Bob and Dave gay story
Bob and David had been friends since they were jerking-off to Spice Girls and Alanis Morissette album covers back in the day (Meanwhile, I was rubbing myself cross-eyed over visions of Bob and David jerking-off to Alanis). When it came time to do more than masturbate, I found it impossible to choose one, so I literally flipped a coin and started spreadin’ ‘em for Bob. Dave was typically great about it. He would go for a long walks to nowhere while his two best buds boned in the back of his car. Wow, what a patient and lovely person he was (some of the stains never came off those leather seats). We also boned in his room when his parents were away. The day we got married, Bob boned me in the Narthex while Dave distracted the priest with a string of questions about the 7th Ecumenical Council. Of course he was our best man. As I looked over at him, I wondered whether he was the “best man” period. Well, too late to worry about that now. Besides, at that precise moment, I could feel blotches of Bob’s spunk dripping out of my quim, down the inside of my leg and onto the altar floor. I’m not Catholic myself, so I’m not sure whether they have a commandment against that.
After the marriage, nothing really changed between the three of us. Dave was still the sweetest palooka this side of heaven and Bob still enjoyed boning me in inconvenient places. It seemed like The Three Amigos were never apart. It was either game night or a holiday barbeque or he dropped over just because. I was always hugging him and giving him a “hello” or “goodbye” kiss. We’d even seen each other naked a couple of times (The three of us rented a cottage equipped with a hot tub.). Let’s just say, his nicely dangling equipment did not go unnoticed. I shaved every follicle off when I found out about the Jacuzzi just to give him a bird’s eye view of my plump and tasty lady fruit. It’s the least I could do for such a loyal friend. Of course Bob had to bone me right there in tub, in front of him. And then we all had to get out because little islands of his cum began to float to the surface and it was majorly gross.
Since that summer holiday together, I’d noticed Dave’s goodbye hugs and kisses had been getting a little longer. A little warmer. A little yummier. For my part, I did nothing to curtail the duration of his osculatory encroachments.
I’ll admit (blush) that there were a few nights around that time, while Bob was dutifully roto-tilling my feminine flower bed; I was busily fantasizing about a totally different gardener (if you catch my Best Man drift). It’s safe to say that I had developed a little girlie crush on the galoot.
One evening, Bob had quaffed a couple too many Lowenbraus during a Giants’ game and decided to toddle off to bed during the 7th inning stretch. Dave and I hung in till the soul-crushing, game-ending home run. Damn those fucking Giants!
“Well Mr. Patterson, I think it’s about time that we called it a night,” I sighed as the Blue Jays jumped around the field and made a mockery of America’s Pastime.
“None of those fuckers are even Canadian,” Davey complained.
“Well, I’ll bet not many of the Giants were actually born in San Francisco,” I countered, pulling my despondent pal off the couch.
Hand in hand, I led him to the front door. When we arrived, there was an awkward pause.
“Thanks so much for dinner and putting up with me all the time,” he smiled.
“You know you’re more than welcome here anytime. It’s a shame you have to go home,” I replied and gave him a small kiss.
“I’d better be off,” he sighed and kissed me.
I could feel a certain stirring. “Yes you’d better,” I faux admonished…and kissed him. Then he kissed me. Then our mouths opened up like ferryboat car ramps and it became very hard to tell who was kissing who. I’m pretty sure that it was his hand on my ass, though.
“This is so wrong,” did sort of cross my mind as I felt my fingers rubbing up and down the front of his jeans. He very tenderly touched my breast as we wantonly smooched but I was having none of it. I grabbed his wrist roughly and pulled it off me…then stuck it up my t-shirt and underneath my bra. It really is a magical (bordering on the religious) moment for a Y-Chromosomed lad when he first gets a hold of a woman’s naked tit. There was no way I was going to let him deny himself that kind of joy. It’s like Christmas and Thanksgiving all rolled into one. Now fully ensconced, Davey more than availed himself of my rock hard nipple and malleable mammary. I was absolutely soaking in my nether department but there was absolutely no way I was going to have sex with my husband’s best friend with Bob upstairs snoring off 2 gallons of Teutonic ale. So, I dropped down to my knees and began to unzip Dave’s pants. He gently played with my hair as I eagerly pulled the long schlong out of his jockeys and began to lick the tip and shaft. God, it felt good to have his hardness in my mouth. I reached up for his balls and gave them the deluxe treatment as I sucked and slobbered all over the end of his knob. Alas, as much as I was loving basting his beef whistle, I realized the longer this went on, the more likely was the chance that Bob would get up and come down for a glass of water. Schhluuuup! Out of my mouth he came, as I traded him a load of licky for a spirited handjob. Let’s just say that Dave responded somewhat favorably my manual ministrations. It became immediately apparent that vast amounts of time would not be a factor in get him to “pop one” as I kneaded his nutsack and lovingly stroked his rod. There was just one more task that required my attention. Dave was a nice guy and a good friend and he deserved to shoot his cum down the back of my throat. I’d never seen him blow a load before, so I had to keep an eye out for vital male about-to-climax clues. Bingo! He let out this familiar muffled grunt and I dove back onto his pecker just as it spewed his goo. Thick ribbons of creamy semen coated my uvula and my tongue. More muffled grunts and some very shaky knees ensued. When at last he had filled me to his limit, I allowed his shrinking equipment to tarry in my mouth and bask in the warm orgasmic afterglow, basting it in my saliva.
But all good things must come to an end before your husband catches you doing them, so I sadly put his penis back into his pants, zipped them up and sent him on his way without saying a word. Then, I brushed my teeth and went to bed. I had given myself a lot to think about.
Breakfast the next morning was a reasonably quiet affair until I broke my anxiety-filled silence by saying, “I sucked Dave’s cock last night.”
Bob paused halfway through a spoonful of Frosted Mini-Wheats. I really didn’t know how he was going to react. Was he going to cry? Was he going to dive over the table at me? Was he going to buy a Asplundh Whisper Chipper and stuff Dave’s head into it? I waited. Bob treated himself to another mouthful of Mini-Wheats. It was absolute agony.
“Has this been going on long?” he finally asked.
“No, last night was the first time.”
“Are there going to be other times?”
“I guess that would depend on you.”
Another two spoons of Mini-Wheats were consumed while he pondered his reaction. I’m all in favor of Bob getting his recommended daily allowance of roughage and fiber but this was torture!
“Do you love me?”
“Baby, I love you to death.”
Munch. Munch. “Then I guess you can keep sucking his cock.”
I figured I’d better leave it there for the time being, but there were certainly more questions that needed answering, like: “It never occurred to you that I might want a couple of those Mini-Wheats for breakfast?”
We were in line for a movie that night when I again broached the subject most delicate.
“So, when you say I can keep on sucking Dave’s dick…where would I do that…exactly?”
“Well, I guess you’d better do it at our house or I’ll never see you two.”
I kissed him. He blushed.
“Would there be any particular place/room/spot you had in mind? You know, should the mood to indulge in oral pleasure overtake us?”
People in line within earshot seemed to be very interested in our conversation.
“I guess wherever you were at the time. That way, he wouldn’t have to miss any of the game, if there was one.”
“You’re a very sweet man, you know that.”
Bob’s hesitated like he was afraid to say something. I braced myself for what was on his mind. “So…would, like I still get to have blowjobs?”
I broke into a huge smile. “Of course you do, baby.” And to prove it, I got down on my knees on the sidewalk and sucked him off.
“It’s okay,” Bob said to our scandalized audience, “we’re married.” And then he shot a huge one for me to swallow.
The next time Dave was due to come over to the house, I was a nervous wreck. He and Bob had been friends forever. Had I blown that (literally and figuratively)?
As I was taking my “for Dave” shower, Bob ambled into the bathroom. “I’ve been thinking,” he began. Shit! When a man starts thinking, can anything really good come of it? “Dave’s a really good guy. He sold his car to give us that honeymoon in Hawaii. I owe him big time so, if there’s other stuff you two want to get up to besides just…you know…what you were talking about, then I guess that would be okay too.”
Now I was even more nervous, but for a different reason. Naked sex is so much more intimate than a quick hummer on the couch between innings, don’t you think? How do you bring something up like that?
“Dave is never going to try any “other stuff” out of respect to you, Bob. You’re his best friend in the entire world so it’s up to you to help him find his way inside me. When he gets here, you just follow my lead. Now go down stairs and make us some snacks while I finish getting ready for him.”
And he did just that.
At 6 o’clock, I had hubby greet him at the door like he was just coming over to watch a game and not fire a steaming puddle of jizz down his wife’s esophagus. They sat down and turned on the flatscreen and I brought them in a couple of cold ones. I was dressed strategically: sexy but not “too sexy” and everything on me was easy to take off me again (i.e. no bra).
Dave was slightly tense and I was practically breaking out in hives, so I straddled his lap and gave him a huge, wet soul kiss. My heart rate began to slow a little as I practically consumed his face in a righteous snog. It was just so scrumptious and relaxing to get to tongue wrestle with him, after all this time. When I eventually pulled myself back off his hunky lips, Bob yawned and reached for a handful of kettle chips and farted. I took that as permission to continue entertaining our guest at warp speed. There was still some reluctance on David’s part to fully avail himself of the feminine delights on offer so I yanked off my shirt. Wow! I was sitting in a room with my husband and another man and I was topless. How thoroughly un-demure of me! The air swirling around my nipples began to have a very pleasant effect between my legs. So, I decided that it was about time to have a very pleasant effect between Davey’s legs. Before the poor boy knew it, I was down on my knees and unzipping his pants again. I could see that he was cataclysmically terrified (my little bashful bunky was just staring down at me pleadingly) but this was for his own good so I continued on. Out came his doowanger, still as limp as overcooked spaghetti. Luckily, I knew just the right cure for a panicky penis. Gobble. Gobble. Gobble. I took that savory piece of man meat into the inner depths of my suck-tastic mouth. Anxiety/schmanxiety! Mr. Happy popped up like a party balloon on the titanic. Boing!
After a couple of minutes of lovingly tongueing his howdy, I was ready to enjoy the fully engorged fruits of my labor. Off came the skirt. I gave him and quick face full of my shaved vag and then dropped it down onto his pant demon. He didn’t need to eat me out to get me ready to accept visitors; by the time I climbed aboard I was absolutely dripping. Man, I loved that slow slippery slide down onto his Johnson and the feel of his long hard pulsating rod filling me up as I descended. By the time I had fully impaled myself on his Johnny, I was already on the verge of cumming. I tried to hold back but a couple of pelvic grinds on my part and I lost total control of the cunt car and crashed right into a blazing orgasm. He must have thought I was the slut of the century as I twitched and bucked and moaned, riding out the torrid torso spasms and the clusters of clit-bomb explosions. I could feel my vaginal aperture undulating around the base of his cock. Yum! Luckily, I’m a woman and one climax does not a sexual encounter make. I quickly regained my sensual senses and began to ride his roger in earnest. He had one hand on my tit (I had to put it there) and one hand on my ass (likewise) as I ground my mound to glory. It wasn’t long before Dave’s face turned “Strawberry Shortcake” pink and he started to breath like my uncle with emphysema. He was obviously about to pop. I smothered him in a big tongue-filled kiss just as he let out this cute muffled grunt and filled my canal with his manly spew. He obviously hadn’t been wanking much since I’d sucked him off because he blasted a couple of eggcups worth of sticky ooze up into my quim cave. I gave him a couple of post-orgasmic kisses and then rubbed my love nub dizzy as his cock shrank inside me. Following my second world-class womb whammy, I reached over and grabbed Bob’s pretzel napkin to sop up Dave’s sizeable semen as it leaked out of me (it was a new couch) and then fetched the fellas a couple of fresh beers.
Once Davey had finished his “Brau” I was in the mood again. This time I spread my legs and pulled him down on top of me (my favorite position) and had him pump my lump to three more jaw-droppers before letting him loose his seed. As he lay there on top of my nude and dewy spent body, I reached over with my foot and playfully dragged my toes over hubby’s crotch. He gave them a little playful squeeze. Phew! Even after that disgraceful display of lust and depravity with his best friend, Bob and I were still cool. That made mommy’s vagina a very happy girl!
Daddy did lay down the law as soon as the eighth inning started though. No more sex until the post-game show. I could understand his point. The score was very close and it had significant playoff implications. I was a very good girl and just nibbled on Dave’s neck and played with his nutsack for the last 20 minutes. Then I gave him a quick one for the road and sent him on his way.
The next day, I fucked Bob blind. It was important for me to show my appreciation. Not many husbands would allow their wives to have a plaything and to play with that plaything’s thing in front of him. I sucked his cock while he was eating breakfast. I let him doggie me while he watched computer porn. I let him stick an entire Macintosh apple up my ass (the fruit, not the computer) while I masturbated. In fact, I’d fucked him so much during the day; I think he was afraid to come to bed.
The weeks past and Dave became more and more comfortable and his visits became steamier and steamier. The second he was through the door, I was on him like Kirstie Alley on a Hot Pocket. (Blush) Occasionally, Bob would get involved and we’d do a spit-roast or I’d bounce up and down on Davey’s dick while sucking Bob’s boner (girls, this is way tougher than it sounds). I even got to have Dave stay the night when Bob was working the late shift. Eventually, he moved in with us and joined us on our marital mattress. I love our new living arrangement and them with all my heart but they were fucking me into and early grave. Most nights, my vagina was a revolving door but I wouldn’t have changed a thing. It only made sense. We’d been the best of buds forever and he was porking me sideways, so why should Dave have to drive all the way home just to come back the next night to stick his dick in me?
One morning, following a raucous bout of anal sex in the breakfast nook, Dave and I were catching our breath over a cup of coffee. I looked into those dishy blue eyes of his and I asked him whether he regretted me picking Bob instead of him. I’d always wondered.
“I did,” he smiled, “but now I couldn’t be happier.”
This was a bit of a puzzler. Luckily, he elaborated.
“If you’d have picked me, I could never have shared you with Bob.”
“But you’re sharing me with Bob now?”
“No. Bob is sharing you with me. He seems to be happy with the arrangement and I’m over the moon.” He reached over and held my hand. “Don’t you see? You picked the right guy. This way, the three of us can be happy and together.”
Well, wasn’t I the lucky one.
“So, you’re totally okay with this?”
“Well, I wish you wouldn’t put both our cocks in your mouth at once and keep rubbing the heads together. It really freaks us out.”
“I know. That’s why I do it,” I giggled and after our coffee…he fucked me up the ass under the kitchen table again.
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