Jolene
I’m naked in a hot tub with my fiancé’s…. er… ex-fiancé’s… best friend and my best friend’s… ex best friend’s... fiancé... ex-fiancé…
I don’t know how long we sat like that. The minutes that ticked by seemed like hours. We both ignored the fact that my tits were pressed against his chest and that his cock was hard as a rock and swaying from the hot tub current. We both ignored all the things we should have been noticing if it was a different time, different circumstances, and a different person.
The whiskey I felt so stubbornly in my veins when I dropped the wedding dress may as well have been back in the bottle. Knowing how I found out was one thing that kept replaying in my head over and over but hearing him explain how he found out… it made it so real. I wasn’t imagining this. It wasn’t a dream I was going to wake up from.
My best friend and the man that I planned my life with are having an affair.
The pain suddenly felt so fresh, so suffocating that it sucked the air from my lungs. I gasped, willing the open air to replenish me, but my attempt was futile.
“Are you ok?”
I gasped, a plea for my lungs to find some act right.
“Lena!” He pulled me into his lap and shook me.
Steadying myself on his shoulders, I tried to inhale, coughing as my body rejected perfectly good oxygen.
“Lena, you’re having a panic attack,” he spoke calmly. “In through the nose, out through the mouth. Slowly.”
Following his instructions, I only failed a little, a small puff of air finally making its way in.
“That’s it. Slowly. Find a focal point and breathe. In through your nose, out through your mouth.”
His fingertips caressed my back as he consoled me, his mind completely oblivious to my naked pussy pressing against him.
Breathing slowly the way he demanded, the burn in my lungs finally began to dissipate, the invisible hold on my windpipe, vanishing.
“Good girl, keep breathing,” he cajoled. “You’re doing great, Loo.”
My breathing slowly regulated, my heartbeat following suit.
As my respiratory system went on about business, whatever system it is that controls the embarrassment ramped up.
“I’m sorry. I was thinking about everything that happened and reliving it and I suddenly felt like I couldn’t take a breath.”
His fingertips danced from my waist to my shoulder blades.
“You don’t have to apologize, but are you okay? How’s your chest feeling?”
Instinctively, we both looked down. My chest was pressed against his, my full tits flush against his tattooed chest.
“It, uh, feels warm,” I stuttered.
He laughed so hard his body shook, the vibration rippling against every sensitive part of my body.
“Warm on the inside or on the outside?”
“The outside. The inside feels normal.”
Nodding, he released the grip he had on me.
He’s telling you to get off, dumbass.
Humiliated, I slid across him, feeling all the forecasted eight inches against a place that had never seen that many inches at once.
Bitch, you need more whiskey and a wet dream.