Was it Rape?
Introduction:
I had sex with my best friend’s husband. Obviously, I’m never telling on myself, so I’ll never pursue legal action. I think under the legal definition of rape in my state, it’s not rape anyway. I just am more curious what people think.
My history with Frank…we hadn’t seen each other much for about four months before this all happened. That’s when Rose caught him cheating on her. They took a couple of months apart and then she moved back in with him and I had avoided him. We had been friends before that; we’d hung out when Rose was out of town, like buds. I don’t trust many people easily, so it meant a lot when he cheated on her. I felt like he betrayed our friendship too. So this was going to be the first time since “the incident” that we were seeing each other on our own without Rose as a buffer.
We went out kind of early for a Friday. We went bowling and had burgers at the bowling alley. It was a pretty fancy place for a bowling alley, with a club and a bar attached, and it was expensive. I felt bad asking to play another game, so we left and sat outside for a bit. He was staring at his phone the whole time so I thought, “yeah he’s not comfortable around me anymore either” and I felt bad, but I was still pissed at him on some level so I said I should just go home. He said no and we walked to a nearby bar.
We drank a lot. I was trying to pace myself with non-alcoholic drinks in between the other drinks, but then he ordered me a shot, and then I ordered really expensive whiskey and we started having very explicit discussions about his sex life with Rose. Before the incident, they were not having sex, like at all. Rose had been very, very upset about that. For months. Now, they were swingers. I still think that makes no sense, that she never was a swinger or had had a threesome before but after her husband cheats on her, she starts having threesomes and swapping partners like it’s nothing…I digress. So there was a guy, Roger, that had been…guesting, I guess you’d call it. Frank told me he’d gone down on Roger and asked me if I thought that made him gay. I was drunk, so I can’t remember what I told him. Probably something like it doesn’t matter what I think.
I know I told him about some guy, maybe the guy I was with at the time, I don’t know, but I felt like I had to not be boring and prudish and prove I had a sex life too. He told me that it made him hard to hear about that story. He showed me a picture he had on his phone of Rose getting fucked by Roger. I know I tried a few times to get the conversation off sex, but I was so drunk I can’t really remember what I said.
At some point he or we decided it was time to leave. I went outside to bum a smoke from the people on the patio. Frank settled the bill and followed me outside. He took the cigarette away from me and took a drag then tried to kiss me on the mouth. I pulled away and pushed him, laughing and telling him he was being a drunken idiot. It never occurred to me at all that he could be seriously trying to kiss me.
Well then he said he was trying to let me inhale the smoke from him. So I did that a couple of times with him still thinking that was ok because although our moths were touching, it wasn’t a kiss. Then he started kissing me and I…I don’t know I was nervous and kind of excited and very drunk. I let him kiss me a bit and then I kissed him back a bit and I kept thinking the whole time that it was just stupid, drunken, innocent fun. Innocent!
We had to walk a few blocks to get to a place where we could catch a cab. I was feeling drunk and happy and having fun kissing here and there. I remember he said something to me like “you’re so cool because you know this doesn’t mean anything.” I just laughed and pushed him away and told him he was stupid about half the times he went in for a kiss, but when I did let him kiss me, I did kiss him back. I don’t know how many times we kissed before we got to the cab stand.
We got a cab and I got in and slumped over. I must have been pretty drunk because my brain started going in and out, like being half asleep where you’re kind of aware of things going on, but not really able to speak or participate in anything. I felt my skirt get pushed up over my butt and Frank’s hands on my ass. I might have swatted his hands away or I may have just thought that I wanted to. I remember listening to him giving directions to the driver and thinking he was a lot more sober than me. I remember thinking that I was in deep shit since I couldn’t drive away from his place for several hours at least. I’m pretty sure I felt or said “I’m screwed.” I was right.
He groped me under my skirt the whole cab ride home; unless the driver started asking for more directions, then my skirt got flipped back down to cover me up. I was aware of it, but I couldn’t move. I didn’t say stop in the cab because I was afraid the driver would call the cops or something. As I have said several times, I was very, very drunk. I probably should have said something; maybe it would have scared him. Toward the end of the cab ride, he succeeded in getting his fingers in between my labia from behind. I know I was wet, I’m always stupidly horny when I’m drunk, even if I don’t want sex, I get wet. I’m sure he took that as a sign I wanted it. I probably was turned on on some level, but I still didn’t think…I just didn’t think anything would really happen. Not four months after he cheated on Rose, not with her best friend, who told him off and called him every name in the book and then didn’t speak to him in any meaningful way for four months.
I can’t remember getting in the house or how I got through the living room, past the kitchen to the breakfast nook, but I remember standing at the breakfast bar and looking across the house at him getting naked and then I really got alarmed. I remember yelling at him to get his clothes back on, to stop it to stop being stupid. He got some of his clothes back on but not all of them. He ran over to me and hugged me and said it was ok, that we didn’t have to do anything, but he had wanted me for a long time, and that he was sorry. He kept asking me if I was ok and I said yes, but that we can’t do anything, I can’t betray my best friend, he can’t do this to her again, blah blah blah etc. He kept saying that he knew, and then I was crying, or sort of crying, it’s pretty fuzzy.
He hugged me and buried his head in my neck. He started to nuzzle and nibble the place that turns me on so much and I am sure I moaned, I know I was turned on somewhat. His hands were all over me, under my shirt, my shirt was off, under my bra, then my bra was off and he was playing with my nipples and we were kissing. My breath was stuck, or else I was panting, or he was panting and I couldn’t breathe, I was horny and terrified and angry and shocked. I pulled away and put my bra back on and he started to kiss me again and begged me to let him watch me get myself off. I said no and got my shirt back on and was begging him to stop touching me, to stop kissing me. I kept saying over and over “we can’t do this, you can’t do this to her again, you didn’t see her, you don’t know what it did to her.” He kept agreeing with me, but somehow my shirt and bra came off again and I was losing the battle with my legs to keep standing.
Finally I started bargaining with him. I told him to keep his clothes on and that he could watch me get myself off but that was it. He said ok and took my skirt off. I had taken the panties off earlier in the evening (very sneakily I thought, too), because they were riding up in a really uncomfortable way when I had been bowling. The skirt was below my knee, so I didn’t even think it was that big a deal. “No panties, you’re such a good slut,” he said when he looked down. Being called names for some reason just really turns me on. He reached down and slid a finger right into me and my knees gave way. He “helped” me upstairs to their bedroom so he could watch me get off. Yeah right.
I was on the bed and my head and the room and the universe was spinning. He was on the bed and he was naked. I remember telling him he had to stay dressed but his face was in my crotch and he was going down on me like it was his job before I could protest much more. Rose had told me several times how good he was at eating pussy and I just rolled my eyes and didn’t believe her. Well, he was pretty good. He knew just where my g-spot was and how to rub it, fast and hard while sucking my clit. I came pretty quickly and I didn’t realize it till later but that was the first time I ever squirted.
“You taste amazing, kiss me and taste yourself.” He kissed me and I kissed him back, still horny because I’m never satisfied after one orgasm. I tasted like pineapple juice. I’ve never tasted that good since that night, although I never taste bad, but never that sweet and fruity again. He went back down on me some more, his tongue plunging into my cunt over and over again till I came on his tongue and he kept telling me how amazing I tasted. I kept saying no here and there but I didn’t push him away anymore; I wanted to cum again. He was right, I was a slut. Naked in my best friend’s marital bed, legs wide open with her husband’s face in my pussy eating it for all he was worth and I was moaning and grinding my hips into my mouth. I came on his fingers a few more times and I was honestly ready to sleep but he wasn’t done with me yet.
He pulled Rose’s vibrator out of her nightstand drawer and started fucking me with it. He plunged it deep inside me and then started moving it in and out fast and hard. I came, screaming and squirting again. The whole time he’s telling me how much he wants me, hot fucking hot I am, that he’s wanted to fuck me since the first time he met me four years ago. It’s not possible to not be affected by those things while you’re drunk and cumming over and over and doing something very forbidden. Even though I kept saying we shouldn’t, I had stopped saying “no” and I kept cumming.
Finally, he put my left leg over his shoulder and lined his hard dick up to my cunt. With no condom.
“You want me to fuck you?” he asked. I wanted to keep cumming, but I shook my head.
“We shouldn’t do this, we can’t do this.” I said as he slid is rock hard cock all the way into me. It felt good.
He kept my leg pressed between our bodies as he pumped in and out of me, relentlessly, for probably a half hour. He kept reaching down to pinch my nipples and press his hand around my throat, which I hated but couldn’t speak to tell him. He kept calling me a good slut, and telling me I had a good pussy, that I was such a good fuck, that my tits were amazing, that I was so fucking hot. I kept saying he was just drunk and he was going to regret it in the morning, that I would, that when we were sober we were going to hate ourselves, but that didn’t make his prick soft, he just kept pumping and pumping. I made him stop because I had to pee and threatened to pee on the bed.
While I was sitting on the toilet peeing, he followed me in and grabbed the back of my head and shoved it down on his cock. I pulled off him and started blowing him so he wouldn’t choke me. I took him till he hit the back of my throat, licking and getting him wet all over, tasting how sweet my pussy was on his cock. I reached down and gently played with his balls while I swirled my tongue around the head and then started bobbing my head up and down on his cock while massaging his balls…I thought if I could get him to cum that he’d stop fucking me and fall asleep and we could put this behind us, pretend it never happened.
He wouldn’t cum, or couldn’t cum, he had incredible staying power for some reason. He pulled me off the toilet and let me wash my hands before pulling me back into the bedroom and pushing me on the bed.
He fucked me till I was dry, till I was raw and still he didn’t cum, He made me stick a finger up his ass while he poured lube all over my pussy and kept fucking me. I felt like it had been going on for hours and hours, but I have no idea how long it actually lasted. I don’t even think I was awake for all of it. I just remember the feeling of my legs going numb, of my pussy being sore and his sweat dripping in cold drops onto my face and chest.
Finally, he was ready. He pulled out and came everywhere. It hit the headboard, my hair, my face, my tits, my stomach, and then he spread open my pussy and came all over it. I was so tired, and still so drunk that I didn’t even move, not to clean up or anything. He went and got a towel or something and wiped me off a bit and then told me I better stay in his bed with him instead of going down the hall to the guest room. I didn’t argue. I just closed my eyes.
Next thing I knew it was daylight, but that cold, thin daylight of early morning. He was stroking my hair, then he was kissing the back of my neck, then he was pulling the covers down…I pretended to be asleep, but he kept fondling and kissing and groping. He rolled me on my back and stuck his fingers right in my dry cunt. I opened my eyes and cried out in pain.
He told me he’d probably never have this chance again so he intended to enjoy me as much as possible. He pulled out the bottle of lube and squirted it all over me and him. He asked me if I’d ever seen a cock ring and I said I hadn’t. He showed me this clear, stretchy, silicone circle, and then he but it over hid cock and over and around his balls and cock. He told me it makes it bigger and keeps him harder for longer. I told him I was sore and that last night was enough and he was sober so he didn’t have any excuse. He said something like “you’re a hot slut, you’re naked in my bed, and I’m going to fuck you.”
He got on top of me and started pumping away. I was too tired, sore and had the beginnings of a hangover to fight or to enjoy it or to do anything but just try to hang onto the contents of my stomach. He got frustrated I wasn’t responding and started fucking me harder, making it hurt more. Finally, hoping to get it over with sooner rather than later, I started fucking him back and making moaning noises that I hoped were convincing. It worked because he pulled out and came all over me again. I got up out of the bed and almost fell to the floor, my legs were so shaky. I hobbled to the bathroom and rinsed off in the shower, then looking at the dirty bed sheet and Frank sitting there looking totally engrossed in his iPad, I turned and shuffled down the hall to the guestroom and fell asleep.
A few hours later, I woke up, found all my clothes all over the house and drove Frank back to his car. I didn’t say anything for a long time until he finally broke the silence. “That was a lot of fun, I hope you’re not offended, but you’re a great lay.” I smiled a tight-lipped smile and held back the urge to cry. We got close to the parking lot where he’d left his car and he tried talking again. “The only thing I regret is that I didn’t get to fuck you more.” I felt a wave of sickness and sadness and disgust and shame. He got out of my car and took off toward the parking garage and I went home and took a long shower.
