Best Friend Ch. 01

That only seemed to make me feel better because Imani made plenty. Like other women who's shared the experience, she also seemed to feel embarrassed about it and tried covering her face up, which wasn't hard to do considering I was doing her from behind. I gently urged and convinced her to let me see. When I finally saw her expression as she came, I couldn't understand what they were embarrassed about; she looked beautiful. It was weirdly endearing to see her cum and be in her most vulnerable state with you, trusting you enough to leave themselves at your mercy. It fueled the possessive bones in my body I didn't even know I had. I felt like I owned her pussy completely during that moment.

Imani was also very vocal. I wasn't comfortable with the intense dirty talking at first, but once I found my rhythm, I completely changed my tune and reciprocated. It was such a turn-on to see her usually calm demeanor become so unhinged whenever I talked about how beautiful she looked or how tight she was. Plus, I also wanted to know more about her likes or dislikes, but I didn't want to ruin the mood by asking her directly and letting her think over this beautiful, instinctive fuck we were having.

So, I made her tell me what she wanted.

"You nasty slut, taking it so good in the ass. Fuck, you're so tight. Tell me, Imani. Shit. Tell me what you fucking want," I whispered in her ear. I didn't even know what I was doing; erotic literature was the only thing guiding me. Thankfully, she seemed to like that.

Imani screamed in response, her anal walls suddenly constricting around my cock like a guillotine. Not a real one, fortunately. I wanted a squeeze, not a brutal castration.

Shortly after, she moaned out her kinks and the things she wanted deep down as I continued to fuck my cock into her sphincter. We were pretty sexually compatible. I liked the same things she liked as well, so I ended up doing some of them.

For example, I made her look into a mirror as I continued pounding her ass, issuing an occasional smack or two.

"Look at yourself," I ordered. Imani obeyed. She made eye contact with her reflection in the mirror. By that time, she looked completely out of it. Her eyes were extremely unfocused and dilated. I wasn't even sure if she saw herself. If she did though, Imani would've only seen herself whorishly smiling at the pleasure of being ass-fucked doggystyle while I roughly pulled her hair.

The next minute, she let out a gut-wrenching scream from the friction of my cock rubbing on the pleasure-induced nerves around her sphincter. It was a pretty sight she would've seen in the mirror if her eyes didn't roll up to the back of her head. It was a shame, honestly.

With her permission, I came inside while she was coming down from her high. That was the first time I emptied my balls inside an asshole. Of course I loved it. Heavenly stuff right there. Until now, anal creampies never fail to cheer me up.

I woke up the next morning with Imani sleeping next to me. The sun was up and she looked beautiful under it. Marks decorated her flawless, black skin. Her muscles were taut, probably overworked from our intense love-making. Spread haphazardly on the bed were strands of her hair. Her beautiful waist and butt were partially covered by a white blanket.

It was a good sight to wake up on.

Then, out of nowhere, I wondered how my best friend would look like in her place. If it were Ilya, she would probably look even more beautiful. We'd quickly make-love again in the morning, whip up some pancakes after a climax or two. Get right back to fucking each other senseless under the warm light of day, our bodies meshed up together comfortably while we watch a movie or something. Even when the cool, breezy air visits our bed, the only thing Ilya and I would feel is the warmth of each other's skin. God, wouldn't that feel great?

I flinched, startled by my thoughts.

That was when I realized I was in love with my best friend. For quite some time too.

Eventually, Imani woke up and we did actually fuck again.

But it wasn't her; it wasn't Ilya. The whole act felt tainted by thoughts of my best friend. Sure, fucking your upperclassman star athlete, a fantastically gorgeous black girl, right in her eager, cock-swallowing ass on a morning day was pretty much a top-tier life experience, but now that I imagined how it would be if it were with my best friend instead? It felt lackluster.

Nothing seemed to compare.

Of course, I might just be overly-romanticizing the amazing, toe-curling sex I could possibly have with my best friend. Unrealistic expectations are, by far, one of the most common cases of failures in relationship. I was completely aware of that.

But I couldn't help it. Ilya and I had always been so emotionally connected. And when I finally experienced sex, I realized first-hand just how much of it was a union between physicality and mentality. Philosophically speaking, sex was the act of blurring the two things together.

The boundary of thought and matter; where matter becomes thought and thought becomes matter.

The physical aspects of sex would only be amplified by the emotional closeness we both nurtured over the years. It was actually pretty abnormal for me to never have thought of sex with Ilya before. I was attracted to women. She was attracted to men. More importantly, she was pretty, smart, kind. I mean, that was the holy trifecta. What wasn't there to like?

Realizing you were in love with your platonic best friend wasn't pretty though. Suddenly, everything seemed to dim. I only thought about her every single day, wondering if she'd reciprocate the feelings I had towards her. I also explained the situation to Imani and how I couldn't date her if that was what she was asking for.

Imani laughed, saying, "Don't worry about it, dork. I'm not asking you to. We were never going to date. I'm into submissive guys. We both found out yesterday that you're definitely not that."

She then touched my dick, bulging through my pants as she whispered, "This dick could take me to places I've never been to before though. From now on, you're my favorite ride, big boy. Call me anytime you wanna fuck ass."

Imani chuckled as she felt my dick growing underneath my pants. She left me with her phone number and a hard-on that lasted pretty much the entire day. I had to sit through math class with a fucking boner. Fortunately, I always brought oversized hoodies with me just in case.

The minute I got home, I jerked off to thoughts of my best friend; what she would look like under me; what she would FEEL like against my skin.

Against my cock.

In just under two minutes, I felt my orgasm coming. I let it wash over me as I pumped the base of my dick harder than ever before. I remember that was the first time I ever jerked off to Ilya.

It certainly wasn't the last.

I felt guilty at the time. I remember thinking that was some pretty fucked up shit. I've never jerked off to a woman I knew personally in my life before. I didn't even know you could do that. Sure, looking at beautiful women works me up. I get the occasional, uncontrollable boners at the sight of my older sister and my mom too (I know it's weird but they're hot and I'm horny, so give me a break).

But I never wanked at the thought of anyone I knew. Maybe it wouldn't be that bad if I asked her out. If we were dating, what I did might turn out less weird and creepy. Heck, it might even be endearing. I could jerk off to her anytime I wanted then. Maybe even play with myself right in front of her as her eyes crawl all over me. I shivered as I fantasized Ilya watching me, my hands stroking my cock again for another tantalizing release. Shit, forget masturbation--we'd fuck so good our eyes would roll up. I could have all that if I just asked her to date me.

"Would she say yes?" was the question.

A week later. The universe gave me an answer.

Ilya told me about this man she was officially dating. She told me I was the first person to know. It broke my heart into pieces, but I never let it show. I smiled and congratulated her.

It took me a few weeks of lumping around before I snapped myself out of it and returned to my usual life. Well, partially.

You know how I started to avoid washing up on the men's public bathroom to keep rumors of my big cock from spreading?

Well, I stopped hiding.

I've always been mindful of what I wear, but even that stopped. I let my large testicles dangle right under my even larger dick in the men's lockers. Boners too. I let it show in class. Usually I'd avoid wearing sweatpants or wear a hoodie, but I couldn't care less anymore. I stopped making the conscious effort to hide the occasional bulges and tents. It was actually pretty amusing. I even caught a few of my teachers glancing at it. They say older women like it bigger. I wondered how accurate that was.

I felt the shift with the way people treated me. I heard whispers, mostly from women, whenever I walk past them too. Plenty of cliques tried to get me in their circle. The jocks, nerds; groups composed entirely of men. I didn't really care much about social groups even then, so I refused every time they asked to hang out. Some guys even asked me directly if my porn-sized dick had seen a lot of action. I ignored all of them as I always did. They just assumed I was socially anxious or whatever.

To make it perfectly clear, I'm not actually bad with socializing. In fact, you could even say I excelled at it.

I was just plainly introverted. Being in love with Ilya exacerbated that in a way that I couldn't find the energy to be with anyone emotionally; I was already struggling to keep myself afloat after all.

I never let the shift within me affect what I had with my best friend though. It wasn't her fault she didn't love me in that way. In all honesty, I kinda broke the code first. You don't fall in love with best friends. That's just a cardinal rule.

In the end, I'm the reason I was hurting. Most people would cut ties when their love is unrequited, but I couldn't do that, could I? I wouldn't just stop talking to her because of that. I loved her as a friend first. I just wished we'd fuck and hug and cuddle.

But I believed then that I could settle for conversations with her. Probably. Even though it fucking hurts.

In the end, talking with her drained any energy I originally had to keep my life together socially. I completely stopped talking to the few people I do talk to. The worst part about it is that I didn't really care. I'd gladly refuse most social interactions if it meant I got to hear about her day. It just meant I had way less energy to deal with stuff.

Stuff like minding fashion so as to hide my bulges.

After a few weeks of thoughtlessly wearing gray sweatpants and white sleeveless tops that displayed my fit body, the women around me grew in number. They followed me anywhere; lunch, self-study sessions, gym. Some even asked to permanently transfer to the classes that I take.

Of course I fucked them. They were curious about big dick and I made sure they grew addicted to it. Every time they did, I felt my sense of worth come back.

I slept with the teachers that looked at me weird too. Got nothing but A's in the semester. The rumors turned out to be right--they do love oversized cocks with a passion. Especially the married women. They'll do almost anything for it. Including but not limited to cheating on their spouses, obviously.

I learned how to speak with different types of women too. With sweet, honeyed words, I found myself getting better at talking them into some very dirty things.

I used it to indulge in every woman I was remotely interested in. Possibly because it made me feel better about Ilya. Burying myself in pretty asses and fresh pussy helped me avoid confronting my feelings for her.

Kinks and sexual plays weren't off the table for me too; submission, dominance, BDSM, rough sex. Anything the women imagined, I was in.

I even dabbled in voyeurism once—fucking a girlfriend in her pussy raw right in front of her willing cuck was definitely an experience. We all had a great time. I was their bull for about two weeks before the boyfriend got jealous of the fact that we were doing it even without him.

The woman still went back to me for a deep fuck occasionally. Without her boyfriend knowing this time, of course.

But yeah, being a whore was a lot of fun, I guess. The more I slept around, the more I grew addicted to sex. I loved and enjoyed almost everything new I participated in. In actuality, any kind of sex is great as long as the woman's great. Sure, there are superior cocksuckers and tighter pussies, but when you essentially like making their eyes roll up at the back of their heads, all sex is mostly the same so long as you make her cum her brains out.

Of course, even among roleplays, I preferred some over the others. For example, playing as a dominant on rough sex was definitely one of my favorites.

Bondage was also fun. I'd tie them up with ropes, blindfold their pretty eyes, and proceed to fuck the shit out of them. They'd scream in pleasure and frustration as I deny their pussy release for hours--only to allow them to cum while I desecrate their throats and faces. Hard.

The more I did it with women who sucked cock like they couldn't live without it though, the more monotone normal sex became. I found myself craving more and more stimulus. Plain love-making also only seemed to remind me what I couldn't have with Ilya.

So over time, doing it rough became somewhat of a coping mechanism. Of course, they welcomed it. Women didn't come to me without expecting to get fucked and disrespected hard in the first place anyway.

The rumors of me only wanting it rough not only made the influx of women throwing themselves at me reduce in number, it even increased in the end. My degradations didn't stop curious women from getting it--not even the "loyal" girlfriends. Especially them, actually.

They tell me stories of why they don't do this with boyfriends. It all comes down to shit like dick-size, emotional unavailability, or most commonly--something related to romance, which I never quite understood. It seemed unthinkable for women to have rough, nasty sex with the man they romantically love. It's just not the same, they said. I disrespect them in bed, it's hot and they love it. When their boyfriends do the same thing, they immediately break up with them because they "deserve better."

Don't look at me, I barely understood it either. Granted, they didn't talk much about it. If moans and grunts weren't coming out of their mouth, then my dick probably was.

Eventually, I learned enough tricks to figure out a woman in under 20 minutes of foreplay before wrecking her world completely.

My first threesome was with Imani too. It started when I slept with this girl named Aika--who turned out to be her roommate. She was half Japanese; big tits, cute butt, kind of tall. I remembered her for the erotic shape of her pink belly-button. Not to mention her top-tier upside-down throating (an opera singer so that explains it). The whole fiasco started when I left her fucked senseless in the back of the school. It was a pretty great experience.

Birds chirped as they watched her hump against my cock. Aika was pushing her ass to meet my thrusts using a tree as support.

The hottest thing about the scenario? The tree had her current boyfriend's initials along with hers written on its bark. Apparently, they wrote it together when they were young; a childhood promise to marry each other.

She uncontrollably squirted directly on it like a fucking pervert.

I constantly teased Aika about it in front of her clueless boyfriend after that, calling her the "cutest environmentalist ever." When he asked why I called her that, I eagerly told him the story of his girl kind-heartedly watering trees in the back of our school. Of course, leaving out a few details like where'd she get the "water" from.

Anyway, they were great friends so Aika probably decided to tell Imani all about me because the black girl called me a week after. I didn't know they knew each other then.

"You fucked my roommate?!" I heard her scream in the phone.

"You gotta be more specific, Imani. You've never introduced me to her. Which one was she?"

"There's multiple women? You never told me you were sleeping around," she said.

I was confused. What did it matter to her?

I retorted, "I don't know why I'm obligated to. We aren't dating. In fact, I heard from a friend you've been dating a guy yourself these past few months."

She went silent over the phone before muttering, "You're right, but I gave you my phone number and you never called me."

I asked, "Did you want me to?"

"Of...course I did. Didn't we have fun that day?"

"I did have fun, and I did want to call you. A lot of things just happened after and it slipped my mind." I wasn't lying; my thing for Ilya swallowed my whole attention.

The same way this black girl's ass eagerly swallowed my dick.

As if it was reminded of fond memories, my cock twitched under my pants. I asked her another question, "So...do you still want me to call you sometimes?"

"Yeah, I do. I m-mean like, as friends. You know? Since I've got George now and...stuff," she muttered without confidence. It was a pretty new experience hearing her usually certain voice sound so doubtful. Months ago, she definitely knew what she wanted.

She continued talking over the phone as if to compensate from the lack of conviction in her tone, "Actually, things have been going really well with us. I really feel like he's the special someone, you know? He's nice, sweet, and very kind. He's also submissive, which is exactly my type."

I said, "I'm happy for you, Imani. I'll call you every now and then. As...friends, cool?"

"Cool. I need to go anyway, I guess. Don't tell Aika I approached you, all right?"

That's when I realized she was talking about Aika.

"Good luck with your boyfriend." I hung up.

It took three days of nonstop flirting before she caved in and sent me a snap of her gaping asshole.

I thought it only fair to send a picture of my dick back--right on top of her roommate's fucked-silly face.

In the end, we all humped each other's brains out in the apartment I rent. Unlike the school's dormitories, there weren't any restrictions so they came over almost every other day. In fact, they just slept there after a certain point. We spent whole weekends just senselessly fucking each other.

And I had the surreal experience of having two, beautiful women simultaneously bob on both sides of my dick. God, watching them share my cum after was fucking heart-pounding. Imani also eventually gave me her pussy. Apparently, she couldn't stop thinking about me during the past few months. She was pretty hurt when I didn't call. She said the sex with me then was the best she ever had, but she tried playing it cool in front of me. She was disappointed when she didn't hear from me. Not too disappointed though, she was mostly fine during the first week. If I called, great. If I didn't, no big deal. It wasn't as if she couldn't live without it.

Until she couldn't.

After she had sex with the guy who was usually enough to satisfy her cravings, the cracks started to show. She ranted about how it didn't feel as good and all she could think about was me and big cock. Imani recounted how she spent the next few weeks sexually frustrated. Her ass felt weird. She couldn't cum her brains out like before and it was fucking her up.

Then she met a nice guy in biology class and started dating him. He was the sweetest person she's ever met, and he treated her right.

They were very intimate, so sex was only a matter of time. She told him about her ass-rule and how her pussy was off-limits to anyone until they were married her. She was afraid he'd be disappointed but instead, the guy was really nice about it. He even said he kind of loved that about her. She was happy that he did.