The Wife Trap Series on Open TG

I'm my best friend's wife.

This can't be happening.

I look in the reflection in the window and Mark's wife Eva stares back at me.

I never liked her. I never trusted her. Mark and I were close enough friends for me to say so. He would nod in agreement but he never heeded my advice. He married her. Eva's expression always could be described as Resting Bitch Face. Now all of that is washed away. I can see an innocence of my eyes. Shock. Surprise. Though I am far from innocent today. I'm something else.

I'm a woman. And now I'm an experienced one.

I woke up in a start this morning, half expecting a dream until I felt a pleasant soreness between my legs and the glistening sheen of morning lubrication against the folds of my pussy.

My pussy. My wet pussy. Already ready for more.

Then I remembered.

Last night I heard Mark's car pull into the driveway. Then the key in the door. A chill ran through my new tits. Mark called out when he entered the house. Hearing no answer he silently ascended the stairs and rounded the master bedroom door to find me tied up and waiting for him. The look on his face melted into one of lust. My nipples were already hard in the cool air of the room. I could feel them, two pure realities swinging at the apex of my big tits, advertising arousal. He sat down his briefcase, took his jacket off and strolled over to me. He ran his hand through my hair.

He smiled slightly. I tried to speak and he shook his head. "Shhhh."

He bent over and cupped my left breast and lifted it slightly. I was taken aback, but he was non-chalant. His ring burned on my finger. His ring said this breast was his.

He leaned over and took my nipple into his mouth. My eyes crossed. Dear god. The way it felt. He played with my nipple. I squirmed in my bounds, feeling my pussy heating up between my thighs. His tongue moved in circles, then over it, meeting resistance. It moved slightly before giving way to his tongue and bouncing back into place, wet with my best friend's spit and begging for more.

Mark. Wait. It's me. Your best friend.

His tongue played. I inhaled through my tiny new nostrils and moaned into the tape. My breasts were heavy. I knew they were beautiful.

I'm not your wife. I'm Hunter. . .

"Good girl," he said.

My eyebrows arched slightly, in pleasure. In confusion. In realization of my sex. His hand fell and I felt a finger squeeze between my thighs. "Are you ready for me?"

My reply came back in muffled moans. And inaudibly, as his finger came back coated. He grabbed my breast with his hand depositing my own wetness on the contours of my voluptuous mammary. His thumb and finger, sticky with my fluid, slipped delightfully over my nipple. Then he grabbed my breast harder. Roughly. I could feel its weight in his hands and the release off my back as he lifted it upwards. He lowered his head again and the hypnotic circling of his tongue started anew. This time on the other breast. A furnace was building between my thighs. His tongue was the tinder. I was getting wet. Worse, I was slowly forgetting I wanted him to stop.

I heard him unzipping his pants with his other hand. I looked down to see him pull himself out. My eyes opened wide. He was big. Memories of seeing him in gym class popped into my mind - once a shrug, now foreshadowing. I pulsed the muscles in my pussy, knowing I would soon feel it. Knowing as far as he knew, I was his waiting wife. The woman he married. There was no way to convince him otherwise. He would be inside of me in a matter of time. I moaned out at the thought. What would it feel like?

He loosened the ropes around my legs. He loosened them so he could spread my thighs. I could tell by the force with which he did this that he would not be gentle with me.

He would not be gentle because I was his naughty wife greeting him after work with a surprise. He would not be gentle because I was bound in the way he liked. He would not be gentle because my legs were shaved and my pubic mound was smooth for him. He would not be gentle because my pussy was already dripping wet in arousal.

He moved forward, making contact. I tried to moan in protest. He began coating his cock in the lubrication glistening over the lips of my pussy. The lubrication his tongue had caused me produce for him. For better or worse, my new body was compliant. He slipped through my folds. In just two passes his cock became the new center of my world. I moaned into the tape, a moan high and feminine. It resonated between my ears, just as his thick cock resonated between my lips. It felt amazing. My thighs quivered. When would he slip in? Already I was wondering, and the question drove me mad. I realized it was because I was growing impatient. I squirmed. I rocked my hips begging to take him in. I couldn't stop myself.

Mark fucked me. He fucked me hard. He fucked me unrelentingly. I melted into his wife's inviting body. I liked being fucked. My plump ass recoiled at every thrust.

To recount what happened next fills my tummy with so many butterflies and causes my face to flush. All I can say is it didn't stop there. And as soon as my hands were untied I could help him get me off.

We went all night. We kept the lights on. I wanted to see what I was doing to him.

And towards the end I even led the proceedings.

"I want to be on top."

Those words came from my mouth. He allowed me to. And I savored every inch that moved in and out of me as my new pussy logged the distance. Six inches. One foot. Twenty feet. Mark was big and the measurements accrued quickly. One hundred. The sum grew large, because Mark could last. I had no complaints. My pussy was now acquainted with how to traverse a cock. It scoffed at its initial reluctance, suddenly desperate for mileage.

By the time he pulled the tape off my mouth I had surrendered to the idea of Mark being inside of me. Knowing it was right. Knowing it was where he belonged. His body rocking over mine. My thighs straddling his bucking cock like a cowgirl. Even his little finger teasing me, circumnavigating my my puckering feminine asshole as he fucked me. Tomorrow I could handle the fall out of this trap. Tomorrow I could call my wife and tell the truth. But tonight. . . Tonight I needed it. I needed it over and over again. I needed him inside of me. Eva had been right. He had made the case for her. And I had accepted it in full force. His cock pummeled me. His lips sucked my nipples. His finger finally slipped into my tight feminine asshole.

It made me feel like a woman. It made me feel like his woman. I screamed out my approval. "Yes!" I had been waiting for it. I worked him all the harder to reward him. And myself.

My reward came and came again as my pussy ravenously coaxed load after load from my best friend's firing cock. It seemed right at the time. So warm. So intimate. So raw.

He flooded out of me. There was so much of him. But it didn't matter. It was a pink day, and his balls were hard at working making more for his wife's fertile womb.

Early in the morning, when it was still dark. I slid from the bed and into the master bathroom. My legs were shakey. I needed a shower. I needed to think.

I turned on the hot water and the bathroom filled with steam. I stepped Eva's tiny feet one at a time into the shower and let the water pour through her long hair and tried to compose myself. Then I heard the door crack open.

He had followed me.

"I'm not done with you."

He was was ready to go. Again. I moaned in disbelief. He was a machine. An animal. I swallowed, realizing that he was better than I had ever been to my own wife.

I knew I shouldn't, but I reached back and grabbed his hard cock. How could I say "no" to my best friend? How could I say "no" to the best hubby ever? How could I not let him fuck me whenever he wanted to? Whenever he asked? My body had walked down the aisle with him. My pussy was his.

It's so wrong to say, but I think it was the best shower of my life.

It's morning. What am I supposed to do?

It's morning. Mark's gone off to work and I'm alone in his house. My body is positively aglow, shining with aura of a wife who is well loved and well fucked. I know I should call my wife. I know I should face Mark and tell him what happened. But he would kill me. And his wife. And if I find a way to change back, his wife could ruin everything. She would tell him. Everything would be wrecked. My wife would never look at me the same way again. And after feeling what it's like to be a woman, I'm not sure I could either.

No, I need to think. I need to find the best way out of this. And for the time being, that means I need to act normal. Which means act like Mark's wife. While making sure what happened last night doesn't happen again.

Why does that fill me with such dread?

He will be in home in seven hours.