The Tryst

Sometimes being the third wheel isn’t as bad as it seems. Not when my best friend’s wife is eager to play by my rules…

Pia Monroe
10 min readDec 9, 2021


Edited by Pia Monroe

“I can’t believe you’re going to bed already,” I said as Rob stifled a yawn. “The night is young, man.”

“Maybe for you.” He stroked his wife’s long hair absently. “But we’ve got plans.”

As Sierra smiled at my best friend, my stomach tightened. I never used to feel this way about my best friend’s wife, but ever since that night she and I were alone in their apartment after spending the day together at the Grand Prix, my thoughts of her haven’t been the same.

I haven’t stopped thinking about the feel of her mouth around my cock, her hand wrapped around the base, pumping it, squeezing it. Or how her tongue felt so warm against my shaft, the feel of her sucking me–

“You going back downstairs then?” Rob asked as I nodded, hating that I’d been daydreaming about his wife right in front of him. “Have a great time. Maybe you’ll find someone tonight. Carrie will never know.”

“Whatever, man,” I muttered as I stepped out of their hotel room. Mine was the next room over, our beds separated by a thin wall and a framed painting of some no-name ocean view.

I heard them fucking last night, the sounds Sierra made driving me wild with desire. I could see her in my mind, kissing me instead of Rob, sucking my dick instead of Rob’s, fucking me senseless instead of Rob.

I had to take care of my ache with my own hand, stroking my cock as I listened to her moans, the headboard slamming against the wall as he fucked her. Why did I have to tag along with them to Vegas like a third wheel? Why am I wanting something I can’t have?

I came when she came, my body tightening as she screamed, Fuck me, baby. Fuck me hard with that gorgeous cock. That’s it, baby. Come for me…

It was as if she were talking to me, guiding me through my orgasm, my cum landing on my belly, my chest, my neck. When it was all over, I was out of breath, imagining her resting her head on my shoulder, her hand drifting lower to stroke my spent cock.



Pia Monroe

Hopeless romantic, writer of erotic love stories and an accidental narrator. All stories are intended for 18+. Find my books on