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That One Friend

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Every guy has that one friend that their wife or girlfriend hates. Maybe not hates, but she just doesn’t understand why her man is friends with that guy. Whether her man acts different around that buddy, or maybe its buddy himself, I am not sure. One thing that I do know is that I am usually That Guy.

On the one hand, maybe I get it: I am a big guy, six foot four and 200 plus pounds. I am loud. I talk loud and I laugh loud. I like to drink a little more than I should. I tell jokes that maybe I shouldn’t sometimes. I am big and loud and some folks might say aggressive.

But other people will tell you I have a heart of gold. I have a big truck, and I can’t tell you how many people I have helped to move. Or pick up lumber, or clean out the garage. If my friends are building it or breaking it, get a case of beer on hand and they have my strong back (and weak mind, HAHA!) to help out.

When Buddy’s girlfriend dumped him I went damn near broke making sure he didn’t sit alone in his empty condo stewing over it. A few years later I set up all the tables at his back yard wedding, and barbequed the steaks for the reception to boot.

So yes, I am rammy, but I really try to help people out, so I do feel kind of bad that my friend’s gals just don’t seem to want me around.

The biggest example I can think of is my friend Davey’s wife, Stacey. I knew Davey for years! We used to hike in the mountains together, and ski together. Hell, we even went to the same college. While we were in school Davey met this girl Stacey on an out of state camping trip. Every few months one or the other of them would scrape up the cash and make a visit to the others town. She would sometimes come to our classes and hang out just before semester break for example.

Davey was nuts about her, and I could see why: we had the same taste in women, Davey and I. Stacey was a small, fit gal with short blonde hair. She was always dressed stylishly and was just pure cute. She was really nice, and quite friendly, at first.

Like I said, Davey and I had the same taste in women, but as far as I was concerned, “Licked is picked” as the saying goes. Stacey was Davey’s gal, and I would knock the block off of anybody who said otherwise! I get protective of my friends I guess, and Davey wasn’t what you would call a fighter. He was maybe five eight, but he was a tough little guy. He had been on his schools gymnastics team and always held his own in sports. It’s just that he wasn’t a scrapper. And I was. Am. Whatever.

Eventually we finished school and I got a good job and left town. I ended up moving to Stacey’s neck of the woods, while poor Davey got a low paying gig back home. On the upside I helped him out when I could, with rides and a place to crash when he came to see Stacey. She was still in university and living with her folks, so Davey saved some cash by couch surfing at my place. I would even head out to the pub alone some nights, telling them that I would be gone for no less than two hours for example.

Long distance relationships are tough, everyone knows that, and after a year I was worried for them. When the desk right beside mine opened up at work I could think of no-one better for the job than my boy Davey, and got him on a plane to interview the next day. A month later his stuff was in the back of my truck and he moved into a little apartment a few blocks from mine. We carpooled to work, and Davey and Stacey got serious.

I think it was maybe their wedding, the first time I got an unwelcome feeling from Stacey. I mean, a wedding, my best friend’s wedding, of course I had a good amount of the sauce. I know I was loud, and too friendly, but I didn’t do anything stupid. No hitting on a bride’s maid or motor boating her sister or anything. I guess it was just that Stacey was from a nice family, and I suppose I am not what you might call nice. Maybe I embarrassed her? She wasn’t rude or in my face, just very cool. Whenever Davey looked like he was about to sit down and have one of the three or four beers I kept at my table (saves the waitress a trip, you know!) she would swoop in and take him away to meet a second cousin, or an Uncle twice removed or something. I didn’t think much of it; I knew that the wedding is the Bride’s day and had a good time anyway.

Fast forward a year or so, and I was helping Davey and Stacey move again. This time from their apartment to a four bedroom house. Davey told me as I carried the loveseat that they needed the extra room because Stacey was pregnant. I tossed the furniture aside and swept the boxes out of Davey’s arms and hauled him up in a big bear hug! I swung him around, his feet in the air and congratulated him. Stacey came out of the house to tell me to stop scaring the neighbours. I set Davey down, and when she wasn’t looking I pulled my emergency pint of whiskey out of my truck and Davey and I had toasts to his success, until he got caught. He came out all hang dog and asked me to unload my truck, and that they would finish by themselves.

I felt bad, but figured that now pendik escort that she had a ‘little’ on the way she wanted Davey to be a good stable father, and not goofing off with me.

Years went by, and I saw little Davey less and less. I helped them rip out an old fence and build a nice tight one to keep their new tyke safe in the yard. I helped gut the basement and hauled the drywall when they rebuilt the basement because baby number two was on the way. Always Stacey was polite but cold. I definitely knew when it was time for me to go home, put it that way.

My own hard times came, my own Wife got sick and passed away. I finally heard from Stacey and Davey again. It was so awkward. Maybe young people just don’t know how to handle death? The message on my machine was basically ‘Sorry for your loss. If you need anything let us know. By the way we are moving back East.’

And that was that. My Wife was gone, my old best friend was gone, and my nice place out in the country was very, very quiet. I didn’t hear from them again for a long time.

***

I was digging through the steaks at the grocery store one day when I heard my name called.

“Is that you?” Stacey asked smiling sweetly, “I almost didn’t recognise you, what have you done?”

A few years in the service to our country had changed me somewhat. Gone was my shaggy hair and chinstrap beard. I was less lean and more muscle for another thing.

“Ma’m,” I said, still stinging a bit, after all this time.

“Wow, Ma’am! That’s new too,” she exclaimed, smiling and touching my arm in a far friendlier manner than she had shown ever before. I had to admit, Stacey looked great. She was still small and fit, blonde and cute. Her hair was longer than I’d seen it before, it draped down to her shoulders. Her belly was so smooth in her tight fitting top that I would not have believed that she had had two kids if I hadn’t held them myself. Low cut jeans let out a glimpse of smooth skin near her hips. Only something around her eyes said that she wasn’t still twenty something.

“Are you here visiting your folks?” I asked, being very conscious to sound polite.

“Oh no,” she was still smiling, “We are here again,”

“I didn’t realize that, when did that happen?”

“About six months?” typical Stacey, I figured. They moved back and didn’t even check to see if I was still alive.

“You should come to dinner,” she exclaimed. She pulled a pad out of her purse and scribbled an address on it, “you should come tonight!”

I have to admit, she totally caught me off guard. Stacey had always been glad for my work, but never for my company. I forgot my own plans of tender strip loin off of my barbeque and agreed to dinner with the family.

Stacey beamed at me one last time before she spun on her heel and headed down the isle.

“Come at eight,” she tossed over her shoulder at me. I stared after her stunned. I don’t think I had ever seen her hips move quite like that when she walked.

I know I had been alone on my acreage for a long time, but I shook my head and gave myself hell for staring at Davey’s gal like that. Now was not the time to piss her off all over again by staring at her ass!

***

I showed up right on time in a button up shirt and my best jeans. I had a good bottle of homemade wine wrapped from my basement, and some wild flowers from my place for the table. I was determined to show Stacey and Davey and their boys that I could be nice.

Stacey’s face appeared from around the door. She smiled and pulled the door back, ushering me inside. She closed the door behind me and I turned to offer her the wine and flowers. My heart skipped a beat!

She was dressed in the perfect ‘little black dress’. It was sleeveless and tight and short. I hadn’t noticed before, but for a small gal she sure had long legs! Her small breasts were pert and uplifted. The spaghetti straps revealed another development: Stacey had a tattooed half sleeve of flowers on one arm. I never would have imagined straight laced Stacey would get inked!

She caught me staring and touched her slim, muscular arm self consciously.

“It’s beautiful work,” I murmured, looking away. Mentally I breaded myself, ‘this is no way to start’. I worked up a smile and thrust my flowers towards her, “Look,” I stammered, “Some of these even match!”

She smiled sweetly at me again, and pointed down. “What have you got there?” she asked. I never knew that Stacey could sound so sultry! I swallowed afraid that my fly was down or that I had popped a woody or something and looked down where she was pointing. At the bottle of wine. Thank God!

I had wrapped it in a new tea-towel, and Stacey winked when she revealed the neck of the dark green bottle. “Come in and let’s get some glasses,” she suggested. She turned to face me as she slid through the entrance to the porch and into the house. I have to tell you, she smelled amazing. I took a minute to clear my head. The last thing I needed was to have my old Pal see me all flustered over his wife!

“Do maltepe escort you by any chance have a corkscrew?” I heard Stacey call. Of course she knew I did. I have carried the same Swiss army knife for almost three decades.

I met her in the living room as she came back with two glasses. Davey must be working late, I figured. He was still with our old company, I would have heard if he had left, though I had been gone for years. They always were slave drivers, if you wanted to get ahead. Last I had heard Ole Davey was gunning for Branch Manager.

I gladly focused on yanking the cork from the bottle of crab apple wine. I passed it back to Stacey, asking “Where are your boys? The oldest must be almost nine?”

Stacey poured two full glasses and passed me one, “They are at their grandparents tonight,” she beamed, “And he’s ten,” She held her glass high and I clinked it with my own.

“Time sure flies,” I exclaimed, bringing a sip to wet my lips. Stacey cocked her head and drained the glass. I had rarely seen her drink, let alone like that! I grinned at the change and took a long pull on the clear sweet wine.

We sat down and started to visit. I told her about my time with the military, and about my work now. She talked about the boys, and how they had grown. Before I knew it Stacey was pouring the last of the bottle into our glasses. She should have been feeling it, but instead she seemed to glow.

“I have another bottle for dinner,” she almost seemed to coo. I was hoping Davey would get home soon, or I wouldn’t be good company!

“Do you need any help in the kitchen?” I offered. I had spent a good bit of my quiet time becoming quite a good cook.

Stacey led me to the dining room where a small table was set. She pulled out a chair and gestured for me to sit down. That’s when I noticed that there were only two settings.

“Miss Stacey,” I began hesitantly.

She slid in between the table and me. Her hips trust wantonly towards me. She leaned back to grab another bottle of wine, chilling on the table. She stood between my knees, and it would have been nothing to lean forward and touch her tight black dress with my nose. I watched her dribble wine into a glass.

“Miss Stacey, where is Davey?” I asked, a lump in my throat.

“We are on a break,” she announced, her hips sliding back and forth along the table edge. It brought to mind a snake I once saw in a desert, a long ways from home. I looked up from her hips. I saw the look in her eyes, and knew I was prey.

“At least that is what he is calling it. Six months in different cities? He is only fooling himself,” Her hips continued to sway as she set her glass down. Slowly she began to tug her dress up.

“D-Davey is my friend,” I stuttered, watching her smooth skin revealed a quarter inch at a time.

“Oh sweetie,” she said, “Did you think that I drove you two apart? That you didn’t see your old pal David because of me?” The dress dragged near a pronounced mound. I swallowed hard.

“Did you never see that I was attracted to you? Did you not sense David’s growing hatred?” the edge of dark panties came into view. They were snug and outlined her womanly shape. They seemed to have a hint of glistening wetness.

“David is a small man. Not just in size, but in heart, and imagination. He hated it when he learned why I fucked him so hard after your visits,” the top of low cut black underwear came into view. I could tell from above her low panties that she was shaved smooth smooth smooth. Her legs were lean and toned, with a glorious gap that she continued to sway back and forth inches from my face.

I swallowed hard.

“I am soooo glad I ran into in the market,” there was an edge in her voice that I had never heard before, “because Sweetie, you look hungry.” Her curved calf slid past my face and her pump came to rest on the back of my chair. Her hand seemed to appear by magic on the back of my neck. She gently tugged my head forward toward her pretty dark panties.

I don’t know what to say. She was so confident, so certain. I forgot everything and let her draw me closer and closer. My eyes closed and I inhaled her womanly scent. It was the first time I had smelled a woman’s excitement in so long…

“That’s it baby,” this new Stacey cooed, “come to Mamma,”

Something broke inside of me. I mean broke! I’d been alone and lonely for years. I’d stayed faithful to a memory for so long I was practically a born again virgin. I can’t explain the warmth I felt as my nose pressed into the sweet depths of my old best friend’s Wife. I think I had tears as I gently rubbed the bridge of my nose up and down the crease I made in her lingerie.

I dragged my big nose up and down, up and down, and without really realizing it I started kissing her through her panties. She ground herself into me, moaning encouragingly with her hand pulling me against her.

As she rocked her hips I kissed her high, on the ridge of her clitoris, and low where her wetness began to mix with the saliva kartal escort from my open mouth kisses. I had started to try to nudge her panties aside with my nose when she reached down and pulled the thin layer of cloth aside. I think I whimpered as my lips pressed fully into a woman for the first time in years.

I came unglued! I pulled the chair closer to the table and wrapped my arms behind Miss Stacey’s ass. I felt my calluses drag against her soft flesh as I roughly squeezed her cheeks, pulling her towards me. She gave a small shriek when I drove my tongue as deeply as I could into her.

Since I am telling tales out of school, I should tell you that I spent a few months of my ill-advised youth shacked up with a somewhat confused on again off again lesbian feminist. She taught me many things, which maybe should be their own story, and among them was how to ‘give head like a woman,’. Her words. With my first bare pussy in years, I went to town!

In short order Miss Stacey’s nails were dragging at the base of my skull. The sensual pain only drove me on. I gripped the thin cloth of her sweet under things and tore them from her body. She started to keen, high and loud as her climax approached. She braced both feet on the floor and we continued to grind to her release. Miss Stacey called upon the Lord Almighty in a way that I never would have imagined would pass her pretty lips. Breathing heavily her nails switched from the back of my neck to under my jaw, relentlessly dragging me out of the chair.

I towered over her, juices streaming down my face as she looked intensely up at me.

“You are the first Boy to make me cum that hard,” she whispered, throwing her whole past into question. Her nails again darted to the back of my skull and I found myself kissing her, hard. Her tongue drove me crazy, darting everywhere: across my teeth, around my mouth, up my chin, lapping up her own juices. She bit my lip hard, her lightning fast fingers at my collar. With a jerk of her small, strong arms the buttons on my shirt sprayed in all directions!

She fiercely pushed me back, catching my collar, to stare me hard in the eyes.

“Soldier,” she growled, “Fuck me!”

Her eyes seemed to burn as she leaned back on the table. Her dress was pulled above her waist; she had one heel on the table and one on the chair I had tossed to the side. Her smooth legs were spread wantonly showing off her toned thighs. Her pussy pouted open, thick dark lips guarding the gates of heaven, or maybe hell. All I knew was that I was going to feel the real desire of a woman again.

I tore my white undershirt over my head and ripped at my belt and jeans. Stacey looked appreciatively at the body that I had been given through service to our country. I dragged my jeans and jockeys down and my angry hard-on burst free. It was slick with my own excitement; a long string ran from my tip to the pool in my underwear.

Stacey let out an ‘Mmm,’ sound as I advanced towards her. Her small hand snaked down and stroked my cock up and down a few times appreciatively. I was nearly vibrating with excitement as she positioned my pole right at her entrance. I tore my eyes from the heavenly sight to look her in the eyes one last time. I gave her one last chance to change her mind. She bit her lower lip and nodded her head up and down like a little girl answering ‘Do you want icecream?’

This is always my favourite part. The initial penetration. The smooth warmth. The buttery darkness. I felt our bodies align and I leaned forward, as slowly as I could muster. I tried to memorize everything about the moment. The scent of her warm body. The shadow over her eyes as they slid shut. How her mouth fell open, red lips soft and slack. The sound of her intake of breath, and the sensation of entering her body.

There was the soft underside of her that caressed me while pressing my penis up against a slightly harder ridge on top. Her gloriously silken wetness was coating me in holy ambrosia. The sensation of parting her as gentle friction pulled my foreskin back from my sensitive head, and the pressure as that head came to rest on her deep cervix. Stacey and I moaned in unison. I leaned down and pressed my forehead to Stacey’s. Her eyes fluttered open dreamily.

“It is just like I always imagined,” she sighed, “Kiss me?”

I hesitated for a moment; my mouth and face were still covered in her juices. Miss Stacey grabbed my neck and kissed me, with authority! She licked my lips and drove her tongue back into my mouth, sharing her sweetness with us both. Slowly I started to pull out of her, and pushed back it. I surprised myself with the control I demonstrated. I was shocked I hadn’t sprayed everywhere as soon as Stacey even touched me!

I continued to thrust slowly into Stacey as she leaned back, careless of the table settings. She reached down and began to draw her little black dress up over her head. Her braless breasts popped free as the bunched up dress covered her face. Roughly I gripped the cloth and held it in place so Stacey could not see. I admired her small breasts. Her nipples were thick and dark. Even though I knew she had nourished two sons, her flesh seemed fresh and flawless. Suddenly jealous of her boys I dipped my head in to have a suck at her inviting nipples!

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