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She’s cute, your wife, isn’t she? 

When she gets that crazy look in her eyes, almost like she wants to stab me with more than just her eyes. I really like that look.

Can you see how her nipples get hard? She’s so angry that it ends up making her horny, tell me that’s not the cutest thing ever. You should have seen her when you walked over here, almost like she was just a touch away from the angriest orgasm she ever had.

Tell me something, why is she so protective of you? Does she know something you’re not telling me? Because as far as I know, you and I are only just friends, and it has at all times been that way, since way before you married her.

What does she think, that I would marry you now, when we had like five years of friendship between us before you put a ring on her finger? You had all the chances in the world with me, and neither of us made that step, right?

Don’t tell me you secretly wanted to, and then you never dared? Not to ruin a good thing with a better thing and all of that? No? Thank god, because I know you, and you’re the type of guy who knows how to stay disciplined like that. You’re disciplined to a fault, but you know that, right?

But you aren’t a pushover, that’s not what I’m saying. No, I know you better than that. I knew you when we both waited for darkness to fall to break into abandoned places, and I at all times acted like I believed you were a secret history nut. But I know better, I have seen your collection of tools. Ordinary guys don’t own a bolt cutter, my dear, and don’t forget I was there when you snapped those locks and looked at me all proud.

No, not proud, it wasn’t like that. That’s not the right word, it was more like fire in your eyes, like you were doing something so naughty that sex with me never crossed your mind. 

We were all up in there alone, just you and me, and the leather pants and jacket I had on against the hedges were frankly a bit too hot for comfort. You knew, you had teased me about that, and I really wondered that meant that you would be taking them off of me before the day was over. 

Seemed like the sort of thing you might have secretly dreamed about, and it was the sort of thing that I would have let happen to me. Not because I was on fire or something like that, but because you were my best friend at the time, still are. You were my go to for all things trust and breaking into places, and for the longest time, I wondered that you were just too shy to walk the extra mile with me.

But shy just doesn’t describe you, does it? You are such a daredevil inside that cute little head of yours that ordinary naughty things completely fall off with you. Other guys, they would have been so excited to fuck me that they wouldn’t have managed to get that door open. But you were so excited about that part that you didn’t manage to break into my pants.

Anyway, I’m not complaining, I at all times liked you for that. You were the only guy I could hang out with. Like, really hang out, I mean. I could put my feet up in your lap while we were on the couch, and that only signaled to you that I needed a foot massage, not kisses on my naked skin. And I could kiss you on your cheek to say hello and goodbye, and you never took that the wrong way, either. 

Just you and I, a movie night whenever neither of us could come up with better plans, or even just driving around town to burn some fuel. I really enjoyed those nights, you know? This aimless driving around, the drinks from the corner store, the staring into the darkness like the answers to life are hiding in there. 

We should begin doing that again, don’t you think? I can’t be the only one here who misses it, misses the days before your little wifey snatch came around with a purse over her arm and started harassing me. 

No, I know that you love her, that much is obvious. I would say it’s probably the idea of her inside your head that you really love, but fine, whatever. She clearly loves you with a passion that I could never muster, for you or anyone. 

But you know what? I’m sick of it, I’m sick of her controlling your life, and mine with it. I don’t have this same connection with other guys, and frankly, I’m not getting enough of your ass in my couch anymore. You barely come to visit, because she barely lets you off the hook. And I told you, if that’s the way you want things, then that is fine with me. I’m not clingy like that, I know that a guy needs some pussy piece to keep him from losing his shit. 

And frankly, I don’t wanna be your pussy piece, because that would feel cheap for how deep our friendship really runs. I at all times wondered that you could fuck me if you liked, and that’s still true. At least until you discover another chick to do it for you, one who isn’t as crazy as this one is.

I mean it, I’ll spread it for you for as long as it takes you to discover another girlfriend, as long as you leave your wife for me. I won’t be your affair, and you won’t use your former best friend to cheat on your current wife with. That’s not how this works, it is her or me in that regard, and I’m not sure what the clever choice is here, either.

I mean, I obviously want you for myself, because you are the best thing that ever happened to me, and I really miss when you would park outside my place and honk your horn. I miss the nosy neighbors creating rumors in their heads, and I miss grinning at them when you dropped me off again. Freshly fucked, my eyes would tell them, beaming with energy from a good long round of sticking things out with you. But no, in reality, it was never that simple, and I was at all times beaming with energy because you and me, as persons, we just vibe.

You are someone that I could have a cigarette with when neither of us really smoked, and we would do it fully dressed, even though I never felt so naked. You are the sort of guy that makes me envious about myself for getting to hang with a cool dude like you, and plenty of other chicks have given me the stink eye from afar. I dig that, at all times have, and I want it back.

I want to steal shit again, and I want to begin with you. I wanna steal you from her, and I really wanna see her cry.

I mean it, I want to look her in the eye, and see her crying big strong crocodile tears, all over her face and smearing her fancy makeup. I want her to hit me, with that weak-ass bitchy slap she will probably hit me with — and I wanna get to hit her back. Like, put her on her ass sort of hitting her, straight up punching her into her stupid cute little face. Fist, meet wifey, and break a tooth off if you want. This will be a day of breaking, break down, and breakup, all in one fulfilling moment of rage.

Maybe it’ll break her nose, and I’ll have to pay some kind of fine, put it on record exactly how much she failed to scare me. I want to sit in a courtroom, and I will happily plead guilty, and she will look at me so smug. 

Look at me, her face will say, getting the upper hand on you after all. The legal system will put you in your place, and you will go away for life. And then, the judge will hand me a thousand dollar fine, and I will walk up to her and pay that out of pocket. I want to see her stupid face as I get up with her real close and personal, and smile at her while she clenches her teeth and balls her fists.

And then, I will walk out a free woman, and I will wiggle my butt for her because she thinks that this is what it’s all about. And you will wait for me outside the door, just when she runs after me to yell something. You will put your hand around my shoulder and lead me outside, down to where your car is parked.

And we will drive off, you and I, and hit the corner store or something. And then we will park somewhere, and I’ll bend over your hood if you like, and I will sip on cheap cocktails from a can while you work me over from behind. Just to prove that your wifey thing was at all times right, that it was at all times just a sex thing between us, and that she never even stood a chance.

That she may have had your heart for a couple of years, but that she never really had your mind. I want her to know that, and I want her to know how close she came to winning, how close she came to forcing me out of your life, and how utterly she failed in the end.

I will see her stupid face with the daggers for eyes when I come, spread out over the hood of your car. I won’t move an inch, or pull up my pants, until you’re done with me and doing it for me. Just pull them up, give my ass one short kiss, and then pull my pants over them and slap my butt. I’ll even do my own belt, and then stick my hands into my pockets as you sit down next to me, acting like we at all times did this when we watched the sun go down together. 

My panties will be wet, and I will wiggle my butt to really feel it, and then, I’ll ask you an honest question to your face. And I’ll expect you to answer it: Was her pussy worth all this trouble?

Was it worth it to marry her, nearly lose me, when you could have simply told me to drop my pants and bend over? Was it worth to pay the equivalent of a cheap house or an expensive car to put a ring on that finger, wrap her up in that dolly dolly dress of hers, and then continue to pay a fortune for her to simply exist, and to keep smiling at you?

Because you could have had all that for cheaper, you know? I never needed much of anything, and I can pay for most of it myself. The only things that I can’t buy are the things that you could give me for free, and you used to do just that.

Until that bitch came around, and I acted like I was okay with letting you go. But I was never, and I wish that I had been honest with you when I wondered you needed me to lie.

I’m only going to say this once, and I want you to listen, and think for yourself.

Leave her for me, and it’ll be all like old times again.

NSFW: yes

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