My Cousin's Friend

"Huh." She shrugged. "Well, I like being admired too, so I guess I'll take that. You admit you like my ass?" She trailed a finger down to tickle my wrist.

"Like it? Of course I like it," I hissed, mostly to shut her up. "It's gorgeous. What's not to like?"

"Cool!" She swooped in to give me a swift peck on the cheek. "This is quite the mutual admiration society you and I have got here. You like my ass, I like yours. We can be butt buddies."

"Butt buddies. Great. Rachael, I'm not sure that means what you think it means."

"Maybe it does," she said quietly, but by that time we were catching up to Aimee and my wife. Now we were in a small booth, our overpriced salads and $6 iced teas staring up at us from the table, and I was trying to swallow a lump in my throat as I slowly and inexpertly gave Rachael a foot job.

I should have been suspicious when she insisted on sitting across from me at the little table. Aimee buried me among a series of shopping bags from various high-end boutiques, and I couldn't move even if I wanted to. And frankly, once Rachael's bare foot first began to mess with my leg after we put in the drink orders, I wasn't sure I did.

I've played footsie before, but not in front of my wife. I had a difficult time believing she didn't know what was going on as the sleek toes nudged further up my calf, moving in tiny circles. I shot Rachael an irritated glance; she merely looked back with that devious smile, occasionally chiming into the conversation without missing a beat. I was wearing shorts, of course, since it was June; I began to regret that as soon as she got up toward my knee, and I figured it was getting risky enough. So I tried to squirm away from her invading foot, scraping at her with my other leg.

"Jeez," she laughed in the middle of one of Aimee's anecdotes. "What's gotten into you, Andy? You need to pee or something?" She punctuated her tease by poking her toe against my inner thigh.

"No," I replied, glaring at her. "Just a bug bite I think. On my ass."

"Poor thing!"

"Yeah." I gulped some water and gave up after that, her twisted foot maneuvering smoothly into the space between my upper legs. Once I stopped fighting, she slowed down and, apparently, decided to make this last awhile, retreating to my calf again and keeping me on edge while we ordered.

It goes without saying, of course, that I was as hard as a rock. Married or no, it's an impossible thing to prevent when a sexy woman is interested in you, especially when you've just seen her in breathtaking lingerie. I squirmed once more, trying to give my growing dick some room; Rachael knew exactly what I was doing this time, and smiled conspiratorially. I shot a guilty glance at my wife.

I had my dick pointing down my leg now, an uncomfortable state of affairs as it continued to harden; I usually preferred to just tuck it into my waistband until it went away. Rachael's questing toes, now working their way back to my inner thigh, were about to find it. I wasn't sure what I should do; most of me was mortified about this, wanting nothing to do with such an obviously unstable person. But a large chunk of me was flattered by her attention, curious about where this might lead, and consumed by the sexual thrill of getting groped by an acquaintance while my wife ate a salad. Her toes got closer and closer to my head...

...when, suddenly, her foot retreated. Aimee had just announced her intention to go use the restroom, and she was wondering whether anyone else needed to go. "Sure," my wife spoke up, and they left a demurely seated Rachael, her feet once again on the ground and in their shoes. As they moved away, Rachael and I watched them go thoughtfully. Then she looked slowly back at me, grinning in mischief.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" I had a hard time being mad; I was obviously complicit in what she was doing, and it was useless to pretend otherwise. She picked at her meal.

"Quite a bit, actually. We're just having a little fun. It's a good workout, too. Footsie requires ab and quad strength if it's done right. Am I doing it right?" she added with a wicked grin. "I can check and see."

"No need," I said, admitting defeat. "You're doing it right." She clapped for herself, laughing merrily.

"Let me see it, just for a second," she whispered, bending sideways in her chair to look underneath the table at me. I took a deep breath, aware that this was a decisive moment. I wanted to play along with this goddess, but of course I knew it was wrong. She looked sideways at me, still with the cunning smile and the challenging glint in her eye, and I couldn't help myself. As subtly as I could, I gathered the long white tablecloth into my lap and watched as she bent low, making a show of fiddling with her shoe.

This was it. I was about to show my hard cock to a teasing flirt I barely knew. Never mind that she'd seen it before; that time, I hadn't really chosen to show it. But now, inspired by a recklessness I couldn't explain, I unzipped my shorts and, with some difficulty, managed to haul my stiff dick out through the hole in my boxers, then through my fly; I could feel the cold teeth of the zipper at the bottom of my shaft, but the relief of no longer being stuffed into my shorts was wonderful.

"Hey hey," I heard Rachael say from underneath the table. "There's my little friend. I think he missed me." She popped her head back up to glance at me over the tabletop, her grin huge, her eyes wide and sharp. "I can't believe you're doing this."

"Me neither." I was returning her grin, foolishly proud to have impressed her. She bit her lip and leaned over the table so that she wouldn't have to speak up; as her boobs crashed into the table, they surged toward her face. I could see a flush spreading across her cleavage. "Pull out your balls, Andy," she demanded, low and intense, and before I knew what I was doing I was digging into my crotch to get my scrotum out. When I was done, I nodded at her. "Damn this shoe!" she exclaimed, once again bending way down to look underneath. She stayed down for awhile, and when she came up her eyes shone.

Voices came from the direction of the bathroom as the girls came back, and I quickly reached down to stuff my penis back in. "No," Rachael whispered urgently. "Keep him out and let him breathe." She looked at me from under her eyebrows, an intensity in her expression, and scooted her chair in further. "These shoes just aren't working for me," she announced with a sexy smile. And then, as my wife returned with an affectionate kiss for me, Rachael slid her bare foot right up next to my naked cock.

It was the first time she'd touched my dick, skin on skin, and I had to work hard to keep from groaning over my salad bowl. There was nothing urgent or excited about what she was doing; no, she just laid her foot there, cool and smooth, alongside my rigid penis. From time to time, she'd bat my dick gently side to side, or slide my shaft between her toes. It was clear she wasn't trying to get me to cum; no, she just seemed to want to keep me at a high boil, enjoying my increasing agitation as I tried desperately to remain in the conversation.

We seemed to be discussing education policy, which I knew nothing about, but my wife worked in a school office and Rachael was a first-grade teacher. "I think the standards movement has done a terrible disservice to middle-income families," Rachael was saying now, picking endive delicately out of her teeth while her toes prodded my naked nutsack. "It's awful to watch these kids struggle."

"Absolutely," my wife agreed, mentioning some stats. Rachael used her free foot to hook my leg, dragging it firmly across to her underneath the table. She was absorbed by what my wife was saying, making meaningful eye contact with her, all the while moving her hand down to pull my leg up to her seat.

Aimee noticed Rachael's reach. "Something wrong under there?"

"These damn shoes." Rachael rolled her eyes. "That 10k last weekend gave me blisters, and these slingbacks are killing me." She got ahold of my foot and swept my flipflop off in one fluid motion, wedging my foot between her waiting thighs. "So you're saying there's a growing achievement gap at your school between the kids with state-funded preK and those without?" she prompted my wife, hiking herself up in her seat for a second.

And, just like that, my big toe was inside her twitching wet vagina.

At least that was my assumption; it was impossible to imagine anything else over there so hot and tight. I felt her thong, pulled aside to expose her pussy, now wrapped around my foot. She pulsed herself around me a few times, still nodding seriously at my wife, and I couldn't help but respond; I was quickly finding out that when a woman puts your toe inside her, you can't just sit there and pretend it's not happening. I felt everything: the greasy slickness of her vaginal lube, the clenching strength of her thighs. Our legs were stretched out beside each other, touching along their entire length as our toes gently manipulated our genitals.

It was by far the most aroused I'd ever been.

She still wasn't anywhere near making me cum, her lazy toes drifting almost negligently along my length; still, there was plenty of precum, and she was now swirling it around the head of my penis. The tablecloth was getting moist above my lap. I cocked my big toe backward, instinctively searching for her g-spot, and she immediately dropped her fork into her salad bowl. "Sorry," she muttered, glancing over at me with a wild look in her eye. She retrieved the fork and began chasing a cherry tomato around her bowl, but I could tell her heart wasn't really in it. Instead, it was in her pussy, throbbing steadily around me now; I just kept cluelessly doing the same thing with my toe.

"So then how long is your state going to persist with this kind of testing?" she asked, a quaver in her voice as she reached down to adjust her napkin. She kept her hand in her lap, a finger running over my foot and landing on her own clit near my toenail. She put steady pressure there, rubbing doggedly, my dick just about forgotten as her foot rested now propped against my inner thigh. Her neck and breasts were rosy, her eyes wide, and she wiped at her nose with her napkin; she was moving steadily toward orgasm, and with a sudden reckless need I felt an overpowering urge to take her there. I dug in, my second toe now twitching against her rubbing finger as my big toe kept carving a trench in the front of her vagina.

Rachael, her eyes fixed on the woman whose husband was bringing her off, moved a green olive to her mouth and put it in, leaving her finger there; she needed to bite down on something. She wasn't contributing so much to the conversation now, just nodding and shrugging as my wife went on about charter schools. My foot cramping, I persisted; I certainly didn't know Rachael well enough to know if she was really cumming, but it sure felt like she was getting there. My foot was completely covered now in her juices, and her finger was moving my smaller toes desperately across her clit.

"Um, Rachael?" my wife said at last, a little uncertainly. "Are you okay?"

Sweat stood out on Rachael's brow, and she was breathing in little gasps as the flush deepened across her chest. She bounced a little in the seat, her eyes closing briefly as my toe swam through her soupy pussy. She let out a very long sigh. "Shit," she said at last. "The peppers in this salad are a fucking killer." Her thighs clasped fondly against my foot, she now fixed me with a smoldering stare as she drained half her glass of iced tea without a break. She set the glass deliberately back down, then ran her toes one more time down my eager cock. "Want to get the check, Andy?"

* * *

EasterRach's text came while I was in the bathroom after my wife and I got back to my parents' house.

OMG, it said. I AM SO SORRY.

I wasn't sure what she was sorry about.

I NEVER SHOULD HAVE CUM WITHOUT TAKING CARE OF YOU. I FEEL LIKE A TOTAL SELFISH BITCH.

Well now. I'd retreated to the bathroom ostensibly to take a dump, but in reality I was sitting on the edge of the tub, my belly covered in my own semen; it had taken me literally forty seconds to get myself off. I texted her back that I'd been married long enough to take care of myself.

I DON'T GET IT.

So, on impulse, I took a selfie of my cummy dick and torso, making sure there was enough of my face for her to see it was me. I'd ejaculated quite a bit.

I sent the photo. There was a pause before she replied.

DUDE.

Then another pause before her next text came across. I WANT TO FIGURE OUT A WAY FOR US TO FUCK. ARE YOU GAME?

There it was, an unequivocal invitation to adultery. I'd never really been interested in that kind of thing before, but at this point we'd gone so far there seemed little point in stopping now. So I told her as much. She came back with about a dozen emojis, all of them reflecting various states of happiness.

LEAVE IT TO ME, she texted back. I'LL TAKE SUPER GOOD CARE OF YOU. I'M AN EXCELLENT LAY, AND I OWE YOU AN ORGASM THAT'LL DESTROY YOU.

Promises, promises. I called her a tease.

SHIT. THE WAY YOU GOT ME OFF THIS AFTERNOON MADE ME WANT TO HAVE YOUR CHILDREN. NO LIE, NO TEASE. I'M GOING TO MAKE YOU FORGET ABOUT EVERY OTHER CUNT YOU'VE EVER FUCKED.

She had me hard again, and just as impulsively I took another selfie. I made sure to line it up properly, so that I looked around six feet long. I hit send. There was a long pause this time, then a simple reply.

NO MORE JACKING OFF. SAVE ALL YOUR CUM FOR ME.

With difficulty, I sponged myself off and then waited for my cock to go down.

* * *

Aimee called the very next day, proposing a girls' spa day for her, her mom, my wife, and my mom. "It's a three-hour thing, and they've only got slots tomorrow," my wife told me apologetically. "The spa is over near Woodglen, so that's another 45 minutes of travel. I'm sorry; I don't want to leave you alone with just your dad."

"Oh, that's okay," I said. "I'll just borrow their other car and go run some errands. There's a guitar store I want to go check out." For all I knew, there was one someplace; I had no intention of going to it, though. I knew for certain that my goddess had sent Aimee's spa invitation somehow, and that she'd have something in mind. The prospect of adultery should have made me feel guilty; instead, I was surprised to find none of that. I knew I still loved my wife, but my mind was already separating her from Rachael, who simply seemed like she was a member of a different race. Guilt just didn't enter into it.

All I could think about that night as I lay in bed, tossing and turning, was blowing my load into Rachael's firm body. She hadn't gotten back in touch with me, and after an exploratory text to let her know I'd have access to a car, I was content to wait. Barely.

* * *

I woke up ragged and horny the next morning, counting the seconds until the girls would leave at 9:30. To get my mind off Rachael, I went for a long run around the neighborhood. The day was fresh and clear, promising to be hot later. I focused on my breathing, blazing through five quick miles without really realizing how fast I was going. I checked my watch, thinking I'd need to leave time to shower; then I remembered what I was going to be doing, and decided not to bother. A shower would just waste time, and I'd need one after meeting Rachael anyway. I threw some clothes into a backpack for later.

A text awaited me when I got back, nothing but an address with a winky emoji. It was 9:33 and the spa-bound car was just pulling out when I replied that I was on my way. I didn't even bother saying goodbye to my dad before breaking about a dozen speeding laws heading to Rachael's house, a modest rental a few neighborhoods over.

I had no idea what to expect as, still in my sweaty running clothes, I trotted up the walk toward the front door. I was taking in details: the potted plants on the porch, the brass knocker on the door, some outgoing mail drooping casually out of the slot. A note was pinned to the door.

AROUND BACK, it read in thick red ink. LOCK THE GATE BEHIND YOU. It was signed with a heart drawn around a crude sketch of a penis. I nearly burst out laughing as I skipped excitedly around the corner and through a high green gate in an ivy hedge.

I was totally unprepared for the big backyard I found, all nicely landscaped and with a pool in the middle. It was fenced and hedged all around, with a small deck holding a barbeque and a set of patio furniture.

But, of course, all I really cared about was the pool, mostly because Rachael was inside it. I could see her long, sleek shape gliding along under the surface, blurry with the shifting water, like a pale dolphin. I smiled at the sight; I'd never had my own personal mermaid. I crept to the edge of the water and stood there, looking down at where she was about to come up; she was headed for the side of the pool, and when she came gasping up I was waiting. She frowned as she caught my shadow, then squinted up at me and grinned slyly. "Hello, sailor."

"Hi." I returned her smile. "Forgot to bring a suit." She laughed at me.

"So did I." She kicked back from the wall, and as I'd seen she was totally naked. She surged back, and I watched as the water came crashing between her bobbing breasts and washing between her legs. She floated there. "You look hot and sweaty."

"You know it," I replied.

"Well, I had to take a dip to cool my jets waiting for you," she said candidly. "I was about to get out and take care of myself, but now you can do it for me." She batted her long lashes theatrically. "Wanna come in and get wet with me, or stay out and wait? You'll get some nookie either way, but it might be more fun in the water." And then her grin broadened as she saw I'd already taken off my shirt. "Ever get it on in a pool?"

"A hot tub once," I said, dropping my running shorts. My dick was already parallel to the pool deck, and hardening nicely. "It didn't work."

"No?"

"No. The water washed away all her lube." It had been a painful event, friction-wise, and I shuddered at the memory. Rachael watched me as I kicked off my shoes and bent to pull my socks off.

"Careful if you dive in," she advised. "The impact might break that dick off, and then I'd have to kill you." She licked her lips. "You're not much good to me without it."

"Still got my feet." I waggled my toes at her, and she flushed.

"Wasn't that sick? I had no idea that would happen," she marveled, watching as I strolled to the steps and got in. I'd never skinny-dipped before. "I was just having a little fun. I had no clue you'd make me cum." She shivered at the memory. I was soon in the pool, the lukewarm water bathing my naked body as I let myself drift toward Rachael. I was trembling with the anticipation of her body. She waited for me, lazily treading water, watching me with narrowed eyes. "How long do we have?"

"How long? Oh, maybe seven and a half inches."

She laughed loudly. "You're something else," she said, and then I was there, and she was reaching her bare legs around my body, wasting no time with her hungry kiss as I felt my dick slide beneath her pussy. She'd kissed me three or four times by then, but not like this: her mouth was hot and ready, needy, and our tongues battled it out as our bodies mashed together.

She was pressing against me, her solid athletic butt twisting and circling in my fingers; I felt her slick breasts skating across my hairy chest. Her lips were everywhere, all over my face and neck, nibbling at my ears. "You are an absolute goddamn goddess," I growled, kicking hard to keep us both afloat. My arms moved, my fingers roaming around her wet body.