My best friend's boy. [f/m] | 2016

I used to post here about sex with strangers. Today I'm going to tell you about an experience a little closer to home. It's got its own thrills and it is currently consuming my thoughts, so I thought I'd write about it here just to get a little bit of closure. There's a whole lot of pretext going on here, so skip to the middle for the dirty.

Let's start with some background information. I'm 21, currently attached, and I've had the same best friend since I was 14 years old. Her name is Rachel, and she is amazing and strong and hilarious, everything a best friend should be. And then we have Nick. Nick is... almost indescribable. He's got an energy that always leaves you craving more from him. He's charming, in an unconventional way, and he could talk a girl in to bed without even trying.

Nick was Rachel's first. We were 15 in a pretty small town, and she dated him for three years, sporadically. We lost touch with him after they broke up, and three years later, a few months ago, I ran in to him at a bar. He asked me for my number so that we could catch up, and I was actually excited to do that! We made plans to play pool at an old dive bar the next weekend. I didn't think it meant anything, but I knew not to tell Rachel. There's an unspoken girl code, just in case you weren't aware. You don't hook up with your best friend's ex. Well. Girl code has been broken, and it led to the best sex of my life. Now, I can't get it off of my mind.

We met up as the sun set at a seedy bar in the valley. We exchanged awkward hellos, and ordered a few shots to wash down the awkward. After about 20 minutes, we switched to mixed drinks and the old banter came flowing back like we'd never been apart. We talked about how our lives had changed and just how much they had stayed the same. We talked about Rachel and her new boyfriend, old mutual friends, and plans for the future. We played pool poorly. I realized that he was hitting on me when he tried to teach me how to take a shot.... I was already kicking his ass.

We got pretty competitive with the pool. We started making bets: Loser buys the next round, loser downs whatever drink the winner orders, loser requests ridiculous song for the sound system... As the night wound down, we found ourselves saving the loser's punishment for the end of the game. More time to decide what evil to inflict on one another. It just turned in to "do whatever the winner says!" And I can't say I didn't know what was coming. He finally won a round. I put up my stick and asked him what my punishment for losing was. He looked at me across the table, and moved closer to me. He grabbed my stick off the wall, and started to hand it back to me. Apparently it was time for a rematch.

Before he handed me my stick, he grabbed my hand. He kind of just held it and looked at me, testing my reaction. I kissed him and it was electric. I felt his whole body in that kiss, and I knew I wanted more. Then, he dropped the pool stick. Of course he dropped the pool stick. It made a horrible crash when it hit the floor, and we jolted apart to find the bars few patrons glaring at us. We decided to skip our rematch and headed back to his apartment, presumably to watch some comedy special.

The magic starts here

It took us a while to get to the house. We were babbling away, and stopping for rushed kisses, and babbling some more. When we stumbled in to the house, we didn't even bother to set up the TV. We went straight to his bedroom and stripped each other down. It was hurried and hungry and I still get butterflies just thinking about it.

He laid me down and kissed from my ear, to my neck, down my side, and back up again. He gasped next to my ear as he reached between my legs and felt the effect he had on me. His kisses became more frantic, diving lower, not coming back up. He pushed his fingers deep inside me, made me cry out and then covered my mouth. He has roommates, after all... He reached his destination and stopped. He breathed on me, slow and steady, making me squirm and wiggle toward his lips. He looked up at me with a finger to his lips, "shh!" And dove in with his tongue and his fingers. I covered my mouth with one hand, ran my fingers through his hair with the other. I could feel him making me shake.

I begged him to stop. I mean, I didn't want him to stop. I just wanted him deeper inside me. So, I guess, I begged him to start. I started quietly, while gripping his shoulders. "Please fuck me.." He pretended he didn't hear. And pushed his fingers in deeper. "Please! Please, I want to feel you." Nothing. Apparently begging is lost on this boy. So I stopped him. Curled up my legs beneath me, took him by the shoulders, and laid him down. I pulled off his stupid little basketball shorts and gripped his cock. Holy mother of fuck. I could not even wrap my hand around it. I mean, I've seen some dicks in my day but what the hell this thing was massive. I was kind of intimidated. I looked at him, as if to say, "REALLY?!" And he just kind of smirked. Asshole. But hey, I like a challenge!

So, I grabbed him with both hands, and I licked him from base to tip. I made sure to get his cock wet before playing with it (maybe because the action reminded me of a little kid giving an indian burn to a forearm) and I went to town. He was quiet at first, which I hate. I started noticing what he liked. If I flick my tongue here on the way down, a sigh. If I press here while I'm gagging on his cock, a quiet groan. I started pairing up the crowd pleasers with the mundane, just to keep him on his toes. Curling his toes. Pulling my hair and brushing it out of my face, till he finally lifted me by chin and pulled me up to kiss him. He nudged me over and laid me down. Climbed on top of me and spread my legs with his knees. I could just barely see his eyes sparkle as he slowly inched his way in to me for the first time. I could tell he was gauging my reaction, a mixture of disbelief and bliss, as a look I can only describe as pride fell across his face. A few more smooth motions. Slowly in, even slower out, pressing in to my bones as he kissed me.

And then it all changed. He pinned my leg up, pressed against it, and pressed in to me. No longer slowly, but calculated, precise. He made sure not to hurt me, but oh my god, he wanted me to feel it. And I wanted more. I told him, "I can take it!" And he laughed. I dug my nails into his lower back with each thrust. Pulling him further into me, until he stopped holding back. And finally, it caught up with me. He bumped my cervix and I cried out in pain. Not good pain, either! I made him stop and lie down, where I continued teasing him until my organs felt intact again. And then, I took control.

I climbed on top of him and kissed him hard. I reached behind me and guided him in to me, gasping as he slid inside. For a minute, I forgot how to move. The way we fit together was perfect. I gripped his chest as I rocked back and forth. I instructed him not to move while I found our rhythm. He thought it was funny to, every once in a while, throw off my groove with one quick, mind boggling thrust. Each time I let out what can only be described as a squeak, which he'd be sure to poke fun at later. Sometimes, he'd pull me against him and restrain me above him while he pounded me from below, holding up my hips. Oh, my god. Where the hell did he learn that? After about the third session of this hip restraint, I told him, gasping and hurriedly, "You're going to make me come!" Which naturally he saw as a sign to continue, harder, deeper, faster, until I felt my pussy pulse around him, inviting him in deeper. I crumbled. I lay across him and asked, gasping, "what the fuck was that?" and he kissed my sweaty neck and scooted me back on to the bed. He started out like the beginning. Slow, calculated, and then the breathing got heavier. The thrusting became more primal. He was breathing heavy and I could here his tiny, covered grunts shaking their way out of his core. He leaned in to my ear and rasped, "Where do you want it?" And I almost came again. I pressed my fingers to his lips and the world's biggest smile broke out across his face. Deeper, more determined than ever, he pushed himself inside me. He gripped my thighs as he shifted me along with his thrusts, until he pulled out and bent me toward him. He grabbed my tits and almost cooed as he came inside my mouth. A soft, gentle moan to accompany the convulsions he was experiencing. I swallowed his cum and licked my lips, laughing. He sighed, satisfied, and crumpled up beside me. "What the fuck is right," he laughed. I offered my hand in high five position, to which he rolled his eyes but graciously accepted. We turned on some B list scary movie and fell asleep spooning. I was the big spoon, even though he wouldn't admit it.

The next day, reality hit. That night was all we could be. Rachel was too important to me to make anything more out of it. She'd been screwed over too many times. By other friends, even by Nick! Oh, yeah, by Nick. I didn't trust him. That was part of the appeal. He's safe, I know I won't get attached to him. I have a boyfriend now, and I should be entirely content. I shouldn't even be thinking about Nick, or who he's sleeping with now, or when I'll get to see him again. It would be a waste of time, we could never have anything real. So why is it that every interaction we have is fucking electric?