Confession I
I’ve been carrying this for years, and I’m done pretending it didn’t happen. So I’m going to tell you everything. The whole filthy truth, no softening it, no leaving the worst parts out.
My name is Jenny. My best friend is Bianca. Her boyfriend—then her husband—is Ollie. And I fucked him. Over and over. While she trusted me. While I smiled in her face and came on his cock behind her back.
It started the night of her birthday party. We were all wasted. Bianca spilled an entire glass of red wine down the front of her dress, laughed it off, then staggered upstairs and passed out. The rest of us kept drinking. The music low. The lights were dim. Ollie was on the couch, shirt half-unbuttoned, looking at me like he’d already decided.
I sat down next to him. Close enough that our thighs touched.
He turned his head. “You’ve been staring at me all night.”
“Maybe I have.”
His hand landed on my knee, slid higher under the hem of my skirt. “You know what happens if I keep going.”
“Then don’t stop.”
He kissed me hard, tongue pushing into my mouth, tasting like beer and mint. We barely made it to the guest room. The second the door locked he had me against it, shoving my top up and my bra down so he could get his mouth on my tits.
“Fuck, look at these,” he growled, sucking one nipple hard while he pinched the other. “I’ve wanted to suck on these for months. Tell me you’ve thought about it too.”
“I have,” I gasped. “I’ve thought about you fucking me while she’s right upstairs.”
He groaned like I’d just given him permission to be as bad as he wanted. His hand shoved between my legs, found me already soaked through my panties. He rubbed me roughly, two fingers pressing hard against my clit.
“Jesus, you’re dripping. Is this all for me? You get this wet thinking about cheating with your best friend’s boyfriend?”
“Yes, fuck yes.”
He yanked my panties aside and pushed two fingers into me without warning. I moaned into his shoulder as he finger-fucked me against the door, curling them until my knees went weak.
“You’re so fucking tight. Bet you haven’t been fucked properly in a while. I’m gonna ruin this pussy tonight.”
I got his belt open, shoved his jeans down, and wrapped my hand around his cock. Thick, hard, and already leaking. I stroked him and watched his face.
“You gonna put that in me or just talk about it?”
He spun me, pushed me face-down onto the bed, dragged my hips up, and shoved into me in one deep thrust. I cried out into the floral duvet—her duvet—as he bottomed out.
“Fuck, Jenny, you’re so wet and tight. Take every inch.”
He fucked me hard from the start. No gentle build-up. Just deep, punishing strokes that made the headboard slam the wall. One hand fisted in my hair, the other gripping my hip hard enough to bruise.
“Listen to how wet you are,” he said, voice rough. “Sloppy little cunt taking my cock like it was made for it. You love this, don’t you? Getting fucked in her house while she’s passed out upstairs.”
“I love it,” I moaned. “Harder… please… fuck me harder.”
He gave it to me harder. The wet slap of skin on skin filled the room. Every thrust punched a broken sound out of me.
“You gonna come on my cock like a dirty slut? Come on. Squeeze me. Show me how much you needed this.”
I came hard, clenching around him, shaking. He didn’t stop. He kept pounding me through it until I was whimpering.
“That’s it. Good girl. Now I’m gonna fill this pussy up.”
He buried himself deep and came with a low groan, pulsing inside me, flooding me. We stayed like that for a minute, both breathing hard. Then he pulled out, flipped me onto my back, and pushed back in while I was still dripping his cum.
“Again,” he said. “I’m not done with you.”
That second time he was slower but just as deep, grinding against my clit every time he bottomed out. He made me look at him.
“Tell me you want my cum again.”
“I want it. I want you to fill me up again. Please—”
He did. And when he finally pulled out, I felt it leak down my thighs onto her clean sheets.
I should have stopped there…. but I didn’t.
It kept happening. In Hotel rooms. In his car. Once in the laundry room of their apartment while she slept upstairs. He’d text me a time and a place and I’d go like I was starving for it.
One night in a cheap hotel he had me on all fours on the edge of the bed, fucking me so deep I could barely form words.
“This pussy is mine now,” he said, spanking my ass hard enough to sting. “Say it.”
“It’s yours… fuck, it’s yours…”
“Louder. Tell me whose cock owns this cunt.”
“Yours. Ollie’s. Only yours. Don’t stop, please don’t stop.”
He reached under and rubbed my clit in tight circles while he railed me.
“Come for me again. Make a mess on my cock like the cheating slut you are.”
I did. I came so hard my arms gave out and I face-planted into the mattress while he kept fucking me through it, then flooded me again with a groan that sounded almost angry.
After they got married it didn’t stop. It got worse. The night of the wedding, still in my bridesmaid dress, he pulled me into an empty conference room at the hotel.
“I just married her,” he said, already shoving the dress up around my waist, “and all I can think about is burying my cock in you.”
“Then do it.”
He lifted me against the wall, yanked my panties to the side, and shoved into me in one thrust. I was still wet from thinking about him all day.
“Fuck… still so tight. Still so ready for me. You sat through the whole ceremony already soaked for your best friend’s new husband, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” I admitted. “I did.”
He fucked me hard and fast, one hand over my mouth so no one would hear the sounds I made.
“This is mine,” he growled against my ear. “This cunt is mine. I’m gonna keep fucking it whenever I want. You understand?”
I nodded, moaning into his palm. He came inside me again, deep, and left me standing there with his cum running down my thigh under the dress I’d worn as her maid of honor.
I loved every second of it. The way he talked to me. The way he used me. The way he looked at me like I was the only one who could take him the way he needed. I came harder with him than I ever had with anyone else. I still do, in my memory.
And I hated myself for all of it. I still do.
I loved him. I love him. Even now. Even knowing what it cost. Even knowing I destroyed the only real friendship I ever had. The guilt never left. It just lived next to the wanting, and the wanting always won.
That’s the truth. All of it. I fucked my best friend’s boyfriend, then her husband, over and over, and I enjoyed every filthy second. I begged for it. I came on his cock while she trusted me. I let him fill me up and call me his and I said yes every single time.
I don’t expect anyone to understand. I just needed to say it out loud to someone. To you.
I’m Jenny. And this is what I did.
**
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