The Wife Trap series on Open TG

"I'm gonna win!" I chirped, bouncing in place giddily. My breasts continued for a little while longer after I stopped. I love the feeling of them bouncing in my lingerie, so I tend to find reasons to bounce.

"Damn, how did you get so good? Have you been practicing while I'm at work?"

I smiled as I strolled around the pool table. My heels clicked one-at-a-time on our hardwood floor. Mark and I used to play pool once a week. I always beat him. . . when I was a man.

"Black in corner pocket." I admit, it's a little harder to play with these tits and since I'm much shorter now. But I'm not complaining. I wouldn't trade an inch of height for the new ways I get to hang with my best friend. I swayed my ass and quickly sank my shot. My boobs bounced victoriously.

"Geez, three games in a row. Something must have gotten into you."

I froze, butterflies in my stomach, my head buzzing.

Something had gotten into me. It was my best friend's eight-inch cock. I could just feel it. Spreading my lips wide before plunging completely into me, it's massive head moving in and out, pleasantly massaging the walls of my pussy. Me squeezing and massaging back. I always do. I'm tight and he likes the way his wife's pussy feels as she milks his cock for all its worth. It's my new obsession. Hopping off and feeling him fire on my tits. My face. My back. My tummy. At least I have for the last month since his wife trapped me in her body.

Eva had been right. Mark would handle convincing me. And he had. Deeply. In every place, he could. I licked my lips. My asshole quivered.

"One more game?"

"Sure, but seriously, tell me. Something's changed about you. You're different."

I brushed the hair back from my eyes, a little nervous at his questions. "How do you mean?"

"For fuck's sake, you made cookies today!"

"I wanted to bake for you." I shuffled to the side perplexed. Maybe he didn't like my cookies. I mean, I had been trying. I wanted my man to feel loved. What's wrong with that? Plus there is something so enjoyable about baking that I never understood as a man. Being in an apron - sometimes only an apron. Bouncing around the kitchen. I bask as all desire for my old male duties dissolves into the feminine. In fact, after baking I always get so turned on.

I'm glad I bought something to help me with that. A wife needs her time alone. To explore. To learn her body. And to get new ideas to share with her husband.

As for all the baking, I admit, I have eaten a few more of my baked goods than I should in the past weeks and, as a result, put on a few pounds. Though Mark doesn't seem to mind. In fact, I noticed he was a little more ravenous in bed and was always grabbing my ass everywhere we went. I had to agree, silently. I always had liked a woman with a little meat on her bones and it was thrilling to see the way I was filling out my lingerie in the mirror of my walk-in closet. More for Mark-y to grope.

"So my cookies. . . Were they good?"

"They were better than your famous potato salad at last week's picnic."

I sighed. "I think I forgot the recipe."

"Which is weird." He scratched his head. "I thought you had that memorized."

I stood sheepishly thinking of how I had winked at me during the picnic after a bite full. Of course, my old body was now occupied by Mark's wife, but I guess some details are better left unsaid. I changed the subject. "What else has changed?"

"Your make up. . . "

"I wanted to try wearing a bit more eye make up. And do my hair differently. You know. . . to change it up?"

"I love it."

I smiled and turned away, shyly. I had been practicing on my hair and makeup, so this was by far a lovely compliment to receive. Honestly, in my short time as a woman, I've decided a woman should have her own style. This was my body now. I have accepted it, and I will do as I please to it. Though I would still continue Eva's Brazilian wax routine. . .

Mark interrupted my wandering thoughts.

"And the sex. . ."

"What about it?" I suddenly felt my lip pouting. Oh no! Was I bad in bed? And, if so, why the fuck was he waiting a month to tell me?

He stopped. "It's electric." He took a breath. "And the way you talk now during it. . . "

We stood there for a moment in silence before he spoke. A new heat ran through the place where my pussy lips met. Wetness peaked through the tight slit.

Mark turned. "Okay, one more game, but first I'm going to fix a drink." He walked to the bar across the room.

I followed him quietly around the pool table and slipped out of my lingerie. His back faced me as he made his drink. Then he turned around. He nearly spilled his drink.

"Oh. . . Hello, Mrs. Mitchell."

I stood expressionless. A Mrs. His wife. His eyes poured over me. I knew I was beautiful.

"Hello, Mr. Mitchell"

He took a sip of his drink. "So next game?"

I nodded. "Yes. But I've made some new rules so you have a chance at winning."

His eyebrow raised. "And what are those?"

"I want my hubby to sink his giant cock into a special pocket." I spread my legs wide. Thin lines of lubrication leading between my thighs and pussy spread and broke into drops on the floor. I'm ovulating. I had grown to love my thighs. They were now the gatekeepers to my sex. I decided who was worthy to spread them for - and let me tell you, I wouldn't miss spreading them for Mark. All of our palling around in college was a pale comparison to being completely filled by him. If you told me then I would be his wife I would've laughed in your face. If you told me now I couldn't be his wife you would walk away limping.

He stood, taking in my curvaceous form, and chuckled. "Your special pocket, eh?"

"Yes," I purred. "Judging from the bulge in my hubby's pants, he can't miss. But first - Take off your clothes right now and sit on the couch."

He nodded.

Why can't I get enough of this? It's literally my favorite thing right now: wrapping my lips around this beautiful cock. I have a taste for it and the will to please. Some days I crave the taste of his come so much I meet Mark at the door on my knees when he walks in from work.

A sweet pre-dinner appetizer. (Yes, I spend a lot of time barefoot in the kitchen.) Two weeks ago he told me "that was the best blowjob you've ever given me." The praise has propelled me forward, knowing I was better than Eva ever was. Of course, it would be nothing without feeling this cock inside of me. You can't desire a cock fully until you've been fucked by one. Once you have you won't stop at anything to get it hard as a rock. I would suck him until he shot down my throat right now if I didn't have other plans.

And the best thing about giving head? Mark repays me. Mark's tongue twists me up inside. Even three weeks ago when we had a huge fight and I was determined to find a way to change back to my old self, he found a way to coax forgiveness with it. Just a little flick through my folds and I was a goner. Why would I want a cock when I have this perfect little clit to please me. I purred on the bed, orgasm after orgasm, until I got impatient and pulled him up to mount me. There was no more hesitation after that. I was a woman.

It's time. I'm grabbing his hair lightly to pull him from me. "That's enough. I need you in my pocket. Now."

I love how Mark throws me around. Spreads my legs. Enters me. Takes me. Makes me moan uncontrollably. I belong to him and it's only right. That's right, Mark. Fuck your wife. Your best friend. She wants you.

"Fuck me. . ."

The way my tits shake with every thrust! It's hypnotic. How did I ever live without these melons? They begged to be groped. And used. . .

"That's right, honey. Fuck your wife. Make her your little slut."

I can't control myself. I set out to try playing the part and now the part has taken over.

"Do you feel how wet your wife's pussy is for you? Who is your little slut?"

"Eva," he bellowed.

"I can't fucking hear you."

"EVA!"

That's right. Say my name. Hunter's gone. He's fucking my wife just like you're fucking your wife right now. I'm Eva. I'm Eva!

"Harder! Fuck me harder!"

Oh fuck, there he goes. My words have a way of heating him up. He's flipping me over. Oh fuck, this is my absolute favorite. So raw. So deep. So perfect.

He's harder now than he was, and getting harder. It's time.

"I'm not done telling you the rules of the game."

My voice is shaking between moans, I can barely get the words out I'm so on fire for him. He's not stopping.

"I'm listening."

"You have to promise you'll do it."

"I promise."

I moaned. "You need to sink the shot." I moaned. I'd been thinking about it off and on all day. "I want you to look your wife in the eye and sink the shot."

I could hear the smile in his voice. "Sink the shot?"

I nodded. It was hard to do with him pulling my hair.

"I want my hubby to put our baby inside of me." I bit my lip and moaned, knowing I don't want to stop with just one.

Mark threw me to the couch on my back. My thighs spread in acceptance of forever, my pussy tenderized and prepared for the deposit. My womb ready to pay back in interest. He whispered in my ear. "Cock in corner pocket." Oh, fuck. This was happening. He wouldn't last much longer now. I savored every thrust, calling out.

We used to laugh over staring contests back in the day, if I had known how lucky I was to be looking at his eyes I would have stared forever. Fuck me, Mark. Fuck your best friend.

"That's right. Fuck your wife pregnant. Give her tight little pussy something to work with."

He moaned. I could feel his huge cock shuddering, tugging my pussy in and out with it.

I muttered half awake. "Every drop. . . every drop." He listened, staying deep, his cum rocketing into me, volley after volley. My cervix offered no resistance, only access, acceptance, receptivity; Access to my fertile womb. Yes. Oh god. . . "YES!" There was so much of him, eventually the seal of my pussy around his huge cock gave way and a dollop of come flowed from my pussy down into the divot of my asshole. Once he slipped from me I aimed to hold my legs high and keep as much of him inside as possible.

His cock was still pumping and my tits were still bouncing when he grabbed me by the chin.

He smiled and kissed me.

"I win."