Chapter 1 — The Story of Being Devoured by My Best Friend's Husband

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author's imagination. All characters are adults aged 18 or over.

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After work, she went over to her friend Sarah Lee's place. They'd been best friends since college and still hung out often.

Sarah's husband, Daniel, was actually a man she'd dated for about three months back in college.

Sarah, in high spirits, had prepared several expensive bottles of wine and was waiting for her.

The three of them chatted and drank, but she was notoriously weak with wine, so she got tipsy quickly.

At some point, her mind grew hazy—and before she knew it, she'd passed out.

Deep in sleep, she started feeling an odd warmth spreading through her body.

In her dream, someone was licking and touching her with maddening care. She could feel cool air brushing against her chest, as if someone had exposed it.

Who's touching my breasts?

But it felt so good that she let out a soft, sleepy moan—“Mmm…”

The touch was relentless. Even half-asleep, every nerve in her body focused on her chest.

At first, a broad palm gently pressed and circled over her entire breast. Then, fingertips rose up, lightly teasing around her nipples in tiny, maddening strokes.

It was insane—sometimes a soft scratch, other times a sudden, full grip that sent electric jolts shooting down her spine. She didn't even know her breasts were this sensitive…

When invisible fingers pinched her nipple and tugged it slightly, her back arched instinctively like a bow, and a deep, throaty moan slipped out—“Mmmh…”

Even in her daze, she could feel her nipples harden sharply, and the hand responded by pressing down firmly, rubbing in slow circles. Heat radiated from her chest, spreading through her entire body.

But what was unbearable was how the stimulation made her lower half burn. Each time her breasts were toyed with, a surge pulsed from deep inside, soaking through her panties.

It felt like the brink of a wet dream—the kind men describe—where every drop of arousal pools into one unbearable pressure.

Instinctively, she crossed her legs, squeezing her thighs together, and felt something solid and heavy pressing against her crotch.

In her dream, shame didn't exist. She began grinding wildly against that firm surface, chasing the sensation.

Each time her clit hit that hard edge, a sharp wave of pleasure slammed into her brain. She wanted more—harder, faster—so she rocked her hips up and down, lost in the rhythm.

Her breasts were being kneaded by an unknown hand, her core grinding against a solid knee, pushing herself toward the edge… At that moment, she didn't care if it was a dream. She just wanted it to go all the way—no matter what.

Then suddenly, pressure pressed heavily against her lips—warm, insistent. Something soft yet firm slipped between them before she even realized what it was.

She instinctively accepted it—her mouth opening, welcoming the heat.

A tongue swept gently through every corner of her mouth, coiling around hers, and she moaned helplessly—“Mmm, mmmh…”—clinging to it.

The sweet, slick contact was intoxicating. She sucked back fiercely, refusing to lose, pulling that tongue deeper into her mouth.

All the while, one hand traced the soft inner flesh of her thigh, lightly scratching upward, inching higher—until something slipped inside her pussy.

That only made her bolder. She lifted her hips, surrendering her body to the touch, rocking her hips in silent plea—More. Go deeper.

Then, suddenly, she heard it: “Baby, I love you too.”

That single phrase hit her like a bucket of ice water. Every hair on her body stood on end.

Baby?

She snapped her eyes open—only to see Sarah's husband.

Her heart felt like it would burst out of her chest. The man she'd just been passionately kissing, the one she'd been grinding against so desperately, was him—the man she'd once dated.

And he'd just called her baby.

For a split second, he froze, caught. His movements stopped, and panic flashed across his face. He must've mistaken her for Sarah in his drunken haze.

But that silence didn't last.

Their eyes locked. His gaze, once startled, quickly darkened—burning with something wild, feral. Rationality vanished from his expression.

He didn't speak. No apology. No excuse.

Without a word, he yanked down his pants and, in one brutal motion, shoved his grotesquely swollen cock deep into her soaked pussy.

“A… Mmm!”

She instinctively clamped her hand over her mouth, stifling the scream.

He started pounding into her like an animal. His thick cock filled her completely, churning roughly inside, and any thought of this is wrong had long since vanished into outer space.

She matched him like a madwoman, mindlessly grinding her hips to his rhythm. Whether it was the guilt, the taboo, or the sheer force of his thrusts, the pleasure piercing her brain was ten times stronger than anything she'd ever felt.

She gripped his shoulders tightly, and with her other hand, she crushed her lips shut—terrified a moan might escape into the hallway. Hot breath spilled wildly between her fingers. She was on the verge of collapse.

His cock slammed mercilessly between her soaked folds, scraping against the deepest, most sensitive parts like it had already mapped them out.

He gripped her hips so hard she thought they'd shatter, driving into her like a beast. Each time that thick weight slammed against her clit, sparks exploded behind her eyes.

“Hah… Mmm!”

She couldn't hold back anymore. A sharp, electric tremor shot up from her toes, and her pussy clenched around his cock in rapid, pulsing spasms.

Shuddering, she came—hard. Her mind went completely blank, her back arched like a bow, and she couldn't stop trembling.

Feeling her climax, he buried his face into her shoulder and thrust one final time—deep, brutal, unrelenting.

She felt it—hot, thick spurts gushing deep inside her. He came. He came inside her.

He stayed on top of her for a long while, breathing heavily, before finally getting up as if nothing had happened—and walked away to join Sarah.

She lay there alone, drenched and trembling, staring blankly at the ceiling.

In the morning, she told Sarah she had to leave for work and just walked out.