The Games We Play Ch. 1

Chapter One: Sleeping Game

At the exact moment of my final surrender, the FUCKING PHONE RANG. My right hand had just settled upon the firm, warm, rounded right cheek of her silky ass. Her hungry mouth, finally receiving the signal for which it had been waiting, descended toward my glistening hard cock with a gasping cry of pure lust, a deep hungry growl. Suddenly, just as I felt her hot panting mouth a fraction of an inch away from my wet, angry red cockhead, the most piercing, startling sound in the world shattered both the moment and the flickering air of the TV-lit living room. The living room that belonged to my best friend, who had been my best friend since third grade, who I loved like a brother, whose trust in me was absolute. The best friend who had a new wife that he loved with all his might. The very same wife that I had just, by laying the white flag of my hand upon her perfect bare ass, wordlessly consented to fuck.

---

I had been looking forward to this trip for months. My best friend John had moved from my neighborhood in Seattle to Anaheim two years before, and I was eagerly anticipating seeing him again, catching up on old times, and enjoying a whirlwind tour of all the delights that Sunny Southern California had to offer. I had done my fair share of traveling, but for some reason California had never been on my itinerary, so I told John that I wanted to see all the sights, the cheesier and more touristy the better: Disneyland, the beaches, Hollywood, the works.

I was also very much looking forward to finally coming face to face with John's new wife Claire. I had talked to her several times on the phone in the year that had passed since they got married, and from the very start it was like we had known each other for most of our lives; our first conversation ended with both of us almost in tears from laughing so hard. She was witty, sweet, charming, and absolutely hilarious, with a sense of humor that was somehow wicked and childlike at the same time. She also had the sexiest voice that I had ever laid ears on, like honey poured over silk, with a delicious lil southern twang (she was originally from Louisiana), but I tried my best to ignore the effect her voice always had on my body, the tingle it invariably produced in my cock. I found myself eagerly looking forward to our phone conversations, and I had even taken to calling her at times when I knew that John wouldn't be home. At the end of these phone calls, I would often glance up at the clock and be shocked that two hours had passed, when I was certain that we had only talked for half an hour at the most.

The sound of the 727's wheels hitting the tarmac startled me from a delicious, illicit daydream. I was reliving, in vivid detail, the latest of these two hour phone calls, which had occurred just two nights previous. She had called me this time, at around midnight; John had been called in to the hospital, and she couldn't sleep. John was a radiologist, and a hospital in Anaheim had made him an offer he couldn't refuse two years ago. He loved his job, and the money was good, but the hours were often grueling and always unpredictable. The late hour and the fact that we were both in bed were both firsts for Claire and I, but the situation still seemed perfectly natural, at least at first. From the very start, we had been incredibly comfortable with each other, each saying whatever was on our minds without giving it a second thought, so I don't think either of us were terribly shocked to find the conversation gradually shifting to topics of sex, to the things that turned us on. It just seemed natural, easy, as if we were discussing our favorite movies. She told me that the most arousing thing in the world to her was her partner's passion, his hunger for her, and his pleasure. She also said that she absolutely LOVED to watch a man jack off, and that when she masturbated the image that almost always sprang to mind as she orgasmed was the image of a spurting, erupting cock.

My cock was fully, painfully erect by this point. It was like she was probing into the deepest recesses of my primal, animal self, the seat of my hunger, my lust. It was incredible, how perfectly her hungers and fantasies matched my own. Nothing was more arousing to me than watching a woman pleasure herself, and passion and responsiveness had always been more exciting to me than pure "technique." Our talk gradually grew more and more explicit, more direct, and I could tell from the tone of her voice that she was as aroused as I was. At one point, I let out a slight involuntary moan, and my heart rate increased from merely racing to POUNDING when I heard her moan softly in response. She then started to ask me, breathlessly, the question that I had both dreaded and hoped for: "Mark... are you touching..." when suddenly her call waiting clicked in. We both knew who was on the other line. John was calling to check on her, to tell her that he loved her, and when she clicked back over to me, I shakily told her good night, my heartbeat clearly palpable in the head of my engorged cock. We both knew that the moment had passed, and we were both relieved and disappointed at the same time. I hung up the phone and then immediately, frantically stroked my slippery throbbing cock, which I had indeed been touching non-stop throughout our conversation, until I exploded with a screaming gasp, erupting with so much force that I pelted my face and hair with hot, thick streams of cum, still hearing her sultry, breathy, hungry voice in my ear, the sound of that soft moan echoing over and over, her half-formed question still hanging in the air between us...

As the plane taxied up to the terminal in the late afternoon sun, I tried to clear the recollection of that night from my mind and will the painful erection evoked by the memory to subside. It was absolutely impossible that Claire and I would ever be more than friends; John was the dearest friend I had ever had; we were more like brothers than any actual brothers I knew, and there was absolutely NO way I would betray him. EVER. By the time I deplaned, I had recovered my composure, my cock was behaving itself, and I eagerly scanned the crowded terminal for John and Claire.

When my eyes met Claire's for the first time, it was like an electric shock passed between us, and I gasped. I had seen pictures of her, of course, but they had not prepared me for the sparkling eyed, raven haired vision that appeared before me. It was like the rest of the crowd suddenly went dim, lost in the shadows cast by her incandescent smile, framed the most luscious pair of lips that I had ever laid eyes on. My eyes drank her in hungrily, instantly. In addition to that incredible smile, she was wearing a gossamer antique green sundress, which came down to just past mid-thigh, affording a tantalizing view of her spectacular legs, and strappy little sandals on her deliciously bare feet. Her shining dark hair was drawn back into an adorable little ponytail, which bounced captivatingly as she ran to meet me, her arms open wide. I pulled her into my arms and SQUEEZED her in an embrace that seemed to be simultaneously the most natural, easy thing in the world and the most earth-shattering event in history. I was so stunned by her radiant beauty, so intoxicated by her sweet, clean, heady scent, and so enraptured by the warm, delicious feel of her body, that it took me a few moments to realize that the dimmed crowd in the terminal around her did not include John. He was nowhere to be seen.

I held her for what seemed like either an eternity or an instant (time had ceased to behave normally the moment our eyes met), drunk on the feel of her, amazed at the way that she clung to me as if her experience was exactly mirroring my own. I reluctantly released her, held her at arms length and just grinned like an idiot for another eternity instant, lost in the sparkling depths of her eyes.

"Where's John?" I said, once I finally regained the power of speech. I attempted a casual tone of voice, which sounded to my ears exactly like a pubescent seal.

She giggled at my squeak, her eyes flashing mischievously. "He got called in to the hospital at the last minute. He'll be working until the wee hours of the morning, so it looks like you're stuck with me for the night." She winked, laughing.

My heart and body greeted this news with unbridled enthusiasm, and I let them guide the smile that immediately sprang to my face. My brain, on the other hand, was decidedly bridled, responding with a nearly audible gulp. The memory of our last conversation was still fresh in my mind, and I realized that I had been relying on seeing John and Claire together as a sort of shield against that all to vivid memory, against the feelings and hungers that it evoked. I needed to see them laughing, loving; see the marriage, the partnership, the happy union, that I vowed my most solemn internal vow to NOT fuck with. The prospect of starting my visit off with an evening alone with her, just the two of us, both excited and scared the fuck out of me.

It didn't take me long, however, to put aside my misgivings and just bask in the warm, radiant glow of her. As we retrieved my bags and made our way to her car, we once again were chatting like we had known each other for a lifetime or more. On the phone, she was captivating. In person, she was absolutely spellbinding, and I quickly, willingly succumbed to her spell.

"So, Mark, you've never told me just exactly what it is you do. John says it has something to do with computers, but..." Her musical voice trailed off teasingly.

"Oh, the details would put you to sleep instantly, so we'd better get you out from behind the wheel first."

I knew from experience that the sound of her laugh was magical, but to see it in person, the way her eyes danced, the way her luscious mouth widened and released musical peals of completely spontaneous, unaffected laughter... I soon came to the startling realization that I would do ANYTHING, absolutely anything, to make this beautiful girl laugh, to make her happy, to please her. I was, of course, utterly and hopelessly in love, though I was in deep denial of this fact at the time. I was firm with myself: Yes, she's absolutely gorgeous, easily the sexiest, most captivating woman you've ever laid eyes on. Yes, she's hilarious, charming, sweet... your ideal woman, except for one fatal flaw: she's your BEST FRIEND'S WIFE!

As I sat in the passenger seat of her Honda Accord on the way to their house, my eyes kept, of their own accord, wandering over her beautiful body, from the delicate arch of her neck... down the sweet swell of her supple breasts... down... down to the mouth-watering view of her silky thighs. My eyes lingered there as I continued my half of our easy, breezy banter, when I suddenly realized that she had fallen silent. My eyes darted to hers, realizing I had been caught staring, and I was startled to realize that her eyes had come to rest on the expanding bulge in my shorts. I blushed beet red, lifted my left leg up in an attempt to hide the evidence of my arousal, and quickly found that the view outside the passenger window utterly captivated my attention. Luckily, we pulled into their driveway shortly thereafter, before the silence could become too awkward.

"I'm sure you'll be wanting to shower that travel weary body of yours, yes...?" she lilted as she opened the front door. God, that VOICE!

I chuckled. "It was a two hour flight, and they even bumped me up to first class. Are you trying to politely inform me that I stink?"

She crinkled her adorable nose playfully, laughed her amazing laugh and beckoned me to follow her up the stairs. "This is your room," she said, opening the door on the guest bedroom with a flourish, "and your bathroom is right through that door," indicating said door with a lackadaisical wave. "There are clean towels hanging within, and towels galore in the hall closet. My relatives are obsessed with sending towels for every occasion, so there are enough in this house to sop up the Pacific Ocean." I just gawked at her like an idiot, completely entranced. "Relax, make yourself at home, and start thinking about what sounds good for supper." As she turned to leave the room, my eyes, rebelling against my brain's direct orders, latched on her delicious ass, devouring it hungrily, mesmerized by the way the flimsy fabric of her dress slid over the round, tight globes. As she pulled the door shut, she glanced over her shoulder, her eyes catching mine before briefly falling yet again to the bulge of my swelling cock, this time visibly narrowing with lust. She closed the door gently, but the click seemed to echo for several seconds.

My heart was racing, and I couldn't wipe the image of her eyes from my mind, the hunger that sparked there as those eyes devoured my cloth confined cock, which had continued to swell after her departure, until I could clearly feel my pulse as the head throbbed against my boxers. That look was dangerous, very dangerous. It was one thing to lust after your best friend's wife; I had spent a good deal of my post-pubescent life lusting after unattainable women, women who were "OFF LIMITS." But having the object of my forbidden desire return that hunger... Before that look, I was excited and scared at the prospect of an evening alone with Claire; now, my heart was absolutely pounding with equal parts arousal and terror. I had even fallen in love with forbidden women before; I knew how to handle that, knew how to control the feelings, sublimate them. But never in my life had I felt such an immediate, intense connection with someone; intense, but also so easy, so natural, so comfortable. Talking to her, whether the subject was foods we love or our deepest sexual fantasies, was as natural as breathing. I could feel the carefully constructed wall of my resolve, my vow to myself to NEVER betray my friend, begin to teeter precariously. Still, I was fairly confident that my willpower was up to the challenge.

I shook myself from my reverie with a conscious effort and zipped into the bathroom to turn on the shower. As I stripped, my thoughts returned to her, specifically to the image of her incredible ass... the way it moved, the exquisite symmetry, the graceful swell of those perfectly sculpted cheeks. By the time my cock sprang free from my boxers, it was so achingly hard that I half expected to hear an audible "BOING."

As I stepped into the hot spray, turning lazily, letting it cascade over my chest, shoulders, and back, I closed my eyes and pictured Claire in the shower with me. I could clearly see the steaming water glistening on her silky skin, streaming in rivulets over her beautiful breasts, her belly, through her soft trimmed curls, and finally gliding over the pink lips of her perfect pussy. As I grabbed for the soap and started lathering my hairy chest, I could feel her hungry hands on me, and mine on her; exploring, caressing, stroking her back, squeezing her soapy ass, our mouths locked in a torrid, hungry kiss. My hands slid down my belly, spreading the thick hot lather as they went, and I just let my mind go, let the feverishly hot flashes fill my head, thrill my body; flashes of her gentle but firm hands, her glistening pussy, her hungry mouth, her tight, hot ass, her perfect slippery breasts...

I adjusted the stream until it came up to the middle of my thighs and leaned back against the hard tile wall of the tub, spreading my thighs as wide as the tub would allow. I flashed quickly to her outside the shower, silently peeking around the curtain, her eyes locked on my rigid cock jutting out and up from my body. I knew that it would make her pussy twitch on to watch my hands slide the soap through my curly patch of pubic hair, working up a thick, slippery lather. Out of the corner of my mind's eye, I could clearly see her lift her right leg up to the side of the tub and pull her soaked white panty crotch to the side, sliding her fingers up and down through her gorgeous pink juicy slit, scooping a large glob of sweet pussy juice and bringing it to her engorged clit. I groaned loudly as my soapy hand clutched at the base of my cock, seeing her finger flying over the protruding nub of her clit, hearing her panting breaths as she tried to keep quiet so she could watch without interrupting. The feel of my hand squeezing up from the base of my throbbing cock was almost painfully intense, as I worked it up over the head, twisting it, I could clearly feel her eyes upon me, knowing what the sight was doing to her pussy. As I stroked firmly back down to the base, my fingers curled up under my balls, lifting them, rolling them with my slippery fingers, putting on a show for her, knowing how much she would love my hairy, full, loose balls. I could see her slippery finger flying even faster as I started to jack my thick veiny shaft steadily, using long smooth firm strokes. By this time I was completely lost, and my hips started pumping, fucking my fist, faster and faster, grunting with each thrust.

Suddenly, she was back in the shower with me, but also still outside watching everything. She bent over into the shower spray and jutted her hot ass out at me, wiggling it, begging me to just fuck her, HARD, to use her hot pussy hole, stroke my cock off in it. I mentally gripped her hips and slammed into her, spearing my tight angry cockhead into her hot pink flesh, forcing apart her pussy walls, plunging until my head slammed into her cervix, smashing it. I stroked furiously, overcome with pure animal lust, feeling her tight pussy squeezing me, her slick walls stroking my shaft as she thrust her pussy back, grunting, screaming at me to just FUCK it. At the same time, I could see her outside the shower, watching me jack my cock off and fuck her at the same time, her eyes riveted on my thick hard cock as it thrust into my fist, staring at it as it plunged into her tight juicy hole. Suddenly, I could clearly see her orgasm start as her finger flew over her clit outside the shower, could feel her pussy spasm as my cock slammed into her from behind, and I exploded, crying out loudly as stream after stream of thick cum erupted from my quivering cock, spurting out and scattering into the hot spray of the shower. Every muscle in my body contracted over and over, pumping the hot white juice out of me, draining me completely. As my tight fist squeezed the last bit of oozing cum out, my legs almost buckled, and I had to sit on the side of the tub to recover.

After regaining my breath and the ability to stand, I quickly finished my shower and slid on a pair of comfortable cotton shorts and a tee shirt, then made my way down the stairs, attempting to hide the fact that my legs still felt like oversized, overstretched rubber bands. As I walked into the kitchen, I heard the sound of her gorgeous voice.

"No baby, we haven't figured out where we're going for supper. I was thinking we might try that new Italian place, but I'll ask him what he's in the mood for." She paused, flashing me her brilliant smile, her ear tilted against the phone, listening to the voice on the other end, which obviously belonged to John. "He just walked down now, all sparkling clean. Did you want to talk to him?" Another pause. "Okay, baby. See you in a few hours. I love you too."

She hung up the phone and turned to me, smiling. "Mmmmmmmmm you smell yummy. He just had a few minutes, wanted to be sure that you got in okay. So, what sounds good for supper?"

I made my way to the fridge, opened it and started rummaging around. She laughed. "Ummm... Mark... sweetie... Our supper options include either going out or having something delivered. You do NOT want to be subjected to my cooking this early in your visit. I told you I can't cook! John is the chef in family." This last she attempted to deliver with a straight face, but she couldn't keep a slight snicker from creeping into her voice as she uttered the word "chef."