My Best Friend Is A Slut

My Best Friend Is A Slut

My best friend is a slut. Her name is Alyssa and everyone knows it – far too well. If I leave her alone with my boyfriends, she almost always ends up with their dick in her mouth. It’s maddening. She’s also really ungrateful since I taught her everything she knows. Last summer she tricked me into believing she’s changed her ways and matured. So I vouched for her when our friend was reluctant to invite her to a wedding. Our friend is the sexiest and sweetest mature woman two girls could wish for. And I was really happy for her to be marrying a nice man. Even though our friend’s new husband was an ordinary middle-aged guy, my best friend wanted him. To a slut like her, each man is like some new-release dildo she just has to try once.

Because my best friend is a slut, everyone always tries to sit her only with women at events. There’s just never any telling what she might do. Our friend’s husband-to-be was totally naive about Alyssa’s history. Unaware of her devious proclivities, he allowed himself to be alone with her in our house. The timing was awful as there were just a few moments remaining before the ceremony was to begin. I quietly spied on them from the stairwell. Part of me wanted to see if my friend’s new husband-to-be could resist Alyssa, and another part of me just wanted to be entertained.

My best friend is a slut that only thinks of herself

She rationalizes everything. I guess she thought she was doing our friend a favor by testing the man’s willpower. That’s what she later explained to me, but I think she just wanted to test his cock for her own pleasure. Alyssa pretended to be upset about a recent breakup.  She faked crying on our sofa. Of course, our new friend’s husband-to-be fell for her trick and sat next to her offering comfort. As soon as he put his hand on her back, she rotated her body and arched her back so that his resting hand fell onto her breast. My best friend is a slut with breasts that hypnotize. She may as well have been topless, as her thick nipples pressed through the very thin sheer fabric of her flimsy dress. Before our friend’s husband-to-be could process what was happening, she quickly slid her hand between his thighs and spread her own legs wide apart.

“It hurts. It literally aches. Please, touch me.”

She used her doll face and crystal blue eyes to simultaneously command his pity and his desire. I know she never wears panties. With her legs spread wide apart, she slid down on the sofa so that her smooth swollen, and undoubtedly very wet, pussy pressed into our friend’s soon-to-be husband’s hand. My absentminded gasp betrayed my presence and they both looked up at me. I didn’t think quickly enough to blame the spooky sex phantoms of this old house. Feeling defensive, I instinctively turned the tables. “I saw everything,” I said, “My best friend is a slut as you can see – but you’re no better. If you want this wedding to go on and your awful secret to stay in this house, both of you are going to do exactly what I tell you to do.”

Can you guess what happened next? Do I strike you as a self-indulgent vixen or a sweet protective niece? You know, it really depends on my mood. Call me to discover what my mood is now…

Call April 1-888-846-7778