What Are Friends For?
Posted: Fri May 01, 2020 1:46 am
Hey there! Tina Tempest here with a story too short for one of my collections so you lucky people get it gratis.
My latest, "Tiny Loves" should go live on Amazon in a few days. For those of you who have not sampled my works as yet, think of this as a little appetizer!
-- Sincerely, Tina Tempest
What Are Friends For?
“Jim, I know what’s on your mind.”
I had trouble meeting Dave’s face. I flushed with embarrassment. He had caught me nakedly contemplating his lovely passed-out wife, Vicky. We’d been celebrating Dave’s latest book launch. This one had cracked the USA Today bestseller list and promised to break big on the New York Times list as well. All of us had been drinking too much, but tiny, shrunken Vicky was the first to succumb to its effects. She sat slouched on the couch her abundant chest rising slowly as she slept.
“I’m sorry, Dave…” I began.
“What the hell do you have to be sorry about. My wife is damn sexy.”
“That’s true,” I replied.
“I’ve caught you eyeing Vicky a lot, Jim. How often do you jerk off to her image in your mind?”
My mouth fell open in shock. “Is it that obvious?” I returned at last.
“You aren’t exactly subtle, pal. Vicky has mentioned your obvious stares to me. She doesn’t like it.”
“Dave…”
“Save it, Jim. If you don’t get this out of your system and right soon, you’ll compound your stupidity and say something stupid to Vicky and she will ban you from the house. You are my oldest friend, Jim. I can’t afford to lose you.”
“I’ll do my best, Dave.”
“Willpower is useless, my friend. There’s only way to get this out of your system, Jim. You are going to help me put her to bed.”
“What?”
“Once you see the real thing, you’ll stop undressing her with your eyes. You will stop making a fool of yourself in front of Vicky and our friendship can continue unimpeded.”
I stood there for a moment gaping at my oldest friend.
“Pick her up and follow me to our bedroom.”
“Are you sure about this, Dave?”
“Who’s the brilliant, intellectual writer, and who’s the guy who has always been his thrall?”
“All right, you conceited smart ass!” I shot back.
I Bent and scooped up Vicky. She continued to doze peacefully. Vicky is a spectacularly beautiful woman. She stands two-feet and three-inches tall. Her heritage is Polish. Her midnight black hair falls almost to her ass. She has terrific legs, a fantastic ass, large tits, and a model’s face. To say that my best buddy, Dave is the luckiest man in the universe is a colossal understatement. Almost holding my breath, I carefully carted my best friend’s wife to the bedroom.
I set Vicky down on the bed and gazed at her. She was wearing a white blouse, a short tartan skirt, blue tights, and low blue heels. Her hair fanned out on the bed like and ebony nimbus.
“She’s out cold, Jim. Why don’t YOU undress her?”
“Are you sure, Dave? I mean…”
“Yes, I’m sure. Now don’t stand there and try to act like you don’t want to do it. That’s an unbecoming lie, pal.”
I let out a breath and gingerly removed Vicky’s shoes which I placed on the nightstand. I stood there for a moment not sure how to progress. I decided that I just had to see her magnificent legs. I reached under the cute little kilt and found the waistline of the tights. I held my breath as I tugged and maneuvered these over her shapely rump and down her still long seeming legs. Despite my fears of being discovered, the tiny woman never stirred. I gazed at her nicely tanned legs. She had pretty little feet with high arches and delicate toes, the nails of which were painted a brilliant red.
I turned to Dave. We’d both had a lot to drink tonight, but the gleam in his eyes was one of stone-cold sobriety. In that instant, I understood that he wanted me to do this as much as or even, perhaps, more than me. He wanted his gorgeous wife exposed and he wanted me to do the exposing!
I reached for the tiny pearl buttons on her blouse. They parted revealing Vicky’s wondrous tits barely restrained by her white lacy bra. I could see the outlines of her areolas and nipples through the translucent fabric! I pulled the blouse away from her body. While I had her torso upright, my fingers roved to the clasps of her tiny brassiere. I tugged it off and almost came on the spot. Her melons were spectacular, firm, and round and abundant. I ran my fingers over them and savored the sensation of feeling up the boob of my best friend’s wife. Somehow, I managed to restrain myself from licking those glorious globes. Somehow, I knew that was a line, Dave would not permit me to cross. I shook my head to clear it before I raised her butt off the bed to reach under her and unclasp and unzip the kilt. I tugged it off in one fluid motion. Vicky laid there looking like an angel clad in just a gold-colored thong. Never had I had a more satisfying stiffy then the one I sprouted while yanking down Vicky’s last remaining shred of modesty. Her feminine ebony thatch was thick but neat. In this case, the reality was a thousand times better than my imagination had been. Vicky was like a shrunken supermodel, fit, toned, and curvy in all the right places. Her navel adorned a flat tummy above her wasp waist. If she had any flaw, it was the wine stain birthmark on her left hip. But that did not detract from her beauty if anything it served as an accent mark to her astounding physique. I ran my fingers the length of her body several times. At one point, light glinted off her wedding ring, I felt not a scintilla of shame. Dave coughed softly.
“I’ll put her in her pajamas now, Jim, wait outside.”
I could feel the blood pulsing through my ears as I stood there in the hallway and the world spun around me. Dave exited his bedroom several moments later, grinning from ear to ear.
“Not a word of this ever, Jim!”
“A word about what, Dave?”
I drove home soon after. I’d had a heady buzz earlier in the night but, driving home, I was sober as a judge. Never had a masturbation session been as memorable or as wonderful.
Dave, Vicky, and I get together regularly. Things are better than ever between us. Sometimes I even bring a date. Vicky doesn’t suspect a thing. Other than the occasional wink, Dave has never mentioned the incident again. He has no need. As the proverb says, “What are friends for?”
My latest, "Tiny Loves" should go live on Amazon in a few days. For those of you who have not sampled my works as yet, think of this as a little appetizer!
-- Sincerely, Tina Tempest
What Are Friends For?
“Jim, I know what’s on your mind.”
I had trouble meeting Dave’s face. I flushed with embarrassment. He had caught me nakedly contemplating his lovely passed-out wife, Vicky. We’d been celebrating Dave’s latest book launch. This one had cracked the USA Today bestseller list and promised to break big on the New York Times list as well. All of us had been drinking too much, but tiny, shrunken Vicky was the first to succumb to its effects. She sat slouched on the couch her abundant chest rising slowly as she slept.
“I’m sorry, Dave…” I began.
“What the hell do you have to be sorry about. My wife is damn sexy.”
“That’s true,” I replied.
“I’ve caught you eyeing Vicky a lot, Jim. How often do you jerk off to her image in your mind?”
My mouth fell open in shock. “Is it that obvious?” I returned at last.
“You aren’t exactly subtle, pal. Vicky has mentioned your obvious stares to me. She doesn’t like it.”
“Dave…”
“Save it, Jim. If you don’t get this out of your system and right soon, you’ll compound your stupidity and say something stupid to Vicky and she will ban you from the house. You are my oldest friend, Jim. I can’t afford to lose you.”
“I’ll do my best, Dave.”
“Willpower is useless, my friend. There’s only way to get this out of your system, Jim. You are going to help me put her to bed.”
“What?”
“Once you see the real thing, you’ll stop undressing her with your eyes. You will stop making a fool of yourself in front of Vicky and our friendship can continue unimpeded.”
I stood there for a moment gaping at my oldest friend.
“Pick her up and follow me to our bedroom.”
“Are you sure about this, Dave?”
“Who’s the brilliant, intellectual writer, and who’s the guy who has always been his thrall?”
“All right, you conceited smart ass!” I shot back.
I Bent and scooped up Vicky. She continued to doze peacefully. Vicky is a spectacularly beautiful woman. She stands two-feet and three-inches tall. Her heritage is Polish. Her midnight black hair falls almost to her ass. She has terrific legs, a fantastic ass, large tits, and a model’s face. To say that my best buddy, Dave is the luckiest man in the universe is a colossal understatement. Almost holding my breath, I carefully carted my best friend’s wife to the bedroom.
I set Vicky down on the bed and gazed at her. She was wearing a white blouse, a short tartan skirt, blue tights, and low blue heels. Her hair fanned out on the bed like and ebony nimbus.
“She’s out cold, Jim. Why don’t YOU undress her?”
“Are you sure, Dave? I mean…”
“Yes, I’m sure. Now don’t stand there and try to act like you don’t want to do it. That’s an unbecoming lie, pal.”
I let out a breath and gingerly removed Vicky’s shoes which I placed on the nightstand. I stood there for a moment not sure how to progress. I decided that I just had to see her magnificent legs. I reached under the cute little kilt and found the waistline of the tights. I held my breath as I tugged and maneuvered these over her shapely rump and down her still long seeming legs. Despite my fears of being discovered, the tiny woman never stirred. I gazed at her nicely tanned legs. She had pretty little feet with high arches and delicate toes, the nails of which were painted a brilliant red.
I turned to Dave. We’d both had a lot to drink tonight, but the gleam in his eyes was one of stone-cold sobriety. In that instant, I understood that he wanted me to do this as much as or even, perhaps, more than me. He wanted his gorgeous wife exposed and he wanted me to do the exposing!
I reached for the tiny pearl buttons on her blouse. They parted revealing Vicky’s wondrous tits barely restrained by her white lacy bra. I could see the outlines of her areolas and nipples through the translucent fabric! I pulled the blouse away from her body. While I had her torso upright, my fingers roved to the clasps of her tiny brassiere. I tugged it off and almost came on the spot. Her melons were spectacular, firm, and round and abundant. I ran my fingers over them and savored the sensation of feeling up the boob of my best friend’s wife. Somehow, I managed to restrain myself from licking those glorious globes. Somehow, I knew that was a line, Dave would not permit me to cross. I shook my head to clear it before I raised her butt off the bed to reach under her and unclasp and unzip the kilt. I tugged it off in one fluid motion. Vicky laid there looking like an angel clad in just a gold-colored thong. Never had I had a more satisfying stiffy then the one I sprouted while yanking down Vicky’s last remaining shred of modesty. Her feminine ebony thatch was thick but neat. In this case, the reality was a thousand times better than my imagination had been. Vicky was like a shrunken supermodel, fit, toned, and curvy in all the right places. Her navel adorned a flat tummy above her wasp waist. If she had any flaw, it was the wine stain birthmark on her left hip. But that did not detract from her beauty if anything it served as an accent mark to her astounding physique. I ran my fingers the length of her body several times. At one point, light glinted off her wedding ring, I felt not a scintilla of shame. Dave coughed softly.
“I’ll put her in her pajamas now, Jim, wait outside.”
I could feel the blood pulsing through my ears as I stood there in the hallway and the world spun around me. Dave exited his bedroom several moments later, grinning from ear to ear.
“Not a word of this ever, Jim!”
“A word about what, Dave?”
I drove home soon after. I’d had a heady buzz earlier in the night but, driving home, I was sober as a judge. Never had a masturbation session been as memorable or as wonderful.
Dave, Vicky, and I get together regularly. Things are better than ever between us. Sometimes I even bring a date. Vicky doesn’t suspect a thing. Other than the occasional wink, Dave has never mentioned the incident again. He has no need. As the proverb says, “What are friends for?”