"You’re serious? You’re really asking me to—?" I stopped mid-sentence, my voice cracking as I stared at my co-worker, Tom, across the break room table. His expression was stone-cold, no hint of a joke in his eyes. "I’m dead serious," he said, leaning forward, his voice low but firm. "She’s been fantasizing about it for years. I’d rather it be you than some stranger she might chase behind my back."I laughed nervously, running a hand over my face. "Man, you can’t just drop something like that on me. I mean… I know your wife. She’s…" I trailed off, not sure how to finish that sentence without sounding like an idiot. "Sexy as hell?" Tom finished for me, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Yeah, she is. And she wants this. Badly. So, are you in or not?"I hesitated, my mind racing. Was he really asking me to sleep with his wife? This wasn’t some random stranger we were talking about. This was Tom’s wife, the woman I saw at company picnics, the one who always had a smile and a quick laugh. She was gorgeous, sure—curvy in all the right places, with a warmth that made you feel at ease. But this? This was… something else entirely."Look," Tom continued, his tone softening slightly. "I trust you. You’re a good guy. And honestly, I’d rather it be someone I know and respect. Someone who won’t make this… weird."I leaned back in my chair, my heart pounding in my chest. Was I really considering this? The idea of being with her—of feeling her body against mine—was enough to make my blood run hot. But the thought of crossing that line with a friend’s wife? That was a whole different story."Let me think about it," I finally said, my voice barely above a whisper.Tom nodded, standing up and clapping a hand on my shoulder. "Take your time. But don’t take too long. She’s already been waiting long enough." *A week later, I found myself standing outside Tom’s house, my palms sweaty, my heart racing. He’d texted me earlier that evening: "Come over tonight. She’s ready." That was it. No small talk, no pleasantries—just those four words that sent a shiver down my spine.I knocked on the door, and Tom answered almost immediately. He looked calm, collected, like this was just another Tuesday night. "Hey," he greeted me, stepping aside to let me in.The moment I walked into the living room, I saw her. Sarah. She was sitting on the couch, her legs crossed, wearing a short black dress that hugged her curves in all the right places. Her hair was down, cascading over her shoulders, and her lips were painted a deep red that made my mouth go dry."Hi," she said softly, her eyes locking onto mine. There was something in her gaze—something hungry, something electric—that made my chest tighten.I swallowed hard, forcing myself to sound casual. "Hey, Sarah. How’s it going?"She smiled, a slow, knowing smile that sent a jolt of heat straight to my core. "Better now that you’re here."I glanced at Tom, who was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. He didn’t say anything, just nodded at me, his expression unreadable.I took a seat on the couch across from Sarah, my mind spinning. What the hell am I doing here? But the way she was looking at me—like she could see right through me, like she wanted me—made it impossible to think straight.We talked for a while, mostly small talk, but the tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife. Every time our eyes met, I felt a spark of something—something dangerous, something addictive. And every time she shifted in her seat, crossing and uncrossing her legs, I couldn’t help but notice how her dress rode up just a little higher.Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Sarah leaned forward, her eyes locked on mine. "So," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Are you going to make me wait any longer?"My heart skipped a beat, and I glanced at Tom again. He was still leaning against the wall, his face impassive, but there was a glint in his eyes—something dark, something possessive.I turned back to Sarah, my mouth suddenly dry. "And what exactly are you waiting for?" I asked, my voice husky.She smiled again, that same slow, knowing smile that made my skin prickle with anticipation. "You know what I’m waiting for," she purred...And then, without another word...

"You’re serious? You’re really asking me to—?" I stopped mid-sentence, my voice cracking as I stared at my co-worker, Tom, across the break room table. His expression was stone-cold, no hint of a joke in his eyes. 

__"I’m dead serious,"__ he said, leaning forward, his voice low but firm. __"She’s been fantasizing about it for years. I’d rather it be you than some stranger she might chase behind my back."__

I laughed nervously, running a hand over my face. __"Man, you can’t just drop something like that on me. I mean… I know your wife. She’s…"__ I trailed off, not sure how to finish that sentence without sounding like an idiot. 

__"Sexy as hell?"__ Tom finished for me, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. __"Yeah, she is. And she wants this. Badly. So, are you in or not?"__

I hesitated, my mind racing. *Was he really asking me to sleep with his wife?* This wasn’t some random stranger we were talking about. This was *Tom’s wife*, the woman I saw at company picnics, the one who always had a smile and a quick laugh. She was gorgeous, sure—curvy in all the right places, with a warmth that made you feel at ease. But this? This was… something else entirely.

"Look," Tom continued, his tone softening slightly. "I trust you. You’re a good guy. And honestly, I’d rather it be someone I know and respect. Someone who won’t make this… weird."

I leaned back in my chair, my heart pounding in my chest. *Was I really considering this?* The idea of being with her—of feeling her body against mine—was enough to make my blood run hot. But the thought of crossing that line with a friend’s wife? That was a whole different story.

"Let me think about it," I finally said, my voice barely above a whisper.

Tom nodded, standing up and clapping a hand on my shoulder. __"Take your time. But don’t take too long. She’s already been waiting long enough."__

* * *

A week later, I found myself standing outside Tom’s house, my palms sweaty, my heart racing. He’d texted me earlier that evening: __"Come over tonight. She’s ready."__ That was it. No small talk, no pleasantries—just those four words that sent a shiver down my spine.

I knocked on the door, and Tom answered almost immediately. He looked calm, collected, like this was just another Tuesday night. __"Hey,"__ he greeted me, stepping aside to let me in.

The moment I walked into the living room, I saw her. Sarah. She was sitting on the couch, her legs crossed, wearing a short black dress that hugged her curves in all the right places. Her hair was down, cascading over her shoulders, and her lips were painted a deep red that made my mouth go dry.

__"Hi,"__ she said softly, her eyes locking onto mine. There was something in her gaze—something hungry, something electric—that made my chest tighten.

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to sound casual. __"Hey, Sarah. How’s it going?"__

She smiled, a slow, knowing smile that sent a jolt of heat straight to my core. __"Better now that you’re here."__

I glanced at Tom, who was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. He didn’t say anything, just nodded at me, his expression unreadable.

I took a seat on the couch across from Sarah, my mind spinning. *What the hell am I doing here?* But the way she was looking at me—like she could see right through me, like she wanted me—made it impossible to think straight.

We talked for a while, mostly small talk, but the tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife. Every time our eyes met, I felt a spark of something—something dangerous, something addictive. And every time she shifted in her seat, crossing and uncrossing her legs, I couldn’t help but notice how her dress rode up just a little higher.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Sarah leaned forward, her eyes locked on mine. __"So,"__ she said, her voice barely above a whisper. __"Are you going to make me wait any longer?"__

My heart skipped a beat, and I glanced at Tom again. He was still leaning against the wall, his face impassive, but there was a glint in his eyes—something dark, something possessive.

I turned back to Sarah, my mouth suddenly dry. __"And what exactly are you waiting for?"__ I asked, my voice husky.

She smiled again, that same slow, knowing smile that made my skin prickle with anticipation. __"You know what I’m waiting for,"__ she purred...

And then, without another word...

A co-worker makes a surprising request, asking his friend to fulfill his wife's long-held fantasy of being with a black man.

The friend finds himself drawn into a complex dynamic of voyeurism and consent, as he navigates the intense sexual tension between the couple and himself.

The night unfolds with raw, passionate encounters, all while the husband watches, his silent presence adding a layer of intensity and control to the situation.

The encounter leaves the friend with a newfound understanding of the couple's desires, and the husband with a deeper appreciation for his wife's fantasy.

My co-worker's wife wanted to try BBC so he asked me to fuck her while he watches

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