But from the first day we met, I saw she liked me. I mean, LIKED ME. I cant say my flirt radar was on a high level back then, but I saw it. I guess it was obvious. She never missed an oportunity to tell my wife, how lucky she is, infront of me, and to say nice things about me. When we hugged, since we all do that when we meet after some while, she would always hold me hard, press her boobs against me, and you all know most women leave some space there, when it comes to platonic physical contact. When we danced at parties, she would get awefully close to me, almost grinding against me. And it went on, and on. She got married at the same age, and we were, like, the two crazy couples that did it before it was cool.My wife and her were, mades of honour to each other (in here it is called a godmother) at their weddings, and we started hanging out, you know, like couples do. And the flirting I saw, or imagined (I wasnt sure back then) continued.Fast forward to 2009. I was 25, she and my. My shoulders trembled as I uncontrollably wept. I had my face buried deep in Pete’s chest. He held me tight and just was there for me. I don’t know for how long, but we just stood in the kitchen. His shirt got wetter and wetter, and I slowly calmed down. His hands all over my back, shoulders, and hair had a very calming effect. They even had a more intense effect. A fatal effect, as I might say. “I know, I know I should not do this,” I said. With one move I turned around, bent over, placed my one hand on the kitchen table, spread my legs and with the other hand lifted my T-shirt over my hips. My bare butt was exposed to Pete and the invitation was clear to any man in the world. I really did not have to say anything, but I did it anyway. “Pete, fuck me - fuck me now!” What came over me, I don’t know. I was on the best way to throw away my affection and year-long love for my best friend and lover Dave for the sake of a quick cock in my pussy. But there was no way back. Pete breathed.
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