My Best Friend's Wife Watched Me

Emmett dropped his bag in the spare room and told himself the next few weeks would be simple. At twenty-eight he was between apartments after a lease fell through, and Sergio, his best friend since they were both eighteen-year-old college freshmen, had insisted he stay. Sergio’s wife Noelle met him in the kitchen already changed out of her work clothes, twenty-six, hair still damp, wearing a thin tank top that clung to her tits and shorts that cut high on her ass. They had all known one another since those college years, long after everyone was a legal adult; Noelle had started dating Sergio their sophomore year and the three of them had stayed tight ever since. She had always been playfully flirty with Emmett—long looks, jokes that landed warm—but the line had held while Sergio was home.

It snapped the morning Sergio left for a three-day business trip. He kissed Noelle, clapped Emmett on the shoulder, and drove off. The second the garage door closed, Noelle’s glances lingered on Emmett’s mouth and the front of his pants. She swapped the tank for an even tighter one after her shower, nipples stiff against the cotton, and when she caught him staring she only smiled and kept walking. Over leftover takeout she set her fork down. “I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it while he’s gone. I get off on the idea of being watched by you. My husband’s best friend. Thinking about you seeing me makes me wet. You know that.” Emmett’s cock thickened hard against his zipper. He nodded, throat dry. They finished the meal with her bare thigh brushing closer under the table, then sat through a movie on the couch Sergio had bought, a shrinking gap between them, her strap slipping and staying slipped until she stood, shirt twisted high, and said goodnight like a dare. Emmett lay awake afterward, fist around his cock, already knowing three days alone with her would ruin him.

The first night she left her bedroom door cracked while she changed. Emmett had gone for water and froze in the hall. Through the gap he watched her peel the tank over her head, bare tits swaying, then shove her shorts and panties down. She didn’t look at the door but her breathing went shallow on purpose. He stood rooted, cock aching, until the light clicked off, then retreated and came into his fist replaying every second.

The second night was filthier. From the next room he heard the wet sounds start on the couch. Noelle had stretched out naked, one leg hooked over the arm, fingers sliding through her pussy with slick little noises. She moaned his name, then louder. “Emmett—fuck—listen to me. I’m so wet thinking about you watching. Sergio’s best friend staring at this cunt.” She rubbed faster, describing exactly how she wanted his eyes on her while she came. He stayed where she could hear him breathing, hand shoved in his pants, stroking in time with her gasps. She came with a sharp cry, thighs shaking, and called out, “You hear that? That’s for you. Don’t you dare come in here yet.” He finished in his fist anyway, both of them choosing the edge and not quite crossing it, the house thick with the smell of her.

On the third evening she cornered him in the kitchen. Sergio’s return was still a day away. Noelle wore nothing but one of Sergio’s old T-shirts, hem high on her thighs. She backed Emmett against the island, palms flat on his chest. “I want you to fuck me,” she said, steady and hot. “Right here. And while you do it I want to tell you exactly how Sergio would react if he knew his best friend was balls-deep in his wife. He’d lose his mind. He’d never look at either of us the same. I want that. I want you inside me.” Emmett’s hands found her waist, gripping. “I’ve been hard for you for years,” he admitted, voice rough. “Since long after we were all grown. Since I knew better and still couldn’t stop wanting this.” She nodded, eyes bright. “Then take it. I want this. You want this. Say yes out loud.” “Yes,” he said. “I want to fuck you.” They started stripping each other with hungry, shaking hands—her shirt hitting the tile, his shirt and pants and boxers following—both of them naked, panting, and absolutely sure.

Noelle dropped to her knees on the kitchen floor before he could pull her up. She wrapped one hand around the base of his cock and held his eyes while she licked a slow, wet stripe from his balls to the head. “Watch me,” she murmured, then took him into her mouth, sloppy and deep. Spit slicked her chin as she bobbed, cheeks hollowing, tongue swirling under the crown every time she pulled back to breathe. Eye contact never broke. She gagged herself once on purpose, tears springing at the corners, then smiled around his shaft and did it again, drool stringing from her lower lip. She pulled off just long enough to speak, voice wrecked. “Call me what I am while I suck you. Your best friend’s slut wife. On her knees for your cock.” Emmett fisted her hair. “Suck it, you filthy slut. Sergio’s wife choking on me like you were made for it.” She moaned and took him deeper, throat working, nose brushing his stomach, one hand rolling his balls while the other stroked what she couldn’t swallow. The wet sounds filled the kitchen. He had to tug her off before he finished, cock shining with her spit, her lips swollen and eager.

She stood, spun, and bent over the kitchen island, ass up, feet spread wide. Her pussy was soaked, glistening, lips swollen and open. “Fuck me hard from behind,” she demanded. “And keep calling me your best friend’s slut wife. I want to hear it while you pound me.” Emmett lined up and pushed in with one long stroke, burying himself to the hilt in her tight, dripping heat. She cried out and shoved back to meet him. He gripped her hips and started fucking her hard, the slap of skin loud against the quiet counters. “Take it, your best friend’s slut wife,” he growled. “This cunt is mine right now. Sergio thinks you’re loyal and you’re creaming on my cock.” “Yes—fuck—harder—tell me how he’d hate this—” She reached back and spread herself wider. Emmett spanked her ass until it pinked, then slid a hand up to pinch and roll her nipple while he drove deeper. “He’d lose his shit seeing his wife bent over the island getting railed by me. Hearing you beg for it. Smelling how wet you are for his best friend instead of him.” She came the first time like that, clenching hard around him, sobbing his name into the granite, pussy fluttering and gushing while he kept pounding through it.

They didn’t stop. Noelle grabbed his wrist and dragged him to the living room, to the wide couch Sergio had bought the month they moved in. She shoved Emmett down onto the cushions, turned, and straddled him reverse. Facing away, she sank onto his cock with a filthy groan, taking every inch. She rode him hard, bouncing so her ass slapped his thighs, one hand braced on his knee, the other dropping between her legs to rub her clit in fast, slick circles. “Feel how wet I am?” she panted, grinding down and rolling her hips. “Wetter than I’ve ever been for Sergio. He never makes me drip like this. Never makes me this desperate to come. Your cock is better. I’m soaking your lap because it’s you—his best friend—not him. Every time I sit on this couch with him I’m going to remember bouncing on you.” Emmett watched her ass ripple, reached around to cup and squeeze her tits, pinching her nipples while she fucked herself on him. She kept talking, raw and mean—how Sergio would smell her on the cushions, how she’d think of Emmett’s cock every time her husband touched her, how much she loved betraying the one man who trusted them both. Emmett thrust up to meet every bounce, balls tight, holding off by will while her fingers worked her clit faster and her moans turned shameless.

When she started shaking he flipped her. Noelle landed on her back, legs spread, and Emmett hooked them over his shoulders, folding her nearly in half so he could drive even deeper. He slammed back in and pounded her without mercy, the angle brutal, her tits bouncing with every thrust. She clawed at his arms, chanting, “Yes, yes, fuck your best friend’s slut wife, make me come on your cock, don’t stop—” He reached between them and rubbed her clit hard while he fucked her, hips snapping, sweat dripping onto her stomach. “Come for me,” he ordered. “Loud. Let the whole house hear Sergio’s wife getting off on his best friend’s cock.” She did, back arching off the cushions, pussy spasming so tight around him that he couldn’t hold back. Emmett buried himself and came with a rough shout, pulsing thick ropes of cum deep inside her while she milked every drop, still trembling through the aftershocks, both of them gasping and slick, the couch creaking under the force of it.

They stayed locked together until his cock softened and slipped free, his cum leaking out of her onto the cushion beneath her ass. Noelle pulled him down for a slow, filthy kiss, tasting herself on his tongue, mouths lazy and deep. When she drew back her eyes were bright and wicked. “I’m going to leave the evidence on his favorite chair,” she whispered against his lips. “Not this couch. The armchair he sits in every night. I’ll walk over there and drip your cum all over the seat so when Sergio gets home he’ll smell us. He’ll know someone fucked his wife in his house and he won’t be able to prove it was you. Not yet.” She kissed him once more, slow and claiming, then stood, naked and shining with sweat and his cum on her inner thighs, and walked toward the stairs without looking back. Emmett watched the sway of her ass, already half-hard again, knowing this was only the start of the secret they had just chosen.

He was still staring at the empty staircase, chest heaving, when headlights swept across the living-room wall and a car door slammed in the driveway.