Dear Charlie, I fucked your wife. It happened yesterday. This letter containing this news will only be sent to you in the event of my death.
That will hopefully not be too soon. I know I lead a reckless life, but if I'm lucky I should still be around for a long time. I'm fairly certain that if I sent this to you before my passing, it would only hasten my demise, a prospect I don't particularly relish.
And, I wouldn't want you to go to prison for killing me. After all, I am your best friend. So, though I do have the greatest desire for you to learn one day that I fucked your beautiful, sweet wife, I am taking the cowards way out and leaving this letter with my attorney with the instructions to mail it only after I die. You were working late yesterday, as usual, and Becky came across the hall and knocked on my door. She said the toilet in your master bedroom wouldn't stop running and asked me to come over and fix it.
I grabbed my tool kit and followed her into your apartment. Your daughter was at the dining table doing her homework—or whatever fifth grade project. (I love how she calls me "Uncle Bob".) Becky had just come back from her tennis lesson, and as I followed her down the hall to the master bedroom, I couldn't help noticing how hot she looked from the rear in her little white mini-skirted tennis dress.
She was laughing about something as she walked before me in that bubbly attitude she always seems to have. Fixing the john didn't take long, but I did advise her to have you replace the internal workings before long. (I wonder if she remembered to do that?) And damn her, you know how she's always flirting?
I've been around the two of you for three years now, and she's always playing with me, teasing me. Always dropping double entendres in that laughing little way of hers. As I was finishing the job with the toilet, she was wondering out loud if I was such a serviceable handyman in all areas. "Let's find out," I said, locking the door of the master bedroom to the hallway.
"Why are you doing that," she asked, her voice quizzical. "So your daughter won't catch us," I said.
"Catch us what?" Becky asked, her voice still with that flirtatious lilt, but there was doubt in her face. "This," I said, and took her in my arms. I figured that she had been cock teasing me for three years and, by damn, I was going to call her fucking bluff.
If she had really resisted, I would have backed off, apologized, and slunk out. And she did resist at first. I had pressed her body against mine and my mouth against hers before she fully knew what was happening and could react, and by the time she did react, I had not only had a full taste of the deliciousness of her lips, but was already duck walking her toward your marital bed.
"Bobby, no!" she gasped when she was able to pull her mouth away from mine. "What are you doing!?" We were at the bed then, and I kept her pinned against me.
My mouth again sought hers, but she jerked her head away, her long, silky hair cascading against my face as she did this. "Bobby, no!" she cried.
Ignoring her, my hands grasped her firm buttocks through the tennis panties that she wore underneath the mid-thigh length tennis skirt.
My mouth went to her neck. Her aroma was intoxicating. If I had had any second thoughts about my gambit, they were thoroughly washed away by the fragrance that radiated from her, a mixture of perfume and the perspiration from her tennis lesson that had dried on the smooth, soft texture of her skin.
As I intensified both the hold I had on her ass and the kisses I planted on her neck, she stuck at me repeatedly in the shoulders with the sides of her fists. This lasted until I pushed her onto her back on the bed and climbed on top of her. I then grasped her by the sides of her head and held her head steady so that my mouth could again find hers and this time stay there.
The word "no" continued to emanate repeatedly from her lips as I kissed her, but the lips themselves had ceased their protest and allowed my tongue to enter between them. Sensing that I no longer had to hold her head in place, that she would no longer deny our intense kiss, my hands were freed to begin pushing her panties off her hips.
The way in which she had landed on the bed had hiked her tennis mini-skirt to her waist, making my task with her panties an easy one. And Charlie, I swear, even though she continued to murmur the word no into my mouth, I swear she lifted her ass slightly off the mattress to aide me in pushing her panties off her ass and hips and down onto her thighs and to her ankles.
I lifted myself off her at that moment to unzip and pull down my pants. Her eyes were ablaze with myriad emotions. There was fear and doubt in them, for sure, but there was lust, as well.
The lust in her eyes was unmistakable. "No, Bob…we can't&hellip." She said those words, but by now there was zero conviction in them, and she watched me motionlessly with wide eyes as I took a long moment to soak in the wonderful vision of her ripe athletic body, nude from the bellybutton down. Your wife's legs are really quite spectacular, Charlie, and I marveled at the way the broad curves of her hips led upward to a thin, trim waist, which was the height to which her miniskirt had hiked.
It is unbelievable that she's the mother of a ten-year-old! I took specific note of the well shaved pussy that your wife made no effort in concealing from the roving eyes of her husband's best friend.
Above the waist, her bosom pushed upward against the tight fit of the tennis dress, her stressed breathing causing it to swell and dip like waves on a stormy lake. My hardened cock hung heavily over her now that my pants and underwear were off and I once again hovered over her. She stared upward, first at my cock and then to my eyes, that mixture of emotions in her eyes that I mentioned before. "One of us has to stop this, Bob&hellip.and I can't.…" That's right.
She couldn't. She offered no resistance as I kicked her thighs apart. She gasped as I did this. I lowered myself to her and again our mouths locked.
They remained locked as I guided my manhood to the threshold of her pussy. She was moist. And hot. She was ready for me, Charlie. And I entered her effortlessly, two inches at first, pausing to savor the gasp that she gave as she felt my cock penetrating her.
After the briefest of moments I thrust into her fully. She yelped in a cry that we both knew your daughter, doing homework at the dining table in another part of the apartment, could have heard. I paused impatiently with my cock buried into her to the hilt and reached for a pillow. The feel of your wife's pussy clinging to my cock as I stretched to do this made me almost come right then and there.
I anxiously pulled the pillow case off the pillow and partially stuffed it in her mouth. Then, satisfied that her cries would be sufficiently muffled so as your ten-year-old daughter would not suspect what her mother was doing in the bedroom with Uncle Bob, I proceeded to fuck the ever loving shit out of your wife, relishing as I did so how she had teased me and shamelessly flirted with me for the past three years.
Becky's legs enveloped me, and the heels of the tennis shoes that still adorned her feet dug into my ass as I fucked her. She had finally gotten past the "no" bull shit and was now squealing "yes" over and over into her pillow case gag. She also began shoving her pelvis forward to meet mine with every rapid fire thrust that I gave her. After several minutes of fierce fucking I slowed, then stopped, pulling back from the verge of an orgasm that I didn't want to happen just yet.
I wanted her totally naked. Making sure my penis stayed within her, I reached behind her an unzipped the back of her tennis dress. Her body had sagged back heavily onto the mattress. Knowing what I was now doing, your lovely young wife, the pillow case still stuffed in her beautiful mouth, assisted me by raising her arms over her head, allowing me to push the dress up and over her head.
It was such a tight fitting dress that it pulled the pillow case from her mouth and it went. I left the dress shrouding her outstretched arms and turned my attention to her sports bra. Again I had to reach behind her to find the fucking clasp. It took me longer than it should have to undo the damn thing. I resisted the urge to just rip it off her.
Your wife's eyes stared deeply up into mine the entire time I fumbled with her bra, with that mixed look of fear, doubt and lust still evident. But it looked sure as hell like lust was winning. Her lips remained parted and her breathing was quick and shallow.
She almost seemed to be panting. A bitch in heat.
(When was the last time you had fucked her, anyway?) At last the god damn clasp came undone and I was able to yank the fucking bra off her and fling it aside. With my cock still buried deep within her pussy and my hands now planted on either side of her, I lifted my torso, supporting myself above her with straightened arms so that I could take in the sight of your wife's body in all its naked glory, her perfectly shapely breasts, not too large, not too small, rising and falling with her labored breathing.
I gave her a few gentle fuck strokes and asked her if she knew what a naughty girl she had been these past three years, flirting blatantly with me, acting like she really wanted me to do what I had finally gotten up the courage to do.
And you know what the little bitch said?
Something like, no, she had only been innocently flirting, that she had done this with men all her life, that's just the way she was, she couldn't help herself, and she would never cheat on her husband&hellip.
I shut up her words by once again intensifying my fuck strokes, but the words were replaced by that squeal of hers. I put a finger to my lips in the classic gesture of silence. Actually, I would have loved to hear her scream to the heavens as I fucked her, but not with her daughter within earshot. As my strokes gained momentum, Becky's entire body responded. She pulled the tennis dress the rest of the way off her arms and reached for the pillow case, which she herself stuffed back into her mouth, obviously not trusting herself to remain sufficiently quiet while her husband's best friend finished doing her.
Our eyes remained locked as we fucked until slowly I lowered myself back down onto her, crushing her now naked breasts with my chest. Running my arms between her thighs, I lifted her knees so that I could achieve maximum penetration I then proceeded to fuck her with abandon. And your sweet, devoted little wife? She fucked me back, Charlie, my pal.
Stroke for fucking stroke, Charlie. Stroke for fucking stroke! And I swear to god, Charlie, the little slut came before I did!
She was bucking beneath me like a god damn rodeo bronco. And I was one cowboy that couldn't last the ride. She bucked me off! I couldn't keep my cock in her, the way she was twisting and turning as she came like a fucking machine gun.
She was still squirming and writhing when I pulled the pillow case out of her mouth and jammed by swollen cock between her lips.
And she clamped down on it, Charlie, let me tell you. Gotta teach her to go easy with the teeth, but no matter, she started sucking me like a hungry baby with a warm bottle, and I came in buckets, Charlie boy.
And Becky took it all, let me tell you! Spasm after spasm of my hot cum went into her mouth, and I held her jaws in such a way as to prevent her spiting any of it out, watching the muscles of her throat contract as she swallowed it all save for the few drops that somehow trickled from her nostrils. I collapsed onto the mattress, but my cock stayed in her mouth and she kept sucking it until I heard her sucking turn to sobs and my limp dick fell from her mouth.
I sat up on the bed and looked at her. "Why the fuck are you crying?" I asked. "Because…I just…cheated on Charlie!" she cried. "Yeah, well I better get the fuck out of here before he gets home", I said. With that I got up and pulled my pants on. I paused at the door.
Becky was still lying naked and crying on the bed that the two of you sleep in. The bed you fuck in. (In fact, I am wondering as I write this if you fucked her last night when you got home? If you did, had she showered?) "You better get dressed and compose yourself", I told her.
"Your daughter is liable to come looking for you when I leave." "Yes," she said. "Wait…wait a second." She climbed off the bed and stood, her legs wobbly. She reached across the bed for the tennis dress and pulled it back on.
I noticed she didn't bother searching for the bra and panties. Walking with the unsteady gait of a woman who had just had the shit fucked out of her, your wife came to where I was standing at the door.
I opened the door and we went into the hallway and toward the front of the apartment. Becky was behind me and I couldn't tell if she was still wobbling as she walked.
Your daughter was still at the table studying. I mussed her hair as I walked by going toward the front later. I wanted to say, "Hey, kid, your mother's a great piece of ass," but of course I didn't.
I'm not that despicable.
Well, I trust you will get to read this someday. (There's still some of Becky's dried pussy juice on my cock that I can smell as I write this. She washed a lot of it clean while sucking me off but I can still detect some of her fragrance there.) And you know, there's the possibly, I would say a rather strong one, that I might fuck her again.
Let me tell you, she was all crybaby about it after the fact, but she was digging it at the time, pardner, let me tell you. I can't wait to see her reaction when I see her next. It might be in your presence. I'm sure I'll have the chance to get her alone again, and if so, there's no telling what sparks might fly.
But I won't write you about it if it happens.
I'll just let you wonder about it! Anyway, all you have to do to be reading this is outlive me. It might be years from now. You and Becky might be divorced by then. If so, I guess this won't sting so much.
However, if you're both still happily married, ouch, that might be tough.