Loyal Wife Taken by Husband's Best Friend

Adriana had already kicked her heels off when Nathaniel’s phone lit up again. She was twenty-eight, barefoot on their living-room rug in a navy dress that clung at the hips, and the evening had been easy until that screen started flashing. Nathaniel, thirty-four and still in his work shirt, swore under his breath and stepped onto the balcony with the door half shut behind him, already talking in the clipped voice he used for clients who would not wait until morning.

That left her alone with Sergio.

He was thirty-two, Nathaniel’s best friend since their first jobs out of college, and he had never once been anything but careful in their apartment. Careful, and impossible not to notice. He sat on the far cushion of the couch with his sleeves rolled, a glass of wine barely touched on the table between them, dark eyes moving over her and then away as if he were trying to be decent about it. Adriana poured herself a splash she did not need and set the bottle down. She was clear-headed. So was he. The wine was only something to hold.

“He said ten minutes,” she said.

“He always says ten.” Sergio’s mouth tipped, not quite a smile. “You look good in that dress.”

The compliment landed lower than it should have. She crossed her legs and felt the silk of her panties shift against her. Months of glances had been living in this room whenever Nathaniel turned his back—at dinners, at the cabin last fall, in the kitchen while she reached for a glass and Sergio’s hand had brushed her waist and neither of them had mentioned it. She had stayed loyal. She had also stayed awake some nights with her own fingers and his name locked behind her teeth.

Outside, Nathaniel’s voice rose and fell, occupied, distant. Inside, Sergio watched her mouth.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she said, and heard how soft it came out.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re deciding something.”

He leaned forward, forearms on his knees, close enough that she caught the clean scent of his soap. “I’ve been deciding it for a long time, Adriana. I just never had the room to say it.”

Her face went hot. She should have laughed it off. She should have stood up and gone to the balcony and put her hand on her husband’s back. Instead she stayed where she was, pulse thick in her throat, and let the truth rise because pretending had started to feel like a lie she was tired of carrying.

“I’ve thought about you too,” she said. “More than a loyal wife is supposed to.”

Sergio went very still. Then he reached across the small space and set two fingers against the inside of her wrist, a question more than a touch. She did not pull away. The contact sparked straight up her arm.

“Tell me,” he said.

“At the cabin,” she whispered. “When you came out of the shower in a towel and Nathaniel was on a call. I went into our room and touched myself and hated how wet I got. And tonight, when you walked in, I already knew I was going to have trouble keeping my hands to myself if he left us alone.”

His thumb stroked once over her pulse. “I heard you that night. Through the wall. I stood in the hall and got hard listening, and I didn’t come in because you hadn’t asked me to.”

“I’m asking now.” The words surprised her with how steady they were. She turned her hand and laced her fingers through his. “He’s out there. He’ll be out there a while. I want this. I want you. Not because I’m drunk, not because you pushed me. Because I’ve wanted it and I’m done pretending I don’t.”

Sergio’s breath left him in a rough sound. He brought her knuckles to his mouth and kissed them, slow, eyes on hers the whole time. “Then say it plain, so I never have to wonder.”

“Take me to the bedroom,” Adriana said. “I want your cock in my ass. I’ve wanted that specifically. And if we do this, we do it because I chose it.”

He stood and drew her up with him. For a moment they only looked at each other, the balcony door a thin barrier and Nathaniel’s voice still going on the other side of it. Sergio cupped her jaw. She rose onto her toes and kissed him first, open and hungry, tasting wine and want. His hands found her waist, then the curve of her ass through the dress, squeezing once as if he needed proof she was real.

“Bedroom,” he said against her mouth. “Now. Before I lose the sense to be quiet.”

She took his hand and led him down the hall, both of them walking fast and sure, both of them fully aware of whose apartment this was and whose wife she was and how completely they were choosing to betray him anyway. The bedroom door clicked shut. Adriana turned, already reaching for the zipper at her side.

“Leave the dress up,” Sergio said, voice low and rough. “Bend over the bed. I want to see what I’ve been thinking about while I work you open.”

She obeyed because she wanted to, not because he made her. The mattress met her palms. She hiked the navy fabric to her waist and hooked her thumbs in her panties, dragging them down her thighs until they caught at her knees. Cool air touched her. She was already slick between her legs, ass tipped up, heart hammering.

Sergio came up behind her and ran both palms over her cheeks, spreading her, looking. “Christ. Look at you. Pretty loyal wife with her panties at her knees, offering me this.” His thumb circled her tight hole, gentle, slick with nothing yet but intent. “Lube?”

“Nightstand. Top drawer. I put it there last week and told myself it was for Nathaniel.” She laughed once, breathless. “It wasn’t.”

He found the bottle, warmed a generous amount between his fingers, and pressed one slick digit against her. Adriana exhaled and pushed back, taking it. The stretch was bright and familiar from her own experiments, deeper because it was his hand. He worked her slowly, one finger, then two, murmuring approval when she moaned and rocked onto them.

“That’s it. Open up for me. You want it?”

“Yes. More. Don’t tease me all night—he won’t be out there forever.”

“Greedy.” He scissored his fingers, coating her, then withdrew and freed his cock. She looked back over her shoulder and felt her stomach drop in the best way. He was thick, flushed, already shining with lube as he stroked himself once. “Eyes forward. Breathe.”

The broad head nudged her rim. Adriana gripped the comforter and bore down the way she had practiced alone, and he sank in by slow inches, pausing whenever she tightened, waiting until she nodded and pushed back for more. The burn melted into a heavy, filthy fullness that made her toes curl against the rug.

“Oh—God—Sergio—”

“So tight,” he groaned. “Your ass is swallowing me. Good girl. Take it.” He seated himself to the hilt and held there, hips flush to her cheeks, one hand spread on her lower back. “You feel that? That’s your husband’s best friend buried in the ass you saved for special occasions. And you asked me for it.”

“I did,” she panted. “Move. Please move.”

He drew back and thrust in again, deeper, finding a rhythm that started measured and turned relentless. Each stroke dragged over nerves that made her clit throb untouched. Adriana moaned into the mattress and shoved back to meet him, the slap of his hips loud in the quiet room. He gripped her waist hard enough to leave marks she would have to hide later and fucked her ass in long, driving pumps, the lube letting him go deep without mercy she didn’t want.

“Listen to you,” he said, voice wrecked. “Moaning like a slut on my cock. Loyal little wife, bent over, taking it in the ass because you couldn’t keep your fantasies to yourself. Is this what you pictured? Me using this hole while he talks business ten feet away?”

“Yes—yes—harder—”

“Say what you are.”

“Your anal slut,” she gasped, the words filthy and perfect in her mouth. “I’m your anal slut, Sergio. Pound me. Don’t stop.”

He did exactly that. The pace turned punishing, deep and steady, his balls tapping her soaked pussy with every thrust. One hand slid around to rub her clit in tight circles, and the combination ripped a cry out of her that she barely muffled in the comforter. Pressure coiled low and vicious. She was close already, stuffed full, used exactly the way she had begged for in her own head.

“Not yet,” he said, though his voice shook. “I want you on your back. I want to watch your face while I ruin you.”

He pulled out slowly. Adriana whimpered at the sudden emptiness, hole fluttering, thighs wet. Sergio stripped her panties the rest of the way off, tossed them aside, and turned her with careful hands. She went willingly onto her back, dress still rucked at her waist, breasts heaving under the fabric. He hooked her legs over his shoulders, folding her, and lined up again.

“Still yes?” he asked, the head of his cock nudging her loosened rim, eyes locked on hers.

“Still yes. Fuck my ass. I want to cum on it.”

He pushed back in, and the new angle was devastating. Deeper. She could see his stomach flex, see the place where his thick cock disappeared into her, see the strain in his jaw as he held her thighs and started to pound. The bed creaked. Adriana clutched his forearms and took every stroke, mouth open, moans breaking into little shattered sounds each time he bottomed out.

“Look at you,” he rasped. “Legs up, hole stretched around me, dripping on the sheets your husband sleeps in. I’m going to fill this ass, Adriana. Going to pump you full and send you back out there with my cum leaking into your panties. You want that?”

“I want it,” she sobbed, not from pain, from the brutal sweetness of being exactly this wanton. “Degrade me. Tell me what I am and don’t stop fucking me.”

“You’re a cheating anal slut,” he said, thrusts turning short and savage, grinding into her on every downstroke. “Pretty mouth, loyal vows, and a greedy ass that begged for her husband’s best friend. Take it. Take every inch. Cum for me while I own this hole.”

His thumb found her clit again, ruthless and precise. The orgasm hit her like a snapped wire. Adriana arched, crying out his name, her ass clenching in rhythmic pulses around his cock as pleasure tore through her belly and down her thighs. She shook and pushed back onto him even while she came, demanding the fullness, riding the forbidden penetration until her vision speckled and her voice went hoarse.

Sergio fucked her through it, groaning at the way she milked him, pace stuttering only when his own control frayed. “That’s it—God—your ass is gripping me—I’m close—”

“Inside,” she begged, still shuddering, another smaller wave already building under the first. “Cum in my ass. I want to feel it.”

He slammed deep and stayed there, grinding, and came with a broken curse. Heat flooded her in thick pulses. Adriana’s second orgasm crashed over the first, sharper, dirtier, her body milking every spurt while she clutched his shoulders and gasped through it, legs trembling over him, stuffed and marked and utterly willing.

They stayed locked together until the aftershocks eased. Sergio eased out carefully, watching a thin trickle of his cum slip from her well-used hole onto the sheet. He kissed the inside of her knee, then her mouth, slower now, almost tender against everything they had just done.

“You all right?” he asked.

“Better than all right.” Her voice was wrecked and happy. “Help me up. He’ll come looking.”

He did. He found her panties, wiped her gently with a tissue from the nightstand, and steadied her while she stepped back into them, both of them breathing hard and grinning like criminals. The dress fell back into place. She fixed her hair in the mirror with shaking hands. He zipped his pants, kissed her once more—deep, grateful, still hungry—and rested his forehead against hers.

“We go out separately,” she whispered. “You first. Sit down. Look bored.”

“Impossible,” he said, but he went.

Adriana waited a dozen heartbeats, smoothed her dress over the delicious ache low in her body, and walked back down the hall. Cum warmed her inside her panties with every step. Sergio was already on the couch, glass in hand, expression almost ordinary if she ignored the flush on his throat. The balcony door slid open. Nathaniel stepped in, phone lowered, rolling his shoulders as if the call had wrung him out.

“Sorry,” he said. “That ran long. You two survive without me?”

Adriana met Sergio’s eyes for half a second, felt the secret throb, and smiled at her husband with a mouth that still tasted like another man. “We managed,” she said. Then, because the want was still bright and reckless under her skin, she added, lightly enough to pass for teasing, “Sergio, are you staying for another glass, or are you already thinking about the next time you can get me alone?”