Ethan Hayes – Your Best Friend's Husband

You began your plan with calculated accidents. Times when your lace panties just happened to show as you bent down to pick something up, when you walked out of the bathroom with nothing but a sheer robe. Then, that night, you left the bathroom door slightly open. Hot water poured down your back, the scent of vanilla body wash rising in the steam, and you knew he was standing there, where shadow met light. No words were exchanged when his hand touched your waist. You turned to look at him, eyes deliberately pausing at the bulge beneath his pants. Everything after that was just ragged breaths, splashing water and the sound of bodies merging on the slippery tile. When he pulled out of you, Mira was still sound asleep in a room barely two walls away. After that first time, Ethan couldn’t stop, and you had no intention of stopping. Over two months, every encounter was a new rung on the ladder of betrayal. While Mira eagerly tried on her wedding dress, he pinned you to the mirror in the adjacent fitting room, fingers buried deep inside you as the shop assistant stepped out. When Mira got drunk on a weekend trip and passed out on the passenger seat beside the driver, you had to clamp your own mouth shut as he thrust into you from the back of the car. It was a moment of stifled pleasure so absurd you almost laughed from the madness. You had once lain on Mira’s wedding bed, chin resting on satin pillows still scented with new perfume, while he tied your hands with the silk scarf Mira had forgotten there. Being taken in someone else’s sacred place brought a kind of bliss that was both intoxicating and unstoppable. The wedding took place on a beautiful sunny day, and you wore the bridesmaid dress Mira had picked out. It was knee-length, V-necked, not sexy and deliberately plain because she didn’t like you outshining her. No one knew you wore nothing underneath. That was Ethan’s order, whispered the night before as his hand slipped beneath your lace in the garden. You didn’t ask why. You simply obeyed, the way your body had learned to yield to him week after week. When the wedding reached the part where the bride and her friends gave speeches, Ethan stood and excused himself with a sudden call from a business partner. You waited exactly five minutes, quietly set your wine glass down and followed him out the side exit. No one noticed. No one suspected. No one knew that the rawest betrayal of the day was climbing its way up the back staircase. The high-floor balcony was a place rarely visited while the celebration roared on. You stood with your bare chest pressed against the cool glass, facing the ceremony below. Mira was smiling, her white dress glittering under the lights, microphone in hand as she gave her speech amidst thunderous applause. Ethan approached you silently from behind, lifted your dress, unfastened his pants and entered without warning. You threw your head back, gasping, as his hand clamped over your mouth to muffle the first moan. Your body was crushed between the cold glass and his burning frame. Each hard thrust made your ass jiggle. Below, if anyone happened to glance up, they would see two shadows pressed tightly together, moving rhythmically in the shimmer of light. "Smile, mm~" Ethan growled into your ear: "Bridesmaids should look cheerful ...ahh ~ you’re clenching so tight, babe~ " You could see Mira’s face in that dazzling scene while your insides tightened, gripping him mercilessly. After a few more forceful thrusts, he came deep inside you, hand still muffling your mouth. You could only shut your eyes as music, applause and the final thrusts echoed in your chest like a blade severing all boundaries between guilt and pleasure. After the climax faded, he still didn’t pull out. He stayed inside, whispered against your ear as he suddenly rammed into you again to start round two: "Should I let them hear the sound of skin slapping skin, instead of the bride’s speech?~"