My Best Friend's Girlfriend

I’m Jake, twenty-eight, single as hell and not exactly proud of how often my hand has been my only company lately. My best friend Mike has been with Kayla for six months now, and every time the three of us grab drinks or crash on my couch for a movie, I catch myself staring at her like a starving man. She’s twenty-four, all long dark hair and that confident little smirk that says she knows exactly what she’s doing to a guy. Mike barely touches her anymore—she told me that herself, more than once, leaning in close while he was in the bathroom or grabbing another round. “He just rolls over and scrolls on his phone,” she whispered one night, her thigh pressed against mine under the table. “I need someone who actually wants to fuck me, Jake. Someone who looks at me the way you do when you think I’m not watching.”

That was the first time the air got thick enough to choke on. I laughed it off, mumbled something about Mike being tired from work, but my cock twitched hard in my jeans. She knew. The next time we hung out she wore this low-cut top that kept slipping, and when Mike went to take a call she reached over, brushed her fingers along my forearm, and said, “I’m so fucking horny all the time. It’s driving me crazy.” Her voice was soft, almost casual, but her eyes locked on mine and didn’t look away. I wanted to shove her against the wall right there, hike up her skirt, and show her what it felt like to be wanted. Instead I swallowed hard and changed the subject, because Mike is my boy and crossing that line felt like lighting a match in a room full of gasoline.

The tension just kept building. Every hangout turned into this slow torture. She’d sit close enough that her bare knee nudged mine, complain how Mike hadn’t gone down on her in weeks, how she woke up aching and wet with nowhere to put it. I’d nod, pretend to be the good friend offering advice, while my mind flooded with images of her on her knees, those full lips stretched around my cock, her perfect tits bouncing while I fucked her from behind. She caught me adjusting myself more than once and just smiled that wicked little smile, like she was keeping score.

Then Mike left town for a long weekend—some work conference three states away. He texted me to keep an eye on things, joke around about not letting Kayla get too lonely. I didn’t answer that part. Around ten that night my doorbell rang. I opened it and there she was, standing under the porch light in a tiny white sundress that barely covered the tops of her thighs. No bra—her nipples were already hard little points pushing against the thin fabric. Her hair was down, loose and a little messy, like she’d been running her hands through it.

“Hey,” she said, voice low. “Can I come in?”

I stepped aside. The second the door shut she turned to face me, close enough that I could smell her perfume mixed with something warmer, skin-level. “Mike’s gone till Monday,” she said. “I’ve been thinking about you every night this week. Fantasizing. Touching myself and pretending it’s your hands.”

My mouth went dry. “Kayla—”

“Don’t.” She closed the last inch between us, pressed her body flush against mine. Soft tits mashed to my chest, the heat of her pussy noticeable even through the dress and my sweats. “I know you want this too. I’ve seen the way you look at me. Tell me I’m wrong.”

I wasn’t wrong. My hands found her waist on their own, fingers digging into the thin cotton. “You’re not wrong,” I said, voice rough. “I’ve wanted to fuck you for months. Every time you talk about how he doesn’t touch you I want to bend you over and make you come until you forget his name.”

She made a soft, needy sound and rolled her hips, grinding that hot little cunt against the hard ridge of my cock. “Then do it. Please. I’ve been so empty.”

That was it. I crushed my mouth to hers. She opened for me immediately, tongue sliding against mine, tasting like mint and pure hunger. Her hands shoved up under my shirt, nails scraping my abs as I walked her backward toward the couch. The sundress was nothing—I yanked one strap down and her left breast spilled free, full and heavy, nipple tight and dark. I broke the kiss just long enough to latch onto it, sucking hard, teeth grazing while she arched and moaned my name.

“Fuck, Jake—yes—”

I spun her, bent her over the back of the couch, and flipped the tiny skirt up. No panties. Just smooth, bare pussy already glistening, lips puffy and parted. I groaned, dropped to my knees, and dragged my tongue straight up her slit. She tasted sweet and salty and perfect. I speared her with two fingers while I licked her clit, and she pushed back against my face like she was starving for it.

“I’ve wanted your cock so bad,” she gasped, looking over her shoulder, eyes glassy. “Every time we hung out I got wet thinking about you filling me up instead of him.”

I stood, shoved my sweats down, and freed my cock—thick, hard, already leaking. I rubbed the head up and down her wet folds, coating myself, teasing her entrance. She whined and tried to push back onto it.

“You sure?” I asked one last time, even though we both already knew.

“Yes. Fuck me. Make me yours tonight.”

I slammed home in one deep thrust. Her tight cunt stretched around me, hot and soaking, fluttering like it had been waiting forever. We both cursed. I gripped her hips and started pounding, the wet slap of skin on skin filling the room. Her tits swung free with every thrust; I reached around and pinched her nipples hard, making her cry out and clench harder around my cock.

Clothes kept coming off in frantic pieces. I stripped the sundress the rest of the way off so she was completely naked, bent over my couch, taking every inch. I pulled out just long enough to spin her around, lift her, and carry her to my bed. She wrapped her legs around me, heels digging into my ass, and we fell onto the mattress still joined. I fucked her harder, deeper, the headboard knocking the wall while she raked her nails down my back and begged for more.

“Harder—use me—I’ve needed this so fucking bad—”

I flipped her onto all fours again, grabbed a handful of that dark hair, and railed her from behind until her arms gave out and she was face-down, ass up, moaning into the sheets. Sweat slicked both of us. Her pussy made filthy wet sounds every time I bottomed out. I reached under and rubbed her clit in tight circles and she came hard, shaking, squirting a little around my cock, the contractions milking me so good I had to grit my teeth not to finish right then.

But I wasn’t done. I pulled out, flipped her onto her back, shoved her knees to her chest, and sank back in. Face to face now. She pulled me down into another hungry kiss, tongues messy, both of us panting.

“I’m going to ruin you for him,” I growled against her mouth.

“Do it. Please—wreck me—”

I kept thrusting, deep and relentless, watching her tits bounce, watching her eyes roll back every time I hit that spot inside her. The bed creaked. Her legs trembled. Another orgasm built in her—I could feel it in the way her walls started fluttering again—and I chased it with her, slamming home over and over.

We were both completely naked now, nothing left between us but sweat and need. Her hand slid between us so she could feel where I stretched her open; she moaned at the sight of my thick cock disappearing into her again and again.

I slowed just enough to make her whimper, grinding deep, letting her feel every ridge. “This cunt is mine tonight,” I told her. “Say it.”

“Yours—fuck—it’s yours, Jake—”

I picked the pace back up, chasing the edge that was racing up my spine. She came a second time with a broken cry, gushing around me, and I barely pulled out in time, stroking my cock and painting thick ropes of cum across her stomach and tits. She watched, eyes dark with lust, then dragged a finger through the mess and brought it to her lips, tasting me while she looked up at me like she already wanted round two.

We lay there breathing hard, sticky and tangled. My cock was still half-hard against her thigh. She turned her head on the pillow, lips swollen from kissing, and whispered, “We’re not done. I need more of you before he gets back.”

I kissed her again, slower this time but no less hungry, hand already sliding back between her legs to feel how soaked and open she still was. The night was young, Mike was hundreds of miles away, and neither of us had any intention of stopping.

We stayed tangled in the sheets only long enough for my fingers to work another shiver out of her. Kayla’s hips rolled against my hand, greedy even after everything we’d already done, and when she whispered “couch” against my mouth I didn’t ask why. I just scooped her up, sticky and bare, and carried her back out to the living room like the night still belonged completely to us.

I dropped onto the cushions and pulled her straight into my lap. She straddled me without hesitation, knees sinking into the worn fabric on either side of my hips, and reached down to wrap her fingers around my cock. I was hard again already—thick, heavy, smeared with the mess we’d made earlier. She guided the head between her folds, teasing herself with it, then sank down in one long, slow glide that stole the air from both of us.

“Fuck, you’re still so deep,” she breathed, settling until her ass rested on my thighs and every inch of me was buried inside her. Her hands braced on my shoulders. She started to ride.