Hotwife Phone Sex: Barbecue Smoke and His Best Friend

Saturday was the Hendersons' big backyard barbecue, the whole neighborhood, kids running wild, somebody's terrible playlist. My husband was in his element at the grill, tongs in one hand, beer in the other, king of the burgers. He barely looked at me all afternoon. That is just how it is now. I have stopped expecting more.

His best friend Greg was there, divorced last year, easy laugh, the kind of man who actually looks at you when you talk. We ended up by the cooler together while the burgers cooked, and he said, you look beautiful today, Leann, that color suits you. Such a small thing. I felt it all the way down to my toes. When was the last time my husband said anything like that. I could not remember.

We drank, we joked, and every time I laughed he stood a little closer. At some point he said, come see the project I have been working on in the garage, and I knew exactly what he was really asking. I looked over at my husband, deep in conversation about propane, and I followed Greg across the yard with my heart pounding so loud I was sure everyone could hear it.

The garage was cool and dim and smelled like sawdust and motor oil. He closed the side door, not all the way, just enough. Then he turned and kissed me, and it was nothing like my husband's distracted pecks. This was hungry, deep, his hands in my hair. I kissed him back like I was drowning and he was air. My sundress strap slipped off my shoulder and his mouth followed it down, and I moaned into the quiet garage.

He backed me against his workbench, tools rattling, and lifted me up onto it like I was nothing. His hands pushed my dress up and he just looked at me for a second, breathing hard. God, Leann, he whispered. I was already soaked. He pulled my panties aside and pushed two fingers deep inside me, and I bit my lip to keep quiet, the sounds of the party drifting in from the yard while his best friend fingered his wife twenty feet away. The wrongness of it made it a hundred times hotter.

He unzipped his jeans and I took his hard cock in my hand, stroking him while he groaned into my neck. Then he pushed inside me in one deep thrust and I had to clap my hand over my own mouth. He felt so good, so thick and real, filling me the way I had been aching to be filled for years. He fucked me slow and deep on that workbench, one hand gripping my hip, the other covering my mouth when I got too loud.

I came with my whole body shaking, clenching around him, tears leaking out of the corners of my eyes from sheer relief. He came right after, pulsing inside me, holding me tight like he never wanted to let go. We just stayed like that, breathing, until the screen door banged and somebody yelled that the burgers were ready.

I walked back to the party flushed and glowing, and my husband said, you look happy, and handed me a burger. Greg caught my eye across the yard and smiled like we shared the best secret in the world. We did.

I am not sorry. I feel alive for the first time in years. If you want a real woman who knows exactly how that feels, who will tell you every detail while she touches herself thinking about it, I am here. Tell me what you would have done if you were in that garage with me.