Ten years of "best friend" friendship

page views:1 Publication date:2023-03-23

Zhenzhen was my classmate in college. Back then, because she was dating her best female friend, I often asked her to deliver messages or things, so the two of them were like brothers. The girl with the short hair I remember never really entered my life, not even after she met her future husband. Even when the three of us were together, she and her husband didn't seem to mind.

After graduation, we kept in touch intermittently, but it was just a close friendship among classmates.

Last year, she and her family of three went to Beijing, and I spent two days with them. The photo of her holding my hand and leaning on my shoulder was taken by her husband.

The turning point in our relationship came two months after a class reunion. Before that, we occasionally chatted on the phone, and she complained to me that her husband, now the chairman of a township under their county, was losing money every day and causing unhappiness in his family.

So I often gave her advice and tried to talk to her, after all, they had been married for so many years, and their daughter was grown up; they should try to make their life work out.

Mid-year, I went back to my hometown for some business, and she happened to be back in the provincial capital, so we arranged to meet up with our classmates there.

We went through the motions: dinner, drinks, and karaoke. Since she had to catch a train back the next day, and my apartment was close to the train station, my classmates didn't insist and let her ride with me. I booked a room for her at a hotel near my home, and

the two of us, alone, took the elevator up. It was past midnight when we arrived at the hotel, and it was just the two of us in the elevator. As we got out of the elevator, perhaps her high heels got stuck on the carpet, because just as she was about to fall, my hand instinctively caught her, my right hand landing on her right breast.

Through her thin shirt, I could feel her body suddenly tremble.

Time seemed to stand still; neither of us spoke. In that situation, it seemed like anything we said would be wrong.

Ironically, I immediately gave her a quick, suggestive look, my hand pressed against her buttocks.

Emboldened by the alcohol, I led her by the hand quickly to the room. As soon as the door closed, I pinned her against it, cupped her face, and began kissing her, my right hand quickly kneading her breast through her shirt.

Perhaps because she had been drinking, or perhaps because she was annoyed by family matters, Zhenzhen opened her mouth without hesitation as soon as I kissed her, and we began a passionate French kiss.

After a few minutes of kissing, I was no longer satisfied with just touching her; I lifted her shirt and placed my hands directly on her breasts, kneading her nipples.

Zhenzhen slowly began to respond, and her nipples hardened.

"I want you!" I whispered in her ear.

Zhenzhen's eyes were glazed, and she said nothing but heavy breathing.

I lifted her legs and threw her onto the bed, quickly unbuttoning her shirt, pushing up her black bra, and then began sucking on one breast while my right hand kneaded the other.

I had forgotten who this woman was. At that moment, she—Zhenzhen—my college classmate, a married woman, was being pinned down by her male best friend, her college classmate, one hand kneading her right breast, the other nipple being pulled upwards by his penis.

I had never imagined Zhenzhen's body was so sensitive, her white breasts so soft and full.

My mouth traveled downwards, from her breasts to her navel, and then to the pubic hair that had already been silently removed by my hands. I teased Zhenzhen until she cried out excitedly.

I spread her legs apart, pressing my thumb against her vulva. Zhenzhen tried to close her legs in shame; after all, displaying her husband's body to such a familiar stranger, especially under such bright lights, was a bit too embarrassing.

I covered Zhenzhen's exposed vulva with my mouth, my tongue like a stick, thrusting in and out. Looking up at Zhenzhen, her eyebrows were already furrowed with arousal, and she was still moaning. Without hesitation, I pulled off Zhenzhen's and my jeans and threw them on the ground, spread her legs again, and thrust inside her.

Zhenzhen's vulva was warm, perhaps due to regular exercise, or perhaps because her sex life wasn't very frequent. It wasn't as loose as a woman in her thirties, and penetration felt very good.

I squeezed Zhenzhen's two soft, white breasts and squeezed them hard. Zhenzhen was groaning happily beneath me. I have to admit, it's much more comfortable with a married woman. We

did it twice that night. I ejaculated once on the bed, and then when she went to shower, I followed her in and had her sit on the toilet to give me a blowjob. Then I pressed her against the wall and ejaculated from behind.

Both times, we didn't use a condom.

We quickly showered and lay down. I insisted that she hold me while we slept, so when I woke up in the morning and saw her naked in my arms, I got Zhenzhen up again, had her lie face down on the bed, and held her from behind for more than twenty minutes before ejaculating inside her.

We still talk on the phone often afterward, but now that we've crossed the physical barrier, I feel something's different, though I can't quite put my finger on it. Perhaps this most intimate contact marks the official end of our decade-long friendship!

May the years to come be filled with beautiful memories!

[The End]

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