My Wife and My Best Friend 4.5/5 (43)

Claire and I had been together for ten happy years. She is best described as the perfect ‘girl next door’; sensual, with a subtle, sneaky, disguised beauty, a beauty that creeps up on you. Claire was in her early thirties, with an unwieldy mop of tight brown curly hair.

She was curvy and petite, with a large, sumptuous pair of milk-white shapely breasts and a firm, pert, perfectly round bottom. I had wanted to share her with others for some time, but never managed to find the words to express this out loud.

It was more than a little difficult to casually drop it into the conversation, somewhere between paying the milk bill and organising the school run. Mainly, I was just plain scared.

It was obvious that my best friend John fancied her like mad. In fact, I think most of my friends fancied her, male, female, gay or straight. John was unusually charming, kind and flirty around her; he laughed louder at her jokes and their cuddles always seemed to last just that little longer.

Her personality shone through in social occasions with my mates. She would keep up with the boys, drinking, smoking and arguing with the best of them.

She never showed much of her body off in company, but her blouse was always unbuttoned just enough to demonstrate that she understood what simple creatures men are. John’s wife on the other hand was often a misery in company, an obstinate vacuum of joy.

One drunken night at John’s place, while his wife was away at her parents and Claire was at home, we were having a frank discussion about sex. He confided in me that he had not had any for six months, and that that had become the norm. He told me that I was lucky to have such a gorgeous wife.

I felt my heartbeat quicken.

‘So you fancy her?’

‘Well, she’s a very good looking woman,’ he ventured, cagily.

‘Yeah, but do you fancy her?’ I asked.

‘Let’s put it this way’ he said, ‘you’re a lucky man – and would I want what you have?… Yes!’

I pushed it a little further

‘So, does that mean that you’ve fantasised, about you and her?’

‘Well…yes… maybe. Is that so bad?’

‘What do you do to her in your fantasies?’

I listened intently as he explained to me in graphic detail, what he wanted to do to her. Clearly he had given this some considerable thought. He described how he wanted to seduce her, eat her, pin her down, and stare into her eyes as he filled her with his cock. He paused mid sentence, as though his brain had only just caught up with his cock.

‘Shit, you wanted me to be honest, didn’t you?’ he asked cautiously.

“I would love to watch you doing that to her?” I whispered slowly.

‘She would never agree to that though, would she?’ he ventured.

‘I doubt it but I will find out,’ I replied…but ‘would you really go through with it?’

‘Would I fuck Claire?…I hope this isn’t a trick but yeah I absolutely fucking would!’

John and I had got to know each other very well over the years and we had played around quite a bit together. We had figured out that we were bisexual a long time ago, and our occasional sexual adventures helped to keep our universes in balance.

This information had been shared in a somewhat limited way with our respective wives. It had been described as teenage fumbling and discovery, although Claire had been given a much fuller picture. Putting the guilt, cheating and blatant dishonesty to one side, we were faithful to each other and were not physically putting our wives at risk.

We also knew that full disclosure would threaten our marriages and families, but perhaps more importantly to us, we felt that they could never understand our feelings for each other and how our actions were not incompatible with married life. Successfully explaining bisexuality to a heterosexual, is harder than teaching a dog to play the trumpet; also dogs are less judgemental.

John was taller than me, four inches taller, and unlike me, he had a muscular physique. He looked like a rower, with more than a passing resemblance to David Gilmour from Pink Floyd. He laughed a little too loudly and was a bit of clumsy oaf, particularly when he drank too much whiskey,

but he was a force of nature and we enjoyed each other’s company. His cock was at least three inches longer than mine and much thicker, with a pronounced curve. I had spent many hours examining that ugly brute and had felt its full power.

We had fucked a few times in the past and he had always taken control; lately though we had swapped roles and I think that that pulled had him further down the rabbit hole.

I desperately wanted to see him inside Claire, the thought of it turned me on so much that I could think of little else over the next few days.

I kind of understand the cuckold’s pleasure of being humiliated by another, usually better endowed man but this wasn’t about humiliation for me. I was driven by the sheer excitement and joy of witnessing Claire being pleasured.

I guess the thrill of another man touching her inside where I couldn’t reach, was a part of it, but I really wanted to hear the noises that she would make. The noises that in spite of herself, she couldn’t help but make when he filled her and satisfied her in a way that I could not.

We had a good sex life, but I always had to prop her bottom up with a pillow in order to get deep enough inside her to make her groan. She had amazing orgasms, but I had only ever achieved them during foreplay, never during sex.

One drunken night, five years ago, we had played a truth or dare game and I gave her a scenario and a choice:

‘If you had to have sex with another man, would you want his cock to be bigger, smaller or the same size as mine?’

Without a flicker, she replied ‘bigger, I would want a bigger cock…but there’s nothing wrong with your cock…I like your cock.’

This only served to confirm what I already knew. She had obviously remembered this conversation, because she had sought to reassure me a number of times over the next few years that I satisfied her. The truth is that my cock was fine, however, when you know, you know.

It’s bizarre perhaps, but I’m really proud of my little cock. Fully erect it’s just five inches, give or take; it’s perfectly formed and very pretty (for a cock that is). In many ways I revel in having a small cock; I can go without underwear and nothing shows,

I can wear pink Calvin Klein ladies thongs and everything is contained perfectly because my flaccid cock only measures 1.5 inches – it’s tiny. It’s a huge turn on that my tackle can fit inside something designed for a woman’s anatomy. I don’t have any cross dressing thing going on, I look terrible in a dress.

I just like the soft material and the pretty colour and the way it makes me feel so naughty. I have no hang ups about being on a nudist beach proudly displaying my little package; I love that fact that sometimes I could see women or couples discussing it’s diminutive size. I don’t lack confidence, but I do have a small cock.

The next weekend, Claire and I were a little tipsy and I asked her about her previous boyfriends, the sex that she had enjoyed, what they did to her, what she did to them, how big they were and any sexual fantasies she had had.

Claire warmed to the fact that I was masturbating as she was describing what other men did to her and what they felt like inside her.

She admitted that all her previous boyfriends were either bigger, or the same size as me and that each cock felt different inside her. I sensed that she was being kind in her descriptions. She began to warm to the idea of talking dirty for the first time.

She revealed that she had fantasised about threesomes, and more, declaring that she was a secret princess who loved the idea of all that attention.

2 Comments

  • Taylor

    Reply Reply April 10, 2019

    I thought this story a fantastic read. Maybe Moreso because it mirrors a fantasy my boyfriend and I have discussed. And im going to share it with him as soon as I send you this comment

  • Bill Soper

    Reply Reply April 12, 2019

    Excellent story telling Usually the over-telling of a story totally spoils the telling of the tale, with the result that by the time you have read the tale, the essential impact has all but disapeared. Have enjoyed this tale immensely. ‘Gonner’ keep a copy of this story, for I can see future occasion when the same pleasure can be experienced yet again.
    Thank you very much for the pleasure.

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