Rachel was naked, kneeling in front of me, her skin a creamy white in the pale light of the streetlamps coming through the sheer curtains. Her eyes were a little glassy from the booze and her lips were glazed. I was sitting on her couch, my own clothes in a pile on the floor near the front door. It was late in the evening and we had been drinking during a long night out with friends. My cock was hard and still wet with her saliva. It had been seven months since that first night.
She crawled into my lap and wrapped her arms around my neck, pulling me close. Our bodies pressed together, I could feel her trembling. We kissed deeply. She straddled me, her pussy achingly close to the tip of my now throbbing cock. She rubbed it there for a moment, rubbing the shaft against her clit. I could feel her warmth and wetness and I was getting lost in desire for her.
I moved my mouth to her left nipple and nibbled gently. She moaned and grinded her pussy harder against me. Taking my face in her hands, she brought my mouth to hers once again. Her tongue moved into my mouth and worked with mine. Her back arched slightly as she moved on me. I was getting coated in her juices.
"Fuck the rules," she moaned. "I fucking need this."
And then I was inside her, engulfed in the exquisite tightness and heat of her pussy as she slid all the way down onto me. I had only a moment to consider how we got to this point, how we were breaking our final and most sacred rule, and how, at least at this moment, I didn't care one bit.
But, I suppose I should tell you at least the beginning of how we reached that point.
"Good morning!," the caption read. The photo was of Rachel snuggled in her bed, hair still messy. She was laying on her side, facing away from her still-sleeping husband. She had the blanket pulled down far enough that I could see her beautiful tits bathed in the dim light of the sun filtering in through the curtains in her room. She was smiling and biting her bottom lip just a little.
It was sexy as hell.
I had been awakened by my phone vibrating, indicating that I had a message. It had been just a few short hours since our first online encounter. Seeing this new photo and remembering what had transpired the night before, I was hard again.
My wife was still asleep. Judging by the amount of wine she had consumed, I suspected she would be sleeping off a hangover most of the day. I was naked under the blankets, so I rolled over onto my back and gently pulled the blankets down to my knees. I took a quick photo of my hard cock and sent it back to her with a caption that read, "It IS a good morning!"
A few moments later I got another photo. This one was another close-up of her pussy. Her fingers were spreading the lips apart and I could see a small amount of creamy white grool at the opening. The caption read, "It's about to get a lot better."
Photos and texts continued throughout the day. It wasn't all naughty stuff, but some of it was. Others were just funny or quirky thoughts. It was a Sunday and I was doing some work for a freelance client most of the day. Occasionally, Rachel would sign on and we'd chat for a bit.
Later that night, after Tim had gone to bed and I was sure my wife was in bed for the night, we had another cam session. This time I was in my office, which afforded a little more privacy. We turned on our mics and, though we still had to be quiet, it was the first time I heard her cum. The long moan that escaped her lips as the orgasm took over her body was one of the hottest things I'd ever heard. She acknowledged to me in the aftermath that my own moaning as I came turned her on, too.
As I noted in my last story, I had been friends with Rachel for a few years. She was a grad student, but prior to that had been employed in the same industry in which I work. As such, she and I were colleagues in a way. It wasn't unusual for us to get lunch together or meet up for drinks with other professionals after work.
It also wasn't unusual for her to be texting me. She was a serial texter. You might not hear from her for a couple of days, but when you did get a text, it was never just one. She would text you for hours. There usually wouldn't be a huge point to the texts, she just wanted conversation. Sometimes she would text me and my wife separately, having totally different conversations.
So, over the course of this affair, the number of texts I received from Rachel didn't seem unusual at all to my wife.
Over the next couple of days and nights, the texts and online chats continued. It certainly wasn't all explicit. We talked about our marriages, our lives before marriage and what we hoped for the future.
Rachel expressed to me her belief that sex among friends -- even after marriage -- shouldn't be taboo. In her view, why wouldn't you want to have nice feelings with the people you love? Wouldn't it be so great if we could just fuck occasionally and not have it be anything other than two people enjoying each others' bodies? But we both agreed that our spouses would never see it that way. We agreed that this really should never become a real-life physical thing.
We talked about all of the people in our circle of friends that we secretly wanted to fuck. She had only been with one girl in her life, but most of the crushes she had were on our female friends, most specifically on our friend Autumn and another friend, Chelsea.
We shared fantasies sometimes of having threesomes with Autumn or Chelsea. We shared porn links. We told each other stories from our sexual pasts.
Then, a little over two weeks since our first online encounter, Rachel asked if I wanted to get lunch the next day. I was a little hesitant. This would be the first time we'd have seen each other in person since this whole thing began, whatever this whole thing was. Would it be weird?
"Don't worry," she texted. "It'll be totally straight. No naughty business."
