I Let My Husband's Best Friend Fuck Me While He Slept in the Other Room

I never thought I’d do something like this, but I can’t stop thinking about it — and I need to get it off my chest.

It started after a night of drinking at our house. My husband, Jake, had invited his best friend, Eric, over to watch the game and hang out. We all had a few too many drinks, and by midnight, Jake passed out in our bedroom. Eric and I were still in the kitchen, laughing, a little too flirty, the alcohol making everything fuzzy and warm. I should’ve gone to bed. I should’ve walked away. But I didn’t.

I looked at Eric, and there was this silence — thick with tension. He stepped closer, and I didn’t move. My heart was pounding, not just from guilt but from this dark, twisted excitement. He brushed my hair behind my ear and whispered, “Are you sure?” I nodded. I knew exactly what I was doing.

He kissed me hard, and I melted into it. His hands were all over me, lifting me onto the kitchen counter. My panties were soaked — I’d never been so turned on in my life. He pushed my dress up, ripped my thong to the side, and slid his fingers into me. I moaned, trying to keep quiet while my husband snored just down the hall.

When he finally slid into me, I nearly lost it. The danger of it — the betrayal — it made everything feel ten times hotter. He fucked me like he owned me, gripping my hips, whispering how tight I was, how good I felt. I bit his shoulder to keep from screaming. My orgasm hit me so hard I nearly saw stars.

Afterward, we didn’t say much. Just a look. A knowing smirk. I slipped back into bed next to Jake, still dripping with Eric’s cum. I haven’t told a soul — until now.