Love-Fucking My Wife's Best Friend

Celia got turned on by having me soothe her friend Alicia’s inner needs

Photo by Fernando Gimenez: Pexels

polyamory | threesome

Celia reached across the kitchen table, held Alicia’s hand, and comforted her. “It’s not you. Remember, it’s not your fault.”

Shock struck Alicia after her husband, Robert, announced he was leaving with a woman he had met online. He needed to fulfill his sexual desires and become more deeply involved with a woman who he was really attracted to.

The idiot. Bastard.

He ruined Alicia’s view of herself. Robert also ruined a rare date night with my wife, because I had tickets to a play I had been wanting to see with Celia. I clenched my hands and fought the urge to track him down and let him have it.

Alicia was understandably crying, so I walked quietly past the kitchen into the bedroom, sighed, grabbed my laptop, and headed out for a big screen at the sports pub.

Isat with my laptop open, but after a couple of beers and thinking through what the evening could have been, I was frustrated. Confused.

Alicia had soft eyes, an endearing smile, and she was a good listener. How could any decent man dump her? Yeah, okay. You get bored and look around for a while, but her quietness was also incredibly sexy.

I could only hope that Robert’s internet connections would fail for the rest of his life, and any more online sneaking around would be forever cursed.

Celia was always comforting people. I had hoped she and I could have gone to the play, a local production of My Fair Lady. Something light and romantic. Nothing intense, since business as a freelancer had been a rollercoaster ride for me, with the highs of winning a great client and the lows of losing an equally well-paying one.

I glanced around the pub and noticed a woman at a table nearby in tight jeans and a low-cut top. Her hair flowed nicely over her shoulders, and her dark skin shined so wonderfully in the light. My cock stiffened. Damn.

How would I get Celia’s attention?

The woman caught my eye and I caught hers.

My phone buzzed and I picked it up. Celia. “Yeah?”

“Where are you?”

“Out.”

Quiet on Celia’s end. “Enjoying your beer?”

“Hmm. Sort of.”

“Come on home, why don’t you?” Her simple question had such a slow, syrupy tone that it was like her fingers reached through the phone and tickled my ears, my chest, and down lower between the legs.

“Okay.” So much for letting my frustrations get in the way of our relationship. How could I tell her to pay some attention to me once in a while?

I drove home, walked quietly into the bedroom, and noticed a light was on in the guest room. Celia and Alicia were talking. I peeked. Celia had a sheer nightgown, and I could see her breasts and the outline of her ass, while Alicia had a tank-top dress that draped nicely over her body.

“Good night,” said Celia, kissing her friend. Not just in a casual way, but in a way that was full mouth. Far more sexual and deep than friendly.