I had known Clive for several years. Our friendship had always been platonic, largely because he’d been in a relationship with Carrie the entire time I’d known him. He’s an incredibly kind guy, the type that would give you the shirt off his back. Carrie had always hated me, due in no small part to the fact that, at 5’6”, with auburn hair, pale skin, brown eyes, 36C tits and a slender frame, not to mention the fact that I knew how to dress, she saw me as a threat to her blonde, troll looking ass. The fact that I had a reputation of fucking whoever I wanted, whenever I wanted probably had something to do with it. Still, I kept my hands off of Clive.

That was, until Carrie, supreme cunt that she was, went and cheated on Clive. He was destroyed. He’d found pictures on her phone, and that was all she wrote. He got angry. He started drinking more. Mutual friends tried to help him, but nothing seemed to get through to him. I hadn’t spent much time with him, owing mostly to schedules not lining up, but I’d kept texting him. After a month of him steadily getting worse, and no acts of kindness seeming to get through to him, I bluntly asked him, over text, what he needed to start to feel better. He flatly told me that he wanted to hurt Carrie like she’d hurt him. I fell back on the one thing I knew to do in a situation like that, and told him that it’d probably piss her off more than anything if he fucked me. I was mostly joking. He said okay. He wasn’t.

I was fine with this.

That Friday, I showed up at his door. I’d made three demands, that he be sober, that he not leave any scars or bruises, and that he let me read whatever Carrie said once she found out. As he opened the door, his eyes were clear, and there wasn’t a hint of alcohol on his breath. I smiled tightly with my ruby red lips. I’d made sure to do my makeup perfectly. He’d been open about wanting to send pictures, and I had, reluctantly, agreed, not usually being the type to take or send pictures of me in the act. For Carrie, though, to get under her skin, especially after hurting Clive, I had made myself up like his own personal fuck doll. As I stepped in, wearing a tan overcoat that just screamed “flasher”, he looked me over hungrily. I walked into the living room that they had shared, turned to face him, and let the coat drop, revealing the sluttiest black lingerie I owned. Skimpy black bra that was sheer enough to make out my pink nipples through, a thong that was little more than string held together by delicate lace, fishnet stockings, a garter belt, and fuck me heels, all in stark black, popping against my pale skin.

CLICK The first picture of the evening was taken.

I beckoned him towards me with a single, scarlet nailed finger, and he came to me. Any doubt that the sweet, accommodating, gentlemanly Clive would go through with it was destroyed as he approached. Between the look in his eyes and his hands at his belt, I knew what I was in for. His pants hit the ground, leaving his very impressive cock waving in the air, twitching like it had been waiting for years to meet me. It wasn’t the longest I’d seen, but it was decent, and THICK, with bulging veins. I waited to follow his lead. It was his show. My usual dominant streak took a backseat to whatever he needed. He held his phone in one hand and placed the other on my shoulder, subtly but firmly pushing me down to my knees. I accomodated, looking him in the eye the entire time, until I had settled at the same level as his cock. Still looking in his eyes, I kissed his blazing hot cock softly. He hissed, his dick jumping at the feather-light touch. I kissed it again, more firmly, then again, before I parted my lips and took his head into my mouth. He groaned, throwing his head back as I quickly took his length. I closed my eyes and hummed happily. The feeling of a cock on my tongue is one of my absolute favorites. He hissed my name and my eyes snapped open, looking up at him with my nose buried against his pelvis.

CLICK Another picture.

I pulled back, letting his head pop free, staring at his dick, shining with my spit.

CLICK

I licked it from base to tip, my tongue flatly against the underside of his tool in a scene right out of a porno.

CLICK CLICK CLICK Picture after picture of me, on my knees, sucking his cock like I was some cheap hooker looking for a tip, on the rug that Carrie had begged him to buy for their apartment.

As I began to really settle into the blowjob, bringing my considerable talents to their full effect, he stopped me, roughly pulling me to my feet. His cock jerked violently in the air, and Clive gulped down air, staving off the orgasm I’d almost driven him to. He looked for a moment like he might kiss me, something that might have been too far in the moment, but he held off. As he seemed to get control of himself, he spun me around towards the door to his bedroom. His hand cracked off my ass and I yelped, scampering forward to the door. As I got there, he hissed at me again, and I looked back.

CLICK Another picture of me, the picture of sluttiness, spit still on my chin from the blowjob, standing in the doorway to the bedroom that they had shared. I turned around fully, understanding his motivation. I buried my hand in my panties, running my fingers over my soaking wet slit and letting out a moan.

CLICK

I put the fingers, glistening with my juices, to my tongue, licking them clean as I held my hand out to him, inviting him along.

CLICK Then he joined me.

I’d been in his bedroom before, when they’d first rented the place, helping him move. There was a different energy this time. There was no love, care, or optimism. The bed was neatly made, just like Carrie liked it, but all the pictures were gone from the wall. A single light was on overhead, lighting the room thoroughly, if a bit harshly. I walked to the bed and turned around, ready to drop some flirtatious line or strike some sultry pose. He wasn’t in the mood, though. He pushed me back onto the bed. I yelped as my back hit the springy mattress, bouncing and jiggling in a way that made him pause. I playfully bit my lip as I looked up at him, giving him the perfect opportunity.

CLICK He took it. Me, looking like a slut, ready to get fucked right on their bed, on the quilt that she just had to have.

He spread my legs with his free hand, and I shimmied towards him until my ass was hanging off the side of the bed. He pulled the crotch of my panties aside and rubbed his cock over my wet pussy. I almost asked if he could take his shirt off, but then he pressed forward. I was happy that driving over wearing almost nothing had gotten me wet, because otherwise, I wouldn’t have been able to take his girth as easily as I did.

CLICK A picture as I howled out. Then another as he started fucking me so hard that my tits couldn’t be contained anymore. Then another as I tweaked my nipples. The whole thing was so fast and hard, I’m partially glad that he took pictures, because the memory is a blur. Lots of movement and LOTS of pleasure as my good friend, my sweet friend, my super platonic, no need to worry friend hate fucked me so hard that I thought he’d break the bedframe. I howled so loudly that my throat hurt for a week. I’m not one for being used, but good Lord, can I make an exception. I rode the waves of pleasure as he slammed in and out of the pussy that Carrie had worried he’d fall victim to eventually. I have to give it to her, she was right.

Finally, he roared out and pulled free, leaving me feeling empty and confused at the sudden lack of movement. CLICK Then he swiped on his phone. The moment had arrived.

While we had been settling how things would go, he had a request. In pure Clive fashion, it was prefaced with “I understand if you don’t, don’t let me force you, you’re already doing me a huge favor,” but I didn’t care. Anything was worth it to get back at Carrie. So I rolled over.

You see, Carrie had never let Clive use her ass.

Guess what the guy was doing in the pictures that Clive found.

CLICK

I spread my asscheeks as Clive pulled the narrow strip of fabric out of the way and spit on his target, causing me to jump. With shuddering breaths, he held his phone more or less steady, taking a video as he placed his swollen cockhead against my asshole. I closed my eyes and clenched my teeth, grabbing two handfuls of her precious quilt as he pushed forward. I growled out as the pressure built, my tight asshole fighting against him. Then he popped in. I cried out. No matter how often you get fucked in the ass, it is always a surprising sensation.

He pushed forward slowly, but firmly, sinking a couple of inches, then pulling back, making me whimper, then pushing a bit further in, then back, then further. All the while, he captured everything. I tightened my grip on that comforter so much that I nearly broke a nail. When I finally felt the warmth of his pelvis pressing against my asscheeks, I relaxed and shuddered. He quietly asked if I was alright, and I gave a very unconvincing “yes.”

“Where is my cock,” he asked me, loud enough for the video to pick up clearly.

“In my ass,” I replied, shakily. He reached a hand up and turned my head to the side. I had a silly, unconvincing grin on my face and tears on my cheeks. You’d never know that I was really, truly enjoying myself.

“How does it feel?” His voice was oddly warm. Despite all the issues he was going through, I honestly did get the feeling that he would stop and delete everything if I said I was not okay.

“Goooooood,” I cooed out, lazily giggling.

Then he fucked my ass.

It was slow at first, partially because of my tightness and partially because he didn’t want it to end too soon. Slow out, slow in. As I loosened up, though, he picked up pace, and I moaned like my life depended on it. It was only partially an act for the video. Any pain that I had felt at first had melted into the weird, intense pleasure that is unique to getting your ass properly fucked. Before long, his hips were clapping off of my ass as I growled at him to fuck me harder and he complied, all caught in crystal clear video.

Finally, he pulled free and, with his free hand, spun me over. He jerked his cock a couple of times quickly, and his pearly white jizz shot out, drawing a jagged line down my stomach. A few weaker shots made their way down my stomach, over my still-on panties, before finally dribbling onto the floor. Finally, he stopped the video and collapsed next to me.

We laid there for a while, breathing heavily, absorbing the event that had just happened. There’s a weird journey that happens after fucking a friend for the first time, where it’s not entirely clear if you’ve just ruined everything. That moment passed when I looked over at him and we both burst out laughing. Wheezing laughing, the kind where you can’t even talk. When I finally found my voice, I excused myself to the bathroom to take care of myself.

My makeup was a mess, and I ended up just washing it off entirely, as well as mopping up the mess that Clive had left. Towards the end of my cleaning, I heard my phone ding. Then ding again. Then again. Clive had sent off the material, though I later learned that he’d only sent some of the pictures, not trusting her to not spread the video around. There were a couple of pictures of me in obvious places, doing obvious things, then a couple he’d taken while fucking me without my face in the shot. Very gentlemanly.

I, of course, asked for the whole set, plus the video. For posterity. (For those who are considering asking for it, it will never be shared with anyone.)

Carrie had hit the goddamned roof. I still have the full text chain of her calling me everything she could think of. Clive had just sent the message and blocked her, but I let her say her piece.

Sometimes, when I’m feeling down, I look back at it. It always makes me laugh.