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…
“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.
