tagGroup SexJune and Abby

June and Abby

byLust_First©

June came down the stairs, and when I saw her I almost decided to just keep her home and all to myself for the night. She wore a short dark blue dress that swooped low in front, and the string of freshwater pearls I'd given her on our fifth wedding anniversary.

"How do I look?" she asked.

She was beautiful, and I remembered on nights like these just what I'd found so attractive about her all these years. June's skin was a milky brown; she was Filipino, with a runner's body, toned and lithe, and her legs arched and curved as she walked like waves on a beach, smooth and unrushed. Her brown eyes were piercing—it was the number one thing people noticed when they first met June.

I whistled. "Babe..." I let my eyes roam, jutting my eyebrows up in approval.

We'd started a tradition, of sorts, with Abby, June's closest friend from college. We called it Black Tie Game Night, and it was just what it sounded like—we'd all put on our best clothes and play board games till the wee hours of the morning. Sometimes we'd invite another friend or two, and there was always plenty of drinking involved.

I had long found Abby attractive. She was petite and fair, with straight blonde hair and a small, pretty face. She had slim, curvy legs and a bosom that seemed almost out of proportion with her small frame. I'll admit I could get carried away thinking about her—I had pictured Abby naked dozens of times, imagined her straddling me, my arms clutching her, breasts mashed into my chest as I covered her with cum and kisses. But I would never let myself take the fantasies too far. For June's sake, those thoughts would stay in my head.

That had always been my plan, anyway. Tonight though, fate would take on a mind of its own.

On the drive over, I was frisky. I leaned over as we cruised the side streets and peeled back June's dress, washing her breasts in the ochre light from passing streetlamps. I gripped her, working slowly with my free hand, listening to her moans in the quiet car. Her body was warm and soft, and I was hornier than usual tonight for some reason. She didn't seem to mind.

We arrived too soon at Abby's two-story brick on the north end of town, and after a slow, syrupy kiss, we dragged each other out of the car, up the manicured path to the front door, and rang the bell. My hand smoothed her dress across her buttocks, something that felt risky even in the dark of the quiet neighborhood. I pinched her through the fabric and she jumped forward, giggling.

"Just a minute!" we heard Abby's muffled voice ring out from inside. The porch light flicked on, and June swatted my hand away with her best imitation of a teacher scolding a rowdy student. A second later, a dolled-up Abby appeared in the doorway and welcomed us in. Seeing her dressed up always sent a pleasant shock through my system. Tonight I just couldn't help but stare. Her blonde hair was up in a loose bun on the top of her head, and a single strand fell in a loose curl down her cheek. Her dress was flimsy, black, short. Like, halfway-up-her-thigh short. It tied behind her with a thin string and left her back exposed as she walked away from us into the living room.

I reached for June's hand and squeezed it. "Who's your hot friend?" I whispered. She giggled and elbowed me. "You can't have her, she's mine." She smirked, and her eyes followed mine to rest on her friend's bouncing ass.

Abby's boyfriend Eli would join us later, she told us. "He has to work late." Abby seemed annoyed, and I wondered if I'd missed something. She and Eli had always had what seemed like a really healthy relationship, and I had actually admired them for it. It wasn't like her to be upset with him, and if it was, then it definitely wasn't like her to let us know it.

But as we teased and laughed at each other over drinks and games of Catan and Monopoly, the night wore on without any sign of Abby's missing boyfriend. When June mentioned it, and asked if we should still expect him, Abby looked at us for a long moment, and then she suddenly erupted in tears. June was quickly on the couch, hugging her friend close.

"What's wrong sweetie?" she asked.

Abby blinked back tears as she looked from June to me. Her shoulders sank. "He's cheating on me," she said. "I read his texts."

That scumbag, I thought. How could Eli do something like that to her? I would never treat June that way, I thought. My fantasies with Abby aside, I was committed to one girl, and that actually meant something to me.

The two of them sat that way on the couch for a few minutes, June holding tight to Abby, wiping tears away from her cheeks every now and then. Finally, Abby seemed to straighten a little, and she reached up and hugged June to her. The two of them rested their heads on each other, silent and still. Then, without a word, and as if it were the most natural thing in the world, Abby lifted her head from June's shoulder, tilting my wife's chin with a finger, and gently pressed her lips to June's. My breath caught. The soft sound of their kiss was the only noise in the still room. As I watched wide-eyed, June raised a hand to rest at the base of Abby's neck, and her tongue slipped into the other girl's mouth. My own mouth, meanwhile, hung open in shock. My expression may as well have been cast in cement, I couldn't take a breath or move a muscle.

It didn't take but a few seconds for the girls to remember the lone dude in the room, and they seemed to jump back to reality as if they'd suddenly been dropped off by a passing bus.

Abby was the first to speak. "I'm so sorry," she said, looking down as if she'd just realized what she was wearing for the first time, and was suddenly wishing for sweatpants and a t-shirt instead of the flimsy black nothing she had on. "I don't know what came over me," she said, half to herself.

June came to her rescue. "No, sweetie, that was my fault," she said, glancing at me, and then back at Abby. "You're in shock. I ... I took advantage of you." June bit her lip.

What followed was this kind of interminable, awkward silence, and I somehow knew it was up to me to bring this night back to shore and tie it to the dock. We needed to leave. A line had been crossed. I should take June home, I thought, and we can process this all another time.

But I just couldn't help myself.

Before I could reign in my urges, I blurted out, "Well, I thought it was kind of hot." Then I smiled goofily at them both like an idiot.

I don't know exactly what I hoped would happen, but suddenly, miraculously, the two girls burst into fits of giggles, and the balloon of awkwardness was mercifully deflated.

When the laughter died down, June shifted, squaring her shoulders toward me with a kind of resolve that got my attention. "I... should tell you something," she said, looking me in the eye. "About the two of us." She turned to look at Abby and again bit her lip.

Abby put a hand on my wife's arm. "It's OK June, I'll tell him."

"Tell me what?"

"Well," Abby began, "you remember how June and I were roommates for a year back in college?" The blonde crossed and uncrossed her legs, and blinked long, dark lashes as she fidgeted with the hem of her dress.

June jumped in again, wrapping an arm around her friend's shoulders as she glanced at me. "Sweetie, I should have told you sooner." She looked down at Abby's hands resting in her lap, and placed her own hand on top of them. She took a breath and plowed ahead. "Abby and I weren't ... just ... roommates. That year." From beside her Abby glanced up, watching for my reaction.

Huh? I was dense as a brick, and June's words just did not compute. Not just roommates? What were they, chem lab partners or something?

June's eyes locked on mine, and they seemed to float in mid-air for a moment, separated from time, two moon-shaped pools in a void. The words that spilled from her lips next etched themselves in slow motion across the cool air of the living room.

"We were ... partners." A pause. (No mention of chem lab.)

"You know, um," she continued, "romant—...ically." Her voice cracked. I blinked.

She turned to Abby. Her friend read the look of latent confusion on my face, and added, as if to clarify:

"Sexually."

My face blanched. June looked at me with questions in her eyes, mixed with a feeble half-hope. She attempted a thin smile.

She was scared. I understood. My wife had just implied she still had feelings for an old flame, hadn't she? Of course, the old flame in this case was our gorgeous friend Abby. A woman. And not just any woman—Abby was someone I had fantasized about myself, even as recently as that very afternoon as I showered, imagining my rod filling her small, perfect body like a baster in a turkey. This was twisting my instincts in knots. Was I supposed to be angry right now, or turned on?

"What are you thinking?" June asked quietly after a long silence.

I watched them on the couch. While we were spilling secrets, I finally admitted to myself, I might as well be straightforward.

"Well," I started. I looked down, then back up. This was going to change everything. I cleared my throat. "While I'm really surprised by the whole thing," I said, "I know that I owe it to both of you right now to be honest."

They seemed to perk up, two bunnies across from me on the couch, whiskers twitching, noses wrinkling curiously at some new scent. I had their attention.

"I watched the two of you together just now," I said, gaining confidence, "and all I could think was that..." Here went nothing. "I would watch the two of you kiss all night if I could."

The girls looked at each other for a long, breathless moment. Then, with a sly smile, June said, "I think we can arrange that." Abby cast a dreamy glance my way, her lips parted slightly as if she was readying herself to sip the drool gathering at the base of my tongue. "What else do you want to watch us do?" she said.

I hung suspended in a liquid bath of raw lust, drowning in my fantasies as I stared back at her. I ached for a better answer, to describe in detail how her beautiful body would wrestle limb over limb with my wife's, moans and cries and nectars flowing to mingle with sweat and raw, unbounded desire. But looking deep into Abby's eyes, I said the only words I could find: "Anything you want." She smiled. I had granted her a sweet permission, a human offering. She turned and pressed herself into June.

The two of them fell backward, legs tangling as they wrestled eagerly on the couch. I loosened my collar absently. My cock raged, forming an unmistakable tent in my pants. I wanted to do something with it, but this was all so new to me, I wasn't sure what was required of me in such a situation. Was there some code I needed to adhere to? This was all a mysterious black box. I'd apparently missed all the requisite classes on love triangles, and I felt like I was suddenly playing an improvisational game of catch-up.

But the gasps and groans between them were like sparks on the kindling of a desire I'd kept buried for an eternity. The girls looked incredible together, bodies flung prone on the long sofa, legs splayed, letting themselves go. There was a youthful freedom in June's movements that I hadn't seen in years. Her hips bucked and her cries pinged off the walls. Fingers tangled in knots of hair, lips cupped eagerly, and the girls' high heel shoes were each kicked off roughly one at a time in the tussle.

To listen to June urge on her friend, watching them pick up where they had left off so long ago, was a revelation. I felt rays of sun break an intangible darkness that I think we had all wrestled with for years. It had wrapped itself around us as we lived out our lives, aching for more but afraid of what it would mean. Watching the girls in the safety of this shared moment, I thought to myself that, as clichéd as it might sound, this was how love was supposed to look. I knew the two of them belonged together—I could see it—and I clung to the hope that I somehow belonged with them, too.

With a gasp, June rose up suddenly, beaming, pulling Abby to a sitting position. June's hair was a mess, and her lipstick was smeared. She looked at me and seemed to sense that I was feeling abandoned. Panting roughly, she stood up. "I'm going to get us some more drinks," she said with an impish smile. She glanced sideways at Abby, then back at me and winked. "You two behave yourselves while I'm gone." Grinning and biting her lip, she turned and left the room.

Abby and I looked at each other as if we were each seeing the other for the first time. We both knew what was about to happen, but neither of us could quite believe it. I remembered this feeling. It was how I'd felt when I'd first seen June naked, lying on the bed waiting for me in an Airbnb in upstate New York late one fall. It was right after I'd finished my law degree, and we had decided to get married the following summer. I had always hoped to make June mine, but it wasn't until I'd opened the door to the room that day and found her waiting that I had allowed myself to believe life with her could be real.

Abby gazed back at me across the room. The darting flicker of her smoky lashes escorted her eyes up and down my body as she seemed to ponder her next move. Then, slowly, she rose from the couch with a faltering smile, smoothing her dress self-consciously over her thighs, as she crossed to where I sat.

"Abby..." I said, but she reached me at that moment and bent to place a single slender finger across my lips. Her hair spilled in wispy tangles from the bun on her head as she leaned over me, breathing heavy, rhythmic breaths. She straddled my lap, her knees burrowing into the back of the armchair. Her forehead pressed to mine and her breath was hot on my lips. Her dress rode up to bunch around her hips as she settled against me, and we kissed for the first time.

It was like I had never kissed anybody until I kissed her. Like a tadpole suddenly sprouting legs or a caterpillar emerging from a cocoon. Abby was a single, percussive note that brought the entire symphony of my desire to life in a way I had never felt before. Her lips waited on mine, reacting with a careful tenderness. While my kiss was forceful, loaded with purpose and lust, hers was delicate, absorbing my lips into hers and guiding me into an electric, bliss-filled reverie.

Her mouth was a playground. I ran my tongue along her teeth and let it twist with hers. She was guiding me, biting my lip, breathing in time with me, lapping me up—and God, she was saying everything I wanted to hear:

"Oh, like that."

"Mmm, kiss me harder."

"You feel so, so good."

Somewhere close to ten minutes passed before we finally came up for air. Abby pulled away, glancing down, and ran a hand along her collarbone, fingers opening and closing at the base of her throat. Her eyes flitted up to meet mine and her lips parted. Neither of us breathed. Slowly, deliberately, she slid both her hands up and around behind her neck.

The strings of the black mini-dress fell slack and her hand returned again to her collarbone for a moment, rubbing, as she glanced down at herself. My hands began to move, sliding like magnets up her sides. The coarse lace dimpled and gave under my fingers—her body calling to me through the fabric. I paused briefly, and Abby lowered her hands to cover my own, lifting them away and raising them slowly to her breasts. She pressed my hands against the lace-covered mounds, and I groaned. They were full and warm, and gripping them drew the fabric of her dress downward, inviting the loose strings to finally fall away from her neck. I slid my hands up so my palms rested high on her chest, and then I slowly slid them back down, at last peeling away the black dress and exposing her pale breasts.

I couldn't take my eyes off her. The twin mounds curved outward and pressed into my hands, smooth and firm and flawless. Her areolas were large, pink and round, capped by the matching coarse beads of her nipples, hardening in the cool air. I bent and took one in my mouth as my hands opened and closed around her breasts. She ran her fingers through my hair and began to rock against me as I worked, sucking and licking. The taste of her skin was like a sweet, milky candy.

Leaning back, I took her hands in mine. Our palms faced out and our fingers wove themselves together. She moved her hips against me, and my bulge found her mound through the layers of our clothes. In that moment we both knew we needed each other desperately, but getting undressed in time to satisfy our urges seemed like a near-monumental task.

I made the decision for us. I unwound my fingers from hers and reached down to unzip my pants, tugging my entire length free beneath her. She grunted her agreement, reaching down to pull aside her black lace panties and expose her vagina. With eyes fluttering shut, she closed the distance between us and I felt her take me in.

This has to be a dream, I thought. I squeezed her hands in mine and closed my eyes. I'm fucking Abby. A thick groan grew unprompted from her throat as I stretched and filled her. She was tight and warm, and our lips met as we rocked back and forth. Gasps broke out between the kisses. We wrestled each other for more. I tried to be tender with her, but I felt almost like a spectator watching a rabid wolverine tear apart its prey. I grabbed Abby's hips hungrily and forced her down, reveling in her whimpers as I dug further into her with each thrust. I focused on the sensations below, felt the rhythm and friction of an encounter I could hardly believe was really happening. Strands of blonde hair brushed my face. I broke our kiss and looked deep into Abby's eyes as she rolled her hips back and forth, slack-jawed. A dusting of light freckles danced on her cheeks. How had I never noticed that this girl had freckles?

"You're beautiful," I said as my hands grazed the cool skin of her bare thighs, and I felt her insides contract ever-so-slightly around me when I said it.

She didn't speak, just tipped her head back slightly, eyes closed, chin up, and began to whimper softly. She's going to come, I thought. I wrapped her in my arms, palms smoothed flat against her back, and hugged her tight as I threw my full weight into her with every urgent thrust. I had dreamed about this.

It was at that moment that I looked across the room toward the kitchen and saw June. She was leaning in the doorway with a glass of wine, lit from behind by the warm kitchen light, and she was watching us fuck with what could best be described as the feral hunger of a jungle cat.

As her husband's penis disappeared between her friend's thighs, June lowered her fingers to rest between her own thighs and began to rub.

Abby was oblivious to our brown-eyed audience of one, and all at once, I felt her reach the brink. She quivered and seized, and the scream that left her mouth was tortured and fragile. Her thighs jerked and she buried her head against me as the ripples of a huge orgasm washed over her. I clutched her to me. Her small body was flush with adrenaline and damp with sweat. I cradled her head in one hand as my other gripped her bare thigh, feeling the pulsing muscles beneath her skin.

She kissed her way up my neck in a blind hunger, trembling, finding my earlobe and taking it in her mouth, nibbling and sucking. At that moment she undid me. Without warning I locked up, and my body flooded with a raging current, a massive dam suddenly ripped open. I twitched as I came into her over and over, ejaculating shot after spastic shot as we cried and shook together.

I wished for so much in that moment. Wished it could have lasted longer, wished I could have given her more, wished it could have happened sooner. But a wave of gratitude carried those wishes away, and I settled against Abby's shuddering body, the last ripples of our orgasms running their course as my limp shaft rested inside her, and I stroked her bare skin, overwhelmed—and more than a little dumbstruck—by the gift I had just been given.

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