By Margo Perry  (margo707 AT rogers DOT com)
Copyright 2005 by Margo Perry, all rights reserved.

Josh Mitchell checked his selections for the next Forever Music segment, featuring Bèla Fleck, one of his favorite musicians. He scanned his script. All he needed was one last closing bit and he’d be done; shouldn’t take more then ten minutes.

Thump!

His wife, Beth, had slammed her book shut. In one sudden movement, she uncurled her legs, sat bolt upright in the easy chair, and hurled the hard covered tome ten feet onto the couch.

“Goddamn men,” she hissed, “how do they live with themselves? Of all the women in the world, why his wife’s best friend? How could he screw his wife’s best friend?”

“Relax, Beth, it’s only a novel,” Josh said, pretending to return his work. What he was really doing was struggling to breathe, to appear normal in a situation so fraught with fear, danger and anxiety that he couldn’t control the smothering weight crushing in on his chest or the sweat that was prickling his brow. How had he gotten himself in this unholy mess?

“Don’t tell me it’s only a novel,” she railed at him, “like art doesn’t only imitate life!”

Oh God, she knows, he thought.

“Anyway, I’m going out. I told Jodie I’d drop by for a glass of wine,” she said, getting up and starting across the room.

Oh God, she knows it’s Jodie, he panicked.

“Don’t go,” Josh said. “I’ll be finished here soon and we can watch a movie or something.”

“We can do that later. I’ll be back in an hour or so and we’ll have the rest of the night together.” In passing, Beth granted Josh a cursory kiss on the cheek. “See you later”, she said, and left the study.

Maybe she doesn’t know, he hoped.

Thoughts swirled about his head, disappearing before he could register them. He listened for the sound of a door closing, a car starting. His stomach churned and a dull pain gnawed at his temples. He gave up any thought of working and turned the script face down on the desk. His on air date was two weeks away. Thank God, he had time. Finally, the door to the garage swished shut, a car door opened and closed, and the purr of an engine signaled Beth’s imminent departure. Josh took a long, deep breath and crossed his arms heavily across his chest, as if to protect himself. The levels of his feelings of anxiety and misery were nothing short of dangerous. He was in the throes of a panic attack and it frightened him. This was no way to live. Something would have to be done.

Josh had been faithful for ten years and ten months of a ten year and eleven month marriage. This eleventh month was hell. He, Beth and Jodie had been best friends since college days: Beth, his willowy doll of a wife, with her tiny nose, blue eyes and blonde curls; and Jodie, her voluptuous and seductive best friend, with her smoky grey eyes, full lips and glorious mop of silken red curls. Jodie was a born flirt, but her attentions while flattering, had always been harmless. Beth laughed and teased Josh about his fetish, calling Jodie’s over-sized breasts his ‘eye candy of choice’. It had all been open and innocent until she came to work in the sales department of his radio station; until she made her magnificent, huge breasts her weapons of choice. The flirtations took on an edge and he found himself avoiding mentioning her to Beth. There was nothing overt, nothing he could challenge. But he knew her intentions when she held his gaze a little too long and smiled that seductive half smile. And then came that night when she would no longer be denied. She attacked and Josh capitulated. They became partners in their particular crime of passion and Josh lost control of his life and himself. Josh groaned as he felt his cock begin to tingle. Even as he planned to end the affair as soon as possible, his heart quickened as the vision of her breasts filled his mind, his balls and his burgeoning shaft. The image of Jodie and his lust surged full blown into his consciousness and he found himself stroking his cock. He closed his eyes helplessly. He needed to remember. He loved Beth so much. He hated himself for being so weak. He needed to understand. He abandoned his cock. He needed to save himself. He needed to save his marriage.

There had been no reason to rush home that fateful night. Beth and her twin sister were out of town, celebrating their birthday with a theater package: meals for two days, two shows and a spa day at their fancy hotel. Josh stayed late at the station. He’d get ahead of schedule by taping his monthly Classics on Request show. It was a full hour of music with one intermission for advertising and a minimum of chatter on his part. He was just beginning the second half when Jodie waved at him from outside his glassed in studio. He placed his fingers over his lips to indicate that he was taping and gestured for her to come in. What could she want? He shoved a pad and pen forward for her to write on.

He was introducing David Fathead Newman’s signature tune, Hard Times, when she waltzed in, shutting the door quietly behind her. She put her finger to her lips. It was a mocking gesture, teasing. She stuck out her tongue at him and then traced her pouting lips. She let her arms drop loosely to her sides. She rolled her shoulders and her humungous, swaying breasts seemed to get bigger, more threatening as she advanced. She thrust her hips forward, moving relentlessly toward the small space in front of Josh’s setup.
She stopped right in front of him. Josh had stopped breathing. What was she up to? Who was he kidding? Suppose someone came by?

She shrugged off her jacket. Her top was elasticized white lace. It clung to her arrogant neck and every curve: over rising breast flesh, over extended nipples, over her torso to her tiny waist. It covered everything and hid nothing. Josh had begun to pant and he could hear his erratic breaths in the silence; feel his manhood straining against his pants. He could feel evolution’s demands drowning out all warnings, all alarms.

He should have stopped the session, stopped Jodie. But he didn’t. He watched her breasts, hypnotized, as she stood massaging them, leaning over to expose the thin, irresistible line of her cleavage. A zipper ran along the front of her top. His mouth ran dry at the possibilities.

Jodie turned her back to him, bent over slowly and presented her tight ass. Her hands were on the glass wall and he could see her tits reflected. Suppose someone came by? She swiveled her ass in tiny circles. She pressed forward and then back at him. She didn’t need words. She needed to be fucked. She needed Josh, her best friend’s husband, to fuck her in a room where words were not allowed. She filled the room with her horniness and selfish, unfettered desire. She turned back toward him and, with one hand twisting her elongated nipple, began to unzip her blouse with the other.

Josh should have stopped Jodie. But he didn’t. He watched her unveil her creamy skin, expose the compelling river of cleavage and swelling breasts that claimed him. Help me, Beth, he prayed. But she was too far away, too recent to disarm the primitive erotic weapons of his destruction. They were already aimed and launched.
The music was taping now. He didn’t need to do anything. He needed to get up. He needed to move. He felt an adolescent ache in his balls. How long had it been? More than a month since he and Beth had made love. For all the life they shared, they’d let passion dissolve into a muddy, uninspired morass. This situation wasn’t entirely his fault! And right now, he clung to that rationalization.

Jodie was unzipping her jeans, pulling them over her hips. Her tits were threatening to fall out of her black lace bra. There was a brazen statement inherent in the flaunting of a black bra under white lace; something crude, lascivious and socially unacceptable. Pre-cum oozed out of Josh. He felt good. He felt threatened. He felt like a bad boy, a very bad boy, and he couldn’t remember when he’d been so turned on.

Josh might have stopped himself, but that was ages ago. Now, his cock was in his hand. Jodie was bent over his desk and he was pulling her naked ass toward him. He massaged his cock. He aimed his cock. He could feel her heat long before he entered her. And when he did, he drowned happily in her wetness. He could smell her perfume, mixed with the musky scent of her sex. He tried to delay the call of the wild. He tried to resist the magnet that screamed for the full and complete relinquishment of control. He thrust with careful measures, like a man enjoying his very last fuck, a man wanting it to last forever. But Jodie wouldn’t have it. She pushed back into him, pressing into his balls. It felt like a challenge and Josh met it. He rammed into her like a bull needing to conquer; pulling out, almost completely; threatening his return and returning. And soon it was a gallop, to the finish. And in the soundless depths, they came; he first and she, bucking and contracting against him and against her hand buried in her pussy, soon after. They each spurted and oozed hot liquid.

She twisted around to kiss him, a kiss so deep and penetrating that it scared him. And then she dressed hurriedly and left without a word.

Josh spent that night in a daze, relieved that Beth was away for the weekend. He tried to think, but couldn’t. He knew that an affair was dangerous to the health of his marriage, especially one with his wife’s best friend. But all of his moral and social judgments had been usurped by the relentless pull toward the way Jodie made him feel: young, horny and invincible. Jodie called him the next day and insisted he stay late, so they could talk. She came. They didn’t talk. She seduced him, pulling him further into her web of deceit. It didn’t stop when Beth came home. He told Beth that he’d be working late for awhile, preparing for a new show that didn’t exist. He was miserable. All the lying had contaminated his pleasure; had made it difficult to enjoy and now, undesirable. He examined the tone of Beth’s every word; worried over the subtleties of her every glance. It would have to stop. He would call Jodie into his office tomorrow and give her no choice. He would end it.

Full of resolve, Josh opened his script and began writing notes about Béla’s trip to Africa. He felt the old excitement coming back. This was promising to be a good show. He sighed with relief as he felt himself slipping into work mode. He had no idea how long he sat there, but he was nearly finished when the phone rang.

Hello … Yeah, what’s up Jodie? … You had to tell Beth what?

The line sounded open and hollow, as if someone were listening in. Josh felt a white anger burn through him. It cleared his head. It made him cold.

Jodie, what are you babbling about? … You’ve had an affair with who? … Me? … What’s the game? I really don’t have time for this. I’m trying to finish my script before Beth comes home. We want to spend some time together. Let me speak to her. She’s left? Well, I’ve got to go and finish up. Bye. You told her what? You’re truly sick, Jodie and I’m beginning to worry about you. What about my office? Are you insane? I value my job here. I wouldn’t even fuck my wife in my office. Now stop this right now! … What motel? I was working at the office four nights ago and the last time I registered in a motel was when Beth and myself went on that road trip a year ago. … Screaming won’t change anything. Something is happening to you, Jodie. I advise that you get some help. Calling me names doesn’t change the fact that your imagination has run you into some deep waters. Whatever feelings you have need to be resolved, but I’m not a psychiatrist. I can’t help you, Jodie. Now please, get a hold of yourself and get some …

Jodie slammed down the phone so loudly that it stung Josh’s eardrum. He listened for a moment and heard a gentle click just before he hung up. He poured himself a water glass full of Scotch and waited. It wasn’t long before Beth’s car roared into the garage and Josh had never been so petrified in his life.

“Get me one of those,” Beth said, striding into the office and pointing at his drink. She followed him to the bar and put her arms around him as he poured. “More,” she said. “Thanks,” she said when the glass was full to overflowing. “Come,” she said, taking his hand and leading him to the couch.

“Jodie had a whole lot to say,” she said.
“I know. She called me,” Josh said. “I think . . .”
“Don’t think,” Beth said. “Here’s to us,” she raised her glass.

Josh picked up the book that Beth had thrown earlier. It wasn’t a novel; it was the Thesaurus she kept close at hand when she was writing. There was no character ‘screwing his wife’s best friend’. Beth had known all along. Josh felt like he was in the middle of an episode of the Twilight Zone. He rested the book on the coffee table and waited for the battle. It didn’t come.

“To us,” Beth said, raising her glass.

They clinked glasses and sipped. Beth took Josh’s glass and placed his and hers on the coffee table. She climbed onto his lap and held his face in her hand. She licked her lips slowly before licking his. Her kiss was so sweet, so full of love and longing that it brought tears to Josh’s eyes. She wiggled her cunt over his cock and massaged it to life, to engorged, flushed full life.

“I’m so wet,” she cooed. “I want you, baby,” she said, nibbling his neck and pinching his nipple through his shirt. “I want you much more than she does.”

“Take off your clothes,” she said, climbing off him. “Take them all off.”

Josh struggled out of his shirt and pants. He was barefoot. Jodie whisked her sweater over her head and discarded her skirt and panties. She kept on her bra. It was a new bra. Josh noticed that her tits looked fuller and larger than they ever had. And he loved them as she nudged him back down on the couch. He loved them as they loomed larger toward him. He loved her as she captured his proud cock, impaling herself on it. He loved them as she fucked him sweetly, easing herself up to play with his cock’s head. He loved them as she rode him hard, pulling his face into her cleavage. He loved the way they felt brushing against his thighs as she sucked his cock, nibbled it, pleasured it with her fingers and tongue. He loved the way they bounced as she rode him to victory.

“Come now,” she shrieked throwing her head back with abandon. “Come with me.” She screamed, sobbing with released desire.

Josh felt more love and respect for his wife than he’d ever felt before. He felt relived and grateful and undeserving.

“Come,” he said, leading her out of the study, down the hall and into their bedroom.
He laid her on the bed, something he hadn’t done for a long time. He needed to show her how much he appreciated her. He started at her toes.

“I don’t think we’ll be seeing Jodie anymore,” Beth said as Josh ran his tongue along her thigh.
Josh rolled Beth’s nipples just the way she liked it. He kissed and blew and fondled and sucked her pussy, just the way she liked it.

“Jodie will be resigning by email tonight. She’s no longer good for us,” Jodie said, and sighed and groaned as Josh led her over the edge into another blissful orgasm.

They hugged each other to sleep and the feeling, the closeness, was more than orgasmic.

“We must never take this for granted again,” Josh said, squeezing her tight.

“No,” Beth said, snuggling onto his chest.

And soon they slept.