighted heterosexual male's opinion. She is slightly uppity and mouthy but not to the extent that her daughter is.

The nuptials must have cost Warren and Abigail a fortune because the flowers in the church were so prolific that it looked like a nursery, there were about two hundred guests, the champagne for toasts was Dom Perignon, and the reception was held at the Brookline Country Club where the most popular entrée (you could choose form four) was filet mignon.

I was Jerry's best man and settled him down when he had pre-wedding jitters. Jerry is a really good looking and smart guy so even though he came from an upper middle class background -- rather than the privileged background that Wendy came from -- her parents seemed to really like him.

At the reception I gave a very heartfelt -- when it came to Jerry -- toast with very complimentary words for Wendy and her parents that sure sounded sincere (Wendy's parents each individually thanked me for my kind words) although my words weren't, at least as far as they related to Wendy, genuine.

I had a very nice dance with Wendy's mom at the reception; she was a good conversationalist in addition to being hot. I was embarrassed at my reaction to her however since I would definitely have fucked her if a miracle chance occurred. One thing that she said confused me when we parted and just before she gave me a kiss on the cheek: "While being oblivious can sometimes be a virtue it can also cause missed opportunities." What the fuck?

I also danced with the bride herself; that was not particularly enjoyable although we didn't say anything nasty to each other and I kept all of my comments complimentary about her dress, the flowers, the food, and the venue. I had never seen her consume much alcohol before, but she was a little tipsy that night. Her parting comment to me was strange and punctuated by air quotes: "All the roads you regret for not going to the end represent the alternative lives you have missed!"

That may have topped her weirdness scale!

**************

By the time that he was twenty nine, and Wendy twenty eight, Jerry was a very successful businessman. While he told me that he sometimes consulted his father-in-law, his success was entirely his own. To his credit he didn't accept largess form his in-laws; however since Wendy had a massive trust fund and wanted to retain her pre-nuptials lifestyle they lived in a mini-mansion with a pool, sauna, in-home theater, and basketball court. I know because I visited several times.

Often on my visits I had my girlfriend de jure with me. I confess to being commitment averse so Jerry was not likely to ever be my best man. Surprisingly Wendy seemed more pleasant to my girlfriends than she was to me. Some of them mentioned discussions they had with Wendy that touched on me, although it didn't seem that she poisoned them against me.

A seminal moment in my life came when Jerry asked me to go with him to what was likely to be a multi-day meeting. I asked him why (even though some legal aspects to be discussed were up my alley) he didn't have a local attorney go with him because I lived about 700 miles away. "I trust you to have only my best interests at heart and I really need that confidence in these meetings; they're really a big deal to me and Wendy."

"Do you want me to get a hotel?"

"Fuck no; stay with us like you did when you had dates. Wendy insists on it since she was initially the one who told me that I need to get you involved in this because it is so important," Jerry forcefully replied.

The comments about Wendy shocked the shit out of me but I tried not to show it. Of course I had to agree not only because Jerry was still my best friend ever but he was paying my normal hourly rate -- he wouldn't accept a pro bono representation or even a friendly discount.

Jerry picked me up at the airport on a bright sunshiny day before the start of the meeting the next day. Fortunately I still had my sunglasses on when we entered his mini-mansion. As we were walking back toward the pool where the maid told us Wendy was I saw her stand-up up topless -- she apparently was sunning herself. I'm sure that Jerry didn't see it and by the time he opened the door to the pool area she had put her top back on.

My traitorous cock flinched; she has a really top notch set of headlights!

Jerry gave Wendy a kiss as she entered the house with her bikini still on, no cover-up. Despite my previous three visits to their house I had never seen her in her bikini before because the times of year weren't right for sunning or swimming. My disloyal cock flinched again -- I was trying hard not to stare while my mind was re-calculating her hotness from a 9 to at least a 9.7.

To my great relief shortly after greeting us Wendy went to change into real clothes that suitably covered up her body.

When we had dinner together, prepared by their part-time chef, to my surprise Wendy participated in the business aspects of the conversation and even joined us after dinner to plan out details of how to proceed the next day.

When I turned in Wendy put me in a recently remodeled room on the first floor, off their library, with an en suite large and ornate bathroom, a king-size bed with an ornate metal headboard, and a view of the pool and backyard gardens and on the opposite side of the house from the upstairs master bedroom. She made some comment about the guest bedrooms upstairs being in a state of flux, but I wasn't really listening since I was impressed with the accommodations I had been provided. Fortunately she didn't give me a hug goodnight -- not that that was her MO anyway -- because unfortunately the fleeting sight of her bare boobs was still caroming through my mind and I sure wouldn't have wanted her to feel my twitching cock.

The bed was very comfortable, the temperature appropriate for my normal sleeping wear of just a pair of boxers, and I was tired from travel and staying up late the night before; therefore I seemed to fall asleep the minute that my head hit the pillow.

It must have been about 3 a. m. when I had the most enjoyable and realistic dream of my life. I was dreaming that an irresistibly carnal Orion woman from a number of different Star Trek episodes and movies was sucking my cock and fondling my balls, and she was doing an A+ job of it. However, when I moved my hands in my sleep to put them on the head of the exquisite Orion temptress I got a rude awakening. I couldn't move my hands below my shoulders because they were both handcuffed to the heavy metal headboard.

I quickly woke up and looking down toward my crotch which was now missing my boxers I saw not an Orion slave girl's head but hair, a forehead, and eyes that looked remarkably similar to Wendy's. I know that I mumbled something like "What are you doing?" (probably the stupidest question I'd ever asked) and told her to stop at least three or four times -- I think -- but apparently the last thing that my cock wanted was for her to stop since it was harder than I could ever remember and seemed to be pulsing.

Once Wendy realized that I was awake she expertly manipulated my balls for another minute or so and then shinned her top-heavy body up on mine. The sheen of the nipples on her magnificent tits was ethereal, and I no longer could even mouth words of protest -- even if I still wanted to, which I'm not sure that I did.

Holding my titanium-hard cock upright Wendy moved her pussy over it and slowly lowered herself onto me, grunting and swearing with each centimeter of penetration. Her pussy was tight and hot and I suddenly unconsciously concentrated on not cumming too soon.

Once she was buried she started riding me like she wanted to rip my dick off, while bent over so that her tits were whip-sawing my chest. It felt so fucking good that it required all of my powers of concentration not to cum; but once she started to orgasm, emit a stifled scream, and her pussy clamped hard on my cock, I exploded into her like a geyser, pumping more seminal fluid into her than I could ever remember doing before as she thrashed and whined as each pulse of jism washed her vaginal walls.

Finally we were both wasted and she lay still on top of me, both of us sweating and breathing heavily. After a couple of minutes of her nipples being crushed into my chest she arose, gingerly extricated my cock from her pussy, and lay still cuddled up next to me. We were hit with a series of asynchronous after-shocks and didn't speak. After the last after-shock passed I started to ask "What the fuck was that about?" but I couldn't get the words out before she put her index finger on my lips. "Don't talk, just suck," she mumbled as she repositioned her body so that one of her nipples was in my mouth.

While I still might have been able to talk at that point my mind concluded that sucking on her flawless nipple was a more enjoyable use of my time so I suckled like a hungry newborn as she emitted sighs of contentment.

About fifteen minutes after Wendy had extricated my cock from her pussy while I was still enjoying sucking on her teat she shinned down my body and started sucking my cock and manipulating my balls again. Despite the depravity of the situation, my years-long antipathy for her, and the fact that she was my best friend's wife, I had only a primal, unthinking, reaction. I quickly got titanium-hard again.

The second cowgirl ride may have been even better than the first one -- it was hard to distinguish between the two because they were both so phenomenal. My second discharge into her anxious cunt was the longest second discharge of my life and caused her to whimper and moan. After her second extraction of my cock from her pussy she again snuggled next to me, fed me a nipple, and I passed out more than fell asleep with a nipple in my mouth.

First light was streaming through the windows of my room when I awoke with a start. I moved my hands any way that I desired since they were no longer cuffed, and sat up with a start. My mind was fuzzy but my first instinct was to chastise myself for dreaming of fucking my best friend's wife. However, when I swung my legs over the mattress and felt a slight, though not unpleasant, twinge at my crotch I looked down to see the shiny and slightly red half-hard condition of my cock.

I didn't dream it!

It was fucking real!

I mumbled "shit" at the same time that my cock twitched.

In a fog I stumbled into the ornate shower stall, washed myself off thoroughly -- including my aching cock -- and got dressed for the day.

As I entered the kitchen Jerry -- dressed in a suit and tie just like I was -- sauntered into the dining area. Off at the other end of the kitchen I saw Wendy at the stove seemingly making breakfast.

"How'd you sleep, buddy?" was Jerry's bubbly greeting.

"I feel very rested although I had a bizarre dream," I replied, loud enough for Wendy to hear.

"Care to share?" Jerry chuckled.

"Yeah, an Orion slave girl from Star Trek was working me over," I deadpanned.

Wendy had no reaction whatsoever.

Jerry laughed "Still a teenager at heart I see."

Jerry and I sat down at the kitchen table which had three table settings and poured glasses of orange juice, and started a brief discussion about the upcoming meeting. Shortly Wendy brought three plates of blueberry pancakes and sausage to the table and sat down with us and we all started eating while chatting.

Wendy looked and acted no different than the day before -- like the fact that she had fucked my brains out twice just hours before had never happened. The only tell-tale sign at all -- and it was subtle -- was when she saw me looking at her and sucked a sausage link before biting it.

As we ate my mind was trying to figure out a way to tell Jerry that I needed to go to a hotel that night rather than stay at his house. Even though the sex had been mind-blowing I sure as shit didn't want a repeat of the previous night. Before I could come up with some lame excuse Wendy saved the day.

"Remember, Jerry, that I won't be here for dinner or overnight today; I'm going with Mom to that out-of-town play."

"Oh; thanks for reminding me, I did forget," Jerry smiled between bites of pancake.

"Morton," the chef, "will be here to make you dinner. If you need anything just give me a call on my cellphone," Wendy continued.

We concluded our meal during which Wendy had impressed me as much more domestic than I thought that she was since she had made the great breakfast and was now clearing the table. I went to get my briefcase.

Wendy kissed Jerry goodbye at the door, over-politely said goodbye to me without attempting a hug or any other type of body contact (much to my relief since I'm sure that my cock would have twitched), and we left.

My mind was troubled as Jerry drove us to our meeting. I had already concluded that there was no way in hell that I was going to tell him what happened the previous evening because he wouldn't believe me (shit, I was still having a hard time believing it myself) and it would ruin our friendship; but I didn't know how to handle the situation.

By the time that we got to the meeting, however, I had my game face on and just like when playing basketball purged my mind of everything except the task at hand.

The first day of the meeting went very well and I contributed a significant amount. We made enough progress so that we broke early, to reconvene the next day at 9:30 a. m., and Jerry and I drove to his house. We had time for a really nice workout in his extensive in-home gym, a two mile run to a local park during which we talked about trivial stuff, and then we swam twenty-five laps each in his pool.

I was hungry when dinner time arrived, another great meal prepared by the chef and served and the table cleared by the maid, both of whom then left to go to their homes.

Jerry and I shot some pool and watched the last three innings of a baseball game on TV before we turned in. By that time I was exhausted and despite the unfathomable experience with Wendy the night before I fell asleep soon after my head hit the pillow.

************

It was deja vu when my dream of the Orion siren sucking my cock and manipulating my balls hit me again in the early morning hours. Again when I woke with a start my hands were cuffed to the headboard and Wendy seemed to be doing her best to simulate sucking chrome off of a trailer hitch. This time when she saw that I was awake she did something a little bit different.

She stopped sucking for a while and turned on a low light that highlighted her body and its relationship to my angry cock. While last night I had seen enough for my sight to enhance the tactile sensations with the light more clearly illuminating Wendy's consummate body I was stimulated even more.

This time I bucked upwardly as Wendy rode me. The ensuing ejaculation into her pussy was even more forceful than the night before and rendered us almost comatose.

This time after a rest cuddled next to me when she started on round two she moved her pussy to my face while she man-handled my cock and testicles. Despite my seminal fluid present in her pussy I licked it like a starving man might an ice cream cone, and sucked her clit like I wanted to ingest it. She came hard -- so hard that she could no longer maul my testicles.

When she came down from me licking and sucking her, she turned 180 degrees and mounted me again. This time she was lethargic until she started to cum and clamped down on my cock with her pc muscles, but I made up for her lethargy by bucking upwardly with all the force that I could generate. After the second ejaculation while I didn't actually pass out I fell into a languid state as Wendy cuddled next to me.