My Best Friend’s Wife


Michael Broadbent and I had been friends for many years. We had met at University and then lost contact for a while only to find ourselves working for the same merchant bank in the City some five years later. That was ten years ago and we had remained firm friends ever since. We had both married. My wife, Sarah was an English rose. Beautiful to look at and highly intelligent. The only fly in the ointment was the fact that she tended to be somewhat prudish. Michael’s wife, Rachel, on the other hand, was dark and bubbly with an outgoing, some would say outrageous, personality. The women had never become such firm friends as Michael and I had but they did get on with one another, mainly because they knew that it was important to us. The four of us would often attend social and sporting events together but our main socialising was regular dinner parties at one another’s homes, usually on a Friday night.

On one such evening Sarah and I were at the Broadbents. Rachel had prepared a delicious meal of roast lamb and vegetables followed by a Peach Melba dessert, all washed down by Michael’s impeccable choice of red and white wine. I was doing something that I found myself doing more and more at our meetings. I was surreptitiously watching Rachel. Her smile, her full figured body with its plump softly contoured breasts and the way her dress clung to her as she moved. I just hoped that no one else had noticed because it was almost impossible to stop doing. She aroused me. I had no romantic feelings for her at all but was developing ever stronger, much more basic desires every time we met. It was becoming an effort to control.

We were leaving the dining table to adjourn to the more comfortable seating in the living room when I decided to make a quick visit to the bathroom, the wine having taken its toll. As I was leaving the room I heard Rachel call out behind me,

“James dear, would you mind very much using the en suite bathroom in our bedroom? The main bathroom is being redecorated and is pretty much in a shambles I’m afraid.”

I lifted a hand up and waved to indicate that I had heard and continued on up the stairs to the master bedroom, going through it to the bathroom on the other side. I duly relieved myself and washed my hands. I was just about to leave when I noticed the laundry hamper in the corner and the strangest feeling came over me. Here was an opportunity to handle the most intimate garments belonging to this incredibly sexy woman. Without further thought on my part the lid was opened and, within seconds, I was holding in my hands a scrap of bright scarlet material. It was a g-string made of satin. As I fingered it my finger slipped through a slit in the front. The material was damp with the secretions of her body and I could feel the moisture on my fingertips. Then I ran my finger along the thin cord which I knew had been rubbing up against her anus, probably only hours ago. With trembling hands I balled the panties in my hand and raised them to my face, covering my nostrils. Then I breathed in, as deeply as I could.

The scent that filled my nostrils was the deep powerful musk that the female of the species has used since the dawn of time to arouse the male and ensure the survival of the human race. It owed nothing to any perfume, science or chemicals. It was raw and basic and the effect on me was electric. As I stood there breathing in this intoxicating aroma, my organ engorged almost instantly, my underclothing becoming tight and uncomfortable. My hand went down to my crotch and I began to rub myself through my clothing. Only a few moments later the waistband of my trousers was undone and both they and my shorts were pooled around my ankles. My hand began to move in smooth even strokes.

It was not enough. I shuffled across the bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet. Peering inside, I found what I had been looking for, a tube of KY jelly. Putting the panties down for just a moment, I picked up the KY, took off the cap, and pressed out a blob onto the palm of my hand. I quickly replaced the cap and then picked up the panties and held them over my nose once more before I spread the KY all over my rigid penis. And so I masturbated. My eyes were closed, my nostrils were flared and in my imagination I was having wild uninhibited sex with the gorgeous Rachel. No, that is wrong. In my mind I was fucking Rachel with total abandoned animal lust. She was lying flat on her back on the silk sheets of her double bed, her legs spread wide apart. I was between them relentlessly driving her to a climax with my engorged shaft as she screamed out my name and begged me to fuck her harder, ever harder.

The images in my minds eye were so graphic and so vivid, the scent of her was so arousing and the warm slippery feel of the KY was so sensuous that, for a brief time, my hand actually became her vagina. This avalanche of sensation could not last and very soon the inevitable happened. I felt my climax approaching, sweeping me up with the power of a tidal wave. I began to tremble, quite violently, bahçeşehir escort as I felt little beads of sweat break out all over my body. I opened my eyes, and desperately shuffled to the washbasin, only just getting there as the first torrent of semen spurted out and splashed against the white porcelain surface. A huge shudder shook my body and I grunted, biting my lip to keep from crying out as the rest of my fluid pulsed out and began to trickle down the drain. Out of the corner of my eye I thought I caught sight of a movement in the half open doorway, reflected in the mirror on the front of the medicine cabinet, but, when I turned to look there was no-one there and not a sound to be heard. I put it down to my imagination and a feeling of guilt at what I had just done.

It did not take me very long to clean up. I washed myself with warm water and the bar of scented soap I found there, then dried myself on one of the soft towels hanging on the towel rail, the towel with a small “Hers” embroidered in a corner. I pulled my shorts and trousers up and fastened everything before carefully cleaning the last traces of my solitary passion from the basin. I almost put the panties in my pocket but decided that it was much too risky and replaced them in the laundry hamper after placing them over my nose for a few deep breaths one final time.

When I went back downstairs the others started ribbing me about taking forever just to take a leak but cryptic remark about a “brown cloud” soon shut them all up, even embarrassed them a little. One of the side effects of what had just happened was a lessening in my personal sexual tension level when I looked at Rachel and so the evening came to a very satisfactory end when Sarah and I left to go home shortly after midnight.

One morning, about a week and a half later, I came down the stairs and passed the hall table where Sarah had placed the morning post, as she usually did. I stopped and leafed through it, putting the dull boring stuff to one side (the bills that is) and finishing with a rather intriguing padded envelope addressed to me. I was about to open it when Sarah called to me from the kitchen,

“Your breakfast is ready love, come through and eat it before it gets cold.”

“Coming.” I called back, stuffing the envelope into a coat pocket meaning to read it as soon as I had finished my breakfast. Naturally that didn’t happen, Sarah and I got engrossed in our conversation and then, suddenly, I was late for my train and had to rush to the station, forgetting all about it.

Sitting in my seat on the commuter train, reading my morning newspaper, I reached into my coat pocket for the tube of mints that I habitually kept there. My fingers found the envelope that I had stuffed in there in such a hurry earlier and I pulled it out. The address was typed on a label and the postmark was an anonymous inner city London borough, no clues there. Curiosity aroused I tore open one end, reached into the plastic bubble wrap interior and withdrew something that I recognised instantly. It was Rachel’s red g-string panties, probably the same ones that had recently given me such pleasure, and still soiled judging by the faint whiff of scent which drifted up to my nostrils.

I stared at them in shock for a few seconds and then pushed them back into the envelope, glancing around to see if anyone had noticed. . My heart was pounding and thoughts were racing through my head. She knew! She must have seen me. Had she told Michael? Would she tell Sarah? What was I going to do?

Then logic kicked in. If she were going to tell Michael or Sarah about what I had done she would simply have done so. She would not have sent me the panties. She was playing a deeper game and I was in it up to my neck. I reasoned that there had to be more in the envelope so I put my hand back in, and, sure enough, my fingers encountered a slip of paper, which I withdrew. It was typewritten and was unsigned. It read:

“Make a lunch reservation at Chez Jacques for 12.30 on Friday”

The rest of that day went by in a haze. I made the lunch reservation, how could I not do so? Naturally I did not ask my secretary to do it but made the call myself. I felt like a rabbit caught in the headlights. A number of times during the day, when I was alone, I removed the envelope from my pocket and took the panties out to hold them in my hand. Once I even held them up to my nose and took a deep breath and, on another occasion I almost took them to the bathroom to use as an aid to masturbation! The day finally came to an end and I locked the envelope in my desk drawer before going home.

Arriving home I went directly to the drinks cabinet and poured myself a stiff Scotch. I was just pouring it down my neck when Sarah came into the living room,

“Hello love, how was your day?” Then she saw my face and the Scotch and said, “Not too good by the looks of it. Why don’t you pour me one as well and we can both unwind together?”

I bakırköy escort poured her a drink and we sat down in our usual chairs. My drink calmed me and I managed to carry on a normal conversation. That is, until she said,

“By the way, what was in that envelope that came this morning? You never did get an opportunity to open it before you left for work.”

Suddenly there I was again, heart pounding, brain in overdrive. “It was, uh, um ..” She looked at me quizzically as I floundered just this side of panic. Then a flash of inspiration hit me; “It was a spare battery for my mobile that I bought on e Bay.” She smiled and we chatted for a while about what a marvellous thing e Bay was and how cheap things were when bought that way.

Friday soon came and, after a morning that seemed to drag on forever, I managed to make an excuse and got away for my early lunch. I arrived a few minutes early and was seated by the maitre d’ at a small table for two, tucked away in a discreet alcove. I was nervously crumbling a bread roll when I sensed her arrival before I actually saw her. There was a whiff of her exotic perfume and a presence behind me before her long fingernails traced across my cheek and she moved past me to sit opposite.

“Hello James dear, how kind of you to invite me to lunch.”

She smiled beautifully at me as she greeted me and my eyes were drawn to her generous cleavage that revealed the swelling curves of her rounded tanned breasts. I was in no mood to be distracted however,

“My god, Rachel, what the hell are you playing at? Can you imagine what would have happened if Sarah had opened that envelope? I can’t imagine……” She held up her hand and stopped me in mid flow,

“James, you are being boring and tiresome and I really don’t like boring and tiresome men.” Her voice was soft and low but her eyes were steely. “Shall I leave now James, is that what you want?”

“No,” just the monosyllable.

“Good, why don’t we see what is on the menu, I do love this restaurant so, the food is scrumptious.” She picked up the leather bound folder and began to study it intently.

“Rachel, we have to talk.”

“No we don’t. We have to select our meal, and then we have to enjoy it. Maybe then we can ‘talk’ as you put it. Till then why don’t we just ‘converse’?” She studied the menu and then announced, “I think I would like to start with a dozen fresh oysters and then go on to a grilled lobster with lemon butter sauce. How about you?”

I mumbled something about steak and then called the waiter over to give him our order. As he was writing it down she leaned forward and covered my hand with hers and said,

“I would love a bottle of vintage Dom Perignon to wash that down. Champagne always goes so wonderfully well with oysters, they say the combination is a powerful aphrodisiac.” She must have seen the look of horror on my face at the mention of the word ‘vintage’ because she went on, “Perhaps a bottle of Dom non vintage then.” She glanced at the waiter and he wrote something down before moving off.

“Michael spoils me something rotten you know,” she said, “he bought me a really clever little digital camera last month. I meant to show it to you last time you visited because I know you are interested in that sort of thing but it completely slipped my mind, we were having so much fun. It is so sensitive that it can take pictures even by ordinary room lighting without the need for a flash. The pictures can be printed and can even be sent by e mail!”

I knew what she was talking about, of course I did, but I found that my initial shock turned very quickly into a form of excitement. Had she really taken pictures of me? Did she look at them and feel aroused? Suddenly I hoped so because the very thought was beginning to arouse me.

Our first course, my paté and her oysters, duly arrived. She picked up an oyster in the half shell and held it under my nose, “Don’t you just love that fresh fishy aroma of seafood?” before putting it to her lips and slowly sucking the flesh into her mouth. She removed the shell and, for a moment, I saw the oyster held between her full red lips before it disappeared into her mouth. A second later she opened her mouth again and I saw it lightly held between her teeth before she gave a little giggle and swallowed it. She indicated the ice bucket that the waiter had placed alongside the table and said, “Don’t neglect me James dear, these oysters are crying out for champagne to wash them down with.”

I poured out the wine and she took a gulp of hers before she despatched another oyster. “Now,” she said, we can ‘talk’. Me first. I followed you when you went to the bathroom the other night. I pretended that I just wanted to make sure you found your way. I watched you as you urinated, I love the sight of a man’s penis spraying a stream of urine and yours was beautiful. I was going to hide when you were about to come out but then you stopped at the laundry başakşehir escort hamper. When you put my panties over your face I started to get wet. By the time you were stroking your big, hard beautiful cock my cunt was dripping and my fingers were frigging my clit like there was no tomorrow.”

She kept sucking down oysters as she spoke. Her face was getting flushed and I could see that she was becoming as aroused as I was. Her language had deteriorated and she was dropping four letter words into the sexually charged atmosphere, savouring them, as she went on, “I watched you stroke your swollen meat all glistening with the KY jelly. I heard you groan with lust and I heard you stifling it when you were crying out my name. I watched as you sprayed all over my wash basin, and I shoved three fingers deep into my cunt at the same time. I was taken with as much lust as you were and I nearly screamed when I came. Now you talk.”

I was stunned. Never in my wildest dreams had I hoped for this kind of reaction. I leaned a little forward and looked deep into her eyes as I began to speak, “I imagined that I had torn all your clothes off and thrown you down on the bed where you lay on your back with your legs wide open. Your pussy lips were flushed and swollen and open so that I could see how wet you were inside. You were begging me to fuck you, like a nymphomaniac slut you begged me. I knelt between your legs and stuck my cock into your pussy and just kept going in till my balls banged up against your arse. Then we fucked like animals, you screaming at me to fuck you harder and harder, until we both came.”

I was panting as I finished speaking and, under the tablecloth, my cock was bulging in my trousers. She was staring straight into my eyes, saying nothing, and had slid slightly down in her seat. Suddenly I was electrically aware of the silky smooth feeling of a nylon clad foot snaking its way up my leg. Without thought I opened my legs and, within seconds, her foot was stroking gently but firmly, up and down my cock. On the way down she pressed hard with the ball of her foot and then, on the way up she used her toes like little fingers to clamber up my rod. Then she clenched and unclenched them on the sensitive part just beneath my knob. I could hardly believe what was happening to me, I was sure that if she went on much longer I would actually have an orgasm, right here in the middle of the restaurant. I must have groaned because she giggled and quickly withdrew her foot and sat up straight.

“Hush!” she said, “People will notice!” I looked around. A few of our closest neighbours were beginning to cast curious glances in our direction. Abruptly she stood up.

” Have to go to the ladies, won’t be long.”

Her face was flushed and her walk was a bit unsteady. I wondered if she was going to masturbate. I felt another rush of lust at the thought. She returned about five minutes later looking much more composed almost as much in control as she usually was. I had also calmed down in her absence and managed even to persuade my erection to subside. When she arrived back she did not sit down but stood next to me, very close. Below the level of the table she pushes something into my hand. I looked down to see another pair of her g-string panties, blue ones this time. The fabric was wet with her secretions and from below the table the scent rose to my nostrils. I hurriedly put them into my coat pocket. She bent down until her mouth was very close to my ear,

“I want you to take these with you to the bathroom when you get back to the office. I want you to hold them over your face while you stroke your cock until you are ready to come. Then I want you to catch your juices in my panties so that yours and mine mix together. Next time we are together we are going to fuck each other’s brains out. Now you are going to have to move fast lover. Michael has a business lunch date here in about ten minute’s time and you know how he always likes to arrive a little early. You don’t want to have to be explaining things do you? Not in your condition.” She gave another little laugh and stuck her tongue into my ear for a few seconds. Then she was gone.

I paid the bill, assuring an unhappy maitre d’ that there was nothing wrong with his delicious food but that circumstances had forced us to abandon our meal. As soon as I got back to the office I went to the bathroom almost immediately. I locked myself in a toilet stall. For the next twenty minutes I just gave myself over entirely to an intense masturbation session. I held the damp panties over my face for all that time and just let my other hand stroke, knead pull and fondle my penis and my testicles. I even lightly fingered my anus something I did not often do. When my orgasm came it was intense and strong, physically shaking my body. I was aware of whimpering in pleasure as I poured my semen into the scrap of material in my hand. I sat on the seat for nearly five minutes as I recovered, thinking of Rachel, before I wrapped the sodden garment in my handkerchief. I put it into my pocket and left the bathroom.

And so life returned to normal, or almost. I still had a daily dose of paranoia when I came down for breakfast and looked at the day’s post on the hall table. I was fearful that another envelope would come and Sarah would open it, and when no envelope did arrive I was deeply disappointed that it had not done so.

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