My Forbidden First with My Best Friend’s Husband

Behind the laurels in their Saône-et-Loire garden. Mid-July heat. I’m on the deckchair, belly down. Tanga barely covering. Heart pounds. Fred chops the fallen pear tree. Sweat drips off his bare torso. Muscles flex. I flip over. Lotion my arms, chest. Slow. Teasing. He watches. Drops his soaked shirt. ‘Want me to do your back?’ Voice husky. I hand the bottle. Yes. Barely whispers. He kneels. Hands on shoulders. Warm. Firm. Shiver runs down. No turning back. Fingers slide to spine. Lower. Waist. Flanks. Brush my tits. Nipples harden. Gasp. He asks for legs. I nod. Palms on calves. Knees. Inner thighs. So close to my pussy. Wetness floods. Breath catches. I press his bulge. Rock hard. ‘I want you, Chris.’ Hot breath on neck. Hands grip tits. Pinch nipples. I guide his palm to my crotch. ‘Touch me.’ Finger strokes through fabric. Circles clit. Explosion. I cum. Legs shake. He holds me.