Cumming In My Wife's Best Friend Ch. 03

IF ANYONE HAS NOT READ PARTS 1 AND 2, I WOULD HIGHLY RECOMMEND THAT YOU READ THESE BEFORE READING THIS CHAPTER. I THINK YOU WILL ENJOY THIS CHAPTER A LOT MORE IF YOU HAVE THE FULL BACKGROUND TO THE CHARACTERS AND THE STORY.

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The next day in the office was even less productive than the day which had preceded it. My mind was alternating between naughty recollections of the cock-clenching sex I had enjoyed with Helen the night before, back to feelings of guilt and uncertainty arising from the interaction with Natasha which had come later in that evening, before fixing on erotic cum-drenched images of what might await me on night three of sexual relations with my wife's best friend.

My thoughts were everywhere other than on the report I had to get finished, and I noted to myself that if I carried on like this for many more days, I might have to start charging for my sperm-delivery antics since I would be out of a job.

I just was not able to get myself to focus, and all morning it had felt like someone had charged with me with a month's worth of uber-horniness which I could not work out of my system. I had even felt my dick stirring in my pants a couple of times and had shifted uncomfortably on both occasions, looking around with embarrassment to see if anyone had noticed the growing bulge in my pants, despite the fact that my crotch was hidden by my desk and I was in my office on my own. The arrival of a semi hard-on was something that had never previously happened to me in the work environment.

If a man has a cheating or infidelity gene, mine had definitely been activated in the last two days. Indeed, the catalyst of smashing a 10 year platonic barrier with Helen under the force of my thrusting cock and gushing spunk was also making me more attuned to other women who circled in and out of my world and who had previously been filed in the "not my wife and therefore not be regarded sexually" category.

The first of these was my Personal Assistant, who was located at the desk outside my office, typically facing away from me. Alison was the archetypal power-dressing secretary, her long auburn hair usually done up in a bun, her clicking stiletto heels always a precursor to her actual physical presence. She had a round appealing tanned face which was attractive without being stunning, but also had a toned body that was the result of countless step and yoga classes, and she knew how to present what she had to best effect.

Despite this, I had never previously given her any focused sexual consideration, and indeed I think she regarded me as the perfect honourable hard-working husband and father, who was strictly off-limits. Our working relationship was therefore professional and friendly, but had never strayed remotely close to anything which might be called flirtatious.

Today however, I had found myself discretely watching her moving about on a couple of occasions, surreptitiously admiring her figure. Then, when she had come into my room to lean forward to place a drink on my desk, I had been very aware of the third button undone on her shirt, which showed a hint of full cleavage. I had flushed and stared concertedly down at my papers, before noticing that Alison was looking at me with a quizzical expression.

"Are you feeling ill?" she asked, but after I proclaimed my good-health she left the room with a light-hearted shrug, leaving me to wonder if I was turning into a sex-addict.

The thing which was able to dampen my ardour, however, every time my thoughts turned to it, was the difficult exchange with Natasha the night before. Considering it now, I could see that from the moment of greeting my wife in Mike and Helen's living room following the second explosive sex session with her best friend, I had been carelessly less guarded.

I could now recall limited parts of the awkward small talk we had indulged in as we had walked home again, and could also recall Kelly's further confused look when she was relieved early again, with her high-pitched teenage exclamation of "This is weird!"

However, none of that was very significant compared to my recollections of the conversation with Natasha in our bed.

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

She had been leaning on her side, wearing her white silk nightdress, having just got in next to me after getting herself ready. "What are you thinking about?" she asked, somewhat distantly.

"Nothing," I replied, when of course I had been daydreaming about the succulent clench of Helen's adulterous pussy. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, ever since you came down from that room tonight, it's like your mind is somewhere else," Natasha commented, with agitation which was now more evident. "I don't think I have had a clear sentence from you yet."

I looked at her. "Sorry, I just feel really tired. You know, chemicals kicking in, and all that."

"So, she got your sperm again?" she questioned, with an apparent level of tension in her voice. "You fucked together and she made you cum again."

I stared at her, this question lifting my brain out of the sensuous fog into which sex with Helen had floated it. "Don't describe it like that, Natasha, making it sound so seedy. Yes, we had intercourse again and I put my sperm in her."

"And did she cum, when she felt that big fat cock of yours filling her up and shooting its spunk inside her?" This time, the question was asked with an obvious tinge of jealousy and an even greater level of aggression, demanding a strong response.

"No," I answered immediately and firmly. "Of course not. You know that we are not having sex in that way." The devious part of my mind kicked in at this point and I decided that the best way to counter this suspicious interrogation from my wife was to go on the offensive. "Christ, Natasha, what are these questions about? I am only up there because you told me to. You started all of this by agreeing to it, not me, and now you are asking me questions as if I have done something wrong."

She paused to reflect on this, then forcibly tried to change the expression on her face to a more mellow one. "Sorry, John, you are right. That was out of order." I did not respond, deliberately acting hurt, and then there was an awkward silence for a second, before she said, "Here, let me get in close to my husband."

I was lay on my back, and she moved to slide in under my right arm to lie on her side with her hand on my chest. I put my arm around her and we lay like that, in silence for about a minute, her breasts pressing large against my side, her breath hot. I knew her well enough to be aware that she was building up to say something, and my own breathing was shallow and slightly nervous while I waited for the next statement or question.

"You were upstairs for a lot longer tonight," she finally stated. "A LOT longer, did you realise that? Mike was getting visibly agitated. What took so long?"

"I didn't realise that," I replied, wondering if she could feel the unusually rapid heartbeat of a confronted adulterer, beneath her resting hand. "How long were we up there for?"

"An hour," she replied. "Or 1 hour 4 minutes, to be precise. I could tell that Mike was thinking, 'How does it take an hour for him to cum inside my wife?'"

"And were you thinking that too?" I asked, with a more conciliatory tone this time.

"No," she immediately responded, then added, "No, of course not, but...but why did it take so long?" Clearly, despite her denials she had been pondering on exactly that question.

I had already structured my answer to this as I had lain on top of Helen earlier that evening, while my recently spent but still almost hard penis had twitched inside the tight warm grip of her incomparable vagina. I had been dreamily aware of the time spent and the questions this might be generating from our spouses, and therefore had prepared my response while our sexes had remained joined together in post-coital languor.

That internal liar I was beginning to become so familiar with was therefore ready for the question, and I announced with apparent embarrassment, "We had...trouble getting started tonight. I couldn't get a hard-on and she wasn't ready to take me. The longer it took the more awkward we both got, and that just made it worse. Eventually we got there, but it took quite a lot of time." I sighed. "For all that effort and embarrassment to try to do a good deed for your friend and for Mike, as you had wanted me to...well, I definitely wouldn't have bothered if I had known I was going to get this sort of reaction." What a conniving bastard I was becoming!

She was silent and motionless for a few seconds, considering this, until her hand on my chest moved down to my left side and squeezed me, briefly. "I am sorry, babe, I know this must be really difficult for you too, and I do believe you when you say how awkward it all must be, doing this with her. I can only imagine what it would be like if things were reversed, and it was me and Mike having to do this, although I must admit that I am starting to wish that I hadn't agreed to any of this. However, you must believe me that how I am feeling right now, this....nasty suspicion that's making me ask all of these questions, it's not your fault and it's not Helen's. It's my problem. I trust you and Helen and love you both more than anyone else in the world, and I promised Helen I would help her have 5 opportunities to get pregnant, so we must stick to that."

That interior shit I had discovered, that inner voice who was proving to be such an effective deceiver, gave an internal cheer. Not only had my wife explicitly consented to my next session with Helen, it was her that was feeling guilty about being too aggressive and demanding in her enquiries, rather than me feeling guilty for channelling my erotic attention into her lifelong friend.

"That's OK," I replied, sounding magnanimous, squeezing her in return.

After a few seconds her hand slid down my stomach until it found my cock under the sheets, her fingers sliding onto my shaft. "Shall we make friends?" she asked, caressing me softly and kissing my chest once. "I think the best way for us to make friends will be for you to have some non-awkward sex with your wife...."

Her hand continued to move on my dick, but it was soliciting no response, nor did I think it was likely to. I had emptied my balls and for that moment at least my lust into Helen, and I genuinely anyway felt too tired for sex right now. I moved my hand down and gripped Natasha's wrist, shifting her arm back to my chest. "I really am very tired," I announced. "Can we just have a cuddle then go to sleep?"

She seemed to freeze slightly in my arms, then with a slightly tremulous voice said, "Of course. Let's go to sleep." She cuddled in close to me, her head on my chest, and I wondered what she was thinking, whether the slight rejection had only served to strengthen some of her forming doubts and suspicions, whatever she had stated a few moments earlier. But I really was very tired, and right now I did not have the slightest urge to fuck my loving and devoted wife, and so as she lay there motionless and in silence I did the same.

Eventually, she had rolled away from me and turned on her side to go to sleep, lying with her back to me. I did not give too much further thought at that time to setting things right with Natasha, and instead later lay in the dark processing images of forbidden sex with Helen through my cheating mind, my own hand resting on my cock.

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

Thinking about the exchange with Natasha now, I knew that the smart move would have been to have turned her on her back and fucked her for 5 minutes, despite my fatigue at the time. Any suspicions would then have been temporarily shafted into the back of her mind. As it was, our interaction at breakfast this morning had been polite but not friendly. She was definitely pissed off with me and was emitting borderline jealousy, but she was also trying not to be too blatant in her display of those emotions.

I was still thinking about this when the phone rang.

It was Alison. "John, there's a Helen on the phone asking to speak to you. She wouldn't give a company name, but said that you know who she is?"

"I do," I replied, my mind racing. "Please put her through. And Alison, please will you close my door, it's a personal matter."

The call transferred, and I heard the soft refined accent of my new sexual playmate on the other end of the phone, Helen saying, "Hi lover."

"Hi there, you." I replied, pausing until I had seen that Alison had closed my office door, feeling slightly confused but also immediately infused with giddy guilty excitement. "Is everything OK?"

"Yes," she replied, a hint of amusement in her voice. "And no, I am not phoning either to cancel tonight or because we have been discovered. I just wanted to talk to you, is that alright with you?"

"Yes, sure," I responded, being aware that Alison had shot me another questioning look as she had shut my door. "No, in fact, it's great to get this...slightly unexpected...call."

"I am at home all alone today," she answered, slightly coquettishly. "I had booked the day off a couple of weeks ago, before all of this started. And I was just sitting here a few moments ago, and found myself thinking about you." I was definitely not mistaking the fact that her tone sounded both suggestive and seductive.

"Nice thoughts I hope?" I replied, play-acting at being coy, while pushing my recent recollections and concerns about Natasha firmly out of my mind.

"Very nice thoughts," she responded, her voice soft and slightly breathy. "I have been picturing the events of the last 2 nights in my mind. It all seemed such a rush last night after you finally got up, we barely had a chance to speak once you had taken that lovely thick hard cock out of me. And so, I just wanted to speak with you."

"Well, I am glad you have called," I replied, my cock twitching at her use of sexual language. "I definitely wouldn't be exaggerating to say that I have been thinking about you quite a lot today, too."

"Mmmmmm....it's so nice to hear you say that," she replied, and the way she emphasised the first word made me begin to wonder whether she had called me for more than a chat, and my dick started to harden in my pants. "If I close my eyes, right now, I can see and feel you leaning over me, pushing that rigid hot length of yours into me from behind, filling me up so deliciously, making me feel so sexually complete."

"I cannot wait to be doing that again," I stated in reply, whispering slightly but still recklessly aware that I was now getting into this despite the fact I was sat at my desk in work. Fuck the report. "The sensation of being inside your hot tight cunt is incredible, and the feeling of your silken pussy rippling around me as you cum is beyond compare."

"Mmmmmmm," she moaned again, the posh element to her voice making her sound very erotic on the phone. "You make me feel like such a BAD girl, do you know that? You are such a naughty man too, making me act this way, you know exactly what to do and say to make me feel hot and moist inside...ahhhhhhhhhh.....John, can I tell you a secret?"

"Please do," I responded, and my cock was solid in my trousers now. I shifted closer to the desk, again conscious of how I would look if Alison peeked into the room.

"I am touching myself right now, while we speak," she stated, then paused for effect. I imagined her, sitting in her negligee at the other end of the phone, her hand slid into her panties, teasing her clit. "That's so lascivious, in the middle of the day, isn't it? And do you want to know something else? I would never have dreamed of doing anything like this a few days ago, calling someone and using lewd words on the phone in this manner...ohhhhhh, that feels nice... never mind speaking to my lifelong friend's husband this way.

"My whole life up to two nights ago," she continued, "I know that I was a sex 1-2 times a week girl, that I would infrequently do what a good wife should do to pleasure her husband, and sometimes I would feel some sexual pleasure in return. But otherwise, I didn't think of sex very much at all.....mmmmmmmmm.... it was always my younger sister Catherine who was the black sheep of the family, sleeping around and having a string of boyfriends. I have always been the 'innocent' family girl and devoted wife."

"And now?" I encouraged, certain that she was masturbating herself while she described this, and desperate to touch myself in turn in response to her erotic talk.

"Ohhhhhhh.....now?" she replied. "Well, now, since that first instant you entered me and slowly stretched me around that wonderful girth of yours, and from the ecstatic moment that I felt my whole body explode into an orgasm while you impaled me on your cock, everything has changed......mmmmmmmmm.... you have done something to me, made me a servant to my sexual desire, such that I cannot seem to stop myself thinking about being with you."

"My big thick cock is hard for you, right now," I whispered, so very hungry for her again. "Painfully hard. I think if you were kneeling here in front of me now, your hands on my knees, your mouth near my crotch, and were to lean forward and lick my dick, I might just cum all over your face and chest."

"Mmmmmm....yummy," she replied. "That sounds delicious, and it is giving me lovely ideas for later tonight. Can I tell you something else?"

"Yes..." I whispered in return, and I could not help but slide my hand under the desk to my cock, merely placing it onto my shaft and moving the fingers slightly in order to discretely stimulate myself.

"Mike has never been able to give me what you can, and never will be able to," she announced, her talk slow and deliberate, with unusual irregular pauses which I believed to be the punctuation caused by the sensation of her delicate fingers caressing her clitoris. "The feel of your cock, for the first time, was a revelation to me.....ohhhhhhhh... I have only ever been with four men including you and Mike, and none of the others have come close to you for either size of dick or for the overwhelming way you fuck me as if you want to become part of me, to lose yourself in me completely.....nnnnnnnnn.... Mike, well, he is a loving husband and I love him and he is my best friend, but....well, his cock is not big enough, in fact it is just so miserably TINY when compared to yours. And he just does not have your skill or sheer physical force and presence when we have sex, that thing you can do where I feel completely overpowered and helpless beneath your relentless pounding strength and passion. God, just thinking about it now is making me so fucking horny..."

And then she stopped talking for a few seconds, and I could hear her breathing loudly on the other end of the phone, then a few muttered curses, "Oh.....goddddd, oh John..... nnnnnnn.....fuck....." Then there was a pause for a few seconds, during which I was silent and incredibly aroused while hearing her panting on the other end of the line, knowing she had brought herself to climax with her fingers and her erotic talk.

Eventually, the panting subsided slightly, and while touching my dick I whispered, "You ARE a very bad girl, making me hard here listening to you, knowing that I cannot be there and enjoying it with you."

"Mmmmmmmm....that felt so good," she announced, her voice low and husky, but less punctuated with sounds of lust now. "If I am becoming a bad girl, whose fault is it John? You have opened up my sexuality in just two nights in a way I just cannot comprehend. Do you know, Mike has never made me orgasm just by fucking me, he only gets me there with his hands and his mouth," she continued. "I cannot help it, but the unflattering contrast to you is making me look at him differently, making me respect him less and therefore making me feel less guilty about how you are making me feel. If Mike had been able to make me feel once in 10 years how I have felt with you in just two nights, then I wouldn't be acting this way."