“Suzy?” I asked my best friend, “Hell no. There is no way.”
“Bet me then,” Bret challenged.”
“My wife would never fuck you. It’s a fucking bet.”
“Okay, in your house, while you are there, tonight. You can’t get mad or divorce her.”
The workday passed quickly and it was time to go. Having called, Suzy knew he was coming home with me.
“Make yourself at home, Bret,” I said after kissing Suzy, “I’m going to shower.”
“Dinner isn’t ready yet, Hon. Take your time,” called Suzy.
I crept down the stairs, still dripping wet in my towel. Pausing at the dining room entrance, I heard a moan.
“Fuck me, Bret,” Suzy begged.
Venturing a look around the corner, I saw my wife bent over with her hands on the table. She had one foot in the chair at the head of the table, her panties hung at that ankle. Bret was kneeling behind her, his face buried in the cheeks of her sweet ass.
I watched as he stood, opening the front of his slacks. They fell slack to his feet as he pushed his boxers halfway to his knees. His hard cock jutted from his body with a downward bend. He took his impressive member in hand and moved closer to my wife. I watched him guide his cock between her legs, pushing it deep inside her pussy.
“Oh, fuck yes,” she hissed, “Fuck me before Terry gets through in the shower.”
The son of a botch was fucking my wife. He fucking won the bet. Now I had to fucking suck his damn dick.
