Making up with your best friend

My story begins quite simply and banally. Back in my first year of university, I met a girl who soon became my best friend. Yulia, that was the girl's name, was a year younger than me, and I took a kind of mentorship over her. We cheated on our History of the CPSU exams together, skipped classes, spent evenings in cafes sipping coffee with pastries, bought tickets to the opera and ballet. After graduating, we initially didn't lose touch and were assigned to the same city for work, teaching in different schools. But our personal lives turned out differently. Yulia's boyfriend left her in our fifth year, and she was left

with a baby daughter. And I, soon after university, met a guy named Vitya. One day, we went to see a performance by a provincial theater. Out of old student habit, I invited Yulia to join us. I should have noticed then that Vitya was looking at her more than at what was happening on stage. But I didn't notice it. And one day, what was bound to happen, happened...

I had practically moved in with Vitya by then and had a key to his apartment. One afternoon, I came home from school earlier than usual, opened the door with my key, and entering the apartment, I saw my best friend and Vitya naked in bed together. Yulia was on all fours, moaning with pleasure. Vitya was focused on entering her from behind, squeezing his lover's breasts. I threw the keys on the floor, burst into tears, and ran out of the apartment, slamming the door. A little later, I returned to that apartment to get my things. I didn't want to see either my ex-boyfriend or my friend-the-homewrecker again. A little later, from mutual acquaintances, I learned that Vitya and Yulia got married and moved away somewhere. I also got married some time later and changed jobs.

I don't know what drew me, but at the first opportunity, I approached her myself.

 — "Hello, Sonechka," she exclaimed joyfully, clasping her hands. "You recognized me too? How have you been?"

 — "Well, you know, sowing the reasonable, the good, the eternal, as they say," I replied coldly. "By the way, to some I'm Sonechka, to others I'm Sofya Alexeyevna," I put my former friend in her place, adjusting my glasses with a practiced gesture.

Although, honestly, for whom am I Sofya Alexeyevna? Perhaps only for my students, those overgrown blockheads.

 — "Why so formal, dear?" Yulia let my barbs go in one ear and out the other and added: "Forgive me, Sonya. After all, your name translates to wisdom. So, you must have enough wisdom for forgiveness..."

Great, so I'm just embodied wisdom. But why then do I work at a school for pennies, while she's having a good time at the ministry, and on top of that, she snatched such a handsome man for herself? But what's done is done, and I said softly:

 — "Of course, I forgive you, and I will always be happy to see you."

When the initial girlish tears dried, Yulia invited me to a cafe—to have coffee with pastries—"like in the old days."

The next day we were already sitting in a cafe, chatting about student years, children, friends, and all sorts of things. At the end of the conversation, Yulia declared:

 — "I spoke with Viktor about you yesterday, and we invite you to our home. We have prepared a surprise for you," she added, lowering her voice.

 — "What kind of surprise?" I asked with interest.

In response, Yulia whispered a few words to me. I had long dreamed of such a "surprise" myself, so I didn't need to be persuaded to visit. I won't tell you yet what that surprise was. I'll only say that the piece of pastry I bit into after hearing Yulia seemed especially sweet to me...

 — "Here's our address," my friend handed me a page from a notepad. "And now, you can go, my dear. I'll pay the bill."

 — "You still have a long way to go to pay your bills!" I laughed merrily, playfully wagging my finger at her.

And then I took my purse and, full of hidden triumph, headed for the exit.

The next evening, I was already ringing the doorbell of Yulia's apartment. The hostess in a robe opened the door herself and let me in. Looking around, I noticed a girl of about seventeen flipping through some women's magazine.

 — "Ah, hello, Aunt Sonya," she greeted me.

 — "Sweetie, you were planning to go to your friend's dacha today," Yulia hurried the girl. "Otherwise, I want to spend time with my old friend. Aunt Sonya and I are having an evening of reminiscing!"

 — "I'm going, I'm going," the daughter assured her mother and soon indeed left us.

And we moved to the kitchen, where Viktor joined us. When the mood among all of us reached the right level, it was time for the promised surprise. I'll reveal my cards to my readers: Yulia and her husband promised to involve me in a threesome love game that night or, as my uncouth students would say, a group fuck. But I was interested in how they would spring their honey trap on me.

 — "Tell me, Sonya, what did you feel when you saw me and Vitya in bed together?" Yulia asked me during one of our dives into the past.

Well, jealousy, I began to list, resentment, anger...

 — "And what else?" Vitya, who had joined the game, asked an inexorable question.

 — "Probably, arousal," I finally admitted.

 — "And you know, dear, you weren't the only one who felt it at that moment," my friend smiled joyfully at me.

 — "Yes," Viktor supported his wife. "It also seemed to me at that moment that you, Sonya, would look wonderful with us in bed."

 — "Well then," I accepted the terms of the game. "Since we've met like this today, you have another chance to drag me into bed, so that the reconciliation is complete."

The spouses exchanged joyful glances. I noticed they were full of desire. And Vitya's hand had long been wandering over Yulia's thigh.

 — "I'm going to the bathroom," I said quietly.

When I came out of the bathroom, completely naked, the spouses had already begun their games. Viktor was already undressed and sitting on the sofa, and Yulenka, who had also shed everything, was sucking his cock while her husband caressed her breasts. They noticed me, but that only intensified their mutual passion. My friend became even more tender playing on her husband's most wonderful instrument, and he just hugged his wife's head with his hand, sinking into her light, dyed hair. But I couldn't bear this sight for long. Kneeling down, I gently moved Yulia aside and began to caress the risen organ with my lips and tongue. After a few seconds, Yulia replaced me again... Viktor couldn't endure such a double game for long. With a loud cry, he released a white, viscous stream right onto his wife's face.

 — "So that's the secret of your youth, girlfriend!" I joked to her, swallowing the remnants of the sperm. And Yulenka just smiled, smearing her portion of seed over her cheeks.

 — "You know what I thought, girls?" Viktor looked at both of us with a triumphant gaze, catching his breath a little. "It doesn't really matter which of you I married, since both of you are real sluts."

 — "Whether we're sluts or not, it's in our hands, mine and my friend's, that the education of the younger generation lies," I remarked thoughtfully, licking my lips, and exchanged a meaningful glance with my colleague in the education system, who was currently in, so to speak, an informal state.

My words were drowned in general laughter. But that laughter promised to quickly turn into new moans of pleasure.

 — "And now, dear Sofya Alexeyevna and Yulia Mikhailovna, let's move on to a new phase of depraved actions," Viktor addressed us. "I ask both of you, dear ladies, to get on all fours, as they say in the vernacular."

The "dear ladies" didn't need much persuasion. Within a minute, my friend and I assumed the required position on the floor. And so Viktor began to enter first me, then his wife, not forgetting to squeeze our hanging breasts and spank our buttocks, accustomed to sedentary work. And we, it seemed, simply couldn't bear the work of his hellish piston and in the end let out such passionate screams, as if trying to out-shout each other. At that moment, my friend and I received an equal share of pleasure, even though we stood on different rungs of the social ladder. Although, no, I'm probably exaggerating: after all, Viktor finished inside his wife's womb this time, not leaving me a single drop of life-giving moisture.

After that round, we rested and had a little drink. Vitya left the room briefly, returning a minute later with some magazine. This magazine reminded me of the one the hosts' daughter had been flipping through. Vitya showed Yulia and me an illustration: Two women were riding one guy, with one of them sitting on the man's face, and the other, a black woman, impaling herself on his cock... We understood our man without words... So, Vitya lay on the floor, and Yulia placed her vagina under his tongue. In this combination, I got the role of the black woman. But I, of course, wasn't offended. Firstly, I'm free from racial prejudices, and secondly, even back in the days of my first romance with Vitya, I loved to feel his tool deep inside me while in the cowgirl position. And so, while Vitya licked his little wife, I began a serious ride, screwing myself tighter onto my lover's cock with each movement. My breasts swayed with each thrust, and Vitya caressed them. Not forgetting, however, about Yulia's lovely hemispheres. I'll make a small lyrical digression and say that my breasts, although they sag a little, are still very much something. They look so good that even during school lessons, chastely hidden by a bra, they attract the glances of the older boys. What can I say about Viktor, who kneaded and kissed them as if in madness. Though, Yulenka's breasts look even better, only her nipples are lighter than mine. I just don't know who's staring at these treasures there, at the ministry...

But our ride, meanwhile, is approaching the finish line. I feel as if a sweet poison is spreading through my veins, tearing me apart from the inside. I scream, not noticing how Viktor painfully squeezes my breasts, irrigating my depths with another stream.

Then, my friend and I switch places. Viktor tends to my cave with his tongue, and Yulia becomes the rider. Cries escape my lips:

 — "Yes, my good one, more... Lick my pussy... Like that... a little faster... Show your lustful little wife how you can caress me."

But the little wife got so carried away that she might not even hear me. Through the haze of my own sensations, I see her flushed face with a bitten lip and disheveled light mane, I watch as she twists her mouth, letting out a drawn-out cry, and trembles as if in a fever. However, at this time, Vitya's tongue makes me tremble with pleasure too...

Further, I only remember fragmentarily what else happened that night... Here I am lying on the sofa, my legs on Vitya's shoulders, and he drills into me with all his might. I just squeal:

 — "Yes!… Yes!… Fuck me harder! This is the kind of fucking I've been waiting for all these years!" Yulia, sitting nearby, hears my lamentations and caresses her clit more and more, pinching her nipples with her other hand, and then can't stand it and rushes to us, positions herself somehow from the side and tries to lick the cock coming out of my vagina. I think she probably still lacks that wonderful rejuvenating cream. Soon Yulia starts stroking her husband's back. He leaves me and pounces on her, but quickly finishes, splashing seed over Yulenka's stomach.

A moment of rest arrives, and my friend, whispering something in her husband's ear, says to me:

 — "Remember, Sonechka, you remarked well yesterday, as if I still have to pay the bills...," she hesitates and continues: "Do you have hand cream in your purse, dear? Bring it here, please."

I nod in agreement and, not embarrassed by my nudity, go to the hallway where my purse is hanging. Returning, I find a familiar scene. Yulia is on the floor on all fours, and Vitya is behind her with his tool sticking out. But only when he takes the tube of cream from me do I understand his whole devilish plan and the full weight of my friend's sacrifice... Yes, he inserts his cock into her ass. Probably, this dish doesn't often appear on their love menu. Yulia screams, but more from pain than pleasure, and tears appear on her face. Yulia instinctively jerks, but her husband's hand grabs her hair. And I frantically rub my clit and scream, as if forgetting about forgiveness:

 — "That's it, Vitenka! Shove it deeper into that creature, fuck her in the ass! Teach that slut how to steal boyfriends from friends!"

Meanwhile, Yulia's cries of pain turn into moans of pleasure. Did my fury excite my former homewrecker so much?... Before finishing, Vitya pulls his cock out of his wife's ass. Something happens to me then. I take a bottle of cognac, take a big gulp straight from the neck, apparently for disinfection, jump up to the spouses, and take the crimson head of the cock deep into my mouth...

Finally, the last chord. We are lying in bed all three of us, completely exhausted. But sleep doesn't come, and I again embark on a journey through time:

 — "You know, Vitya, Yulka and I even before you appeared used to have a celebration in bed."

 — "Yes," Yulia picks up. "You don't even know what kind of relationship you broke up, you rascal."

Saying this, she begins to stroke my breast. I respond with a kiss. And soon we are diligently licking each other in the 69 position. All Vitya can do is watch...

But it didn't happen again. And the next day, Vitya and Yulia saw me off at the train station.

 — "Thank you for everything!" I sincerely thanked them when there was a minute left before departure.

 — "Thank you, Sonya," my friend replied, kissing me on the cheek, and then quickly handed me some paper bag. Later, examining it in the train car, I found a disc and a note inside. The note, written in Yulia's hand, said: "The first time, Sonya, you gave me happiness when you introduced me to my future husband. Last night, you made me happy again. Therefore, we give you this disc, which captures all our nightly delight. Another copy will remain with us, as a memory."

After reading the note, I drifted into recent experiences. I was brought out of them by the voice of my neighbor, a chatty old woman:

 — "Excuse me, what's on that disc?"

 — "Nonsense!" I brushed it off. "You see, I'm returning from a teachers' seminar. And on the last day, each participant was given