A Faithful Husband Pt. 01

If you've read some of my other stories, you know that my wife had a group of friends who had known each other since seventh grade. The self-named "Dallas School Girls" included seven women and one gay man. Now all in their sixties, they have stayed in close contact, even though their lives took them in many different directions.

The last time I saw the entire group was at my wife's funeral. They showed up in full strength, taking care of every detail from scheduling the Temple to organizing the food to wrangling my sometimes-overly controlling brother-in-law/rabbi. They literally saved my sanity.

Since then, many of them have come to me individually to share love and support. But one woman reminded me of the time we came together as a threesome with my wife. This is that story.

It's almost guaranteed that I'll be on a tight deadline when a city transformer blows out in our neighborhood, leaving the house in the dark. This time, my wife called her good friend Sydney to ask if she still had power. She said she did, and I was welcome to park my laptop on her dining room table.

Within 15 minutes, I was set up at Sydney's apartment while my wife left to run what errands she could. Within a couple hours, I made good progress, mostly typing and editing while Sydney puttered around her place.

In her sixties like all the "Dallas School Girls," Syd is what I would call a Big Beautiful Woman. At least six-feet tall, with broad shoulders, wide hips, huge butt, and magnificent boobs. I know nothing of bra sizes, but I suspect hers were far along in the double-alphabet. She had black, shoulder-length hair that framed a square face. Known by many for her temper, she always had a smile and joke for me. Her laugh was deep and full. And when she hugged you, my friend, you knew you had been hugged!

She had a reputation as one of the top civil lawyers in town. If you wanted to sue an unfair employer or a careless manufacturer, you hired Sydney. She was famously known for calling a judge a putz. To his face. During a trial. And got away with it!

Can you see why she's one of my favorite people?

I struggled to focus on my work as she moved through the apartment. Wearing only a loose concert t-shirt and gray sweatpants, her ass bounced when she pushed the vacuum, and her huge, braless tits swung from side to side as she scrubbed the counter top.

After working for a couple of hours, I was pulled from the screen by the biggest pastrami sandwich I had ever seen being set next to my laptop.

"Hungry, hon?" Syd had the strongest Texas accent of any of The Girls. She was standing over me, grinning. Her boobs bounced inside her shirt while her nipples made themselves known only a few inches from my face.

I pulled my eyes away from her tits, but her smirk indicated she had caught me looking. "I sure am. I didn't realize how long I'd been working."

Sydney stepped toward the kitchen pass-through, picking up her own plate in one hand, and two bottles of beer in the other. She sat across from me at the dining table and slid one bottle within reach.

She raised her bottle. "Cheers to beers"

I joined in "and legs behind your ears." Our bottles clinked.

Wrapping her lips around the bottle, she pulled a long drink before sighing in satisfaction. "That's good." She held the bottle to the side of her neck. "I'm so hot. This is just what I need."

I gave the room an approving scan as I took a first bite. "You've been working hard."

"That, too."

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, come on. I know you've been ogling my tits and admiring my butt."

I started to apologize. "Well, I ..."

"Nah, it's OK. Why do you think I dressed like this, hon?" She hefted both boobs in her large hands. "You think it's comfortable dragging these things around unsupported?"

"I don't suppose it is."

"It's not. I did it for you."

"What?"

She stood up and walked slowly around the table. "So you can look. It makes me feel good to know you're looking; to know you want me." She was standing next to my chair, again, with her nipples pushing at the thin fabric. "And you do want me, don't you, hon?"

Her fingers played across her breasts, pausing to caress the firm nubs.

"You want to suck on these tits. I've seen it in your eyes since the day we met. Even now I can see you getting hard inside those jeans. Y'know, your wife brags on you all the time."

She took hold of the hem of her shirt and started lifting it over her substantial stomach.

"She says you get pretty big when you're excited."

She stretched the shirt forward over her boobs, bringing it to her neck. The flesh was thick and sagged from the weight of her amazing jugs. Her areolae were wide and puffy, pushing the huge nipples right at me.

"And you are excited, aren't you?"

I gulped.

"Look how hard you are, hon. You want to fuck these titties?"

"No," I squeaked. Then more strongly, "No, Sydney. I mean, yes, obviously I do, but I can't. I'm married. I made a promise to my wife."

"Is that the same wife who told me you love to eat pussy?"

Her shirt was now forgotten on the floor and her fingers were sliding under the waistband of the sweatpants. "That the smell of raw sex makes you crazy? And that ... oh!" Her fingers were far down her pants, obviously touching her pussy. "And that you can't wait to taste it?"

She quickly brought her fingers to my face. Covered in her sticky juice, she rubbed them across my lips and under my nose.

"Smell that, hon? See how wet I am? All for you." Her hands plunged back into her pants. "Oh God, you've got me so hot. My clit is tingling between my fingers and my cunt is dripping." Her hips twitched in response.

My cock was pushing against the denim until it hurt. Yet I could only stare at this giant, sexy creature pleasuring herself for my benefit.

"Please fuck me, hon. Here. Now. We won't tell your wife."

That broke the spell.

"There will be nothing to tell. Syd, I don't know what kind of signals you think you've been getting. Yes, I look at you. I think you are sexy beyond belief. But I will not betray my wife. She has been my partner, my love, my life for nearly 20 years, I could never cheat on her."

She started to lower her pants. "Not even for ..."

The doorknob rattled.

"Oh, shit!" Sydney jumped back, yanking the sweatpants up and floundering for her shirt. She got as far as holding it to her chest when my wife walked in.

The room froze.

"I was going to ask how the day went, but I guess I know." My wife's tone was more interested than accusatory.