Sex With My Chubby And His Best Friend

We take Milo on vacation with us each and every year. Darren was the one who passed down this custom to me. The Thanksgiving holiday is both an inconvenience that I do not require and a temptation that I strive to avoid. The best friend of my husband. Helen is never absent. There are times when I find myself coveting their proximity to one another.

I take in the sight of the mountain covered in snow. We usually spend the holidays someplace warm with our family, but Darren expressed interest in having a "real" Thanksgiving complete with snow and various animals, so we decided to come here instead. I don't like hurling myself down a mountain and hoping for the best, so I stayed in our cabin to endure a siege while he and Milo went snowboarding all day. He had a good time. Milo did, too. This structure is a penthouse-style cabin that has been built into the side of the hill. It comes equipped with high-end home appliances, a vaulted wooden ceiling, and mountain-chic furniture

I side-eye Darren and Milo. They couldn't be more different. The only thing they have in common is that they are white. Darren has golden hair that curls and has a slender build as a result of running marathons. Milo has dark hair and a bushy beard to go along with it.

They have washed their hair and dressed more casually after taking a shower. Darren was seen wearing a pullover and jeans. Milo wears pajamas. It would appear as though he is oblivious to the fact that the lines of his body draw attention to the hair that extends from his navel to the drawstring of his pants.

As the light outside decreases, the window takes on the appearance of a mirror, reflecting the interior of the living room. When I close my eyes, I see myself sitting on the couch with a throw blanket while the men are in the kitchen.

“Grace?”

Even though I haven't done anything wrong, I still feel ashamed of myself. "I was lost in a daydream."

While hiding behind the sofa, Darren plants a kiss on the top of my head. "Drink?"

“Yes.”

The response I give makes him laugh. "Really?"

I twist around to see him slowly make his way into the kitchen. When we first met seven years ago, one of the first things I noticed about him was how well he fit into pants. There hasn't been much of a shift there.

Milo giggles. "Are you sure you don't want a drink?" If Grace looked at me the way she looks at you, I'd make Grace come into our bedroom with me right away.

"Would you take my wife to bed with you?"  As Darren asks, I can see a twitch of movement in his lips.

Milo smiles. Even though he's obviously not laughing, he gives off the impression that he is. The same one that makes me feel cozy. Attractive.

My laughter is labored when I have nothing to drink. "May I put in my two cents?"

"No," Darren responds as he fills three wine glasses with the beverage. "Since you are my wife, you automatically become my property. I believe that to be stated in the marriage contract."

Oops. Someone who is unfamiliar with him might take his jokes literally, but the fact remains that they are jokes. "I should have taken the time to read the fine print."

"I'm sorry, honey," . He brings two glasses of wine and sits down next to me on the couch. "Are you absolutely certain that you won't go skiing tomorrow? You're welcome to come bunny hilling with us.

The fact that we have stopped passing me around causes me to stifle a pang of regret. In bed, Darren and I can get pretty wild, but we've never brought anyone else into the mix. If we decided to go in that direction, we shouldn't bring his closest friend with us.

Because of Milo's widespread appeal.

I drink wine and grin. There is a cozy chair in front of the fireplace, and there are soap operas for me to watch while I kill time during my vacation.

Milo sits opposite us. Shirt him up! It is disorienting to watch him flex his muscles as he shifts his seat forward and backward. He has never been one to sit still.

He sees me gazing . I didn't wear a bra underneath my slouchy sweater, and my black leggings are too tight around my thighs. He shows a grin. "You two look alike"

I contrast the sweaters that Darren and I are wearing. The shade of gray in my hair is paler than his. Milo has been seen drinking wine with his eyes of a witch. There is such a thing as seven-year itch.

I titter. “Right. As if you'd know after all the committed partnerships you've had in the past." In all the years that I've known him, I haven't come across anyone else who is particularly noteworthy.

I love and despise Milo's disregard for social norms. He will not refrain from asking impertinent questions. He and Darren have too many similarities. Both do not have limits.

I avoid Darren. "We have a fantastic sexual life." Really good. We just can't get enough of spending time with one another. Every day during his lunch break, we have banging sessions. When we go out to bars, we put on fake identities and then have sex in the bathroom, the parking lot, and the car.

Milo mutters, "Fine." "That's a terrible situation."

laughs Darren "You're jealous again." He drinks the last drop from his wine glass. I set my drink down and reach for his hand as soon as he stands up. He quickly grabs me and tosses me over his shoulder after I resist his hold. My stifled chuckle lets out an exhale. “Darren!”

"Excuse us, I'm having sex with the love of my life," the husband said.

"Fuck you!" Laughing Milo.

As Darren drags me away with his eyes blazing, I catch a glimpse of him through my blonde hair. It's unclear to me whether he wants my ass or the ass of my husband. It's irrelevant. I have made it through yet another conversation with him, and yet another round of "teasing."