Being fantasized about by a friend

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As people reach middle age, they become less attached to things, including sex. They value the experience and savor the flavor, indulging occasionally. Passion is no longer earth-shattering, and excitement is no longer unforgettable. This is the fate of middle-aged men.
My friend, whom I met at work, is ten years younger than me. We have similar personalities and interests, often eating and chatting together, even traveling together. Over time, we've become close, trusting friends who can talk about anything.
Last night, I had dinner at his house and drank three bottles of beer. I was slightly tipsy. His wife, putting the kids to sleep, joined in, and we opened a bottle of red wine. The three of us finished it all. His wife doesn't drink, but just one beer made her face flush. My friend has a huge capacity for alcohol; he can drink a whole case of beer without needing to go to the bathroom. I, on the other hand, can only handle about four bottles of beer. While drinking and chatting, there was still a little less than half a glass of red wine left. I poured it all for his wife. She seemed drunk, her face turning even redder. She didn't want to drink anymore, but my friend persuaded her to drink some more. We chatted while waiting for her to finish. My friend smiled at his wife's flushed face and told me it was a sign of radiant beauty. His wife glared at him and prepared to clear the table, but my friend suddenly grabbed her and kissed her on the lips. It was so sudden, I was a little surprised. His wife struggled, but my friend only tightened his grip, and then they both fell to the floor. We were already sitting on the floor drinking, so I instinctively pushed the table away. Looking at them again, I saw they had gone from struggling to a gentle kiss. My friend had lifted his wife's shirt, revealing one of her breasts—a large, dark, round, white nipple—without a bra. He ruthlessly covered and kneaded it with one hand. This sudden turn of events was almost unbelievable. But I was still quite sober; it's normal for young people to be passionate and daring. I prepared to get up and leave.
My friend suddenly stood up and grabbed me, his hand strong, as if commanding, "Don't move."
Then he turned back to kiss his wife, simultaneously lifting her shirt to cover her face, and said to me, "Dare to touch?" His eyes were unfathomable, filled with excitement, stimulation, ambiguity, and provocation. I was stunned. I had always respected them and had never considered this possibility, not even in my wildest dreams. I hadn't even bothered to look at his wife, because she was his wife. I only knew they were deeply in love, had a good relationship, and she was a good woman who loved him dearly.
I swallowed hard. Before me was the body of a woman eleven years younger than me, with alluring breasts. I stared at my friend's burning eyes for five seconds, then he winked at me. I got up and crawled over, reaching out to touch her breasts. They were warm and smooth, so different from my own wife's. I gently stroked them, feeling her body tremble. My friend continued kissing her face, pulling down his shorts to reveal a throbbing, purplish-red penis. He pressed his wife's hand onto his penis, then reached for her genitals.
I touched her like that for a while, feeling a little embarrassed. Just as I was about to pull my hand back, my friend grabbed it. He glanced at me, touched my crotch, and found it was limp. Actually, it had gotten hard the moment I touched her breasts, and now it was a little soft. My friend moved my hand towards his wife's private parts. My hand slipped through her clothes, feeling the thick pubic hair, slowly exploring and gently caressing. His wife's body writhed and moaned as if she had been electrocuted, the movements becoming increasingly intense. I was much more relaxed now, growing bolder. The area under her pubic hair wasn't very wet yet, but that was too easy for me. I knew how to please women; I had plenty of experience. My friend kept whispering something to his wife.

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