I F*cked My Friend’s Girlfriend The Night They Broke Up

You caught me at a good time for writing.

The morning after I spent the night in Allie’s room, we had a serious conversation about the situation we were in.

We both felt guilty about letting things go too far, but this was also the first time we spoke openly about how we felt about each other, and that crush-feel got in the way of what perhaps could have been a more productive discussion.

Although we did manage to agree we’d hold off on more sexual activities until Allie broke up with John, it was increasingly hard to focus on the matter at hand.

We both knew this was a snowball-issue. We talked about the circumstances of our living situation, and how we both would — eventually — give in to our temptations, no matter how hard we tried, and we wouldn’t be able to stop. We had to face it, we both wanted each other badly.

“And even if we wanted to repress those feelings,” Allie said,

“One day it’s going to be too much, and I’ll just jump you.”

We laughed at the matter-of-factness in her voice.

Truth be told, I’d never had a girl speak to me this way before — like I was something irresistible. I wanted more, so I decided to prod her a little bit.

“Have you thought about doing that already?” I asked.

She gave me a knowing look, and spoke with coyness,

“Hm? Thought about doing what?”

“You know.”

“I know,” she agreed,

“But I want to hear you say it. And don’t be shy.”

I looked deep into her eyes, knowing that the next sentence would be the opening of a door that we both were eager to step through — into the world of dirty talk. I didn’t hesitate, but I did stumble a bit.

“Have you thought about fucking me?”

I paused, doubting my words,

“Or… getting fucked by me? You know, either one.”

Allie giggled at me, and her lips turned into a wicked smile that I immediately fell in love with. A little space in the back of my mind was cleared for that smile. It became a goal of mine to see it on her as many times as possible.

“Oh,” she said with faux-realization — as if she didn’t know what I meant before,

“Absolutely I’ve thought about it. But it’s not really my fault. You’re the one that keeps your cologne so close to the bathtub.”

She was baiting me.

It was obvious. I didn’t care.

I immediately asked her what she meant. After a few minutes of prying, she told me about how she’d developed a habit of taking long baths, where she would spray my cologne onto her wrist and breathe it in — all while she was pleasuring herself.

As she told me this, that beautifully wicked smile of hers kept flashing at me. It was as if she was casting a spell on me — I was fixed on her every word, and the lust was building up inside me.

This girl — this stunningly beautiful girl — was masturbating to the thought of me while sniffing up my cologne?

I was shocked, I was flattered, and I was insanely aroused. In my silence, she crawled over to where I was kneeling on the bed, and started nibbling my neck.

Good god, we wouldn’t have lasted two days.

But a blessing-curse got in the way: Allie was set to go on a short trip with her friends out to the country. We would be apart for most of the week. Before she left, Allie told me she would be breaking up with John when she got back.

I didn’t really know how to respond to her when she told me that. Do I give her a thumbs up, or a sympathetic nod? It wasn’t my place to encourage her to do this, even though I wanted it to happen.

I was in a strange state of mind that you only ever reach if you’re involved in an affair. I wanted things to go a certain way; I wanted to have Allie all to myself, but the judgmental figure in my head kept telling me that I had no right to want anything; that now I would never be able to ask for anything from anyone.

Advice, support, and reassurance seemed impossible to even think of seeking out. Allie was the only person I could talk to honestly about how I felt, and at times I did, but that only ever pushed away any approach to the problem that didn’t involve pursuing her.

You would have thought a break from each other would maybe alleviate the infatuation a bit, but we were stuck to our phones at every waking moment, waiting on each other.

Over the course of her time away, we talked about mundane things. Family, work, ambitions, hobbies.

We also talked about sex things.

It started with a surprise lewd that she sent me one morning. In it, she was naked in the bathroom, with her phone-hand doing an arm-bra over her incredible breasts, covering her nipples and not much else.

Her second hand was lazily hanging down between her legs, keeping everything perfectly lewd. The image showed off her delicious curves, and her beautiful stomach. In fact, it looked a whole lot like a cosplay of Venus, but hotter, and with the sarcastic words

“Oh no…” typed on the side.

I told her how incredible she looked, and she sent another one with her naked legs raised in the air.

Needless to say, I was charged up at this point, and she hit me with a curveball:

“Beg for more,” she said. I hesitated, and she knew it.

“You haven’t been good. You didn’t even deserve those ones, baby.”

She was really going all-in on this new dominator character, and I loved it. I decided to join her in that pool.

I told her I would do anything, that I was desperate to please her. I told her she was like a drug, and I needed another fix.

She liked being told she was addictive, and I wasn’t shy about saying it. I told her how pent up I was. She said,

“Show me what you’ve got for me.”

We started exchanging nudes, then we talked about our kinks and all the things we want to try.

Cock rings, vibrators, taking turns being submissive and dominant, going down on each other, tying each other up, spanking and roughness.

She told me she wanted to drip hot wax on me — that took me by surprise. I told her I wanted to lick her out and eat her ass — that took her by surprise, but she had a

“If it happens to me, it shall happen to thee” approach.

I didn’t mind that. Eventually, we both just got really blatant; I think these messages from her encapsulate the moment best:

It was a long 3 days of teasing and image-swapping, the latter of which will not be made public. Of course, there were sentimental moments.

Among all the dirty talk and horniness, we developed our own little language to express ourselves in simple, yet meaningful ways.

“I have a lot of strong feelings for you,” and “I care about you a lot,” to replace some more charged phrases.

That’s how I read it at the time, anyway. There were other, more abrupt things I wanted to say, but I still knew — constantly knew — I didn’t deserve anything, and telling someone you love them is, if anything else, a hope that they can say it back to you. It just was not the time for that.

Eventually the day came.

I was out of the house when it happened, thankfully. I spent my time wondering how long we should wait before Allie and I sealed the deal.

Two weeks? A month? What was a respectful amount of time for John other than before Allie fingered her mouth with my hand and jerked me off?

I never did come up with an answer to that.

When I got back, John was gone, and Allie was upset. I very cautiously broached the subject, asking how she was doing, if she regretted her choice, and other silly questions.

I didn’t know what sort of person to be. I wanted to be the friend she needed; wholeheartedly, but how do you do a thing like that when you’ve been sending dirty messages to her for the last 3 days straight?

Thankfully she took control of the conversation, ranting a little bit, telling me that John didn’t give a shit about a breakup, that he couldn’t care less about anything she had to say.

It was easy to see that their relationship was causing some distress to her self-esteem. Even as it was ending, she got no appreciation from him:

He didn’t ask why, or wish he could fix it, or ask for another chance.

He was “stoic,” as she put it.

Over the next few hours, things settled down. We slid into the groove of good friends, got some drinks, and shot the shit about terrible exes and stupid break-up stories.

At one point, we caught each other staring in a moment of post-laughter. I was caught in her eyes — piercing blue with flecks of grey. Allie put her hand out in front of me. I saw it as a prompt.

I answered with my own, raising my hand up to meet hers. Her fingers brushed through mine, and we clasped each other’s hands tightly. It was warm, and comforting, and it still buzzed through me like mad.

“I care about you a lot,” she said.

Reading the words vs. hearing them was a world away and years apart. I still hear the way she said it, ringing in my bones. We smiled together. Everything was starting to line up.

I argued with myself about whether or not to tell her how I really felt about her, but denialism won over this time, and my thoughts were interrupted by a phone ringing. Allie picked it up; her friend was calling to talk about the breakup. I went to my room to give her some privacy.

It was a very long phone call, or perhaps it was multiple calls, that lasted late into the night. The sounds I heard from the living room were all strangely reassuring — laughter and expressions of relief at it all being “over.” I silently thanked whoever was on the other end of the line for helping her through the experience while I drank alone in my room.

But soon, I wasn’t alone anymore.

Allie came in, more beautiful than ever.

She wasn’t wearing a fancy outfit or sexy lingerie or anything. It was just her, in pajama shorts and a t-shirt.

I don’t know if this is a universal feeling, but there is something about your partner just looking comfortable that is so gorgeous and endearing — and this is what she radiated as she came into the room.

She was comfortable, she was relieved, and she was happy. Her hair was a hot mess. Her legs were incredibly sleek and sexy, and her shirt was delightfully tight — highlighting her incredible breasts. I asked her how she was feeling — if she was doing okay.

Wordlessly, with a gentle smile, she did exactly what she told me she would do — she “jumped me.”

In an instant, she was on top of me, and our lips were locking together. Her hands caressed my face and neck as her perfume floated around my head — immediately,

I was drunk. My hands went to her back — to the soft skin exposed by her shirt riding up.

For the next minute I was her cartographer, mapping every inch of her body. I felt the small valley between her shoulderblades that formed when she leaned down to kiss my neck.

I ran along both coastlines of her torso, down to her hips, feeling the way they turned back and forth as we started grinding against each other.

When she sat up, still on top of me, I felt the foothills of her stomach, and travelled up past her breasts to run down her arms and take both of her hands in mine.

Her hair had fallen like a veil in front of her face, but I could see through some of the cracks between it, we were staring at each other — breathing heavily. She said she wanted me, and I said I wanted her, too.

She lifted off her shirt and started undoing her bra — as she did, I leaned up to her and started kissing across her chest, moving to take one of her nipples into my mouth.

She moaned gently as I held her other breast with my hand, gently rubbing her nipple with my thumb.

As a sign of approval, she started gyrating her hips against my crotch.

As I focused on her, she started pulling off my shirt, making me pause from her for a moment. Now, finally, we were both completely topless. It still wasn’t enough.

We took turns sliding off our pants,

each of us decorating the other with kisses wherever possible as we did. I ended up sitting on the edge of the bed as she kicked away her shorts.

For the first time, we were completely naked in front of each other. It must’ve been the pheromones, but I swear she was glowing. As she took her position on top of me again, my body went tense with anticipation.

This was the moment.

I was as hard as I could be, and ready — a million times ready for her. The crush-feel screamed its victory in my head, as Allie lowered herself to meet the length of my cock. And for the second time tonight, her foreshadowing hit the mark.

Supporting herself with her arms on me, she started rubbing her pussy along my cock, coating it with her wetness.

I moaned as she took it in her hand, pressing it harder against herself — I was exponentially starving to be inside her, and she knew it.

She had that wicked smile, looking down at me with eyes half-shut in pleasure, as she teased us both — rubbing back and forth along my cock.

Every time she got to the tip she’d threaten to push me inside her, and I would desperately push up with my hips, hoping to slip into her dripping wet pussy, but she had full control.

We each became a shaky mess, with ragged breaths and bodies glistening with sweat. Time and time again I begged her to stop teasing me, to let me fill her up and fuck her.

Every time I said it, she quivered.

This was her favorite thing to do, but even she had her limits.

“Do you want to fuck me?” Her voice was breathy and transcendent. It took hold of all my perceptions.

“Yes.”

“Say it to me.” She said, commanding me like she wasn’t also about to break.

“I want to fuck you.”

“How much?” She looked deep into my eyes.

“Forever.”

She paused her teasing only to giggle in spite of herself.

“That’s not what I meant, but… It’s the right answer.”

As she glided up to the tip of my cock, she lifted herself slightly, keeping the pressure of my cock against her, moving up inch by inch until my tip ran along her lips, bumping past her clit — making her gasp.

She positioned my cock right where it needed to be, and as she lowered herself onto me, I leaned up to be face to face with her.

For every inch that my cock pushed into her, we shared a messy, groan-filled kiss.

She was too tight to fit me all at once,

so over the next minute or two I slowly moved in and out. We moaned each other’s names, kissed faces, necks, and shoulders.

Her tits pressed up against me as she sucked my thumb, twirling her tongue around it. For a moment, it seemed like I’d be too much for her. I decided to switch things up, pulling her down to the bed and pivoting so that I was on top of her.

Allie really was some kind of goddess.

As she fell against the pillows her hair spread out across the sheets, and she chuckled at the spontaneous position-switch.

She looked like the subject of a painting. I told her she was beautiful, and she blushed, turning her head to the side, giving me the perfect space to lean down and nibble her neck as I pushed the rest of my cock inside her.

She let out this adorably hot

“fffffffUCK!”

and her tits started heaving from her deep breaths.

I didn’t want this to end, but I had been on the edge for a while now, so I told her I was close to cumming.

She said she was too and that she wanted me to fill her up. If I recall correctly, she said:

“If you fill me up I’ll cum so fucking hard, baby.”

I started thrusting more intently, pulling out to the tip and pushing back in as much as I could so she felt as much of me as possible.

Her pussy felt so fucking incredible; it was so hot inside her, and every time I buried myself in her she let out this gorgeous, high-pitched moan. We were both so close, and between her cute little whines she kept begging me to cum.

I rolled her hips back a bit so I could go as deep as possible. The smell of her filled my air, and as I rested inside her as deep as I could go, I did one two three quick thrusts to finish the job.

Her eyes rolled back and she stuck out her tongue a bit, and I unloaded inside her — three days of pent up cum from all the teasing and infatuation.

As it all filled up her delicious pussy, her moaning cut out and she started quivering. Just like she said, my cum pushed her over the edge, and she shut her eyes tight, put on her wicked smile (she just looked so happy, it was amazing), and squealed

“ Oh my….. GOD!”

I collapsed on her, we were breathing in a deep rhythm together, and she ran her fingers lightly across my back while doing these adorable little growls of pleasure.

As we came down, we started joking around a little bit, making each other laugh like we always do. She let out a deep, relaxed sigh; and there it was again:

“I… care about you… so much.”

Thanks for reading. I hope it was worth it, and as always — let me know if you want more.

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I’m sending you so much love 💋 Olivia

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