My Wife's Best Friend's Husband

The lake house sat quiet under a thick canopy of pines, the water outside glass-still in the late afternoon light. Mark carried the last of the bags inside while Derek stretched in the doorway like he owned the place, shoulders filling the frame, easy grin already fixed on Lisa as she brushed past him with a cooler. Jenna laughed and swatted her husband’s ass. Mark pretended not to notice how long Derek’s hand stayed on the small of Lisa’s back.

Dinner turned into wine on the deck. Derek’s voice rolled low and constant, stories about the gym, about clients who couldn’t keep up, about how some men were just built different. Every so often his eyes dropped to Mark’s lap and he smirked. “You still running those little five-Ks, buddy? Or you leave the heavy lifting to the rest of us?” Lisa’s laugh came too quick, too bright. Under the table her bare foot found Derek’s calf and stayed there. Mark felt his cock twitch traitorously against his thigh, already half-hard from the heat in the air and the way his wife’s nipples showed through her thin tank top whenever Derek spoke.

By the time the bottles emptied they had moved inside. The fire crackled. Jenna curled against Derek’s side on the big leather couch while Lisa sat too close on his other flank. Mark took the armchair across from them, nursing the last of his whiskey, watching Derek’s thick fingers idly stroke the outside of Lisa’s thigh. Higher. Higher. Lisa’s breath hitched when those fingers slipped under the hem of her shorts. She didn’t pull away. Jenna watched with heavy-lidded amusement and leaned in to kiss Derek’s neck.

“Fuck, look at that,” Derek murmured, loud enough for everyone. “Little Mark over there staring like he’s never seen a real hand on a woman. You keep her satisfied with that peanut you got, or she just settles?” Lisa made a soft, broken sound and parted her legs another inch. Derek’s knuckles clearly moved against the crotch of her shorts. Mark’s face burned. His cock was rigid now, leaking into his boxers, and he hated how much the shame fed it.

Jenna yawned theatrically around midnight and announced she was going to bed “to give you three some space.” She kissed Derek hard, then kissed Lisa slower, tongue sliding deep enough that Mark heard the wet sound of it. “Be good,” she told them, and disappeared down the hall.