tagLoving WivesBetween Friends

Between Friends

bySquiresBoy©

>> This story is for unamascerveca9 who requested the set-up in Lit's Story Ideas forum. I hope it works for what you wanted. <<

Between Friends

Greg, Jamie and I have been friends for close to fifteen years, since high school. Jamie and I started dating and, when we decided to take a break, she went with Greg. I knew they had sex while they were dating, but it didn't affect our friendship when she came back to me. I figured it was a clean slate. And I couldn't really fault Greg; Jamie was definitely a fox. Dark brown eyes, dirty blonde hair, slender with breasts that were perfect handfuls.

Our friendship continued after high school, and after Jamie and I got married. Then Greg moved to Chicago for his job, and we kept in touch through emails and phone calls. Last year, Jamie had to go to Vegas for a job thing, and we invited Greg to meet up with us there. He jumped at the chance to see us again and we set it up.

Things went bad from the get-go. First, the hotel lost Greg's room, so we had to double-up. It was fine, since we were able to get an extra bed, but it was irritating. The day was insanely hot, so we were all sweating like pigs when we finally headed out to the casino. I lost a hundred bucks, Jamie lost fifty, and Greg somehow managed to drop three hundred bucks at blackjack.

We met up at a bar to commisserate, and Jamie bought the drinks since she lost the least. We were totally blitzed by the time we returned to the room and, in keeping with the theme of the weekend, the air conditioner was busted. It was like walking into a sauna. "Oh, wonderful," I said. I immediately unbuttoned my shirt and tossed it at the chair in the corner of the room.

"Whoo," Jamie said as she walked past me. "I didn't know Chippendales did private shows."

I smirked at her and kicked off my shoes. I took off my pants and stretched out on the bed in my white boxers. Greg had already seen everything in countless locker rooms, so I didn't feel self-conscious as I laced my fingers behind my head. Greg sat on the edge of the bed by my feet, his back to me, and Jamie sat in the armchair. "Maybe we should ask for a different room," he said.

"No, are you kidding?" I said. "The way our luck is going, it would be in the basement next to the boiler."

Jamie laughed and sighed as she took off her shoes. She has tiny feet, perfectly suckable toes, and Greg and I both watched as she massaged her aching arches. She lifted her left foot and crossed it over her right knee, stretching the denim of her jeans across her thighs. I looked away before I could get carried away and said, "I'm going to try to pass out. You guys watch TV or something."

"It won't disturb you?" Greg asked.

"He slept through a hurricane. A hot room with Letterman in the background is nothing." She got up and bent down over the bed to kiss my lips. "Night, baby," she said, and ruffled my blonde hair with one hand.

I fluffed up the pillow and covered my eyes with one hand. I could sleep in a bright room, but it was easier to make it dark. Soon, I was completely conked out.

I'm not sure when I woke up, but the room was dark. The TV was playing quietly, casting a flickering blue light over everything. I was on my side, so I rolled onto my back and stretched. I grunted and moved my hand to my stomach, keeping my eyes closed while I decided to try to go back to sleep or wake up for a little while. I felt the mattress shift by my feet and Jamie whispered, "No, he's still out."

I cracked my eyes a bit and looked at them. They were sitting on the foot of the bed, framing the TV from my point of view. Greg had changed into a white T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, while Jamie wore a thin T-shirt. I knew the shirt was her version of pajamas, and I knew it barely reached mid-thigh on her. I envied Greg, getting to see those legs. Eight years of marriage and I still wasn't tired of looking at my wife's legs.

She was facing the TV again, leaning back and bracing herself with one arm. I could tell from the way the cotton of her shirt ran smoothly down to her hips that she wasn't wearing a bra. I knew that the remote control was held loosely but possessively in her free hand. She absolutely needed to have that remote, no matter where we were. She flipped through the channels slowly, taking the time to identify a program, weigh it, and find it wanting before moving to the next. She and Greg were speaking quietly.

"As long as I'm not cramping your style."

"No, not at all. We're happy to share our room. As long as we're not keeping you from getting out there."

Greg laughed. "Well, we did get all those hooker cards on the way from the airport. Not that I could afford one of 'em." Jamie laughed. "I don't know. What do you think they charge for a blow job?"

"Way too much, whatever it is," Jamie said. "Did you see some of those girls? Terrible."

"It'll probably be better without all those teeth to get in the way."

Jamie laughed and shoved his shoulder. She looked at the TV and her back straightened slightly. "Ooh, this could be interesting."

I looked at the TV as well and saw a soft-core porn movie. I didn't realize you could get those channels on a hotel TV without paying extra. What were the chances Jamie had just stumbled upon one of the free ones? On-screen, a buxom blonde was straddling a half-naked guy, his hands cupping her large breasts as she moaned and writhed.

Greg coughed and said, "Uh, yeah. I-I think The Daily Show is probably on somewhere..."

Jamie nudged him. "Oh, come on. We're both adults. We've seen each other naked. We can enjoy some fine adult programming if it's unlikely either of us will get laid tonight."

"Me, maybe," he said. "You could just wake up Steven."

She shrugged. "I suppose I could. But I would hate to leave you out in the cold." She looked at him and I could see the light from the TV reflecting in her eyes. She glanced back, saw my eyes were open, and I gave her a tiny little nod. She pressed her lips together and focused on Greg.

He looked at her, and I closed my eyes in case he also looked back at me. They were quiet for a while, but I could still hear the woman on TV groaning and gasping. Finally, Greg said, "I don't... think that... would be a good idea, James."

She moved closer to him, her weight shifting on the mattress, and I heard her kissing his neck. I opened one eye and watched as she kissed her way from his neck up to his cheek, sucking his earlobe into her mouth and gently working it with her teeth. She was sitting up now, her free hand in front of her. I wondered what she was doing, but Greg's quiet grunts left little to the imagination. "It's okay," she whispered, and I felt a thrill at the sound of her seductive voice. "It's not like we're fucking. Just one old friend helping another."

"Oh, God," he groaned.

I risked opening my eyes again and I saw that Jamie, my dearly beloved wife, was bent down in front of him. I moved my hand down to the bulge growing in my boxer shorts and squeezed. I knew how Jamie gave a blow job; I'd been on the receiving end of them for fifteen years. I knew Greg's cock - which was smaller than mine, but thicker with a more blunt head - was out of his sweatpants now, Jamie's little pink tongue drawing slow circles around the head. She would make a circle with her thumb and forefinger and gently run it up and down the length, getting it nice and hard and wet before she took him deeper.

I stroked my cock through my boxers, watching as Jamie rearranged herself on the bed. She brought one leg up, bending it at the knee as she turned toward Greg. Her shirt probably rose up, and I wondered if she was wearing underwear. Was Greg getting a look at her pussy? Seeing how wet she was? I managed to stifle a groan and slipped my cock through the fly of my shorts.

"Oh, James," Greg grunted.

I let my eyes run down Jamie's body. I should have been pissed, should have shouted and made a scene about what they were doing right in front of me. But the thought never seriously crossed my mind. What did I have to argue? My wife loved cock, loved giving head. She and Greg had already slept together in the past, so this was nothing new. Most importantly, I knew without a doubt that this didn't mean anything. It was a blow job between friends. And I couldn't fault Greg for taking the opportunity.

The main urge I had to fight was getting up and sliding behind Jamie. I knew she and Greg would probably go with it, but this was their moment.

Greg reached out and ran his hand over Jamie's back. Jamie was making quiet, satisfied noises, muted by Greg's cock in her mouth, and I stroked my hand up my cock. I didn't want to move too much, didn't want to alert Greg that I was awake and watching. I was afraid he would get embarrassed or leave.

Jamie gasped and whispered, "You like that?" Her voice was rough and I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from moaning. I watched her arm move and I knew she was stroking his cock.

"I've always loved your mouth, baby," Greg said. He moved his hand to her head and pushed her back down. "Come on. I'm already so close."

"Mmm," Jamie whispered. I heard her kissing his shaft and she said, "Want to come in my mouth, baby?"

"Yeah," he managed to say, and Jamie chuckled and took him into her mouth again.

I was really hard now, my cock sticking straight up out of my boxers, and I brushed my thumb over the tip. I spread the precome over the head and imagined it was Jamie's saliva, that my hand was hers. She had given me hand jobs in the car, once in a theatre during a particularly dull play. I loved her slender, fine-boned hands, the way her thumb could move like an independent creature as it explored the underside of my shaft. I loved the time in the theatre; she was wearing opera gloves and the feeling was out of this world.

Blow jobs were trickier, but she never passed up an opportunity. Like I said earlier, the woman loves cock. Whether she's exploring it with her tongue or her hand, she never gets tired of it. Sometimes we'll shower together, and she'll drop to her knees and caress and wash my cock like she's worshiping. Just lifting, tasting, sucking, watching how it reacts to her touch and to the flow of water. She's a scientist, I'm her subject. I've learned to live with it. It's the cross I bear.

Now, I knew she was enjoying the opportunity to revisit an older test subject. How had Greg's cock changed since she last got a change to examine it?

Greg began to breath heavily, rocking the mattress as he thrust into Jamie's mouth. I could hear her moaning around her mouthful and Greg moved his hand back to her head. He went rigid, his ass up off the edge of the bed, and he came in Jamie's mouth. He thrust twice, grunting each time, and Jamie's moans were stifled as she swallowed as much as she could.

When she sat up again, she kept her hand on his lap. I could see her profile, her lips wet from Greg's come. She reached up and wiped a finger along her bottom lip and said, "Go wash up. Go on." Greg nodded and stood up, shuffling to the bathroom. I got a glimpse of his cock as he went, bobbing in front of him and glistening in the TV light. I'd never seen him erect, and it was an impressive sight.

Jamie waited until the bathroom door closed before she turned around. She crawled on her hands and knees to me and bowed her head. My cock slipped easily into her familiar mouth and I knew we had to be quick. I chuckled, feeling like the one having an affair as I fucked my wife's mouth. I cupped her head as the shower started running. Jamie squeezed my balls and I filled her mouth with a second helping of warm come.

She raised up and kissed me. We had shared come before, but I tasted Greg's on her tongue. It was strange, but that didn't deter me. I sucked her tongue and ran my hand down to her breast, cupping it through her T-shirt. When we broke the kiss, she rolled off of me and curled up against my side. I smiled at her in the darkness and she tucked my cock back into my boxers.

Jamie was asleep when Greg came out of the bathroom, but I was still awake. He glanced at us, lying together on the bed, and went to the roll-away bed the hotel had provided. He turned off the TV and cast the room into darkness, but light from the Strip seeped through the windows. I could see his silhouette perched on the edge of the bed for a long time before he lay down.

I turned my head and kissed Jamie's forehead. She stirred, and I slid my hand down her body. She sighed and parted her legs. She was wet as I spread her lips with two fingers, slipping a third into her. I quickly finger fucked her to orgasm, her hand clawing my chest as she rocked against my finger. When she came, I kissed her lips and sucked my finger clean. She rested her head on my shoulder and was asleep in minutes.



The next day, we got tickets to a tragically terrible magician. We sat in the audience, Jamie between us, and feigned amazement as the hack conjured tricks any eight year old could learn from a send-away kit. I glanced at Jamie, rolled my eyes, and focused on the stage again.

Jamie's hand slid over my thigh. I looked down at it, straightened in my seat, and slowly unzipped my pants. I cleared my throat and looked around; apparently the rest of the audience had a higher opinion of our entertainment than I did. No one saw Jamie's hand slide into my pants and grip my cock. I draped her coat over my lap, just in case the magician decided to come out into the audience and we were caught on spotlight.

In the middle of the blow job, I leaned back and looked around Jamie's head to look at Greg. His eyes were closed and his head was rolled back. Jamie's hand was in his lap, covered by his coat. He opened his eyes, blew out a breath and nervously scanned the audience. He caught me staring at him and his eyes widened slightly. He shifted in his chair, but I mouthed, "No." I nodded at my own lap, and he looked down. He met my eyes again and I raised my eyebrow. A slow grin spread on his lips and he relaxed.

After that, we both settled in. I didn't know what would happen after the show, if we would mention this or take it a step farther (could I really fuck Jamie while she blew another man?), but for now, that didn't matter. All that mattered was Jamie, Greg, me, and her hands on our cocks. We could deal with the details later.

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