27 comments/ 106733 views/ 15 favorites No Fucking Around By: Kev H Warning: This isn't a stroke piece, so hit the back arrow if you don't feel like thinking. ----- It's a true testament to the communication and trust in our marriage when I can ask my husband, Mark, about his friend's dick and he only lifts an eyebrow in surprise. "I know you're friendly and all," he commented after a pause and a smirk, "but I thought you only lusted after me. When did that change?" I shifted on the barstool in our cozy living room and picked at my breakfast. "Oh, baby, you know I lust after you and love you more than anything, but..." I wondered if I should have simply left my curiosity alone instead of blurting out the question. I'd always made a point to keep things in the open, especially in my marriage. When things aren't honest, the extra stress can be a real strain, and I learned how not to act from watching my parents self-destruct. "But?" He cupped my ass cheek after giving it a light spank, picking it up slightly off the stool—his way of encouraging me. Mark really is wonderful; his playful and loving manner never fails to bring out the best in me. "Well, I caught a glimpse of Jared's wanger last Saturday when I accidentally walking in on him in the bathroom. You know we all had more alcohol than barbeque." I grinned, keeping it light-hearted. "What little I saw wasn't so little." My husband laughed, so I pressed on with a shrug. "Just one of those passing thoughts that worms its way inside your head. You guys were roommates forever, so you have to know how he, um...is like. You know, can he use that thing?" He quirked his eyebrow again in that charming fashion. "Now, Angie, curiosity killed the cat, so they say." "So they say," I sassed, staring up at him and gauging his reaction. I was ready to back off at the first signs of distress. "Well truthfully, Jared's always had a way, though he seems pretty callous now. He wasn't like that in school, though—I'm guessing it's an aging-and-single thing." Mark went around the bar to get the plate of eggs, bacon and grits I had made for him before settling down beside me. "You're like one of the guys," he teased, "so I can tell you this: he's made a few girls grin foolishly and walk bowlegged after they've been with him." "Hmph. And I suppose you have to take his word for it." Mark threw back his head. "Hah! The scoundrel actually hit on my secretary several months ago and had a fling with her." "That tiny thing? What a brute!" I did my best impression of a scandalized old maid. "Yeah, and she's eight years younger. One time she had 'lunch' with him and came back kind of wobbling, so I'm sure he still has it." Mark slouched and he gaze went through the far wall and back through time. "He dated this one vixen during our sophomore and junior years, and I swear they did it every chance they got, which embarrassed the hell out of me." "I just can't picture you embarrassed." "Oh, I'm afraid I actually tiptoed around them when they got like that." He grinned at the distant memory. "They would tease me mercilessly—she'd show me flashes of skin sometimes, asking me things like how I could stand being single. Jared would often spank her ass around me, and they'd fondle each other as if they didn't get enough when I wasn't around or when I'd shut myself in my room." "You poor thing," I said with a pout of empathy and a trailed fingertip over his crotch that brought his gaze back to the present and to me. "Yeah. Seriously mistreated. And this one time..." It took me a few seconds to realize he was gauging my interest, perhaps wondering if he should just leave it alone. "What? Tell me." "You sure you want to hear this?" "Stop teasing me. What?" "Well, one time I walked into the apartment...and they were fucking right there on the living room couch. In plain view of the front door!" "Jesus! What'd you do?" "I made a beeline for my room, of course, with my head down. But they both called to me. Shannon said something like, 'Mark, come look at this—come watch.' What twenty-year-old wouldn't be curious? So I let them talk me into coming close." "Wow!" "Wow is right. Shannon had this athletic figure, and when she saw me hesitate and turn, she kicked her performance into high gear. She was riding him, bouncing up and down like he was a pogo stick. As I took those wary steps, I could see her pussy was shaved, all red and swollen, and she had him quite slicked up." My husband paused for a breath, still watching my reactions. "She spread herself with her fingers so I could see his dick pull at her skin as it pumped inside her. The horny wench rubbed herself and then wanted me to touch it while she came—hah—that was too much for me. I mumbled, 'You guys are nuts' and bolted from the apartment." He chuckled and favored me with a wink. "Much later, I became convinced I had missed out on an opportunity, if you know what I mean. There. Curiosity satisfied?" "Umm." This time the squirming on my seat had little to do with embarrassment. "If we could afford to be late for work, I'd take advantage of your overactive imagination." "We might never get to work." "While I certainly don't want Jared making my precious wife walk bowlegged," Mark summed up his thoughts with another smirk, "the punk deserves all the teasing we can give him. Payback would be sweet." By some unspoken mutual agreement, we continued into our normal get-ready-for-work pattern, yet the kiss I gave him at the door seemed to hold more sizzle than normal. Though he didn't mention it, my husband's boyish grin and dancing eyes said it all. His final response in that irregular breakfast conversation had been provocative. I had danced close to the fire, and so had he, like a perfect dance partner. I finished getting ready for work and channeled my confused excitement into the day's events. With two scheduled house showings, I had little time for fancies, much less for the release I craved. My pink rocket would have to stay in its drawer. Both of my showings went well, the clients were qualified buyers, and since the economy seemed to be doing better, chances were decent that I'd close on one of them. The four grand of commission would be a nice boost after a string of months of making less than a thousand. I considered rewarding myself with a trip to the store; Mark and I had plenty of wine, but we could use a steamy new video, and maybe I'd browse for a new sex toy. As if thinking about him prompted the call, he showed up on my caller ID. "Hey, baby," I answered as I eased through the early evening work traffic. "Hope you're still as horny as you were this morning." "Maybe." I drawled out the word so there'd be no doubt. "Have anything that might help?" "You know," he said, and I could hear his grin. "Been thinking about you all day, Angie. Come meet me at the Fox and Hound for happy hour and some pool." "I was hoping to pick us up a naughty movie and make the most of the evening." I could hear the pout in my own voice. My husband chuckled. "This'll be better," he promised. The Fox and Hound near our place was always rowdy. Playing pool was clearly a minor activity, an excuse to hang with friends and party. As I entered and scanned the green side, I saw my husband had already reserved a table and was sipping from a glass of dark beer. And there, bent over the table lining up a shot, was Jared. So Mark had been dwelling on our morning conversation even more than I had, it seemed. Was he serious about wanting to get revenge? Or had they decided to turn the tables and tease me? These questions crossed my mind in the time it took me to make eye contact with my husband and arch an eyebrow. As I walked toward them, I decided to play it like I'd never mentioned Jared's dick, to roll with it and see what Mark had up his sleeve. Curiosity always makes life more interesting. "Hey, you rascals," I greeted my husband, sparing a grin for Jared as I received my quick hug. Mark brushed my ass while answering in a playful tone: "Hello, sexy. Have a good day?" I nodded, giving him a peck on the lips and accepting the beer he had been drinking. "You sure know how to make business clothes look fine," Jared agreed, placing an arm on my shoulder to squeeze me in a friendly half-hug. I shrugged off the compliment, deflecting the flush that threatened to color my face by saying, "The mood you boys are in, I'm glad I'm here to keep you out of trouble." Taking a test sip, I confirmed the cool amber liquid was a Sam Adams, one of the few beers I found palatable. "We're not fooled by those large, innocent-looking eyes," my husband teased and took his shot. The four-ball refused to go where he wanted it. "You might get us in trouble." Jared laughed. "Keep him distracted and I'm guaranteed a win." I shocked myself by asking: "And what's in it for me?" "Fine," he responded, smirking and moving to take his shot. "Be that way. But see if I show you any mercy when we play cutthroat." Mark reclaimed his beer, but not before I stole another swallow. After taking a drink, he set the glass on the table, slid behind me and began rubbing my shoulders. "Speaking of cutthroat, we need to decide the stakes. Perhaps a flash of flesh from the loser." "Oh no you don't," I said as I turned and slapped him playfully on the arm. "I know where that'd end up." A couple guys at the nearby tables weren't bothering to hide their interest, and I felt myself squirming. What an odd sensation! I was already on display, and now the teasing was heightening my state of horniness. "Such a chicken," Jared commented as he lined up his second shot. "How can you guys live with yourself if you teamed up on a poor little girl, just because I'm all creamy smooth skin?" Jared flubbed his second shot, and I giggled at him while he recovered. "Damn," he exclaimed, reaching for his beer. "You're wicked." "That's quite a lot coming from you, according to what I hear." Jared stopped mid-drink and looked cautiously between us. "What did you hear?" "Oh, just that a certain young secretary found it hard to walk straight after you got through with her." "Dude!" Jared glared at his friend. "You're not supposed to tell stuff like that. Now I feel like a schmuck." Mark just grinned at him before focusing back on the game, and I shrugged it off. "Don't worry about it, Jared. I'm guessing she asked for it." "Actually, she did, but, ah, let's not talk about that." Jared had a cute blush, and I found myself enjoying the possibility of teasing him further. I watched him take a large swallow and then glance away when he found I was still grinning at him. Was he also remembering the incident in my bathroom? Though it hung in the air, Jared was able to distract himself by narrowly beating Mark, trading a round of eight ball misses before claiming the victory. "Now for my revenge on you both. Rack 'em, loser." "So," Mark drawled as he gathered and dropped the balls into the triangle, "a flash of flesh from the loser?" I snorted. "If you just took me home, you'd see all the flesh you need to see. I want a fair game, so how about loser buys dinner?" "Fine by me," Jared answered quickly. "Bah! You're no fun." The amusing thing was it would have been Mark showing flesh if we kept his stakes; without the extra incentive, it was easy for me to convince Jared to team up on Mark and put him out of the game after only three rounds. "Not your night," Jared crowed as Mark's last chance to stay in the game sunk cleanly into a side pocket. "That's what you think. Now I get to concentrate on the view." Mark was smirking, and I wondered if the teasing could help me win. "'Twas the wrong kind of game," I said in a seductive tone. "That'll all change when he takes me home. Call it a special feeling inside me." Sweeping my blonde bangs behind an ear, I exaggerated my lean over the table, while trying not to blush. Sophisticated was not an air I normally gave off. "Yep." Mark settled in a chair like the satisfied cat, laughing when Jared just shook his head and tried focusing on his next shot. Even with my "cheating," as he called it, Jared won the game, and Mark instantly called for a rematch and another round of beer. "I don't think so," Jared countered, "and besides, it's dinner time. Your treat, Mark." Even though we hadn't eaten and it was almost eight, I had more pressing needs, so I vetoed the plans. "I need a rain check on that dinner, because, husband of mine, if we don't head home right now, I'm going to go crazy." I found it strange that simple teasing had gotten me so worked up. "Who can refuse an offer like that?" Mark grinned at his friend as I tugged him toward the exit. "Friday night I'll pay up," he called out to Jared. "Your choice on the restaurant." ----- Friday rolled around and like any considerate friend, Jared wanted the dinner to be a group choice. So once we agreed on Chinese food, the restaurant was a no-brainer. P. F. Chang's had amazingly good food, and with the family style servings, the variety always promised an interesting meal. As always, it was crowded, yet Mark insisted on a corner booth, which probably earned us another ten minutes of waiting. I was hyped more than usual: it was the end of a successful work week, Mark and I had had firecracker sex both nights since we played pool with Jared, we were going clubbing after dinner, and I was wearing a new lightweight black dancing dress that made me feel like I was the ultimate in feminine sexuality. On top of all that, I was riding on the high of two almost identical and spontaneous comments. "Goddamn, you look incredible in that dress," was from my husband when I posed for him, and when we met Jared at the restaurant, his eyes bulged nearly out of his head. Our friend played it cool, but I could see his eyes straying down my body all the while we chatted and waited for our table to become available. I was practically vibrating with energy. When we got one of the rounded booths, I slid in between the guys. "You guys make me feel so sexy," I said, patting a thigh on each side of me before picking up a menu. Mark leaned over and pecked me on the cheek. "We're not doing much besides enjoying your company. Since I didn't see you dress up, I'm wondering what color panties you have on. Matching?" I giggled and squirmed as his hand eased the skirt up my thigh, stopping it just before it could expose the answer. "Or maybe none at all," I teased, making Jared almost spit out a mouthful of sake, "but you can't see until we've grooved and sweated." Mark reached around me to slap his friend on the shoulder. "Easy there, bro." "Gotta take a leak," Jared muttered, inching out of the booth. I noticed he hunched a little as he headed for the bathroom. I turned to see Mark grinning. "Nice one—you totally shocked him. I'm betting he was getting a stiffy." "Mark, honey, maybe we're, umm..." I paused to hunt for the right words. "...playing too much with him." "Just have fun with it," he urged with a chuckle. "I completely trust you both, and Jared deserves to be teased by a woman he can't have. It'll be a new experience for him." "You're such a cruel friend." "I know. How fun is this?" His eyes sparkled as he leaned in for a quick kiss. ----- After an amusing and satisfying dinner, we parked at our house, toasted the night with shots of liquid excitement, and walked the four blocks to one of our favorite clubs. By eleven, we swept into the atmosphere of pulsing beats and sexy strobes, and though the place hadn't filled up yet, it held promise. I headed directly for the center, grabbing Mark's and Jared's hand and pulling them with me. It didn't take long to find dancing friends and merge with them, alternately dancing, drinking and resting as the night ripened. The floor became packed, people swayed and radiated sensual fun, and our group shifted and split as the music moved through us. Since he only knew the two of us, Jared always stayed close within the chaotic mass. And when Mark went to rest and grab a drink, I turned up the intensity. Lights meant to make everything more surreal affected me, I knew. My large eyes would no longer seem innocent, they would be captivating. My cute bobbing blonde hair became one with the throb of my body. The thin dancing dress kept my nipples hard as it, in turn, danced against me. "Peace is a state of confusion," the music said, and with every repetition, it meant more to me, more to my swaying body, more to my need. Driven, I scratched a fingernail along the underside of Jared's chin. When I dropped my hand, it brushed his arm, then his stomach, then the bulge in his pants. When I spun, my dress was close enough that I felt the resistance of his clothes, the press of him against my momentarily bared ass. This was no longer playful, social dancing. It felt like foreplay, a venting of sexual frustration. The beat throbbed through me, and I danced away from his touch when he couldn't resist, prolonging the tension that filled the space between us. I was dancing closer to the fire than ever, and it felt stifling hot; I felt consumed and alive and distracted, all at the same time. "I need air," I announced next to Jared's ear, heading to the club's door without looking back. He caught up to me as I left the club and rounded the corner. Doing exactly what I needed him to do, he pushed me up against the wall and leaned into me. "You have me so turned on, I can't stand it!" His tongue thrust into my mouth and I toyed with it. He pressed me to the outer wall of the club, and I pressed back. I swear the bass beat vibrating through the wall gave me a thrill that pushed me toward the edge. Feeling his bulge humping my hip, I shifted so it fit up against my mound, which made a tiny part in my mind notice how far gone I was. Surely he could feel the heat coming through the thin material of my dress! "You cock tease," Jared growled, fumbling with his pants. "Finish what you started!" Grabbing my hand off his arm in an almost angry motion, he brought it to his crotch. And I felt bare flesh. Hot, soft, strong flesh. "I didn't start this," I said between heavy breaths, but I rubbed his erection. "You're the one who winked at me when I first walked in on you." He didn't have to make me stroke him; my hand was doing it all on its own as he supported himself on the wall behind my head. He kissed me hard before claiming, "You did that on purpose, Angie." Maybe he was blaming me so he could feel justified in slipping a finger and thumb around my nipple. "You looked a long time before pretending it was an accident." He pinched and rolled the stiff nipple, drawing a gasp from me. I stroked him faster now that he was rock hard. I had trouble focusing as the sensations flared and spread from the attacked nipple. "Your imagination," I protested after breaking the next kiss. "Fuck that! You looked." The hand that had been cupping my breast dropped under my miniskirt and gripped my inner thigh. "Admit it." We were now breathing heavy into each other's mouth. "Bullshit." "Admit it!" This was a command, and as Jared's short nails dug into my flesh, my nerves raged. My legs parted, and my panty-covered lips sat down on the side of his hand. He rocked his hand along the heated, moistened satin. "Admit it," he murmured once more before sealing my mouth. As his fingers slid under the edge of my panties and tugged, as the relatively cool night air blew along my moist pussy, I spared a tiny thought for any onlookers. We were maybe twenty steps away from the club's front door and around the corner but certainly not out of sight. Mark was probably still inside dancing, but anyone who passed and looked at us could see the impressive flesh in my hand. They could probably see Jared pulling my panties below the hem of my dancing dress before returning his hand to my pussy. No Fucking Around "This is your fault..." I gasped as the side of his hand now slid on my slick pussy, gliding in between my folds and finding plenty of oil to coat us. "For having such a gorgeous cock." "No," he grunted, curling a finger to toy with the rim of my pussy opening as I focused my tugging efforts on the head of his cock, "you wanted to see it full." "And hard," I agreed. "But we shouldn't—" Jared whipped me around, sliding the hand that had been supporting him into my blonde hair. Gripping me by the sweaty roots, he turned me and pressed me against the wall. From the corner of my eye, I could see him staring down at my pert, upturned ass like a starved man. "This is what you want, you hot minx," he panted, struggling with his self-control as he held the dress up over my naked ass. His cock pulsed in my hand and strained toward me. My knees were spread against the brick, my panties now around my ankles, my back arched, my pussy open and waiting, my grip on his thrusting shaft tight—the only barrier left between my faithfulness and knowing the feeling of that fat cock being driven deep inside me by an undeniable urge. "Don't you dare fuck me, Jared," I warned and stroked him, desperately angling his cock away when I felt it getting too close. The warm head nudged the flesh of my thigh, and I trapped it against my leg so it could thrust against me. Alarm oozed up from under my intense lust. If I moved the pulsing flesh again, it would be in me. "I'm already fucking you," he hissed, the cock straining against my hand and the top of my thigh. "This where you draw the line?" I didn't reply, and our bodies didn't—couldn't—stop their motion. Though the streets were as noisy as our breathing, the silence was tangible. And the urge to be filled was driving me crazy. My arm quivered from the effort, from the pressure of keeping Jared's cock out of my needy pussy. Either he shifted or I did, and the tip touched my sensitive folds; I imagined glistening precum kissing a swollen clit. "Don't, Jared," I panted one last time, gritting my teeth as his stroking sped up and inflamed the gap between my legs. I was trapped in the fire and knew I couldn't take any more. Something had to give, and I grunted with his every thrust, clinging to that last ounce of will. "Your fault," he grunted as his cock pulsed against my resistance. Dropping his mouth to my shoulder and biting me in his frustration and ecstasy, he groaned and pumped cum onto my superheated skin and grasping fingers. Though I could still hear Jared and the club and my gasping breaths, it was like I didn't perceive any of that over the static in my head. It all seemed so quiet, like a vacuum after the intensity of a tornado. In little bits, I noticed the bricks scraping the insides of my knees, the pull of my hair from his fist, the calves that strained from being on my tiptoes. Relief warred with disappointment as he began relaxing. His grip loosened on my hair as his cock began to soften. Then the static in my head coalesced, and it was all I could do to not weep. I had dodged a bullet—such a close call! Yet my pussy cried that it wasn't feeling the throbbing and that hot cum. That it wasn't stretched and spasming from having to accommodate Jared's frenzied thrusts. This longing made me bite my lip and curse myself as I released my grip on the cock that had so nearly penetrated me. How quickly it had reached this point—one instant we'd been playful friends, and in the next blink, we were desperate sex maniacs! My curiosity and teasing had swept me into danger at the speed of a wind-driven wildfire. I felt my skirt fall into place and reached for my panties as I turned my back to the wall. I was still shaking and breathing hard, and I was still damning myself for letting this happen, while trying to avoid looking at Jared. I had my husband to satisfy me, and he did that well. No fucking way should I have his friend's cum dribbling down my fingers and inner thigh! "Sorry," Jared mumbled as he tucked himself back into his pants and re-buttoned the fly. After a shaky breath, and probably after rejecting a thousand other things to say, he continued. "You've gotta stop teasing me, Angie. Please. I can't take it." I nodded as I wiped my hands on my skirt and stared at the ground under his shifting feet. "Yeah, sorry. We... I got carried away. It won't happen again—this can't happen again, Jared." "Cool. Okay. Umm, let's get back inside before I have to say something else." He motioned for me to go first, and with another nod and a steadying breath, I stepped around the corner and headed for the door. Each step seemed to clear my head and strengthen my resolve to never repeat my mistake. Please let me just have a good time, I begged that cluster of emotions in my head. As the noise and buoyant atmosphere welcomed us back into its midst, it became important that we finish the night on a positive, fun note, and that I end up in my loving husband's arms. There'd be plenty of quiet time to sort through the aftermath from this loss of control. From what felt like a loss of innocence. Dancing close to the fire is no fun if you get burned, and now I guess I couldn't say I've never been burned. The rhythm swept me up in it, promising to help me put off my worries, but as I began to gyrate, I thought about Jared behind me. Would he consider that flirting? After seeing much of my body—after feeling the soft and heated skin—would it be hard to watch it move beneath my skimpy clothes? I now felt a caution that, in my naivety, I had never experienced before, and I settled for moving my arms as I wove through the crowd. Jared leaned close enough so I could hear him. "I'm going to buy us shots." When I nodded, he headed toward the bar. I found Mark dancing with one of the younger couples we often see when we're clubbing. Wrapping my arms around him, I yelled that Jared was buying us more drinks. He gave the thumbs-up sign, waved goodbye to the couple, and followed me to the bar. We toasted to friends and lounged around, though I made sure not to look at Jared more than I had to. "So, now that we've danced and sweated," Mark began after ordering another round of shots, "are you're wearing any panties?" "Matching, of course," I answered, but only where Mark could hear me. "Aha! So I was right." He squeezed me in a shoulder hug while jostling his friend. "Matching ones so you can't tell where the dress leaves off and the covered treasure begins. How hot is that, Jared?" Even though he managed a grin, I could tell Jared was uncomfortable with the obvious ribbing. "Yeah, hot," he answered. "She's the hottest sex I've never had." Mark laughed and slapped him on the shoulder. After acknowledging the joke, I turned my pleading eyes on my husband. "Seriously though, we need to stop making our friend uncomfortable." When he began to protest, I murmured in his ear. "Please, husband, or it's going to make us awkward around each other. I already feel...bad." "Alright," Mark relented with a sigh. "Fine." "Besides," I continued where only he could hear, "it's high time for us to get home so we can dance on each other." "Then what are we waiting for?" Mark closed his tab, and we headed into the mild night air. Only those short blocks separated the strip of clubs and bars from the quiet of our house, but fortunately it was plenty of time and walking to ensure our friend could safely drive. I would feel far less comfortable venting my sexual frustration if Jared was within earshot. I knew we'd make lots of noise—well, it would mostly come from me as I climbed all over my husband. And I was more aware than ever how unfair that was to Jared. True to form, Mark was the perfect "dancing" partner, rocking my world and giving me the internal earthquakes I so desperately needed. The intimate joining reaffirmed my love for him and my commitment to never stray. As my afterglow faded toward that warm sleepy glow, I ran through the confusing emotions in my head. Without a doubt, I know the line you shouldn't cross isn't a physical line—it's in your head, in your cravings and imagination. I hadn't understood that before, but now I felt it. When I yearned to feel Jared's cock pumping into me, I was already fucking around, even before he squeezed my nipple or slid his fingers along my pussy opening. I have to live with that and learn from that, and now I feel scarred somehow. I might be wiser now, but I had traded that for my happiness in myself, before I knew what trouble I could get myself into. Mark and I will survive and grow closer because that's what we both want to do, need to do. We're perfect for each other, anchors in this wild and crazy life. But in those dark corners, in my honest moments, I feel Jared's cock spreading me wide open and plunging inside. My shame over my mistake, over the fact that the imagining almost became reality, will guard me against ever falling into that trap again. Without that caution, my curiosity could kill me, emotionally. No amount of discovery is worth that. * © Copyright 2010 by Kev Henley. All Rights Reserved. Please do not copy or share this work without my written permission. Respect creative ownership. Author's note: When I'm not editing for others or writing for publication, I experiment. Hopefully you enjoyed this short story and will give it a vote. The concept in this piece is one I've long considered. As our society evolves and becomes more choice-driven (for both genders), the role of attraction outside a traditional (and some would argue, outdated) marriage is a hotly debated, complex issue. I have personally seen modern couples struggle with it, and I've read about it enough to believe it's pervasive in the western societies. Sporadically, I've worked on an intense and loaded novella with a similar topic, so I'd truly love feedback on what you see here, especially about your opinion on the motives that cause us to do what we do in sexually compromising situations. Constructive criticism in a PM or email will most certainly prompt a thoughtful reply from me, and even if I'm too swamped to reply to each, you have my sincere thanks. Kev