His Best Friend - The Party

Part 1

The party downstairs was in full swing. And the loud music and raucous laughter would cover up any noises Michael and I might inadvertently make. But we still had to be quiet, just in case someone passed by the bedroom. We had to be quick too, before anyone realised we’d slipped away.

We had our excuse ready. “He spilt wine on his shirt, so I was giving him a clean one from our wardrobe.”

And for the follow-up question of “why did you lock the door?” I would simply say that “we didn’t want someone to walk in half way through him changing shirt, and get the wrong idea.”

I hoped we wouldn’t need to use them, but I had a glass of wine ready to go, should his shirt need to be wet in a hurry.

I began unbuttoning his shirt, half to prepare for if we got caught, and half because I wanted to run my hands over his muscular, tattooed torso.

His hands rummaged clumsily under my top, groping at my breasts.

We couldn’t risk taking all of our clothes off. It would take too long to put them back on. But that didn’t stop him from pulling my bra down, allowing my perky breasts to spill free.

Our lips clasped together, wet and excited. Our tongues danced, first in my mouth, and then in his.

“It’s been too long.” I said, having missed his touch.

“We fucked yesterday.” He whispered.

“Still.” I bit his lip, pulling at it and sucking on it.

He groaned, and I shushed him, pushing him back towards the bed.

He voluntarily sat on the edge of the bed and hurriedly unbuckled his trousers.

I lifted my long dress, pulled my panties to one side, and straddled over him.

I felt his warmth immediately, and my heart raced with excitement and fear.

His hands grabbed my ass and guided me down onto him.

He was already rock hard, and I was already dripping wet. Our infidelities excited us more than our respective partners ever could.

I lowered myself all the way down on him, feeling him ripple through me with such intensity I forgot all about our excuses. He had erased…