Long before anyone invented the acronym FWB, Wanda and I were exactly that. We simply called one another fuck-buddies and it was an arrangement that worked well for both of us. Many people we knew assumed we were a couple. And we were – sort of. Much in the same way that a couple of alley cats who sleep under the same tarp most nights are a couple. We did set up house together for a while. Nearly a year, in fact. But even then we both had our own places to retreat to whenever it might have been convenient, and there was no pretense of sexual fidelity. Ours was an open, complicated, relationship. Frankly, for us, it was pretty simple. We liked each other, got along very well and we both loved to fuck. We just never expected the other one to restrict said fucking to our bed.
The great thing about a fuck-buddy like Wanda is that they are excellent co-conspirators. As a result, they can help you arrange things that might not otherwise be possible. For instance, Wanda wanted to rob not one, but two, young men of their manhood at the same time. It wasn’t that hard for me to find willing volunteers for her. Likewise, I long ago checked that “threesome with two sisters” fantasy off my bucket list, thanks to Wanda. So when she told me one night that she wanted nothing but black guys in a semi-public setting, I knew that I would be escorting her to the porn theater.
