Crossing the Line with My Best Friend After The Messy Divorce

We've been best friends since college, over 15 years. Shared everything: breakups, bad dates, late-night vents.

There was always this underlying tension, little flirty comments we'd laugh off, lingering hugs that lasted a second too long. But we never acted on it. She got married young, I dated around, life happened.

Fast forward to last year. Her marriage imploded – guy cheated, the works. Divorce finalized a few months ago. She's been a wreck, but strong as hell. I've been her rock: endless texts, takeout nights on her couch, listening to her cry it out. I'd crash on her sofa sometimes after too many wines, wake up to her making coffee in those tiny shorts and tank tops.

I'd catch myself staring at her curves, those full hips, perfect ass, the way her tits strained against the fabric when she reached for something high. But I kept it locked down. She's my best friend.

It started small. One night she was complaining about feeling unattractive. I looked her dead in the eye and said, slow and low, “Sarah… you have no idea how many times I’ve had to stop myself from bending you over this couch.” She blushed, laughed it off, but I saw her thighs squeeze together.

Next time, I “stretched” on her couch, letting my shirt ride up just enough to show the V-line disappearing into my sweats. She stared. I caught her. Smirked and said, “See something you like?” She bit that fucking lip and changed the subject.

I kept escalating. When she hugged me goodbye, I let my hands slide down to the small of her back… then just a little lower, fingertips grazing the top of her ass before pulling away. When we watched movies, I’d rest my hand on her bare thigh, thumb drawing lazy circles higher and higher… then stop right before it got dangerous. Every time she’d shift closer, I’d pull back just enough to make her chase it.

The night she finally snapped was about a month ago. She texted: “Wine. Now. I need to forget everything.” I showed up in gray sweats (you know the kind) and a tight shirt. We drank, talked shit about her ex. She was in an oversized tee, no bra, yoga pants so tight I could see the seam riding up between her lips.

She leaned into me, head on my shoulder. “I miss feeling wanted.”

I turned, voice low: “You think I don’t want you? I’ve been hard for you half our friendship.”

Her breath hitched. “Prove it.”

Game on.

I didn’t kiss her. Not yet. I traced one finger down her neck, over her collarbone, stopping just above her nipple. Watched it harden under the fabric. “You want me to touch you here?” She nodded. I circled it… barely grazing… then pulled away. She whimpered.

I slid my hand to her inner thigh, inches from her pussy, feeling the heat. “Tell me how wet you are right now.”

“Soaked,” she whispered.

“Show me.”

She hesitated, then peeled off her yoga pants. No panties.

I spread her legs wide on the couch, but didn’t touch her yet. Just looked. Blew cool air over her clit. Watched her hips buck. “Please…”

“Please what?”

“Touch me. Taste me. Anything.”

I leaned in close… so close she could feel my breath… then pulled back and smirked. “Not yet. You’ve made me wait years. Your turn.”

I teased her for what felt like forever – fingertips ghosting over her thighs, lips brushing her neck, sucking her nipples through her shirt until it was soaked, then stopping. Every time she reached for my cock, I’d pin her wrists and say, “Not until you’re begging properly.”

Finally, she broke. “Please… I need your mouth on me. I need your cock. I’ll do anything. Just stop teasing and fuck me.”

That was it.

I devoured her, slow licks at first, then sucking her clit hard while curling two fingers deep. She came fast, thighs clamped around my head, screaming my name.

Then I stood, pulled out my cock and rubbed the head along her soaked slit. Up and down. Over her clit. Never pushing in. “You want this inside you?”

“Yes, fuck, please…”

“Beg like you mean it.”

She did. Filthy. Desperate.

Only then did I sink into her – slow, inch by inch, watching her eyes roll back as I stretched her. Once I was buried, I fucked her deep and relentless, one hand around her throat, the other rubbing her clit until she came again, squirting down my balls.

Then doggy, that perfect ass rippling with every thrust, spanking it red while she pushed back, begging for more. "Harder... make me forget everything but your cock." She came again, pussy clenching so tight around me.

I finished deep inside her, growling her name as I filled her up.

We collapsed, sweaty, laughing in disbelief. "Best friend with benefits now?" she teased. We've hooked up a few times since, each hotter than the last.