best friend


A series of stories with transgender themes which I hope will be of interest to those who like women, or would like to be a woman. Which includes me!


I sat there, in the kitchen, suddenly very nervous again. The previous half-hour had started out nerve-racking enough but I had settled, more quickly than I had imagined. Carol hadn’t laughed, she had been kind, and interested, and considerate, and she had listened and asked intelligent questions. But then we had heard the car pull up outside and I had dashed upstairs to change – or just to hide. Now? I was sitting in the kitchen for a while. Waiting. Was this a good idea? I wasn’t sure. I nervously sipped on my drink and pulled my short skirt down, I didn’t want it showing my stocking tops.

I heard cheery laughter as Gemma chatted with Bob, and as he shared a joke about his dinner-with-a-client with his wife Carol. I had heard them go through and start talking quietly in the lounge, I couldn’t make out what they were saying. Then the door to the kitchen opened and Gemma came in and looked at me. “OK, dear? Ready for this?”


It had all started out so innocently that evening. I got home early, as I always tried to do when we had friends to stay. Carol and Bob were old friends, I had known Bob at college and he and I had been each other’s best man when we both got married within a couple of years of starting work.

Gemma and I had been happy for nearly twelve years, the usual ups and downs but we had worked to overcome them, and we had no reason to believe Carol and Bob didn’t share similar wedded bliss. But that evening when Carol had arrived early, to have a good chatter with Gemma before Bob came along later, we had learned that things were quite not as they seemed. I had been surprised when Gemma had called me in, to join in their discussion.

“I’ve told Gemma and she seems to think you should know too,” said the lovely Carol when I sat opposite her with my coffee.

I had been a little distracted, she was wearing a short skirt and I had always admired her legs. Gemma and I had often joked about that. But I tried to concentrate on what she was saying, not on her legs and her prominent bosoms.

“It’s Bob and I. We had a good talk last night. We’re thinking about a divorce.”

We were shocked to say the least. I had thought I knew them both very well, we were so often in each other’s houses and had been since just after our college days. I played golf with Bob, and all four of us frequently went down to the town pool for a swim when I really could admire Carol’s figure. And we’d all been to the cinema together, sometimes to the theatre. But, I realised, not so much recently, I remembered Gemma had commented on that a couple of days earlier.

I really didn’t know what to say. But Carol continued.

“It’s a collection of things really. We seem not to do so much together these days and – well – in bed, it just doesn’t seem to work anymore. I mean, it used to be so good … ”

At which she began to sob again. Gemma moved to comfort her, I myself stood up and walked over to kneel in front, to take her hand, to try to offer some support. Eventually she settled down and began to smile a little, difficult in the circumstances.

It was Gemma’s turn to speak.

“Alan, we have to help here, don’t we.”

I didn’t really see how, I mean it was between Bob and Carol really, OK we would help out in any way we could but I really didn’t see how. I looked at them both, two very attractive women in their mid-thirties, both somewhat upset. It was Gemma who surprised me by what she said next.

“Carol, you probably don’t realise this but Alan and I have been through this ourselves.”

I didn’t realise what was going to come next, or I would probably just have shouted ‘NO’ and run out. Carol looked across at me, then at Gemma.

“You two? Oh no, surely not, I mean, you and Alan, we’ve always looked at you as a sort-of role model where marriage is concerned. I mean, a couple of months ago I noticed you seemed a bit down, Alan, but since then, well, you’ve never seemed happier.”

I didn’t know how to explain, in fact she was so right, but things had changed in the previous two months.

“Well Carol. We had to talk it through, and we came up with a way of helping ourselves.”


“It was after we had watched a television program. I had an idea and Alan went along with it.”

No! No!

“Some people might think it a little unconventional but, well, in the privacy of our own home, as I said we came up an idea, it doesn’t affect other people and it works for us.”

No!!! Surely not. This was private, not for sharing. Not even with our nearest friends. Surely Gemma wasn’t going to tell Carol about this, about our secret. I looked straight at her, screaming ‘no’ with my eyes.

“Alan, I think this may be a good idea. To tell Carol at least, Bob won’t be here for quite a while yet. She can keep a secret, I trust her. And if it helps her to realise that someone like us can find a way through all the problems, well, I think we’re obliged to help. How about it?”

I sat and thought about it. Rather stunned. It was between Gemma and me. It was private, man-and-wife stuff, not for public consumption. Gemma had a point, I wanted to help Bob and Carol but was this the only way? Would it really help? I would be revealing all to Carol, maybe not to Bob, how would she react? On the other hand I had to admit that in a way I was rather thrilled by the thought of sharing it with another person apart from Gemma. Maybe I could do it.

“Alan, you can do it. Yes you can. Shall I tell Carol, do you want to be here when I do or would you rather go? You could go sort some stuff in the garden.”

Carol had recovered from her distress to some extent while we were discussing this. She looked across at me, then at Gemma, puzzled.

“Look, you two, I don’t want to cause even more problems. I mean, whatever Gemma is on about, Alan, if you’re not happy about it….”

“Alan, go on. I’m sure it will help, and I’m also sure you’d really like to. I’ll help. You go on upstairs and make a start, I’ll come and help in a minute. I really think it would be better to show Carol, not just to tell her. Please.”

And it was the way she said that ‘please’, that did it, she could wind me round her little finger when she said that, it was the look on her face when she said it, some combination of coy and sexy. I gave in, I stood up and went out and upstairs. Gemma joined me after a few seconds.

“Right then, Alan, I know you will enjoy this. You go and shower, I’ll get your stuff ready. So, shower I did.

When I returned to the bedroom Gemma had gone back downstairs again. I looked at what she had laid on the bed. I became just a little aroused, at the thought of what was to come and of Carol waiting downstairs. I set to it. About twenty minutes later Gemma came back to help with my preparation. She had worked part-time in a beauty salon when she had been in college herself and had become very skilful in make-up. After helping me she went back downstairs, and very soon I followed her.

I paused outside the lounge, then knocked gently on the door.

“Come in” I heard Gemma call out.

I opened the door and went in. Carol looked at me. I stood there, in front of her, rather differently dressed from what she had seen about an hour earlier. She looked me up and down. I felt very different too. My own hair was beginning to recede but the shoulder length deep brown wig I was wearing hid all that. The delicate clip earrings were different too, as was the ‘gold’ choker with a deep blue central stone. Gemma had done her usual excellent job on my makeup, I was thrilled with the overall effect of my bluish eye-shadow, thick eye liner and mascaras and the deep red lipstick, coated with a smooth lip gloss.

The clothing had changed too. No more shirt and trousers, I was wearing a sheer cream blouse with ruffles down the front between my ‘breasts’ and at the cuffs. It went well with the short tight black skirt and black stockings, held up by my suspenders. And the shoes, Gemma hadn’t realised which ones I was going to wear when she had done my make-up. I’d always loved high heels, for many years I’d loved to look at Gemma’s legs or Carol’s when they were wearing stilettos. And now I was wearing my own. I stood there, waiting to be inspected, my tight black basque holding me in, pushing my ‘boobs’ out, giving me a more-than acceptable figure. The little cap and frilly apron completed the effect – I was to all appearances a real ‘lady’s maid.’

Carol spoke at last.

“Wow! Alan, you look sensational – I never imagined ….. I wasn’t sure what Gemma was on about but this, well!! I don’t know how to say this, I hardly dare admit it but – Gemma – looking at Alan like this, I’m getting rather turned on!”

That was something new. And something which very much surprised me at first. But then I remembered the sort of comments which Gemma had made when she first saw me dressed, or at least the first time she saw me properly dressed. Made up that is, with nylons covering my shaved legs, with a tight basque or a waist cincher, able to show a proper female figure. In fact after she saw me for the first time Gemma had said I really looked like ‘a babe’. Gemma had liked it, maybe Carol did too.

In other circumstances I might have been really impressed that Carol found me attractive. In this case I was happy, maybe even thrilled, but not ‘excited’, not in a sexual way. The two girls persuaded me to walk round a little, to sit and to stand, then Gemma asked me to get them some drinks. I made each a vodka and lime, I decided there and then that if the chance ever came that was going to be ‘my’ drink. If ever. And it was then, just as we were talking about my dressing, and wondering if Gemma was going to ask me to join them for a drink, that we heard a car outside. Bob was back, from work.

I looked at Gemma, rather alarmed, this wasn’t supposed to happen, there was supposed to be another hour yet before he returned. I just had to get changed back, and quickly. I turned and dashed out and upstairs. I heard some shouting behind me but I didn’t wait to hear, I was in too much of a hurry. I just got into the bedroom and reached behind me to unzip my skirt when a hand grabbed mine from behind. It was Carol.

“Wait, Alan. Or should I say ‘Alice’. You’ve been so great so far, I want to know and I think Bob might too. Really, we do need help, Bob was getting rather desperate a couple of nights ago. And he was totally useless in bed last night. I know I shouldn’t be saying this to you or to Gemma but we do need someone we can trust. And you can trust us, both of us, too. Please. Come down. As you are. I’ll explain what is going on to Bob. If you can find it in you to help us this time, please Alan, I really don’t want Bob and I to have to go on like this.”

She was beginning to sob by then. I never could stand a woman crying, especially a friend. I just knew that, whatever the consequences, I had to say yes. So I did. Which is why, a few minutes later, I was at in the kitchen. Hesitant. Waiting. I could hear the girls and Bob talking next door. Presumably they were telling him what was going on. But how much of it? What was about to be expected of me? I heard Gemma’s voice calling out.

“OK, dear? Ready for this?”


I walked through into the lounge and turned to face Gemma. And Bob. I wasn’t sure exactly what the girls had told him, I hadn’t been able to hear properly what they had been talking about. Probably something about Gemma and me having had difficult times ourselves and of our pleasure in being able to work through them. But, from the look on Bob’s face, I could see Gemma hadn’t told him exactly how.

He said nothing for several seconds, then spoke, “Streuth Alan, You look sensational!”

Again, as with Carol, not quite what I had been expecting, Not laughter, not ridicule, not ‘Alan you look totally stupid’, nothing like that. I decided to maintain whatever illusion I had succeeded in creating.

“Good evening sir, may I get you a drink?”

It was the combination of the mild manner and the rather gentle voice which did it, I think, and Bob’s own obvious mental jump which matched the one I had made myself some months earlier. Not a massive jump, just an assumption about my name.

“Er – yes please – er – Alice, a whisky if I may.”

I smiled sweetly at Bob and turned towards the drinks trolley, pouring his drink and adding what I knew to be the right amount of soda. I turned towards him and noticed Gemma and Carol beaming at each other.

“Gemma, did you see that. You are a dirty old man, Bob Harris, I saw the way you tried to look up Alan’s skirt!”

Bob felt in some way caught out, he stuttered a little.

“Well – er – no, I was just looking – I mean – ”

“You were looking at his legs!” Gemma butted in.

The accusations were made light-heartedly but there was just a slight edge to what Carol was saying.

“Gemma, please, you have to say ‘she’ and ‘her’, after all it is a woman you can see isn’t it? And if you think her body looks good now you should see her in a mini-dress and sheer stockings!”

That broke the ice, all three of them collapsed in mild hysterics. I was just beginning to feel rather embarrassed, rather out of it, when Carol brought us all back down to Earth.

“Well, like I said, you really do look gorgeous Alice. If you’re being the maid maybe you’d like to freshen all our drinks and you can both tell us all about it.”

“Yes, do, Alice dear. And you can take off your cap and apron and come and have a drink too.”

I did another whisky and soda, and this time three vodka and limes, then sat down on the sofa next to Gemma. I carefully slid my legs to one side, trying to sit delicately, Carol smiled when she noticed my difficulty. We spent the best part of an hour chatting about my dressing, about how I felt being seen as a woman, and most importantly how Gemma and I thought it had helped us. We both had to admit – it wasn’t entirely the sex but that was an important part of it.

Making love as two women, with me often teasing Gemma’s cunt, with my long scarlet-nailed fingers or with my lips, basically playing at being two women in bed together, we loved it! Specially when we played with each other’s breasts, and even more specially when we both wore exotic and usually very expensive bras and panties. It was just fun! Carol kept asking about what it felt like, I am sure she was getting rather excited by images of me dressed in underwear. Maybe I was just flattering myself.

I had often wondered how things would have worked out if Bob and I had done things the other way round when we started double-dating, maybe me with Carol, Bob with Gemma. Could she have fancied me? And what’s more, did she in any way now? Even with me dressed like this? I was jolted back to reality when Carol came into the kitchen with me to clear away the glasses at the end of the evening.

“Well, Alice. It’s certainly been an interesting evening. Bob has enjoyed it, I can tell. Have you noticed?”

It did surprise me to hear her say that. She seemed to be saying something else but I didn’t really understand. I looked straight at her, she had a rather weird smile on her face. I was going to ask but she grinned even wider.

“Alan, you must have noticed Bob. His pants! He had a very large – well – boner! He kept looking at your legs and at your figure. You really do have a very good figure you know. Bob has been definitely very attentive, I’m beginning to get a bit worried about him!”

She was still grinning, thank goodness, not really seriously about her ‘allegations’ – I could well have worried if that hadn’t been the case.

Later that evening, as Gemma and I were getting ready for bed, I told my wife what Carol had said, I really wanted to know what she thought about it and whether she thought revealing all to Bob and Carol might have in any way helped them with their problem.

She did admit that she had noticed some sort of effect on Bob, and yes she had seen something swelling inside his trousers. We agreed that it was maybe not such a good idea to go on too much in the coming days about our own difficulties and how we had got through them in case it made Bob and Carol feel bad about telling us about their love life. However – we got some sort of an answer within minutes. As Gemma and I were making love, enjoying the feelings of each others’ underwear and long hair and the thrill of our painted lips caressing, we heard something from the bedroom next door.

The bed in there is our ‘second-best’ bed and it does creak at times. We heard a sound as if something was going on, then nothing for a minute, then a loud female -YES!. Maybe we had been some help!

The next few days passed by more normally. The nights were really not very special for Gemma and I at all, just interrupted by sounds of heavy activity in the other bedroom. It seemed we had stirred something in the two of them and generally during the day the two of them seemed more at ease. While they were staying we took Bob and Carol shopping in the more up-market areas of Birmingham, we ate out a couple of times, Bob and I even fitted in a round of golf one afternoon when the weather improved a bit and I managed to pull some strings at the club. We got back at about five to find the girls somewhat excited.

Gemma rushed and kissed me on the cheek.

“OK Alan. Fun time again, we’ve been shopping and Carol has got you a present or two.”

Carol grabbed my hand and dragged me up the stairs into the bedroom.

“Gemma and I were talking after you had gone out, Alan, and we decided. Both Bob and I would like to meet ‘Alice’ again, so I asked Gemma about buying you a dress – for a present. She told me about one you mentioned you’d seen a couple of weeks ago. It does took gorgeous, we’ve just GOT TO see you wearing it, Alan. And I want to help. Gemma agreed to let me do your make-up and so on. So. Strip, Alan, have yourself a shower, I’ve put some special shower gel on the shelf in the bathroom. So go to it. Girl!”

“Carol, Help! Do I have any say in this, I mean and what about Bob? What has he got to say about this?”

“Bob is going to love it, believe me. Certainly if the other night is anything to go by. Gemma has agreed. We haven’t even started on dinner so unless you want to starve tonight get a move on. I’ll be back up in ten minutes, Gemma and I have got some of your stuff out for you already.”

So I was stuck. Ganged up on. What Bob would make of it I didn’t know but I admit I was excited again at the thought of dressing in company. I had eventually enjoyed the evening earlier in the week. And I knew the black dress Carol had mentioned, Gemma had told me a couple of weeks earlier she wanted me to get it but I hadn’t had the chance to buy it yet. So I did set to it, the shower gel was indeed rather luxurious and very sweet-smelling. Very feminine. When I had shaved carefully – twice – I dashed into the bedroom and slid my panties on, pulling them up tightly to tuck my private parts in as tightly as possible.

Then I lay on the bed and carefully stuck my breast-forms in place. The previous occasion I had only slipped them into my bra but this time I wanted them to be secure, and more than that, carefully made-up to hide the edges. I did the make-up while I was waiting for Carol. Gemma was better at the facial cosmetics but I really had got the task of covering the seams round my ‘breasts’ down to a fine art. It was just very thin careful ‘plastering’ really! Carol was amazed at the sight when she did come into the bedroom a few minutes later.

“Wow, Alan, they look so good. I can’t see the join. It’s a good thing Bob isn’t here to see this at the moment. OK, get your bra on.”

After I’d done this I turned – to see Carol holding out a black satin ‘bustier’ – some sort of waist corset which was designed to hold me inwards in the right places.

“Er – Carol, I don’t really need that do I?”

“You wait, Alan. You haven’t seen the dress we’ve got for you yet.”

So I stepped into the bustier and pulled it up, round my waist, it reached up to just below my ‘tits’. And then Carol, from behind me, pulled the cords really tight – and nearly cut me in half. I grunted in surprise and exhaled at which point Carol pushed me in the back with one hand and pulled even tighter with the other. This time I did cry out.

“Alan, don’t worry, you need to do this. You need a tiny waist to look your best, believe me.”

I slowly recovered and began to breathe again, then I could speak.

“Streuth Carol, is this really necessary?”

“It is if you are going to fit into a size 10″

“A 10? Why on earth did you buy me a size 10. I’m a 14 really, though I can just about get into Gemma’s size 12 stuff sometimes. Why?”

“Because we had to get it, Alan, and it was in a sale, and the shop only had this size available in black, this or a 16. You just have to have a little black dress, every woman does, and you are going to look so good, believe me.”

She kept on saying that, I was not convinced. However I realised I had to go along with this and I was warming to the idea. Over the next twenty minutes Carol carried on with the transformation of Alan into Alice. She was obviously well primed by Gemma, knew where everything was and what to do for maximum effect. And she had a few ideas of her own.

“The 7-denier seamed black hold-ups were my idea, Alan, so that suspender buttons don’t spoil the line of the dress. They are long-line too, so they won’t show if you cross your legs. And the earrings, I got them for you. They’re only cheap costume stuff but they do the job very well, sort-of diamante pendants, they look really nice. Match the choker too, in the right light they’ll glisten as if they cost a million. Now, let me help you to get the wig on and the shoes, then let’s see how the make-up looks.”

The wig went on carefully, then the shoes. They amazed me. Gemma had decided I needed something a little more glamorous a couple of weeks ago, but these, well. They were high heels. VERY high heels, maybe 5″ or 6″, black patent stilettos. When I stood I was surprised how well I managed, walking around in them instantly as if I had worn heels like those all my life. At last Carol let me look in the mirror. I was amazed! Totally! She had done a good job, in fact she had done a brilliant job. The jewellery did sparkle and the whole effect, sexy black underwear and high heels, with the rather heavier and more provocative make-up than I usually wore in the house.

Something stirred down below when I looked at my reflection. I looked pretty good and I knew it. What would Gemma say to this?

“Carol, you have done a brilliant job, really, I’d never have believed it”

“Neither would I,” said a voice behind me. It was Gemma who had crept up the stairs and in to have a look. “I just wondered how you were getting on – and I see the answer is ‘famously’. Alice, you look sensational. OK Carol, where’s this dress you’ve got for my husband?”

Carol opened the wardrobe door and took out the dress on its hanger. Both Gemma and I breathed in loudly when we saw it. It was black, yes. But black p.v.c., and very short, and very small. Size 10 maybe but there was not a lot to it, Carol slid it off the hanger and pulled down the zip at the back.

“Right now, it is Alice now, isn’t it? Step into this and I’ll fasten it for you, let’s see how it looks.”

I stepped into the skirt and Carol tugged it up over my bum. I stretched my arms into the tight-fitting sleeves, then Carol zipped it up the back – not very far. And reached behind my neck to fasten the halter neck clip there. She fussed over the dress for a while, making sure I was tucked in properly and my bra was not visible. But an awful lot of my breasts were, it really was plunging between them, that dress and the bustier between them worked together to give huge bulging melons at the front. The back wasn’t much better, though my hair hung down below my shoulders there was a fair amount of bare skin showing.

I knew the answer I wanted to hear but I just had to ask, “Carol, can I get away with this, I mean, it’s rather risqué isn’t it?”

“Risqué?” butted in Gemma, “Alice, it’s positively obscene, it’s fucking lethal. I don’t know how you’ve managed it between the two of you but you’ve produced a sex kitten. Bob is going to positively love you, Alice.”

Bob! What would he think. I mean it was one thing to put on a skirt and a blouse and some make-up and to play at being a woman in the bedroom. But like this, heck, a couple of hours earlier I had been playing golf with him. This was something else.

“OK Alice, we’ll find out in a moment. Gemma, we’ll come down in a couple of minutes, I’ve got Alice’s makeup to finish and his – I mean her – nails to do. And – er – Gemma – that other thing we talked about. What do you think?”

Gemma looked at me carefully, then turned to Carol. “Are you sure?”

“Yes I am.”

“OK,” was all she said, and went out and down the stairs.

Carol sat down next to me to sort out my nails, it was a task I always enjoyed but usually found difficult, especially the end stages when I had seven or eight nails fitted. And that would certainly have been the case here. Carol wasn’t using sticky pads, she was gluing them on. And they weren’t my usual slightly longish nails, these were well over an inch long and they were scarlet.

“OK now, let’s finish you off, Alice, another coat of lipstick and liner pencil, then gloss. Then we’re done. Now. Have a final look.”

I did so and was not at all disappointed, the look was even more glamorous than before. Carol handed me a small black purse – I turned and looked once more in the long mirror. Internally I was terrified but really I was so thrilled. I had wanted to try to ‘look’ female, ever since Gemma and I had started dressing me up. And now I had my dream come true. I beamed at Carol.

“Wow, you really have done a great job, thank you so much.”

“OK Alice. Let’s see what Bob thinks.”

Now for the crunch. I carefully walked down the stairs, coping with the impossibly high heels better than I would have thought, and went into the lounge. I saw Gemma first, it was the first time she had seen the ‘full’ me. Then I saw Bob and he saw me. He stood up and gulped.

“Streuth Alan, you look totally sensational,” he said with real feeling, I could tell he meant it.

Carol had followed us down the stairs and gone past us, she turned and offered a whisky and a gin to us.

“Let me be your waitress this time, Alice. Please, sit down on the sofa you two, I want to see you together.”

So we did, we sat down side by side. Gemma and Carol were looking at us, it was Carol who spoke first.

“I’m sorry, Gemma, there’s no way I could dress Bob up in any way to look nearly as good as Alan does, he’s far too wide and much too tall. I mean in heels like those he’d be about 6 foot 10 nearly. And he’s too broad. But they do make a lovely couple don’t they.”

I may well have blushed, sitting there next to Bob, my legs crossed and showing off my nylon-clad thighs.

“You’re right” said Carol, “but I still think Bob can get some more fun out of this situation. Apart from what you have been doing in bed the past few nights that is.”

It was Bob’s turn to look embarrassed. “Sorry you two but, well, you know, I mean it’s the novelty of it, seeing Alan dressed like he was the other day, I mean, he looked really gorgeous. And he looks even better today doesn’t he?!”

Gemma stood up and disappeared upstairs for just a few moments, coming back holding her silk jacket, the one I had bought for her on a trip to Paris the previous year. “Try this on, Alice.” I did.

“OK you two, come on Bob, you’ve only had the one drink so you should be OK to drive.”

Bob and I looked at each other. Something was going on, and I could tell he didn’t know what it was either. Gemma smiled at us as we stood there side-by-side.

“Bob, you’d better take your car. Carol and I are going to change just a little more formal. I told you we weren’t cooking tonight, you’re going out with Alice. How about the ‘Grey Fox’, you’re not likely to meet anybody who knows either of you there. Don’t look like that, Alan, you know you really want to, don’t you? And we both want to see how you get on.”

Bob and I both realised simultaneously. They’d arranged a ‘date’ for us! We both, together, almost in synchronised voices, called out together ‘No’. But we hadn’t a chance. The two girls had decided. And though I was a little loath to admit it I was secretly in ecstasy just thinking about it. Being seen, in public, wearing such a promiscuous outfit. And with a man too. I couldn’t really tell what Bob thought about it but, just over fifteen minutes later we were walking hand-in-hand from the car park to the pub.

“Alan, look, we have to go through with this, let’s just get it over with. A couple of drinks and then we can go back to your house. OK?”

“OK Bob. As you say. But please, go along with this will you. I really don’t want to be caught, you know. I’d absolutely die of embarrassment even with strangers. Please, play along will you?”

I squeezed Bob’s hand to try to encourage him. Looking into his eyes I think I had misinterpreted what he was saying, he looked somewhat horrified. I realised it was the squeeze which had done it, a show of affection, not appropriate in the situation. But we still had to go ahead with this.

“Please Bob.”

He relented, just a little. As we approached the door he reached out to hold it open for me and smiled.

“After you, Alice.”

And I walked in. Into the pub. The Grey Fox, the lounge bar of. So there I was, with a man beside me holding my hand. A rather attractive man, I realised. And I saw the heads turn. To look at me. To look at my figure, my face, my hair, my legs. Inspecting all of me. And they saw a woman. I recognised the looks on the men’s faces, after all I’d done it myself, stared at a woman entering a room, looked and imagined myself with her. But there was more. I looked across at Bob. He was beginning to smile and I knew exactly where he was coming from. After all I’d been in that situation too.

Walking into a pub or a restaurant with Gemma, I’d felt pride as other men looked at my date, my woman, wanting her, it had made me feel good. And I wanted Bob to feel good too. I slipped my hand from his and took his arm, smiling across at him. He realised. I had to play a part too. We walked over to the bar. The barman came over to us immediately, even though I could see there were a couple of other customers he should have served first.

I smiled again at Bob and put on what I hoped was my very best and sexiest ‘Alice’ voice, “I think I’ll have a gin-and tonic, darling.”

Bob ordered my drink and a double scotch for himself, I realised he was probably more nervous than me, he had decided he needed a double. Which was surprising really, considering I was the one who was taking the real risk. I mean, I did stand out somewhat. There weren’t many guys who went out for the evening with another guy, at least not dressed as I was. From the bar I could see my reflection in the darkened window at the other side of the room. Not clearly but I could make out the main features, the tight revealing dress, the long legs and ultra-high heels, the long wavy blonde hair, the provocatively made-up face. I looked. And I thought ‘I like this’! I did.

The whole feminine appearance was turning me on, I could feel the tightness of my trapped organ between my legs. As I sat and crossed my legs, feeling my hem slide up a little over my thighs I realised the effect it was having. Not just on me but on several of the men in the room, they were getting excited too. I realised the feeling of power a woman can have over a man, appealing to his sexual instincts. My previous exploits had all been at home with Gemma. But here and now, this was something different.

I sipped my drink slowly, revelling in the experience and, to some extent, playing at it. Like when I noticed one guy looking at me, I slid my hand up along my thigh, glorying in the sensation as my long red nails moved erotically over my nylon-clad thighs, and I watched him squirm. And again as I teased another man by slowly circling my red lips with my tongue, my eyes smiling at him as I teased him to some extent. Bob settled into it too. We talked quietly, about what we felt like, he said that he had got turned on the other night and that he and Carol had better sex than they had done for a while.

He got us another drink and began to really warm to the experience. Then – he put his hand on my knee. I actually think he did it because he wanted to but he quickly leaned over to speak quietly to me.

“Alan – er Alice, I mean. We have to keep up the appearance, don’t we? Maybe we should be going soon.”

He didn’t need to say that – suddenly Carol and Gemma were there, beside us.

“Look, you two, I think you’ve done enough for now. And I’m just beginning to get a little worried about Bob’s motives,” said Gemma. “He’s had several drinks already and I know from experience what that can lead to. Come on Alice, Bob can’t drive, I’ll take you home, Carol can drive Bob.”

As she pulled into out drive some way ahead of Carol in our car, Gemma turned to me. “Well Alice, I could tell you enjoyed yourself. I knew you would. I’m really not sure how to react to seeing the two of you together, but if later on you and Bob – well – you know …”

She left the sentence unfinished. I was shocked. What had she just said? Had she really just given her permission for me and Bob – me and her husband, that is, to – well, it didn’t bear thinking about. I mean Bob was a guy, after all, and me? I was just a little confused. And I suppose I might have stayed confused until, ten minutes later as we all sat in our lounge again, having another drink, Bob put his hand on my leg again, and gently squeezed it!

It was my reaction which, thinking about it afterwards, was surprising. I looked across at Gemma to see her watching us – she smiled at me. I was feeling so aroused at that moment, the whole evening, the dressing, the drinks, the feelings in the pub, they all combined in my mind, I felt I knew at least something about what it must feel like to be a woman. To be looked at, maybe even admired, maybe even lusted after. I looked into Bob’s eyes – and I saw lust, and I couldn’t help myself. I leaned over towards him and, ever so gently, touched my lips to his. I wasn’t sure whether it was something I wanted to do but it was definitely something he wanted, I had seen that. And it was definitely pleasant at least, he responded by gripping my thigh harder and sliding his other hand round my waist to pull me towards him.

Our lips pressed together a little harder, then I pulled back. In my sexy voice I spoke.

“Wow, Bob darling, that was great. How about more?”

I moved in again and this time Bob definitely responded, sliding his hand right up inside my skirt and opening his own mouth to admit my probing tongue. This wasn’t just kissing, it was necking, and more still. I could feel the reaction inside his trousers as he became aroused and, out of sight of Carol and Gemma, my own right hand reached down to caress the bulge. This was moving into new territory.

It was Carol who spoke next, moving us not just into new territory but right off the planet.

“Er – Alice. Gemma and I had rather wanted to stay up for a while to watch a movie on TV. It’s a real weepy – Sleepless in Sacramento or something like that. You could stay and watch it with us if you like. But if you two want to – er – go somewhere else – don’t let us keep you.”

As we separated slightly I watched Bob. He had realised what was being said and, despite now being rather drunk, he rebelled against it. I could tell what he was thinking – he knew the ‘awfulness’ of what he had just done, he’d been kissing a guy, and in front of both our wives at that. And worse still I knew he had actually been enjoying it. And now, amazingly, his wife was actually giving me permission to make a move on him. Seriously. The total unexpectedness of the situation amazed me. Did I want to?

YES! I knew I had to take charge. I leaned over to gently slide my creamy lips over his briefly, then stood up and provocatively slid my hands down my sides to straighten my skirt, wriggling my bulging tits as I did so.

“Like what you see, Bob, my darling?” I picked up my handbag and leaned right down over Bob so that he couldn’t help staring right down my deep cleavage. “Do you, Bob? Fancy me do you?”

His breathing became heavier, mine too became rather erratic as I realised that it was me having this effect on him. OK I was surprised but I was also thrilled. It was me, Alice, who excited him. He wanted me, I know he did, but it was as a woman I had such an effect on him. I looked him in the eyes, he smiled. Yes, he wanted me too. I leaned over and whispered quiet in his ear.

“Are you up for this Bob, I can tell you are feeling really randy, your cock is swelling something massive in those trousers. How about it then? Am I woman enough for you?”

His initial reaction was one of surprise, of pulling back from the brink of wherever we were. But I was ready for that. As I sat down again next to him on the sofa. I turned my body towards him and slid my right leg right across his lap giving him an eyeful of my ‘fuck-me’ stiletto, my long black seamed stocking and a tantalising glimpse of bare thigh above my exposed stocking top. He really had no choice, he just had to reach down and grab my leg just below the knee.

I was ready, I wriggled so that his hand slid up over my knee towards my thigh, at the same moment covering his mouth with mine and working on it with my creamy red lips. Suddenly he did lose control, his own lips opened to admit my playful tongue. I wriggled more and felt his other hand begin to tease my breast through my thin tight dress.

“Is that OK my darling? How about it then?”

“Christ Alan – er – Alice, I don’t know. I really want – heck, I really do – want to ….”

He couldn’t finish the sentence, couldn’t express his desire. So I did it for him. I stood up and reached down to pull his hand towards me and spoke, very invitingly.

“Come on, Bob my darling. Time for bed.”

Had I just said that? Of course I had! I was on cloud nine, revelling in the effect of my feminine wiles, on the guys in the bar and now on my best friend Bob. I wanted him. I didn’t look at the girls, just pulled Bob vertical and dragged him, not too unwillingly, after me. And up the stairs into the master bedroom. The room where Gemma and I had made love so passionately and erotically so many times. But now I was going to have a different experience.

I just didn’t give Bob time to think.

“Bob, my darling, can you unzip me please?” I asked, turning my back to him and moving close.

I expected him just to start to undress me but he had suddenly gotten into the swing of things himself. His right hand snaked round my waist and up to cup my right breast, his head buried in my neck as he kissed me. I turned and flung my arms round his neck. “Jeez, Bob, that is SO good!”

“Christ, Alan – Alice. YES!!”

We kissed again, hard again, and I felt Bob’s big hands pull on the zip of my dress behind me. I stood back and slid my arms out, letting the dress slide to the ground, then stepped out of it. I stood there, in basque and hose, heels and panties, just feeling ever-so-sexy. I could tell simply by looking down at Bob that he felt so too. I reached down and unzipped his pants, then slid my hand in and grasped his erect penis. It was the most gorgeous cock I had ever had the pleasure of touching – in fact apart from my own it was the first.

Miles stared intently at the Sharpie pen clenched so tightly in his grip that his knuckles were blanched white, at the lined notebook opened to a fresh, new page. It was college ruled, perforated, with exactly thirty-three blue lines running horizontally across each page. He’d studied it with such intensity, such scrutiny, noting every detail about it that his vision was beginning to blur.

And he’d yet to write a single word.

Gnawing on his bottom lip, he narrowed his eyes at the still unmarked paper, feeling the tumultuous whirlwind of his turbulent emotions give a vicious undulation. These feelings, so long unexpressed, so long suppressed, needed to be released somehow. What better way than through the written word? God knew he would never be able to voice them aloud.

Miles set his jaw resolutely, the tip of the pen finally touching down on paper. And he began to write.


I’ve asked myself a million and one times how to start this. And a million and one times I’ve been left unanswered, struck with what I believe is Cowardly Lion Syndrome, something inside too scared or insecure or some shit to say what needs to be said.

I can’t be a coward anymore. Maybe I’ve visited Oz and found some courage or maybe I just finally grew a pair. Or maybe I’ve just kept all this shit bottled up for so long that now it needs to be released or else I’ll go insane from the fucking strain.

That rhymed, huh? I’m a poet and didn’t know it… and, of course, this would be the part where you’d say, “I make it rhyme every time.” A stupid thing, dating back to those milk and cookie pre-school days together. It’s funny the memories your own brain dredges up, all in an attempt to sidetrack you from your main objective.

Getting sidetracked can’t happen right now.

Jor, I’ve kept this inside for too long, buried so deep in my subconscious that even I wasn’t aware of it for the longest time. But now I can’t deny the truth, or escape from it or fucking deflect anymore. I need to be honest about this, if only to save myself from the massive coronary this internalized shit is gonna cause me. Or maybe it’s an ulcer. Aneurysm? Whatever the case, I need to preserve what sanity I have left, and to do that I need to practice some honesty here.

The truth, my oldest and most trusted friend, is that I’m… in love with you.

I don’t know how or when it happened, or how and when I actually realized it. The only thing I do know is that it happened and it’s inescapable, staring me in the face every time I glimpse my reflection in the mirror, haunting my dreams, both day and night, and coloring every conversation I have with you. Pretty soon it’s gonna be so obvious that you’ll guess and I’ll be left in the dust, being deprived of even your friendship, ’cause you’re gonna be pissed that I didn’t fess up myself.

Being a lovesick fool, I can handle. Getting you amputated from my life, I can’t.

This is something I’ve tried and tried to tell you. But every time I do my voice box secures itself with a fucking padlock and won’t let anything intelligible scrape past my throat. It got even worse when Rebecca entered the equation. You fell so hard, so fast, and I couldn’t really blame you. I mean, she’s beautiful, generous and has a heart of gold. She’s the perfect woman and I practically gift-wrapped her, placed a bow atop that pretty blonde head of hers, and hand delivered her to you. I’m cursing myself for those introductions I made now. She makes you happy, though, so I can’t regret it too much. My own happiness is overrated.

But that still leaves me with this burning confession, festering inside me and possibly going cancerous. I can’t stop my heart from giving these agonizing wrenches every time I see you kiss Becca, wishing it were my lips yours were coaxing apart. I can’t stop the nauseous plummeting of my stomach every time you hug her, wishing it were me you were embracing in your strong arms. I can’t stop the forceful constriction of my chest every time you two disappear into your room, because I know that you’ll soon be sinking into the warm heat of her body, and I wish it was me. And believe me, Jor, this self-imposed torture of mine is worse than bamboo shards under the fingernails. Way more painful, too.

You’ve been my best friend since we were shittin’ green. Hell, I think we were both chilling in the womb at the same time, our respective conceptions synchronized. While we were growing up, you always had my back, loaning me your couch when the ‘rents were starting World War III in my house, giving me half of your PB&J when my lunchbox proved to be empty because my pickled-brained mother forgot to whip me up something. And in high school, when I was only just starting to realize that I wasn’t ogling the girls but the guys, you boycotted homecomings and proms with me because I was too scared to show up with a guy, but still too proud to show up with a girl, either.

I’ve tried, really tried, to be there as much for you as you have been for me. That’s the honest truth, Jor. But I think I’m gonna have to start separating myself from you two. Because, as much as my heart cries out for you, I’m not bastard enough to compromise what you’ve found with Becca. But seeing you two together is too painful, a piece of me dying each day that I can’t have you for myself.

I guess that’s it. Please know that I love you, Jordan, forever and always. That will never change. Hell, I even love Becca, and know you two will be much happier without me playing the annoying third wheel all the time. But also know that I am unconditionally, unequivocally, forever and truly yours. It’s just becoming too difficult for me, having to pretend that I’m not miserable inside, but I can manage it for you today. I can be the dutiful best friend for one more day—

Clenching his teeth, Miles leaned back in his chair, tossing the pen down before he could go on with the sob fest. This was supposed to have been cathartic, writing down his feelings, a way to release them and absolve himself or something. If anything, it only ripped off the scab, leaving him broken and bleeding.

A brief knock at the door heralded Jordan. He stepped inside the small room Miles had retreated to, his black tux contrasting so nicely with his flaxen hair and light features. His face radiated the happiness Miles had so recently mentioned in his letter, blue eyes sparkling like gemstones.

“Are you ready?” Jordan demanded, his lips spreading into a wide grin.

Shoving down the new wave of turbulent emotions brewing, Miles forced an answering smile, crumpling up the unfinished letter and trashing it in favor of the speech he’d painstakingly written the night before. He smoothed his own tux, tugging at the sleeves to straighten them, all to avoid Jordan’s too perceptive gaze. “Yeah, man,” he said. “Let’s get you hitched.”

*All characters engaged in any sort of sexual conduct are at least 18 years of age. Story set in Ottawa where the legal drinking age is 19.*

“Okay, that last shot took me past tipsy, I’m full-on drunk now!”

Dave didn’t want to admit it, but he knew it was the same for him. He watched Hannah chuckle furiously after her admission and he smiled absent-mindedly.

Hannah was the girlfriend of Dave’s best friend, Matt. The two boys had met Hannah at the same time 6 years ago during their first year of high school. They had all graduated around two years ago, but Matt was the only one who skipped university. He had recently got an entry-level office job through his father, so he couldn’t come out on mid-week drinkscapades with his two favourite people as often as he used to.

Luckily, Matt and Dave had opposite romantic taste in women, so Dave wasn’t jealous when Matt and Hannah became an item after the three of them were friends for a year.

Not to say that Dave and Hannah didn’t get along – they considered each other to be very close friends – Hannah just wasn’t Dave’s type. She was a bubbly, cutesy, tiny blonde thing with a pixie cut and very slim figure. Dave was usually more into the brooding, sarcastic, and voluptuous brunette types.

Despite his preferences, Dave was still a straight man with a working pair of eyes, so he wasn’t blind to Hannah’s attractiveness. Her huge green eyes were always captivating within her face full of otherwise petite features. Hannah’s chest growing from completely flat to a very pert set of B cups didn’t go unnoticed by Dave either in the half decade he had known her.

More importantly, Dave loved Hannah and Matt as a couple. He thought the two were incredibly well-matched. They still fully supported and loved each other after 5 years together, and according to both of them, the sex life was still on fire even after they moved in together over a year ago.

Dave would sometimes harbour a dull jealousy over their successful relationship. Dave was always in and out of short terms flings and while the casual sex was great and he was only 20, he did sometimes crave the company of someone a bit more constant. His longest relationship had been 4 months.

“Last call,” muttered an annoyed server as she brushed by them.

“Ugghhh, it’s already 2?” Hannah slurred to Dave, “I should go home. See if Matt will give me any.”

Dave laughed, “he’s got work in the morning! Although I’m sure he wouldn’t mind being woken up for the right reasons.”

The two of them had always been very open, so Dave didn’t really find it strange to talk about his best friend’s sex life with his best friend’s girlfriend.

“You’d think so, right? He’s a MONSTER if he’s woken up in the middle of the night with work the next day. And not in the fun way.”

“Oh well, I’m sure you can last, Hannah.”

“CAN I?!” Hannah said with mock desperation before giggling. She shifted uncomfortably for a moment before adding, “or maybe I’ll just blow another stranger again.”

If it wasn’t for the sign of nervousness, Dave would have taken the comment entirely as part of Hannah’s strange and crude sense of humour. The two knew each other well enough, however, to pick up on subtle tells and Dave gave Hannah a sceptical look. She giggled nervously and he decided to shake it off and join her in laughing. Hannah seemed relieved at his choice.

The two joked some more as drunk people are wont to do. They touched each other’s arms and didn’t make a lot of sense, as drunk people are wont to do. Then they finally settled up and went out onto the warm summer night.

“Ahhh,” Hannah breathed, “it’s always such a relief to come out of a bar after so long. The silence is beautiful!” Dave smiled at her and nodded his agreement. She continued, “it’s like a whole other world out here. Almost as if I left my drunkenness inside.”

As if on cue, Hannah stumbled over her own feet and just managed to catch herself on a telephone pole to stop from faceplanting. She laughed manically and Dave couldn’t help but join in.

“I think you brought SOME of your drunk outside with you!” Dave managed to get out through his laughter. This caused Hannah – who had just released the telephone pole from her grip – to laugh so hard she needed support again and she used Dave this time.

The two clutched at each other while they laughed over practically nothing until the moment eventually faded. They started to walk again, but Hannah kept her hand around Dave’s waist and Dave kept his arm around Hannah’s shoulder; an easy feat with Hannah’s tiny 5’3 height. This wasn’t an uncommon way for the pair to walk around while drunk, and they would even do it in front of Matt. Still, Dave felt a little strange after Hannah’s bizarre comment in the bar and he was silent while he tried to think of subtle ways to bring it up.

He wasn’t given much time, however, as Hannah chirped up fairly quickly, “why so quiet, big guy?”

And with the subtlety of a jackhammer, Dave responded, “was thinking about that weird blowjob comment you made earlier.” He felt Hannah tense up for a brief moment before replying.

“Yeah, well, Matt doesn’t really want blowjobs as often as I want to give them, so…”

“Wait, what?! I thought you guys were doing well!”

“We are!” Hannah exclaimed while breaking out of their walking stance to turn and face Dave. “I love Matt with all my heart, and the sex is great, I just have a stronger drive than he does.”

Dave felt nervous and upset and weirded out and his voice reflected it. “Wait, so… what. What does that mean? What are you saying?”

“I dunno,” Hannah shrugged and looked at the sidewalk.

Dave hated himself for noticing how adorable she looked standing there. Her ripped jeans hugging her tiny waist. A little of her flat stomach showing below her seafoam green tank top. A white bra purposefully peaking out of the bust line of the shirt. Her young, firm cleavage with such incredible volume and shape that it could put many larger busts to shame.

Hannah squirmed under Dave’s silence, assuming he was making different observations. She spoke up, “Hey, let’s talk about this. I’m hungry anyway. Sub?”

Dave snapped out of his train of thought and grimly agreed. They silently made their way to their common late night drunken hangout: a semi-sketchy sub sandwich place that was mercifully open 24/7.

The pair had been there so often that if the staff was even remotely friendly, they would be able to order “the usual”. As it stood, they had to spell out their orders to the miserable looking guy behind the counter. They paid and took their subs silently to their usual table, both dreading the impending conversation.

They made small talk while they ate and Dave tried to navigate the endless things he was feeling. He saw Hannah in a new light that made him both angry at her and attracted to her. Two things that felt fairly foreign to him. It didn’t help that she was holding her long sandwich in both hands, stuffing it into her mouth. Why had Dave never made that dirty connection before?

Hannah appeared to have forgotten the context of their visit and was blissfully engaged in her sandwich. Dave hadn’t even taken a bite yet. He eventually noticed and tried to catch up to distract himself. But his attempts didn’t last long as Hannah’s speed was causing her eating to be messy. Despite the absurdity, Dave couldn’t help but be very aware of his crotch tightening as Hannah wiped excess mayo off her mouth with a finger and proceeded to suck it off.

He survived the tension, however, and soon the pair had nothing but crumbs in front of them. Dave felt the blood start to drain from his crotch and flow back into his brain. The feelings of confusion, fear and hurt returned. He wanted answers from Hannah. She spoke first.

“Look, Dave. I’m sorry.”

“For what? For cheating on Matt? Is that actually what you’re saying?”

“Dave!” Hannah said in desperation, “Can you listen to me first?”

Dave just glared at her. Neither of them were used to Dave like this. Forever an affable and understanding guy, this snippy and stand-offish side was truly a rare one for him. Hannah continued.

“Look, I’ve been with Matt for 5 years. We still desperately love each other, we only fight often enough to be normal, and the sex is still amazing when it happens.” Dave rolled his eyes, but Hannah ignored it.

“I want to spend the rest of my life with Matt, and I think he feels the same way. The thing is, Matt was so many sexual firsts for me. In high school I was nervous and he was endlessly horny. I made him wait for a lot of things.”

While Dave was open with Hannah and Matt, their conversations usually weren’t so earnest. They would casually make mention of some sexual act or escapade. It was never an emotional assessment. Dave tried to stay angry, and feigned disinterest by looking down as he crumpled his sandwich wrapping.

“After a year or two, I dunno, I guess I had a sexual awakening or something. Sounds cheesy, but it’s kinda true. Everything turned me on and for a while, we couldn’t stay out of the bedroom.”

Dave couldn’t help but picture this, but his head only contained images of Hannah. Pictures he had never conjured before. Hannah gasping in pleasure as she rode cowgirl. Hannah biting her bottom lip and clutching the sheets as a tongue gave her pleasure. Hannah dropping to her knees…

Dave refocused his eyes to pull his mind out of his fantasies. He looked at Hannah chewing on her finger while she tried to find her next words. He cursed himself as he felt his erection growing.

“But, I dunno. The past year or so, he just doesn’t want it as often. I know he still wants me, and he’s still totally into it when we do fuck or mess around or whatever. It’s just like his drive has gone way down and mine has shot way up. If I had it my way, I’d suck him off every night.”

“And, err, he doesn’t want that?”

Hannah noticed Dave’s tone and felt less nervous about what she was saying. The alcohol was the only reason she had the guts to even start her story. Although it wasn’t her intention, she knew that Dave was embarrassed by her admissions. They let her continue.

“No, not every night. And whatever, that’s fine. Most long-term couples would kill for a sex life as steady as ours. I just…”

“…need to find random guys to blow?” Dave had found his anger again, although he had not lost his erection.

“You can trivialize anything when you say it like that, Dave! I felt really guilty and needed to tell somebody, and you’re the only one I trust enough who isn’t Matt.”

“So… what? How long has this been going on? How many guys have you fooled around with?”

“Err, a few months. A few guys. And only blowjobs.”

Dave once again suppressed the image of the petite blond in front of him wrapping her lips around his stiffening cock. He regretted having so many drinks now as it became more and more difficult for him to see where his anger and confusion ended and where his growing horniness started. He did his best to access the thoughts controlled by his brain, and not his dick.

“That doesn’t even make sense! If you’re going to cheat, why not go all the way?”

“I don’t like it as much. I love sucking cock.”

She can’t keep saying stuff like that, Dave thought.

Hannah’s blunt way of talking about sex had never crossed into the “hot” side of his brain, and now that it had, it was hard to get a grip on it. Plus, it had always seemed like she liked sex, not that she was obsessed with it.

“Hannah, I don’t know. This is so weird. I’m so… weirded out. And mad at you!”

Everything Dave said was true, he just wasn’t telling her about the other reactions he was having. Hannah hung her head in shame and Dave took the opportunity to take in her impossibly perky cleavage. He intended on taking a quick look, but her chest looked so inviting. Hannah’s young skin was so tight and smooth as it disappeared into fabric. Her small breasts stood out proudly on her small frame. Perfect twin globes in a tight tank-top.

Dave got so caught up in Hannah’s tits that it took him a full second to realize she had already raised her head. He snapped his own up; caught in the act. Hannah raised an eyebrow, but didn’t verbally acknowledge it.

“I know, I know you’re mad. But look. If I want to spend the rest of my life with Matt, I don’t want to resent him. I think it’s fine if his sex drive is low, but if I don’t get a dick in my mouth more than once a week, I AM going to start to resent him.”

“Jesus, Han. Do you have to say it like that?”

“What? I always talk like that.”

“Yeah, but now it’s about… I dunno. It’s Matt. And you. And random dudes.”

“What, are you jealous?”

“Shut up! Ugh, we have to tell Matt.”

Hannah’s eyes bulged and she lost some of the confidence she had gained over the conversation.

“Nono, please! Please, Dave! We can’t! I know it’s fucked up, but it’s for Matt.”

“What is? Being a slut?”

“What’s wrong with being a slut?”

“Uh…er…nothing, I guess. Unless you’re dating my best friend!”

“Well what am I supposed to do, Dave? I tried ignoring my urges, I really did. I tried getting Matt to blow his load down my throat more than a few times a month, but I can’t force him to want it.”

Dave’s brain and crotch were engaged in fierce war. His brain was furious at Hannah, but his cock grew somehow harder hearing her flippantly talk about her craving for dick.

“I don’t know, Han. You’re really putting me in a horrible position.”

Hannah paused before setting her mind.

“I could make it up to you, you know…”

Dave made the mistake of not responding right away and Hannah pounced on the open gap.

“C’mon, Dave. Are you going to tell me you don’t kinda like the thought of me sucking off random dudes? Being their slut for a night?”

Dave was used to Hannah’s potty mouth, but not when she was being legitimately sexual. It was so weird and so hot that he still couldn’t respond. Hannah took his silence as a cue to continue. Her mind was full of doubts and hesitation, but her face only showed raw sexual confidence.

“Is that why you were staring at my tits, Dave? Were you picturing them naked as I suck you off? My tank top pulled down just to show off my little round tits? They’re so perky that they look bigger naked.”

Dave finally opened his mouth.

“Hannah, I really don’t think…”

“That’s not very convincing, Dave. I bet you ‘really don’t think’ anything. I bet you ARE thinking about how hot it would be if you fucked my slutty little mouth. I really love dick, Dave. I love feeling my mouth filled with a guy’s hot hard rod. I like to feel their knees weaken as I move my tongue around the head. It gets me so wet, Dave. I come just from guys draining their balls into my mouth.”

“Hannah, you need to stop. We’re just drunk. You’re my best friend’s girlfri-”

“-I know, doesn’t that make it more hot?”

The rest of the empty restaurant had disappeared to Dave. He stared at Hannah’s lips. Had they always been that full? How had he never noticed how hot she was?

“Pleeease, Dave? Let me suck your dick. I know you’re hard for me. Let me be your bad little slut.”

Usually Dave didn’t like the cutesy thing, but the juxtaposition with her language was intense. Hannah playfully bit her finger and innocently twisted back and forth in her chair. Dave’s eyes glanced down to her firm cleavage and Hannah instantly responded by pushing her arms together to make it deeper.

“Han,” Dave started, “don’t do this to me.”

“It takes two,” she said. Suddenly, she stood up and stretched. Dave didn’t pretend to hide his leering. She then pointedly looked at Dave and softly said, “I’m going to the bathroom, Dave.” Then she bit her lower lip and turned around slowly, allowing Dave a look at her rounded ass. Had it always been so firm and shapely?

Then she was gone around the corner.

Dave let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

I’ll sit here and wait for my hard-on to go away, he thought. I can’t betray my best friend of 10 years just so his super-hot long-term girlfriend can suck me off.

Dave stood up.

I won’t do this, he thought. It’s too complicated for just a little pleasure.

Dave walked downstairs.

His brain tried feebly to contradict his actions again, but it was soon drowned out with nothing. Dave’s mind was blank as he walked to the lone bathroom at the end of the hall. He didn’t hesitate to open the door. Hannah was already on her knees.

“Good slut,” he said.

Hannah moaned.

Dave undid his belt and set his cock free from the clothing it had been straining against. Hannah bounced on her knees in excitement. She went to dive in, but Dave grabbed her by the back of the head.

“Not yet.” Dave had never been so aggressive, but something about the surreal nature of the situation, Hannah’s dirty talk earlier, and maybe even the fact they were so close made it come naturally.

Hannah whimpered.

“How badly do you want my dick?”

“Soso bad. Pleeaase, I’m hungry for it. All I can think about is your hard dick.”

“You want to suck your boyfriend’s best friend’s dick?”

Hannah spread her knees and shoved a hand down her jeans.

“Fuck yes, please let me suck your cock.”

Dave released Hannah’s head and she pounced on his. True to her word she sucked his throbbing prick like she had been waiting for it for years. She gasped and moaned desperately as her tongue swirled around his cock while her head moved up and down on it. One hand pumped his dick while her other furiously worked her soaking wet pussy. Although frantic, her actions still appeared calculated. She wasn’t lying about her skill, Dave had never felt such pleasure.

Suddenly her structure started to fall apart. Hannah’s body shook and her technique slipped. She stuffed her face as far down Dave’s dick as she could as he finally realized she was coming.

“Already?” is all Dave could manage. Hannah pulled her mouth off of him to nod with a mix of embarrassment and pride.

“I thought you were going to pull your shirt down,” Dave said with mock severity.

“Sorry sir,” Hannah giggled as she instantly obeyed.

Dave couldn’t believe how high her breasts were on her chest.

“Holy fuck, Han, you have awesome tits.”

Hannah laughed and pushed them together, showing off their incredible elasticity and volume.

“I’m pretty proud of them. But I thought you liked huge tits.”

“I do, that’s why it’s even more impressive that yours impress me!”

Hannah giggled again as her eyes dragged back down to his crotch.

“Mmm, good. Still rock hard.”

Dave said nothing, but pushed her head back toward it. Hannah happily complied with an open mouth and happy moan.

It was like an entirely different person was giving him an equally pleasurable blowjob. Hannah was now more rhythmic. Her hand made long steady strokes. Not too slow and not too fast. Her mouth kept the exact same pace. Dave made his pleasure audible and placed a hand on the back on her head.

“You really do love sucking dick, don’t you?”

A muffled “mm-hm” is all Hannah could manage as her focus remained on her task.

Dave could feel his orgasm rise and fall as he tried to hold it back. Every time he pushed it back, it didn’t push back as far. Every time he got close to coming, he would get closer to the point of no return.

Hannah had methodically sped up her pace without Dave really noticing, but she was now back to pumping his dick into her mouth at incredible speed. Her hand had slipped back between her legs.

“You gunna come for me, Dave?” Hannah had pulled her head off just enough so that her lips still touched the head of Dave’s prick. He could feel them brushing his cock while she spoke.

“Are you going to swallow it all?”

“Like a good slut, yes.”

Hannah only looked up at him when speaking and now fully returned her attention to his dick. Dave could feel his balls tightening.

I woke up, all alone in my bed, like every morning. I decided that I would go out, and get laid. Tonight is the night! My pussy ached for it. I almost went down to stroke it, but decided that I would save it for tonight. I went into the shower, shaving myself completely hairless down there, in preparation. I teased myself, just a little, just so I got a little bit wet. Oh god! I stepped out the shower and wrapped myself in a towel and walked, dripping wet, both between the legs and every where else on my body, and walked back to my room. I was drying off when Jay walked into my room.

I turned around and covered my body with the towel, “Knock much?”

She smiled, “Oh c’mon, I’m your best friend, there’s hardly any part of you that I haven’t seen.”

“Well, excuse me while I get dressed.” I shut my door. I sighed. Jay was my best friend and my roommate, but she did not respect my boundaries. This wasn’t the first time she’s walked in on me. I got dressed in a tight black shirt and tight short jeans.

Jay smiled as I walked into the kitchen and she held a glass of orange juice towards me.

“Orange juice? Really? I wanted something a little stronger.” I frowned.

Jay smiled again, “It helps development.” she took a big gulp of the drink before adding, “Not that you need it.”

I took a drink of the orange juice. Jay got health kicks all the time, and I suffered for it. She’d probably already thrown out all the wine and delicious fatty foods.

“So, another lonely night, huh?” she asked me. She leaned over and revealed her smallish sized breasts and stuck out her butt in a short black skirt.

I grumbled, “How’d you guess?”

“You scream a bit.” she said, trying to be nonchalant.

I smiled, “Yeah.”

“So, you’re gonna try again tonight?” she took another drink of orange juice and avoided my eyes.

“Yeah, I think I know someone who will never say no.” I said.

She suddenly looked up, “Me too.”

“Who?” I asked, suddenly excited.

She walked towards me. She shoved me harshly onto our couch and kissed me, “It’s me.”

I tried to squirm out from under her, “Jay, stop it!”

“Oh you think it’s been easy? Watching you go to bed alone and wake up alone?” she asked.

“What are you talking about?” I asked. She brought her lips down on mine, hard. She forced her tongue into my mouth as her hands slid down onto my shoulders. She moved her mouth down onto my neck and nibbled slightly, sending a wave of pleasure through my. My attempts to get her off of me were weakened, but I didn’t stop yet.

“I love you, Mary.” she nibbled again at my collar and stuck one of her hands up the back of my shirt, tickling the small of my back.

I moaned a little bit, “Jay, this is wrong.”

She stuck her hand between my legs, “Why do I feel you getting wet then?”

It was true. It’d been so long, I had forgotten what someone’s kiss did to me, “Jay, please, I’m not a lesbian.”

She ripped my shirt off and revealed my bra, black with a little lace that hooked in the front. She clicked her tongue, “My, my, you are well built. You really expected some tonight didn’t you?”

I remained silent as she unhooked it, releasing my breasts.

“Well you’re going to!” she dove in an bite my right breast. I felt my jeans get soaked. She started to slowly unbutton them and revealed my panties. She clicked her tongue as she pulled her head back from my breast, “You’ve really been craving this haven’t you?”

She slid her finger over the wet spot and rubbed gently. I nodded, furiously, hoping that it would make her enter me.

She stopped rubbing and whispered in my ear, “I’m going to make you beg for it.”

I nodded, “I will beg, please, just touch me there again.”

Jay smiled, and took my jeans and shirt from off the ground, “I will. Come back to my bedroom.”

I hooked my bra hastily and followed her like a puppy to her bedroom. She pointed to the edge of the bed and I sat while she tossed my clothes onto the floor. Jay took off my panties and discarded them. She grabbed a scarf and tied my feet to the bed posts. She took another and bound my hands. Thank god I’m flexible. She then got on her knees, eye level with my pussy. She blew on it, gently.

I moaned, “Oh god Jay, stop teasing me.”

I almost felt Jay’s smile there. She stuck a finger in her mouth and dragged the wet finger across my inner thighs. I tried to move my hips so my pussy was in her mouth, but Jay placed a hand on it, which made me even wetter, “Beg.”

I whimpered, “Jay, I want you inside of me so bad. I want your tongue to fuck me, please, I want it so bad.”

She removed her hand but teased me with her soft fingertips, which stroked the area around my clit, but never once entered me or touched my sensitive bud, “Beg harder.”

“Jay, fuck me! Oh god, I can’t take it! Just put something inside of me, I want it so bad!!!” I screamed.

Jay was pleased, so she dove a finger right into me, working in and out furiously. She added another and I was bucking like a bronco. “Oh my god, Jay!!” I screamed. As I reached my edge, she slowed down, leaving me wanted so much more.

“Do you like that, you whore?” She asked, leaving her fingers in me but hardly moving them.

I gasped, “Jay, please. I’m begging, I would get on my knees if I could move. Do that again, take me to the edge! PLEASE!!” I screamed.

She repeated that, taking my body to the edge while I shreeched, “Jay! Jaaaay!!! Jay!” she slowed down again right as I felt my body coming.

“Why should I let you cum?” she asked.

I stayed silent, panting, “I’ll make you cum.” I almost whispered.

Jay smiled as she liked my juices off of her fingers. Then she kneeled and I expected her to finger me again, but her tongue entered me. She sucked on my clit, stroking it with her long, wet tongue. She made long, slow strokes with it, licking my clit furiously. I shook my hips wildly as she worked her beautiful tongue, in and out, in and out, in and out. “Faster, faster! Jay, oh god, Jay!!!” I screamed.

She moved her tongue at superhuman speed, keeping my legs still with her hands. She moved one hand up to tease my waistline, which she must’ve know was sensitive. I was almost there, but I held on, not wanting to end this delight. She finally removed her tongue and turned more attention to my clit, nibbling it and sucking on it like it was a thick milkshake. I still held on, trying not to climax.

“OH GOD JAAAAY!!!!!” I screamed, not holding on any longer, letting my juices flow. Jay lapped up every drop.

“You taste even better than I expected.” She said, standing up and revealing she had managed to undress herself, leaving only her shirt and bra on. She untied my feet from the bed posts but kept my hands bound. She pulled me in for a kiss and I obliged, tasting myself for the first time.

She ripped her shirt off and revealed she wasn’t even wearing a bra. She spread her legs and said “Lick, bitch.”

And so I did.

September 2018
« Feb