My Awful Indiscretion

It all started with the story. It was my first erotic story - \'A Welcome Surprise\', you\'ll find it in my index; I had written it during a slow day at work, with a rock-hard lump in my pants and my heart thumping as I wrote of saucy things on company time, quickly ALT-TABing to something that looked like work every time someone walked past. This was a few months before I discovered Literotica, and I wanted an audience - someone to read it, to tell me what they thought, if they found it as arousing as I had.

So I contacted Gwen.

Gwen - ahh yes, good old Gwen. She and I had \'history\'. We had never officially gotten together: she was always dating one of my friends, all through high school, so I never got my chance to have my heart properly broken. She was notorious for picking the young, sweet, innocent, \'never-been-kissed\' blokes - \nerd fucker\ was the unkind term I had (jealously) coined for her, to the nasty amusement of all behind her back. You see, she would unerringly hypnotise and enslave these first-time-in-loves with cooing, murmured entreaties of undying eternal love, but after a few months she would get bored of them and treat them terribly, trying to goad them into getting angry with her and break up with her. But they never would, because she was their first true love, and they would absorb her belittling abuse until she\'d eventually get disgusted with them and dump them herself. She was a nasty bit of gear, that Gwen, now that I reflect on it.

But I had a thing for her, all the same. I couldn\'t help it. She was the girl who I knew I shouldn\'t like, but simply couldn\'t stop thinking about. It was mutual too; we had chemistry, that was the trouble. I didn\'t like her much and I had no respect for her, and because I didn\'t trouble myself to hide it she didn\'t like me much either - but still there was an attraction, mutual and undeniable. She was very easy on the eye, short-and-slight in frame but with breasts that were quite large, and she had a very pretty face; contrary to her personality, her smile could light up a room, and there was little wonder so many of my foolish young friends fell hopelessly arse-over-tit for her. When she smiled at you, she made you feel good about yourself - as though you must be pretty special after all, to earn a smile so beautiful - and that in turn made you think very fondly of her. And there was me, emerging from puberty into a decently strong frame: broad shoulders, strong bike-riding legs and a shapely rump that earned me praise and accolades (or so I liked to think - forgive me my vanity, if you will); she liked what she saw in me too, and there were times when our hostile facades would drop and we made our mutual attraction known.

The clincher was our eyes. We have the same colour eyes, an unusual sort of hazel: a verdant green about the iris, merging into a bright highlight-flecked brown, and with a ring of blue-grey at the outer edge. Because of this eerie similarity we sometimes joked we were twins, brother and sister separated at birth; we also shared a similar wantonness, an approach to sex that could be described as \'Gimme gimme gimme! Now now now!\', and we had few compunctions about indulging ourselves whenever possible. I don\'t know, perhaps the whole \'twins\' things leant a taboo sort of edge to everything, like a cherry on top of a forbidden sundae. Not that our attraction really needed any embellishment - we were hot and heavy for each other, and it was becoming harder to ignore.

Despite what I knew to be better, I fell for Gwen myself. But she was still going out with Greg, a mate of mine; he was a good mate and I felt no ill towards him, but I just could not help how I felt for Gwen - and she did nothing to dissuade me, we flirted shamelessly and even got a little physical, snuggling close and rubbing against each other, even in front of our friends. Fuck\'s sake, I went so far as to write her a poem - \'An Ode to Getting Your Kit Off\', a terribly boyish and immature effort to convince her to get naked for me. Sure, it rhymed, and reading it now it\'s actually pretty funny, but still: I was such a \'boy\' in my day.

But it worked! By a sheer stroke of luck, I presented my Ode to her at a time she was cranky at Greg - they had gone to a family function of his that weekend, and she thought he was flirting too much with his cousin (!) - and she did it, we skipped school and went to a secluded bit of forestry-reserve and she stripped down and showed me the lot. We didn\'t get it on, because it wasn\'t part of the bargain, but it was still a lot to do with a best mate\'s girlfriend behind his back; it ultimately led to other, more intimate encounters, we would sneak out of school into a mostly-abandoned movie screening and clumsily masturbate each other in the dark, though she\'d shut up shop before I made her come (she worried she\'d become noisy and get us arrested, or something) and she didn\'t have the skill to get me there in those cramped, uncomfortable quarters.

Our dalliances ended when she broke up with Greg and, instead of giving me my turn, she moved on to another friend; I got pissy, and stopped talking to her. A few years passed, she broke up with the other friend and married yet another young virginal friend of mine - honest to God, she did it again, she picked another nerdy friend of mine and married the poor bastard - and I was conscripted as a groomsman.

I can remember their ceremony; standing behind the groom, my very good mate Julian, I grew concerned as she kept looking at me as she spoke her vows and she became visibly upset - with all of our friends, her family and his family looking on. I quickly lowered my eyes and stared at the ground for the remainder of the service, and she got through it and they sealed the deal. It was weird, how she kept catching my eye and getting more and more upset as she made her vows to Julian, but it was something I wasn\'t willing to spend much thought on; the champagne came around soon afterwards which helped distract me, and it turned out to be a good day had by all.

Another couple of years passed. Their marriage grew shaky; true to her usual form, she was treating him terribly, cracking up and shouting him down over the most meaningless things. He used to be a timid one, he\'d either stand and weather the abuse and wait for the sweetness to return or he\'d simply walk away for a bit and let her simmer down - but as time went by he grew some backbone, and he\'d start to let her know when she was being unreasonable, which (funnily enough) never went down very well. I know this because I was there while they fought, quite often; at this stage I\'d just broken up with a long-term girlfriend and I was a bit lonely, so I\'d join them for dinner once a week, and even in front of me she\'d not hesitate in chewing him out. But between her bouts of nastiness we\'d all get along fine, we\'d joke and laugh and a strong friendship developed.

And now here I was, with an erotic story hot off the tips of my fingers and - for some reason - I felt I could share it with Gwen. Was it our history, our past dalliances that spurred me on? Was it because I was newly single, and now that I was seeing Gwen more often my interest was rekindling? Probably a bit of both; so I found some pretext to invite myself over, getting there before Julian came home from his distant job in the city.

\Gwen: I\'ve written a story,\ I told her, as I sat in the sofa opposite her.

\Oh good,\ she replied. \Can I read it? I\'ve always loved your writing, Brett.\

\I was just gunna ask if you\'d read it for me,\ I smiled, encouraged. \The thing is. um. well, it\'s kind of a naughty story.\

Her interest kindled, visibly. \Naughty?\ she echoed, with a grin.

\An erotic story,\ I elaborated. \It\'s about a young couple, and they have sex. It\'s kind of pornographic,\ I admitted, bashfully.

\Oh wow,\ she said, intrigued. \Is it a true story?\ she added, with a suggestive smile.

\Not quite,\ I grinned. \It\'s inspired by a true event, though. You remember Frieda from high school - horse-faced, plump, pasty-skinned, mousy hair?\

\I remember Frieda,\ Gwen nodded.

\Well, we were alone together in a study room one day, and she turned around out of the blue and said \'you know: I am really, terribly, sexually frustrated.\'\

\She came on to you?!\ Gwen cried, with a laugh. \Wow Brett, you could have had some sex in high school after all! What did you do?\

\It was automatic: I got up and left,\ I smirked.

\Aww what? You should have gone for it! Then you could have told me all about it,\ she added, with a wink.

\Wasn\'t interested. She had a boyfriend, too.\

\Well, that hasn\'t always stopped you.\ Gwen reminded me, with a teasing grin.

\Yes, well, anyway,\ I said, not wanting to dwell on those memories: fun as they were, they weren\'t really right, especially not right to think on them when I was alone with Gwen. \So I thought of it the other day, and I wondered what it would have been like if any other girl - a good-looking girl - had put me in that position. So I wrote the story.\

\Wow,\ said Gwen. \Well I\'d like to read that, very much - I reckon you could write a pretty steamy sex scene, if you wanted to.\

\'Aww, come on now,\' I thought, as I regarded the look on her face - cheeky, knowing, grinning. What was that supposed to mean? Could she remember what we used to get up to - the way I learned my wares on her, how I practiced the fine art of making a woman come. with her? I certainly hadn\'t forgotten it, so it seemed unlikely she had. \Well,\ I said, awkwardly. \Okay then: I\'ll send you the story. You\'ll read it, and get back to me?\

\Absolutely,\ she promised.

So I bid her adieu, and rushed home to email her the story. The next day I received her reply: \'loved the story, come over this arv before Julian gets home, let\'s discuss it.\' Oh man.

But I did, I went straight over after work. \Brett,\ she told me, \that story was so hot.\

I must have beamed. \Really?\ I said.

\Oh yeah,\ said Gwen. \That was so. exquisite! And it was really warm, too: it was really tender and loving, hardly what you\'d call \'pornographic\'. It was beautiful. Well done,\ she praised. \You should work it into a book - that would be so hot.\

\Oh, thank you, Gwen,\ I smiled. \I\'m so glad you read it for me - I didn\'t have anyone else to ask, you know? I wasn\'t sure you\'d go for it.\

\No, I love that sort of stuff,\ she told me. \I\'ve got videos, you know.\

No, I didn\'t know that. \Videos?\ I echoed. \You mean. what, pornos?\

\Uh huh,\ she nodded, the very definition of transparent honesty. \I love them, I watch them all the time. I\'ve got a vibrator, too,\ she told me, as though it wasn\'t anything special.

I had to shuffle a bit in my chair. \You do?\ I asked.

\It\'s purple.\

I blinked - I\'d seen it. \What. that long, thin purple thing you keep standing on your dresser?\

Her eyes went wide. \You\'ve seen it?\ she cried - but she laughed at herself, all the same. \Oh man - I\'m leaving it out all the time, I just don\'t think! Julian gets so embarrassed, he puts it back in the drawer for me! No wonder you\'ve seen it,\ she grinned.

I was flabbergasted. I couldn\'t believe I was having this conversation with my best mate\'s wife - but at the same time, I was fascinated by her confession, utterly intrigued at the thought of Gwen watching pornos and treating herself with her vibrator. it was immensely arousing, and I just couldn\'t let it be. \Wow,\ was all I could say. \That\'s. Gwen, that\'s awesome! I never knew there are girls who like pornos and stuff! Man - Julian\'s got it pretty good,\ I couldn\'t help but reckon.

Gwen grinned. \Thanks, Brett,\ she said.

\I\'d love to watch one of those videos with you, you know,\ I confessed.

Her face fell at that. \I don\'t know.\ she said. \I don\'t think Julian would like that. We\'d have to ask him.\

\'Oh. Ah. Of course,\' I thought. I\'d gone too far; \'she\'s my mate\'s wife,\' I reminded myself. This was dangerous territory; time to retreat. \I\'m sorry,\ I said. \Never mind.\

So that was that, for a while. Maybe a month later, Gwen joined a volleyball team and she asked me to join too, to help make up the numbers. Julian couldn\'t play because it was too early in the evening, he was never home from the city by then. So we\'d carpool there together, and talk about random things: this, that and the other. She and Julian had just bought a new car, and she let me drive it - I was thrilled, being a bit of a car buff, and it made me think just that little more fondly of her that she\'d trust me with such a precious investment.

One night she was driving me home in their car, and we were flirting a bit - as we had been doing a while, more and more often, becoming more and more flirtatious starting the day I sent her my story. As we were driving along, I think I had said something along the lines of how much I wanted a piece of her - jokingly, of course. And she had laid a hand high on my thigh, stroking it in an encouraging, arousing fashion - again, jokingly of course. I had feigned righteous outrage, and slapped her hand away; she slapped my thigh in rebuke; I slapped her, she slapped me, and to break the repetitiveness I reached for one of the thin straps of her singlet top and reefed it down, exposing her bare shoulder.

I expected her to shout me down, and put the strap back. But she didn\'t; she left it hanging, and as we went over a bump in the road it fell a little further, the top peeling back to reveal a little more of her chest. \Are you gunna fix that?\ I asked.

\Nup,\ she said, simply.

\Why not?\

\Maybe I don\'t want to,\ she said. \Are you gunna fix it?\

\No,\ I informed her, my heart beating faster. \Maybe I don\'t want to, either.\

\Well,\ she said. \Maybe I don\'t want you to fix it.\

\Maybe?\ I asked.

\Maybe,\ she nodded. \Maybe.\ she added, \maybe I want you to pull it down a little further.\

\Oho,\ I said, as I became thankful for the darkness of the evening - otherwise the lump in my pants would have been plain to see. \Feeling a little exhibitionistic tonight, are we?\

\Maybe.\

\Well,\ I said. \If you want to show off the goods. maybe YOU should pull it down a little further.\

\No, I can\'t,\ she smiled. \I can\'t do it.\ And I knew she was speaking about Julian; she wouldn\'t actively do anything that might directly constitute unfaithfulness. \But you can.\

\Can I?\

\You can do whatever you want,\ she informed me, softly, suggestively, seriously. \Go on: pull it down. I want you to.\

My hand reached up without any real direction from my brain, but I stopped it as it gained a hold of her top. I thought hard, thought hard about why I shouldn\'t do it. Julian was my mate. A good mate, from a long way back. I was a groomsman at his wedding, for fuck\'s sake - his wedding to this woman, whom I was now laying inappropriate hands upon.

\Go on.\ she whispered. I couldn\'t believe her. Didn\'t she love him? What kind of woman was she? But, even as my hand starting pulling her top down, exposing more and more of the lovely, creamy white flesh of her chest, I thought: what kind of friend am I? What am I doing?

But I wanted to. I really wanted to. As the upper portion of her breast - still large, still fulsome - came into view I knew, yes, I had seen it before, we\'d been here before back in high school, there was no real advantage to doing this. But still I pulled her top down, and down, the backs of my fingers brushing lightly against the soft skin of her breast; before it came into view, I felt her nipple against my finger, hard and aroused. and as her chest heaved at my touch and she inhaled heavily with her arousal, the nipple and the breast rose hard against my hand.

I stopped. I pulled the top back into position, and fixed the strap to where it should have been. \I\'m sorry,\ I said quickly; I think we were both a little disappointed at where I stopped, but mightily relieved all the same. \I\'m sorry,\ I said again. \I\'m terrible, aren\'t I?\

\Yeah,\ she nodded. \But so am I.\ We pulled up at my place; she looked at me, and smiled sadly. \I won\'t tell if you won\'t,\ she said, softly.

I nodded, wholeheartedly. God I felt awful for what I had done - but I didn\'t want Julian to find out. I couldn\'t bear the thought of it.

She nodded too. \I\'m sorry,\ she said. \We won\'t let this happen again. See you next week?\

\See you next week,\ I smiled, and I left.

But I saw her sooner than that; when Friday came and the working week was dead and buried, my roommates had a few friends over and they brought tequila, a salt shaker, and a lemon. And for the first time in my young life, I shot tequila properly - licked the salt, shot the tequila quickly down the throat without hardly even tasting it, and sucked deep and hard on the lemon. And it went down like a dream; I felt emboldened, maddened with manly fortitude as I finally bested the tequila beast. \That\'s how it\'s done!\ I told the others. \I\'ve never shot it properly before! That slid down like it was nothing - I can hardly even feel it! Gimme another one!\

So I did too many shots. About six shots too many. And we went for a drunken stumble into town, down to the harbour, where the only good-looking girl among our group started throwing up all over the dock; \'fuck this,\' I thought, and I called Gwen. \Gwen!\ I cheered. \Whatcha up to?\

\Nothing,\ she stated, as a firm and flat fact. \Nothing at all. I\'m fucking bored - Julian\'s at a work function, he\'ll be gone all night. Can you come over?\

\I\'m there,\ I promised her. And I must have set a new record for a drunken power-walk across town, because I was in her living room in a flash.

She sized me up in next to no time: \You\'re smashed,\ she laughed.

\Yep!\ I confirmed. \Tequila,\ I added. \I finally learnt how to shoot it properly. But don\'t you go thinking you can take advantage of me,\ I added, warningly, but also perhaps as a suggested course of action to the contrary.

\Brett,\ she scolded. \What must you think of me?\

\Honestly,\ I said: \I think you\'re a total hottie.\

\Oh, thank you Brett,\ she smiled, classily. \You\'re fairly easy on the eyes yourself, you know,\ she added.

\You\'re too kind,\ I informed her. \You know, I\'m always thinking back to high school, and our little shenanigans. how you stripped off for me, that one time. man, that was awesome,\ I reminisced.

Gwen grinned in agreement. \I think about high school a lot, too,\ she told me. \A lot,\ she added, fixing me in the eye. \In fact, I seem to remember you had a really, really big cock.\

My whole being must have lit up with delight. \You thought it was big?\ I asked.

\Huge,\ she told me. \The biggest I\'d ever seen. Still the biggest I\'ve ever seen,\ she added, with a grin, and I saw her eyes flash down to my crotch - I think I was getting a drunken hard-on, but I didn\'t care.

\Now, careful what you say, Gwen,\ I told her. \Any more of this praise, and I just might whip it out for old time\'s sake.\

\You wouldn\'t,\ she goaded me. \You haven\'t got the guts.\

\Oh, I\'ve got the guts,\ I told her. \But you: you wouldn\'t dare lay eyes on it, you goody-two-shoes.\

\You reckon?\ she grinned.

\Okay!\ I said, and I sprang up. \We\'ll settle this; here\'s what I\'m gunna do. I\'m going to go into the kitchen, and open the fridge door -\

\Brett, no!\ she cried, laughing. \What are you going to do to my fridge?!\

\Naughty, naughty things,\ I said, moving quickly; she stayed on the couch, waiting to hear my plans. \I\'m going to open this fridge door, and get my cock out and hide it behind the door - and it\'s up to you to come and close the door, and decide if you want to see it yourself.\

She was up in a flash, as I positioned myself behind the fridge door; and with an enormous grin, she reached out and slammed the door shut. Her eyes fell to my crotch, and she pouted - \you haven\'t got it out!\ she observed.

\Well, no,\ I told her. \Of course not! Did you really think I was going to stick my cock in your fridge?\

\I wouldn\'t put it past you, Brett,\ she told me.

\Jeez,\ I said, as I headed back to the lounge. \Do you really want to see it, that bad?\

\Well, if you\'re gunna get it out, I wouldn\'t want to miss it,\ she said, with a wicked glint in her eye.

I turned to face her: that was encouragement enough. \Okay,\ I told her. \You\'ve got to be careful what you say now, Gwen. Any more of this talk and I\'m gunna do a strip-tease for you, right here and now.\

\Go for it,\ she said, with that awfully, wonderfully inviting grin of hers.

\'There it is,\' I thought. So as she sat before me, I remained drunkenly on my feet, and I began to strip. I bumped and grinded a little bit to an imaginary, sexy beat, unbuttoning my shirt with an accompanying gyration of my hips. She began to look hesitant, unsure, a tad guilty; but I was on a mission, I hadn\'t shown my cock to anyone for months since my last break-up and I wanted to show myself to her. To someone. To anyone - I was in the grip of a tequila-fuelled bout of exhibitionism, and there was no stopping me.

My shirt came off, followed by my belt; I was aware of the flatness of my stomach, the tightness of my favoured pair of pants flattering my strong hips and thighs, and they also showed off the growing mound in my jocks. She couldn\'t tear her eyes away; they ran up and down my body, lingering longingly on my gorging, trapped member, and she couldn\'t help but lick her drying lips just slightly. It spurred me on, and I unbuckled my pants; I turned, allowing her a view of my arse as I removed the pants, and then pulled the rear of my jocks down slowly, showing her the bare flesh of my buttocks. I turned to face her again; her legs were wide, her hands toying unconsciously through her jeans high up along her sensitive inner thighs, her eyes fixed on my partially-exposed crotch: my jocks were pulled low, very low, and all that remained hidden was my cock and my balls.

Here I stopped; it was time to give her an out, I thought. \Should I keep going?\ I asked.

She wasn\'t smiling; she wasn\'t happy; she even looked a little unhappy. But her hands were still hovering about her crotch, and I could hardly believe it as she said: \You\'ve come this far. you may as well.\

I grinned, and whipped my jocks to the floor, letting my pride stand tall. It was huge; it nearly set a record for me, it stood at perhaps ten inches, rock hard and throbbing visibly. \So.\ I said, as she said and did nothing. \What do you think?\

She stared at it, mouth slightly agape, her fingers ever so close to her own crotch. She finally tore her eyes away from the monstrous thing, to look up at me: \It\'s beautiful,\ was all she could say.

I grinned. \Thanks, love!\ I said, and I took a seat right next to her, bare naked and cock nearly bursting at the seams.

She sat tall, nervous and perhaps uncomfortable as I sat so near, so naked. \So.\ she asked, tremulously. \What are you gunna do now?\

I blinked; I hadn\'t thought this far ahead. \Well,\ I said, \I could finish the show.\ and I reached down to grab a hold of my cock. \I reckon I just might beat myself off for you. would that be good? Would you like to watch me come?\

She said nothing. I don\'t know if it was her reaction, or lack thereof, or if it was some guilty reaction of my own, or if it was just the six-plus shots of tequila galloping in to save the day - but my stomach turned, almost immediately.

\Actually.\ I said. \Excuse me.\ And I left hurriedly, going to the bathroom and throwing up mightily. She brought me my clothes and some water, without a word, and left me to it; I don\'t remember much thereon, until I woke up at some ungodly hour the next morning, curled up beside the basin. I dressed myself and left their home, feeling wretchedly sick - from both the alcohol and the guilt. \'Julian had probably come home,\' I thought - \'did he see me? Did he know I was there, naked in his bathroom?\'

A week of uncertainty passed, until I bumped into Gwen by accident, down at the Uni. She was all smiles, her usual friendly self; it was encouraging, but I still felt awful, so I apologised. \What for?\ she asked. \It was so funny!\

I frowned; that\'s not how I remembered her reaction. \You think so?\

\Yeah - it was hilarious! Julian laughed so much when I told him,\ she grinned.

My stomach turned again. \Oh. uhh. really? You told him?\

\Yeah!\ There was no hiding my expression of horror, so she fixed me with a \'come on, lighten up\' look. \Brett: it was funny. You were drunk and smashed - you couldn\'t help it. It was just a bit of fun,\ she decreed. \It didn\'t mean anything.\

\Well.\ I said; that\'s not exactly how I remembered it going, or how I remembered it felt. but I was glad for an out, I was glad for the excuses she gave me - however flimsy. \I\'m glad you think so,\ I told her. \Thanks, Gwen. I appreciate your understanding.\

\Hey: that\'s what friends are for,\ she said, slapping me on the backside playfully as we walked side-by-side towards her next class. \I\'m sure if I got smashed and stripped for you, you\'d forgive me.\

\Almost instantly,\ I promised her, and she laughed. So it seemed all was hunky-dory between me and Gwen once more; still, I wasn\'t sure how I could face Julian again.

But face him I did, the very next weekend, as all of our friends got together at his and Gwen\'s place for his twenty-first birthday party. When I saw him he laughed at me, and mimed the playing of a trumpet as he sang out a bawdy stripper\'s song; I hung my head and raised my hands in defeat. He had reacted far better than I imagine I would have in his position. A top bloke, our Julian; a better man than me.

All of our old friends from school were there, and Julian got right into this nerdy fantasy card-playing game that they all used to play when they were twelve years old and which they had never grown out of. But I was never into that sort of thing - I was far cooler than that when I was young, I played with miniature army men thank you very much - so I sat with Gwen and a few other card-game refugees as we got into the wine, and things started getting a little messy.

It started out not too badly. Gwen and I sat close together on one side of the dinner table, as we chatted with a couple of mates who sat opposite; unbeknownst to them, Gwen laid her hand on top of my thigh under the table. My cock reacted instantly, slithering slowly like a serpent as it grew and filled the spare space in my jocks; I gave no reaction above the table, carefully nodding and listening as our friends yammered on about something-or-other (funny what stays in your mind and what goes, after time), but below the table I reciprocated, laying a hand on Gwen\'s bare thigh - she was wearing short-shorts, and a small tight singlet top too, and she\'d even gone for a horrible orange spray-tan before the party too. She was a classy one, no doubt.

And as further glasses of wine were imbibed, as the nerdy card game continued without pause and Gwen\'s husband continued to ignore her, we became friskier. My fingers began wandering upon her skin - not very far, just about the topside and only slightly around to the inside of her thigh: all fairly innocent, though my fingers roamed quite high upon her leg, nearly at the hem of her hot-pants. Her fingers roamed too, stroking and tickling my upper-inner thigh in a surprisingly personal fashion - it\'s just your leg, you\'d reckon, until someone goes and touches it lightly, teasingly, suggestively. It was a testament to the quality of my jeans that my cock didn\'t tear them to shreds beneath that table.

More wine was consumed, and she grew bolder. We were swapping joking jibes, and I took my barbed repartee a little too far; she responded by grabbing her wine and upending it in my lap. \What. hey. no!\ I cried, causing a scene, and everyone looked up to see Gwen tipping the last of her wine into my lap. \Jeez,\ I said, unimpressed: the cold white wine cascading over my crotch had cooled my ardour quite effectively.

\Everything alright, babes?\ Julian asked, frowning.

\He had it coming, dear,\ she informed him.

He thought on it, and shrugged. \Fair \'nuff,\ he decreed, and they all got back into their nerdy card game. Our friends across the table thought it prudent to venture to a safer distance, lest I retaliate in kind and the wine began to rain, so I took the opportunity to fix her in the eye.

\Why the fuck did you do that?\ I demanded of her.

\Because I want you to take your pants off again,\ she shrugged, with a wicked grin. \Go on. give the crowd a thrill.\

I couldn\'t believe her. She wanted me to strip off again - and with everyone here? Tipsy though I was, it took more than a half-flagon of wine to turn me into a drunken stripper - and there was no tequila to be seen. \Sorry, love,\ I told her, with a growing naughty smile of my own - \private shows only.\

She smiled with delight. \I think you left a pair of pants in our car, after volleyball,\ she said, quite loudly - louder than was necessary. \Do you want to go and get changed?\

\Um, yeah, good idea,\ I muttered, hoping we weren\'t being watched by all.

\I\'d better come with you to unlock the car,\ she went on, loud enough for all to hear. \We can\'t trust you with the keys - you\'d probably go for a hoon!\

\Probably,\ I agreed, and so we made our not-so-innocent exit. I cast a quick eye over the group as we did so; they had all heard, and though no-one looked right at us or said anything, no-one looked terribly impressed - Julian especially so. \'Crap,\' I thought. \'Not good.\'

We went downstairs to the garage, and we opened the door and put it down behind us, pausing only to switch on a light. I checked the door - \It can\'t be locked from inside, can it?\ I asked.

\No,\ she said. \Why would you want to lock it?\ she asked, knowing the answer full well.

I ignored her, looking instead to the window at the far end of their single garage. \And there\'s a window there,\ I mulled. It looked on to the blank wall of the building opposite; still, someone could walk up to it and see inside.

\What are you thinking, Brett?\ Gwen asked, as she moseyed up, to stand very near. \What do you want to do?\

I looked her up and down. God, how I wanted her. Her clothes were tacky, and she was sloppily-drunk, and she looked like an oompa-loompa with that stupid orange tan - but I yearned for her, all the same. The chemistry that we had shared, for years and years, reared its ugly head; it wasn\'t supposed to be, her and I, it was never supposed to be and it shouldn\'t be now, but there was no denying that I felt the urge, and she felt it too. I stepped in even closer, right into her space; she nestled up against me, and I had to turn my hips slightly so she wasn\'t impaled on my raging hard cock.

\Oh Brett.\ she murmured, and I felt her grind her crotch against my leg; her arms were about me, her hands up and down my back. \God, you\'ve got such a good body.\

\'Poor Julian,\' I thought. It was nice to hear I had a good body, but he was a paunchy-type, not terribly easy on the eye and a bit gormless when it came to fashion, and romance, keeping wives happy and such. Thinking of him, I stopped myself from touching Gwen, from rubbing against her like she did against me, from pressing my achingly-hard cock against her - though I dearly would have liked to let her feel how huge, how hard she made me, I knew if I did there would be no stopping us, it would go all the way. And I just couldn\'t do that.

I stepped back, and looked at her. \We shouldn\'t do this, should we?\ I said.

She looked at me. \We shouldn\'t,\ she agreed. \But why are we here?\

I sighed. \Because I\'m a bad person,\ I said. \Gwen: I\'d better go home. Tell Julian I\'m sorry.\

I did go home. But she did more than tell Julian I was sorry; she told him all we had got up to in their garage, and she pinned the blame on me and me alone. I received an email from her shortly afterwards: she told me how disappointed and upset both she and Julian were at my actions, how a true friend would never let anything like that come about, and how it would be better if I just stayed away. I was so upset at myself that I shouldered all of the blame; I knew she was in the wrong, just as much as I, but I couldn\'t bring myself to point it out, to risk upsetting Julian further. I figured it was better for him to be angry just at me, than to be upset with his wife as well; so I left them alone.

For a while. A few months passed, then Gwen emailed me again, asking how I was and what was going on. We got to talking again via email, and we established how much we missed each other, and how sad and sorry we were that it had come to this. I asked if we could start again, if they could forgive me; Gwen, in all her infinite patience and love (sarcasm intended), said they\'d forgive me and let me back into their lives. Why I was so hung up on her I\'ll never know; I know now there are so many more fish in the sea, and I\'m sure I knew it then too. Why didn\'t I go look for a bird of my own? Why was I so fixated on Gwen?

But back I went. At first I tried to do right, only going to see the both of them; Julian was quite magnanimous, much to his credit, happy to treat me as though I\'d never done him wrong. One time the three of us went to a nightclub, and Gwen and I sat and watched all the sweet young ladies walking by, and we rated their sexiness - Gwen showing a bit of a bi-sexual bent as she drooled over the lovelies with me, which of course was incredibly arousing. Julian didn\'t say much; he seemed content to watch as his wife told us how sexy she thought all these women were, and which ones she wished she could bed. It was quite a turn-on, I have to admit. I didn\'t go talk to any of the other ladies, though - more\'s the pity.

As time went by, Julian dropped out of the picture again; their marriage was straining under its own faults, and he was avoiding her more and more, staying back at work or going drinking in the city more and more often - and so I was summoned to keep Gwen entertained in his absence, more and more often. Our flirting picked up again, rebuilding slowly; there was simply no helping it, she was \'hot to trot\', she was so openly sexual and vivacious and I found it so alluring, I simply couldn\'t keep away. We would sit next to each other on the couch, snuggling close; sometimes we would even lie together, and our legs would intertwine, and her leg would rub very obviously against my crotch so she could feel me getting hard. And I said nothing; we both said nothing and it went no further, and that\'s why it was so hot.

One evening, sans-Julian, Gwen messaged me out of the blue and asked me to come down to the pub. She went out for a drink or two, once a month, with her old ex-boyfriend Greg - my old mate, the one Gwen and I had messed around with behind his back all those years ago back at school, without him ever finding out. I don\'t know why she kept stringing him along; he was a depressing kind of character, a bit of a \'pity-whore\', and she didn\'t really enjoy her time alone with him. Maybe she did it out of guilt, of pity? If she really felt sorry for him she should have let him be, let him get on with his life. He still pined for her, plain as day.

But I digress: she had messaged me and asked me to rescue her. I came and joined them, and we had a few drinks together; once again, she and I found ourselves close together across a table from him, and lo and behold: there was her hand in my lap. I couldn\'t help but be aroused; here he was, Greg, the very bloke we had fooled around on back in high school, and he sat opposite us unknowing as we fondled each other, right in his face. He couldn\'t see us doing it, he sat too close and he was too preoccupied whinging about the sorry state of his life; eventually he must have sensed something, or perhaps he saw a reflection in the window behind us, because he abruptly said he\'d better leave us two to enjoy ourselves. We walked him to his car, all the same, and then we went back to her place.

We were drunk. And we were horny. We both knew what we were doing; we weren\'t going to confess to it or even think too hard on it, but it was plain to see. We were going to fuck. I was finally going to get my go with Gwen, and she was finally going to work her vicious little magic on me. And we could both hardly wait.

We sat in our customary position on the couch, flirting like crazy. She told me she was wearing \'chicken fillets\': tan-coloured silicon inserts, which she slipped over her breasts into her top to make her C-cups look like D-cups, and she reckoned they provided the support of a bra so she didn\'t have to wear one. \Here: feel them,\ she added, grabbing my hand, and without any say in it (though I didn\'t protest too much) she laid my hand on her padded breast. \How\'s that?\ she grinned. \Feels pretty real, eh?\

\Feels good,\ I nodded, awkwardly. \You sure you got anything in there? They feel just like the real thing.\

\Course I do!\ she chastised, and to prove it she reefed down her top: there it was, a tan-coloured chicken fillet, perched atop her left breast.

\Cor,\ I said.

\I thought you\'d like to see that,\ she nodded, with a smile. \I\'m just going to take them off - they\'re a bit hot.\ She ambled off to her room; I sat there for half a minute, in indecision, aware that she hadn\'t locked or even shut her door. Eventually I couldn\'t hold myself back any longer, and I sprang up, running to stick my head in to watch.

I was a tad too late; she was just putting her top back into place, tying it in a loose bow behind her neck. \Brett!\ she scolded. \Get out of here! I need to change my pants,\ she added, unzipping her fly.

\I\'m not going anywhere,\ I informed her, with a combative grin.

She looked at me, pausing for a moment; then she shrugged. \Oh well.\ she said, and she dropped her pants, revealing a very nice pair of frilly red knickers.

\Nice briefs,\ I approved - I\'ve always loved red knickers.

\They\'re V-bangers,\ she corrected me.

\V-bangers? Like a G-string?\ I clarified. \Show me!\

\No!\ she laughed.

\Go on.\ I entreated. \You\'ve seen far more of me recently.\ She looked at me, grinning; finally she relented, turning around to show me her bared buttocks framed by the V-string, shapely and comely.

I whistled. \Nice arse,\ praised I. \Now go on: take the rest off.\

She laughed again, stepping into some plain pyjama pants. \Don\'t tempt me, Brett,\ she said, with that sultry look that always made my balls twitch ever so slightly.

So we rejoined the couch, and the flirting began anew. We joked and jibed, and laughed and play-wrestled; in response to some cutting remark, I reached for the tied straps of her top behind her neck - the only thing keeping her top up. \Don\'t make me undo the bow,\ I said; I thought I felt a knot, and so I frowned. \Oh - you knotted it up tight, did you?\

\No, I just tied a loose bow,\ she said, fairly obviously. And encouragingly.

I was never one to shirk away from encouragement, and with a naughty grin I pulled the bow; the straps came undone, and I held them up myself, pulling the top slightly and threateningly away from her - just enough to reveal the sides of her breasts. \Now,\ I said. \Care to retract your last remark?\

\What\'ll you do if I don\'t?\ she purred.

\You know perfectly well,\ I told her.

\Do I?\ she asked, daringly. \I don\'t think you will. I don\'t think you have the gumption.\

My eyebrows raised, amusedly. \I haven\'t the gumption, you say? Well -\ and with that, I let her top drop and it fell all the way to her waist, revealing those lovely, firm round breasts that had hardly changed in the years I\'d seen them last.

As her top fell, she gasped with surprise and delight, which made her breasts rise and fall most alluringly. \Brett!\ she squealed. \Damn you!\ She dived into me, tits out and swinging, thumping her fists against my chest; I laughed at her pitiful blows, gathered her up and pushed her backwards and down onto the couch to subdue her.

We stopped, and beheld each other shortly. This was it; we were there, we ought not to have been there, but we were and there was no denying what we were both there to do. She had left the door wide open, as it were: she had riled me up by making me feel her breasts, she had taken the inserts out to give me unfettered access, and she had even tied her top only loosely to challenge me, to dare me to undo it and let it fall. She looked into my eyes, and I into hers; we knew it wasn\'t right, that it shouldn\'t be, but we also knew we weren\'t going to stop. It was going to happen.

And happen it did. I kissed her, finally, after all these years; I gathered her up and I kissed her, long and longingly and - surprisingly - for the very first time. I felt a tide of long-withheld, pent-up desires simply flood out of my brain and into my hips; my cock was long and hard, I pinned it against her and she pushed herself against it, wanting it, needing it.

Our clothes served no other purpose than to be in the way, so we rid ourselves of them, replaying my strip tease in fast-forward as I pulled it all off and flung it away, to be followed by the top from round her waist and the pyjama pants and that alluring, tantalising V-string - all gone. We writhed together, naked and horny, grabbing and fondling each other; I reached down and laid my fingers directly and without ceremony on her clit, that very same clit which had been the first I\'d ever touched, which I had rubbed clumsily at the cinemas and very nearly - but never quite, because she\'d make me stop - very nearly made her come. I touched it now, years later, with far greater experience, delicacy and care; it drove her crazy, and in the shortest of time she was coming, she was finally coming for me, I had finally made her come like I had yearned to do since such a young age, and she came with a frenzy as she grabbed at my cock and pulled at it savagely, raking her nails over my balls and around across my buttocks.

She was done for now, she had come quite enough; \I have to suck you,\ she told me, gasping heavily from her exertions. \I have to have your cock in my mouth. I\'ve wanted it for so long, oh God I wanna suck you.\

I wasn\'t going to tell her no, so we rearranged ourselves; I lay on the couch and she kneeled on the floor over me, and she got right into it, not stopping to lick or nibble or tease - she swallowed me whole, hungrily and greedily. She drove her mouth up and down on my cock like a piston, hard and fast, rough and without remorse; it felt fantastic, incredible, and I knew now that Julian was indeed a lucky man. I felt a twinge of guilt, but only for a second; her mouth felt incredible, simulating the feel and action of a hot wet cunt with precision. \I\'m gunna come if you keep that up.\ I warned her.

\Good,\ she mumbled around a mouthful of my meat. \I want it.\ That was most encouraging to hear, so I lay back and let it build; it pooled and charged at the base of my cock, I could feel it right by my perineum, and as if she could sense it she reached in and stroked me right there, expertly, fantastically. I had never known a girl who knew enough to do that, and it drove me wild, raising my threshold ten-fold as my pleasure built and mounted but wouldn\'t come, and I gasped and moaned and finally I came with an almighty bellow, pumping both barrel-loads over the back of her throat. She took it without missing a beat, driving up and down on me even as I came, and she drank me up, milking me and swallowing it down.

Finally I was spent, and I wasn\'t sure I had any more in me. \Your turn,\ she instructed.

\My turn?\ I echoed; a grin sprouted. \Oh good.\ Man, how I love going down on women. It is such a turn-on for me: the taste, the feel, the view. and as we swapped positions and she lay back on the couch, spreading her legs to me and proudly displaying her hot, wet, glistening cunt, I felt my ardour returning.

I descended on it eagerly, determined to lap up every sweet drop of her nectar. She shuddered full-length, top-to-toe with pleasure as my mouth fell on her pussy and I tongued her deeply, intermittently withdrawing to run little figures-of-eight about her rock-hard clit - a technique I had in past times with past women been assured was a winner, and which was proving most popular with Gwen. She bucked beneath me, unconsciously trying to pull her pussy away from my tingling, unbearable ministrations - but I wouldn\'t let her go, I grabbed her by her curvy hips and held her in place as I lapped at her hot, sweet cunt.

Gwen\'s orgasms were never very far away, by her own admission - back when we were still only flirting and talking about sex and stuff, she once told me she came seventeen times in one sitting, which I had found to be amazing and incredibly alluring. Nothing pleases me more than to make a woman come; it is a surprisingly rare talent, the women in my life often telling me that none of their prior lovers had ever even bothered to try to please them. So hearing that Gwen was a multiple-multiple-comer certainly hadn\'t helped me in trying to keep my hands off her; and now, with my tongue seeking out the hottest and sweetest of her juices from deep within her cunt, she came for me again, and kept coming, and came again, and again, gasping and writhing and screaming as I refused to give in, keeping at her as my cock gradually grew harder, longer and stronger once again.

Finally she could stand no more, and she begged and screamed for me to give her a break, and I grudgingly relented. But not for long; as she fought to catch her breath again, I showed her that my pride had returned.

\Fucking hell,\ she panted. \Do you ever stop?\

\For you: never,\ I told her. I gathered her up in my arms, and I pinned her against a nearby wall; she squealed with surprise and delight as the cold plaster pressed against her back and buttocks, and she fixed me with a shared, wicked grin as we looked at each other and we sank slowly, inexorably towards the forbidden. Towards that which we had both resolved never to do, both promised ourselves we would go without.

Our first touch was incredible. The hotness, the wetness that I felt with the very tip of my cock was unlike any other cunt I had ever felt or known - she was like a furnace, she was so hot she very nearly burned me. Our eyes went wide, and we looked at each other; this was so new to us both. We were no virgins, no sir, we had both known our fair share of fucking - but this was entirely, completely different for the both of us: her intense heat; my sheer girth, as my cock strained with unknown reserves and set a new record once again; it was just something else, something entirely different. It was, I knew, because I was about to fuck my best friend\'s wife. I was finally about to get what I had always wanted, what I had wanted because I could not have it.

Slowly, most carefully, she settled upon me; her mouth opened noiselessly as I impaled her, as the cruel width of my cock separated her and parted her delicate depths. It kept going, and going, up and up and up; eventually she found the hilt, and we were in, we were together. We had done it.

\Brett.\ she breathed, looking at me with newfound amazement. \I\'ve never known anything like this.\

I fixed her with a look. \Get ready.\ I advised.

Her eyes widened some more as she guessed at what was coming. She almost whimpered with anticipation until slowly, gently, I eased back and forth, just once. The enormous area of contact between us - all of my cock, and almost all of her cunt - every portion of it transmitted a litany of pleasure, and we both shuddered uncontrollably as we were very nearly overwhelmed, there and then, at the first stroke.

\Oh.\ she gasped. \Oh.\ she said again. \Oh my. oh, oh Brett. do it again,\ she instructed. I obliged. \Oh.\ she reiterated; I did it again, a longer stroke this time, faster. \Ohh.\ she breathed, quivering, on the brink. I did it again, and again, and again; she trembled, she moaned, she yelled, and as I drove onwards she came and she yelled and she screamed and she came and came and came.

We fucked for hours. I had never before shown such stamina, nor ever since; she came countless times and so did I, filling her with my hot white load time after time. We moved all over the apartment, doing it in every room, in every position - the kitchen, the dining table, the spare bedroom, the bathroom, their bedroom; I felt bad when I bent her over the bed she shared with Julian and obliged her demands: \Fuck me,\ she growled, bent right over and presenting her puckering asshole in the ultimately submissive position, \fuck me hard. fuck me in the arse! Fuck my arse hard, Brett! Fuck my arse!\

And so I did; slick with her cunt juices, I fed my aching cock into her arse and she moaned, she yelled, and I could hear her pain; I asked her if it was what she really wanted, and she said yes, she wanted it, she wanted the punishment, she wanted me to hurt her and punish her and to fuck her arse with my enormous cock. And so I did; it was my first time doing anal, it felt new and incredible as her tight little ring squeezed and grasped all along the length of my cock as I fed it in and out, and it was a little confronting and shamefully arousing as she suffered the pain and she even sobbed and shed tears as my unforgiving girth ravaged her puckering hole and I shot yet another load deep inside her.

We hit the shower after that, cleansing ourselves even as we kept at each other: I fingered her, fucking her with my fingers as she soaped my dirty cock and moaned and screamed, scrubbing me clean so we could fuck again. We ran back to their bed, soaking wet, not bothering with any towels: we leapt upon the bed and crawled and writhed over each other, fingering each others\' anuses, licking and sucking at all of our erogenous zones; I even tongued her cleaned, soapy arse and she came instantly, shuddering and hollering and demanding simultaneously that I \stop! Don\'t stop! Stop, no don\'t stop! Aaaa-ughhhh.\ as my tongue flicked about her puckering, ravaged hole that was still punched open, winking at me as I teased it and as I plunged two fingers into her cunt, making her come ever harder.

We treated each other terribly, shamefully; punishing ourselves and each other as we kept going, fucking, sucking, fingering each other on the bed that she shared with Julian, with her husband. The vibrator was there, and we were merciless; I plunged it in and out of her cunt and kept her coming for an eternity, wanking myself as I did, coming with a grunt and spurting all over her and all over their bed - I came all over her stomach, her tits, spurting madly in her face and hair; she gathered up every last drop with her fingers and she ate it all up, hungrily and greedily, then she wrested the vibrator from me and punished me with it, pushing it roughly into my tight virginal anus as I cried out, but told her not to stop; it was slick with her never-ending juices, and she fucked me, she fucked my arse with her slim purple vibrator, holding the base of it to her hips so she could thrust into me and fuck my arse like I had fucked hers, and she reached around to tug long and hard at my cock until I came yet again, coming hard with almost nothing left to ejaculate, crying at the exquisitely combined pain and ecstasy as the drying vibrator tore and ravaged me where I\'d never been touched before, coming with a burning, shameful fire.

I don\'t know how or when it ended, or after how long. We may well have collapsed mid-fuck for all I know, collapsing on the wet, jizz-stained covers of their marital bed. We gave no thought to whether Julian was coming home that night; it didn\'t seem to matter, somehow. He didn\'t, fortunately enough. I found out later that he had been so down about his marriage and drinking so hard that night, he fell asleep on the train and woke up the next morning in a rail holding yard, testament to the thoroughness of the rail service\'s cleaning staff.

Their marriage didn\'t last much longer. He never found out what she and I did together, and to each other; it was our unspoken agreement, Gwen and I, that our shared shame would never be known by anyone else. I didn\'t see her much after that, and frankly I didn\'t want to. We had packed a lifetime\'s worth of mindless, depraved fucking into that one night. We had done everything we could think of, and tried a few things that we were likely to never try again. The way I heard the story, one day Gwen came home from Uni to find her bags packed: \You never treated me right,\ Julian told her as he helped her leave his life.

\That\'s okay,\ I\'m told she replied. \You didn\'t treat me that well either.\

True enough, on both counts. They were both young and stupid; she was his first love, his first shag, he should never have proposed to her in the first place. She treated him terribly, and he neglected her, and the one fed the other. I don\'t know why he had been so keen to marry her. Maybe he had seen how all of her other relationships had ended, and thought that by making her his wife he could preclude a terrible ending. He was wrong, as it so obviously has turned out.

I don\'t talk to her anymore. Julian has since remarried; I have even gotten married myself. He and I are still good friends, serving each other as groomsmen at both of our recent weddings; and back in the days after their separation, I was instrumental in helping him get over her - he did it tough for a while, he had even been calling her up and begging her to take him back. She had that effect on people, sometimes. But she never did, thankfully; and so he moved on, and so did I. She calls one or the other of us, every now and again - I don\'t receive her calls very warmly though. She reminds me of my lowest low, my failing as a friend and a decent human being; though I lack the courage to confess it to Julian or to anyone else bar yourself, dear reader, I have the rest of my life to try to redeem myself, and I only hope I can do some good in my life to make up for my awful indiscretion.

Even so, sometimes on a lonely night when I\'m free to pleasure myself, I find my mind returning to Gwen as I masturbate, and I dwell on that which we shared and that which we did - and it makes me come hard, really hard. It\'s not that I miss her, or want her on any civilised, cerebral level; I do want her, though it\'s a guttural, animalistic, prehistoric thing, a strong subhuman bond that I have with Gwen. By all standards of rational thought, I hate what I did with her and I hate myself for doing it with her; but the part of me that exists below conscious thought, the part that acts without thinking, wants without wishing - it\'s that part that misses her, remembers what we had with fondness, and will never forget her.