Got a buddy I’ve known forever. We’re so tight we’ll even swap recs on the hottest porn we’ve just watched. Both married, wives know each other, zero weirdness.
We have this running game, spot a smoking-hot girl in the wild, stealth-snap, send to each other. Instant bro-currency.
One afternoon we’re waiting at Starbucks. He nudges me, eyes gleaming, “Check this chick across the street, legs wide open.” Slides me his phone. I crack up and fire back, "Beat this; stair-climbing goddess right in front of me last week.” I hand him mine.
It’s actually my wife in that grey sweat mini, shot from behind at the mall. Waist down only, skirt flaring just enough to reveal the full peach, white lace riding high and half-swallowed by the crease. Pure art.
He zooms in, whistles low. “Bro, this is wallpaper material.”
We grab our drinks, keep bullshitting. Two steps out the door he stops dead.
“Dude, AirDrop me that stair pic. Gonna need it tonight.”
I shrug, ping, sent.
Two days later, gym lockers. I asked, "So, good session the other night?”
He laughs, towel around his neck. “Legendary.”
Before I can flex, he squints, “Wait… that’s your wife, right?”
I freeze.
He keeps going, “I’d know those legs anywhere. And that skirt, my wife literally complimented it.”
Awkward beat… then we both crack up.
He flicks his gallery, pass the phone, his wife bent over the sink, fresh out the shower, nothing but pale pink panties and toothpaste foam.
“Payback,” he says. “Took it while she was washing her face.”
I nod approvingly, thumbs-up.
What I don’t tell him is that, I’ve seen those exact panties from the angle straight below. Got the upskirt 4K in my hidden folder, timestamped and everything.
We bump fists, promise to keep the swap chain rolling.
Some secrets stay in the group chat.
Some stay in the vault.
Either way, the game never ends.
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