Amy is a neighbor and one of my favorite people. She’s in her mid-twenties, dark red hair, slim–even after two kids, cute, great sense of humor, and generally a joy to be around. My name is Robert, Rob for short. I’m twenty years older and live one house away from the adorable Amy. Currently, I am unemployed, by choice. I left my last position with enough money to take a year off and plan my next foray into the business world. My wife runs her own business, the kids are all gone out into the world, and I was enjoying a serious unwinding from years of living the rat race.
Over the past several months, Amy and I had developed a comfortable routine. Three times a week, or so, we would meet for coffee at my house. It came about because we would see each other outside and start into some of the greatest conversations. We would talk about almost anything, argue politics, even share cooking and gardening tips. She has the green thumb, while I am a closet gourmet chef. It evolved into a ritual, usually Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays about 10:00AM, she would walk in from the deck after cutting across John and Joanie’s backyard, and I would have the coffee ready. It might sound boring, but without a doubt, it was a highlight of my quiet days.
A typical day for me was pretty dull, which is exactly what I wanted. I got up with my wife, fixed breakfast and saw her off to her shop. The rest of the morning was spent on any household chores and exercising. I wasn’t a fitness fanatic, but a belt is designed to hold up pants, not hold in a gut! Besides, with the way I like to cook (and eat), a fitness regime is a requirement. I was usually cleaned up and ready by ten to relax a bit. Amy, or Aim as I started calling her, would come in almost on the dot of ten. If I was still in the shower, she would grab a cup of coffee and browse my book and movie collection until I came down. From there, our conversations would range from the depths of Dante’s Inferno to the heights of Burroughs’ Barsoom. Nothing was beyond us and over time we developed a genuine trust and affection for each other. Amy became my best friend and I think I became one of hers.
Was any of this a secret? No! Our spouses knew about our visits and all four of us were always getting together for almost any reason. Our neighbors were already used to us helping each other with chores, hanging out on my deck, or attacking each other with rubber-band guns and water pistols. Of course the neighborhood rumor central made some passing comments, but since nothing seemed to support them, the rumors died down. We had nothing more than a perfect friendship, until it became something more.
One day as I was almost down the stairs, I saw Aim sitting at the kitchen counter staring at her coffee. She was early, which was a little unusual, but nothing to comment on. I stood there for a moment and watched her; she was absolutely still, now that was way out of character.
“Hmmm,” I said, clearing my throat so I wouldn’t startle her by walking in. She didn’t jump, but she turned and offered me a wan smile, far less satisfying than the megawatt grin I usually get. Without a word, I poured myself a cup and sat next to her at the counter. Maybe you, the reader, think I should say something, but remember, I KNOW this girl. Whatever was troubling her would come out in good time. The best thing I could offer her was space. While we sat there I wracked my brain trying to think what could be wrong. Kids, no way, she wouldn’t be sitting here. Dave, doubtful; money, probably not; they weren’t wealthy, but Dave earned good money. Thinking about many of our conversations, some extremely personal, nothing came to mind. After a while my coffee got cold, so I got each of us a fresh cup. Hers was practically untouched, another out-of-character item to add to the list.
Sitting down again, I finally heard her talk. “You have the patience of a saint!”
“Nope, no patience at all. I was wondering when you were going to stop wasting my good coffee.” Smiling, I asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”
“I’m not sure.” She paused. “I mean, you are a guy.”
“Last time I checked I was. And also the last time I checked, that didn’t matter between us,” I stated quietly.
She looked at me, reassessing something I couldn’t pin down. From her comment, the problem had to do with Dave. Dave is a nice guy, who I know loves Amy. He can be a bit of a stick-in-the-mud sometimes, but there isn’t a hurtful bone in his body. He is also a touch of a wimp; well that might be harsh, but sometimes I wonder where he keeps his backbone based on some of their comments about his work.
Don’t get the idea that all we talked about over the months was books and movies and Dave. We touched every topic–including sex. It is also not that we were lusting after each other. I consider Amy an extremely lovely young lady and have no problem with noticing her charms in the same manner as one appreciates fine art. I just happened to know that she was a bit sheltered as a teen; I also knew she was a virgin when she got married, and that Dave was the only guy she’s ever known in a biblical sense.
“If we talk about this, you have to promise to be honest with me, even brutally honest,” she stated flatly.
If her appeal was less than earnest, I would have been insulted. I have always been honest with her, including the time she added lighter red highlights to her hair and looked like an auburn-and-pink zebra. Laughing at her hair might have been a little more than honesty required, but you should have seen her!
I looked her right square in the eyes and told her, “I will be as honest as I could be, as honest as I always have been.”
She dropped her arms down on the counter and buried her face sobbing.
Immediately I was beside her, holding her shoulders, thinking evil thoughts at Dave if he was the cause of her pain. In the midst of the sobbing I could hear her asking herself, “What’s wrong with me?” and “It’s my fault.”
Stroking her hair, I tried to calm her down, hoping I could help her. This went on for quite a while before she finally looked up, her beautiful face all blotchy, eyes red from the crying. Taking a deep breath, she started to apologize. I cut her off, “You have nothing to apologize for. Just talk to me. Tell me how I can help.”
She sniffed a couple of times, and out of the blue dropped a bomb, “Dave doesn’t want me anymore.”
Now I know Dave pretty well and I know he loves Amy. “How do you know this?” I asked.
“I found . . . I found . . . magazines”, she said in a low whisper as if she was ashamed of everything.
For a second I thought she was going to tell me she found Dave with another woman. Instantly I knew what she had found — some pornography. Dave must have stashed some stuff somewhere and she found it.
“What exactly did you find?”
“I found a pile of disgusting magazines in the garage, in his tool cabinet. He hates me, he must hate touching me if he has to read that filth.”
I didn’t know how to respond right away.
“And that’s not all. There was one of my towels, and it had these yellowish-white stains on it.”
Now I was surprised, Dave reading porno and jerking off in the garage. I didn’t think he had it in him.
I almost smiled, but that would have hurt Aim. Trying to be sensitive and honest can be a challenge sometimes. “What do you think it means, hon?”
“What do I think? It means he hates me, I repulse him, and he doesn’t want to have sex anymore.”
I placed my head above her and smiled, knowing she couldn’t see me. “When did you discover them?” I asked.
“This morning,” she sniffed.
“Up to today, when was the last time you had sex?”
She hemmed about that.
“Listen. If you want me to be brutally honest, you have to do the same,” I stated firmly.
“Last night,” she said, lowering her eyes again.
“Was there anything different about it, or any changes recently in your sex life?”
“Noooo, the same thing. We cuddle, he gets on top, we reach orgasm.” She puts her hand to her mouth in embarrassment.
I pulled her hand away and told her, “Look at me!”
She looked up and looked away.
“Not good enough. Look at me!” I touched her chin and gently lifted her face up. “You know me and I know that if you didn’t trust me you wouldn’t be here. You can tell me anything and you know I won’t be judgmental (well not about her, but if Dave hurt her!).”
Several sniffs later she started talking. “We had sex last night, our usual routine. We have sex quite often, always the same. Until I found the magazines, I thought everything was fine.”
“Okay, tell me about the magazines.”
“I needed the cordless drill to put up those new shelf brackets, you know, the ones I was telling you about.”
I nodded.
“When I couldn’t find it, I checked his tool cabinet in the garage. I saw one of my good towels, the real soft ones. When I pulled it out, under it was a pile of magazines. I wouldn’t have really paid any attention to them if one hadn’t fallen out. Right on the cover was this picture of…”
I’m not sure if it was anger or disgust that caused her to stop. She was speechless. “Tell me all of it. It’s the only way I can understand,” I said.
“The picture was this girl…and she had it…in her…mouth.”
“What did she have in her mouth?”
Aim looked up at me, pleading with her eyes. I just waited patiently. She took a deep breath and said in a low whisper, “A penis.”
“A what? I can’t hear you.”
She looked angrily at me and hissed, “A prick!”
“The girl was sucking on a cock,” I said.
“You don’t have to say it like that.”
“Yes, I do.” She looked puzzled. “Look, Amy, if you are going to communicate on this, we have to be clear with each other. I’m not saying like this to be crude or to disgust you, but so we both understand each other.”
“Fine, she was sucking his cock…she was sucking his fucking cock. See, I can talk like that too.”
I smiled. To myself, I thought, An angry Aim is better than a sobbing Aim. To her, I said, “I know you do. Remember when you slipped down the deck stairs last winter? Eight steps and you literally bounced down on your ass. I come rushing outside and you were sitting at the bottom cursing up a blue streak. That’s how I knew that mostly your pride was hurt.”
She laughed and that sounded more like my friend Aim.
“What else did you see?”
“In the magazine, I saw more girls sucking cock, girls with sperm on their faces and bodies, girls fucking in every possible ways and a few that looked impossible. He has seventeen different magazines under my towel. And you know what he was doing to my towel. He was cumming in it, masturbating while looking at some slut sucking on a cock in a picture.”
She looked like she was about to cry again, so I interjected a thought, “How long do you think he’s been doing that?”
“I don’t know…but one of his dirty little magazines was over three years old!”
“So you think he’s been buying dirty books and jerking off to them for maybe the past three years?”
She nodded.
“And in those three years, he has continued to make love with you and never had a hint of any of this?”
“Right!”
Knowing this was going to annoy her, I had to ask, “So what’s the problem?”
She almost came off her stool as she turned at me, eyes blazing, “He must hate me, he must hate to touch me. How can he do this and me not know? How can you ask me why this is a problem? I thought you might understand, I thought you were my friend!”
She started to get up and I grabbed her hand. Looking her again right in the eyes, “I am your friend, more your friend than Dave’s and you know it.” I held her gaze until she calmed down. “Let’s approach this from a different angle. What do you want?”
“What I want is for my husband to stop this, to throw those magazines away.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
“Then he is either a sick bastard or he doesn’t love me anymore. Either way, we are finished! He can find some big-busted slut and jerk off all over her.”
“So you are willing to end your marriage over a few magazines?”
“It’s not just the magazines. It’s what he is doing with them.”
“But the only difference is that you know what he’s doing. Last night you didn’t know.”
“I can’t just forget about it?”
“No you can’t, and I wouldn’t ask you to. But my question still stands. Let’s put it another way. Suppose you discovered that he was parking his car a mile from work and walking the rest of the way. Would you be so hurt? Especially knowing that nothing else had changed.”
“Well, no. But that’s different.”
“Suppose you found out he was playing the football pool or leaving work to have a few beers with the guys once a week. Would that matter?”
“No, but…You are just confusing me.”
“No, I am looking for perspective. Why are you so hurt?”
“Because he doesn’t want me anymore!”
“Now you know that isn’t true. Up until this morning, you had no problem. And you aren’t upset about the fact he had a secret. So what is it? Maybe it’s because he was using your towel?”
She laughed, “It’s not the goddamn towel! It’s like he was cheating on me.”
“He was cheating on you, with himself? With his hand?”
“No, with those sluts in the magazine.”
“No!” I said sharply. “He was fantasizing about the girls in the magazines. He wasn’t cheating.”
“So he wasn’t cheating, what do I do now?”
“The same question remains, what do you want? Deep down, what do you really want?”
She paused for a long time before she just shrugged and looked down.
“Let’s take it one step at a time. Are you hurt about him spending time in the garage?”
“That’s silly, I hate–”
“Wait!” I interrupted, “We’ll get there, one thing at a time. So him in the garage isn’t a problem. Are you upset because he was masturbating? For a moment, forget the how; just focus on the act of masturbation.”
Her face slowly turned red, all the way to the tips of her ears. Slowly, she shook her head. Then she dropped her eyes.
“So the fact that he masturbates isn’t a problem?” I asked for confirmation.
She glared at me for a second and turns redder, nodding sharply again.
“Okay, and the fact that he was spoiling your towel isn’t an issue, right?”
“No.” The red receded from her ears.
“So it must be the magazines? Is it because he’s reading them, or the fact he is fantasizing about them?”
“Fantasizing,” she said as her ears glowed again.
“Alright, we have the problem pinned down. So if it’s okay for him to be doing what he is doing, what should he be fantasizing about?”
She shrugged, but her ears were scarlet now.
“Seriously, what would you rather he be thinking about, or maybe who?” She wasn’t talking, so I continued. “Maybe some supermodels like Heidi, Naomi, or Kate?” She gave me a dirty look. Amy definitely does not like tall long-legged models. I think being 5’3″ herself has something to do with it. “Maybe a movie actress or TV star, like Jennifer or Julia?”
She shook her head.
“I know, Martha Stew–“
She glared daggers at me.
“So who would you want him to be thinking about?”
She shifted uncomfortably in the chair.
“I know who he should fantasize about.”
Amy looked at me.
“You!” I stated. She jumped, startled. Before she could move, I continued. “That’s what you were thinking, wasn’t it? That you want him to be thinking about you.”
Her auburn head looked down again.
“Why is that bad?”
“Because it makes me a slut, a disgusting slut.”
“Not only no, but hell no!” I replied with emphasis. “What it makes you is exactly what you were before you discovered Dave’s hobby, a woman. A slightly more sexually adventurous woman; but not a slut! You remember Sylvia?”
“Oh yeah, now there was a–“
“–a slut for sure.” Syl is a former neighbor of ours whose husband finally divorced her after learning that all six of his kids weren’t his and all had different fathers. The number of marriages she damaged should have put her in the record books.
“I know that; I am nothing like her.”
“Absolutely! I once came outside on my deck one night and saw Syl and someone other than her husband. She had the nerve to make a pass at me the next day.”
“You never told me that. Who was she with?”
“It’s not important. What’s important is how you feel about yourself. Tell me, is my wife a slut?”
“Brenda? No way. She’s a lady through and through…don’t tell me she…”
My turn to nod, “Oral sex is more than just talking about it. We both like giving and receiving.”
“You . . . to her,” she said, as her eyes got real big. “Do you like it? Does she?”
“Yes to both. I like it when she sucks on my cock…” Aim winced at my language. “…and I love the taste of her pussy.”
Letting her think for a minute, I refreshed the coffee and rummaged for sandwich fixings. I doubted she’d eaten anything all morning, and it was almost lunchtime. She didn’t say much, but she was thinking up a storm.
She appeared deep in thought as we munched on lunch. I think her worldview opened a bit and Dave was in for a surprise.
“Rob, can I ask you a question?” She finally broke the silence.
I just looked at her. When I didn’t answer, she looked up and saw my expression.
“Okay, okay, stupid question. If I can’t ask you, I can’t ask anyone. So…why do you think he was hiding in the garage?”
“That’s a tough one. Aside from hiding it from the kids, obviously he was hiding it from you.”
“But why?”
“Have you ever heard the expression ‘A husband wants a lady in public and a slut in the bedroom’?”
“Yes, worded a little differently. You mean by slut, more sexually…”
“Involved is a good word. Dave obviously wants more but hasn’t figured out to get you involved. I mean it’s hard to ask the love of your life, the mother of your children, to suck your cock. Especially if you’re sure she would call you a perverted bastard.”
She went back to her thinking.
I paused and watched while we ate. She would hate the fact that she was so transparent. It was easy to see what she was thinking about.
She caught me looking and blushed. “Relax,” I said. “You know I won’t tell anyone any of this, not even Bren.”
“That wasn’t what I was thinking.”
“In a way, it was. You were thinking on how to go on from here and weren’t sure how to talk about it. And you weren’t sure how you would handle Brenda, knowing all this.”
“Mind reader too, I see. Well, you were close.”
“Aim, you and I have trusted each other with stuff that would be embarrassing if our spouses found out we discussed. I trust you totally and nothing of this will get back to Brenda!”
“Oh, I know that. I meant you were close on what I was thinking. But you missed one big area.”
“And that was…?” I asked.
“There was something I didn’t tell you.”
Putting on my patient-guise again, I waited.
“After I found the magazines…I…read them. All of them.”
I didn’t say a word. Her eyes were closed as she made that little confession. I was surprised, but it made more sense given her reaction. She saw something she liked and either hated herself for it, or at least questioned her self-image pretty seriously.
She continued, “I read them and I was disgusted and excited. I mean, in school the other girls talked about all of it, but I was too scared of getting pregnant, or worse. Most of it sounded unpleasant, and the girls who liked it were labeled. The girls in the magazine were…”
Her eyes stayed closed as I realized what she was saying.
“They looked like they liked it. More than that, they loved it. I sat there on the concrete floor, staring at that first cover, and I couldn’t stop thinking about what it would be like. I imagined walking in on Dave, his cock sticking out of his pants. The tip all wet. I imagined what it would be like to lick it, to taste it. It was like it was in my mouth. I was almost drooling thinking about it.”
Amy didn’t realize what these thoughts were doing to her. Her nipples were obviously hard and they looked like they about to cut through her top. She was rocking her body just a little as she talked. Her face was flushed and she was breathing harder. To say nothing of the effect she was having on me!
“Then I flipped it open halfway through it and there was a full-page picture of the same girl. But this time she had her hand clamped around an impossibly huge cock, which was shooting straight up.”
By now I was squirming in my seat. I always liked Aim’s voice, but I never realized how sexy it was, pitched low and quiet like it was.
“On the next page, she was aiming that cock toward her mouth. I was overwhelmed. I could feel Dave’s cock in my hand; I could look down it like looking down the barrel of a gun, about to fire its cum down my mouth.”
That did it! Aim curled one of her hands like it was around a cock, and mine jumped up to volunteer.
“I really lost it when I turned the page. It was a close-up of her face and she had cum on her cheek!” She had opened her legs and now she was rolling her hips, masturbating against the stool cushion without realizing it. Her light gray, tight, shorts showed a delicious looking wet stain every time she rocked back.
Summoning what little self-control I had, I touched her arm, my mouth too dry to speak. She jumped and it broke the spell. She looked slightly confused, especially when I told her that she needed to go home right now.
“Why?”
I pointed to her crotch and she saw the wet spot still visibly spreading and she flushed again.
Without a word, she stood up and stretched her hands over her head, unconsciously. She still looked so incredibly hot!
I croaked out, “We’ll talk later.” I had to get her out before something incredibly foolish happened.
She looked at me, really looked at me, and easily noticed the state I was in. Her eyes got real wide, and a ghost of a smile appeared as she said, “I know what you are going to do as soon as I walk out.”
She started toward the back door, to cut across one yard to her own door without being seen, when she stopped. She paused, her red hair shining, her arms crossed in front of her like she was hugging herself. Her legs and ass were perfectly formed, and if she didn’t leave soon I was going to press my cock between those tight cheeks and scare the hell out of her.
“May I watch?” she asked without turning back.
Her question shocked me, but not a certain part of my anatomy.
“Please, Rob, do it. Masturbate, jerk off, whatever you want to call it, just please let me watch?” she asked looking over her shoulder.
I stayed on the stool, as my hand fell into my lap and grasped my cock through my shorts. Amy took that as a yes, turned and came back, kneeling at my feet, her face looking up at me. I couldn’t have said no, even if the brain was engaged.
I lifted up my tee and slid my shorts down; exposing my black knit boxers. Opening the button fly, I extracted my cock. The look of anticipation and then pure lust on her face was all I needed. The pink skin contrasted against the black fabric. The head was a darker red, but not showing purple yet. A drop of precum glistened on the tip. I wrapped my hand around my cock and squeezed firmly.
Her mouth was open as she watched me. Her hands on her thighs as she sat back on her heels, opening her legs. Her entire crotch was soaked as my hand started stroking myself.
I stopped my thumb and forefinger just before the tip and looked at Amy’s fascination as the hole opened and closed, letting more precum escape. Pulled back; tightened up the skin to show every vein and muscle in my cock.
“It’s so big and beautiful,” I heard Amy whisper almost to herself. At six-and-a-half inches, I knew I wasn’t huge, but having a sexy girl say that was incredible. I certainly wasn’t hung like a horse, but I was thick. My hand didn’t go all the way around.
Amy was spellbound as my hand started going faster. I was also running the fingers over the head to spread the precum, making my cock look shiny. I turned slightly, pushing my back against the counter. Amy moved closer, between my legs, just inches from my cock.
I no longer cared. Her face, her licking her lips, her eyes were all I could see as my cock tightened. My thumb came back around, leaving only my four fingers around the shaft. Bending the knuckle caused it to hit the bottom side of my glans, making me grunt.
If the noise startled her, I didn’t see it. I forced my eyes to stay open as I knew I wanted to see her face as I came. I felt it start to rise, that unmistakable feeling teen boys discover in their own beds. My cock jumped as the first jet of cum shot out and hit her hair. Her hand went to it as the second caught her on the cheek, right below her eye. Another spurt and this one went half on her lips and half in her mouth. Her tongue licked her lips as another blast hit her chin. One final shot caught her on her neck and slid down toward her breasts. The rest seeped and dripped down on my shaking hand. It had been years since I came that hard.
I fell backward, as my muscles released, against the counter and closed my eyes. Then I felt her. Opening my eyes, I saw the single most erotic sight of my life: Aim tentatively touching her tongue to my hand, licking what had dripped there. She still had my cum on her cheek as she cleaned my hand, and then tongued my cock of every drop. Sucking my slowly softening cock entirely in her mouth. She wasn’t supposed to do that, but I loved it.
“That was incredible,” was all she said.
I cupped her face tenderly in my hand and caught the remaining cum, from her cheek, on my thumb. She saw it and grabbed my hand and sucked my thumb in her mouth. My penis stirred like it was twenty years old again.
She sighed and stood up, her nipples impossibly harder on the tip of her tight breasts. Her shorts looking like she had wet herself. A few strands of cum still in her hair. She looked unbelievable!
“I don’t know what to say. That was…”
“It’s okay. I wouldn’t know how to describe it either. ‘Amazing’ doesn’t come close.” I said with a smile.
“I don’t know how to even thank you for that gift.”
“Well, then it’s a good thing I do.”
She thought for a second and knew exactly what I was thinking. Shaking her head she said, “I couldn’t!”
“I just did and I never believed I would. My turn to see you.”
“No, you don’t understand, I never have.”
“You’ve never masturbated?” I said, not believing the words.
“No. I always thought it was wrong.”
“And now it doesn’t seem so wrong. And I bet ten seconds after you are in your house, you will be in the garage with your hand down your shorts practicing.”
She was honest and said, “More like five seconds.”
“So, would you do it here, now, for me?”
“I’m not sure I would know how,” she said looking me in the eye finally. Her nervousness about her sexuality was being overcome by her normal confidence.
She got up and my hand captured hers. Pulling her close, I stood and held my position an inch away. I thought about kissing her but knew that would be the worst possible thing. I wanted to see her bad, but a kiss would scare her off. I turned and pushed her to take my seat. She sat down with her legs open for balance. Looking pointedly between her legs, she started to close them, but my hands stopped her.
Dropping to my knees, between her legs, but maintaining eye contact, I touched her calves to maintain my balance. Her skin was hot, almost feverish. It was also smooth and soft. It was challenging, but I resisted the temptation to stroke her legs. She looked at me; I couldn’t tell what she was thinking, but she wasn’t arguing with me. Slowly, very tentatively, she laid her hand over her shorts and felt the wetness. When she pressed down, I knew she wasn’t going anywhere. As she pressed, she groaned and dropped her eyes to her hand, ignoring me. Eyes opening wider, she rubbed down and back up, pressing her fingers in hard. As a shudder ran through her body, I covered her hand with mine.
She startled and I said, “No shorts.”
She looked argumentative until I opened my own knees and she saw my cock again and remembered what I had done for her.
She blushed so sexily and stood up. I wasn’t sure if she was going to run away, so I reached up and tugged at the top of her shorts. She froze but didn’t say anything. Her skintight exercise shorts pulled down with difficulty. Her cotton panties stayed in place mainly because they were soaked.
I can’t describe the aroma, other than pure ambrosia. My cock twitched as her scent rang all my bells. She lowered her panties herself, as far as her knees. I pushed them to her feet, resisting another urge to bring them to my face as she stepped out of them.
She sat back down, keeping her legs together, giving me a glimpse of dark red pubic hair. Looking up her body, I could see slight tremors in her abs; her breasts looked like small, hard, baseballs with sharp, pointy nipples against her sports top. Her top acted as a cross between a tee shirt and sports bra, in other words, skintight and leaving little to the imagination. Her throat kept bobbing as if she couldn’t stop swallowing. She took her right hand and thrust it between her legs, keeping her legs tightly closed.
I touched her calves again, telling her, “Open those beautiful legs so I can see.”
Reluctantly, she tried to part her legs, but I was so close she hit me with her knee. Grinning she lifted her knee, giving me my first good look at her pussy,
Well framed with red pubic hair, it looked like she trimmed more for her bathing suit than any other reasons. Her labia were obviously swollen, her clit surprisingly prominent. She was sexier than any porno rag! My body and mind were fighting hard now. I was so close to leaning forward and tasting her when her voice broke that spell.
“Well, how do I look?”
“Aim; there just aren’t words in me right now. You just have no idea!”
“Have you ever seen a magazine like Dave’s?” she asked, echoing my thoughts.
“There is no one in any of those magazines that can compare with you.”
She blushed at the compliment.
“Run your hands over your breasts for a moment.”
She didn’t seem to understand why, but she cupped her breasts and rubbed in a large circle. Her gasp caught me off guard. Those beautiful little titties were more sensitive than I thought. As her fingers rubbed over her nipples, she cried out again. Running her hands to her belly, she slid her hands up under her top, grasping her breasts tightly and literally pulling on them. I got to see her breasts; they were even sweeter than I imagined. She would pinch her nipples and her hips would rise as she humped air. Her pussy was dripping with sweetness as she got more and more excited. She kept trying to squeeze her legs together, but I wasn’t giving up my ringside seat for anything. Her cunt was opening slightly on its own. Each time she pushed up, her pussy would pass an inch from my face, giving me a perfect picture as she mauled those wonderful breasts.
Unable to stop myself, on one pass, I tasted her. My outstretched tongue traced her folded labia right up to her clit, and she EXPLODED. Her head went back, her spine arched sharply, and she screamed! Out of control, I grabbed her by her ass and buried my tongue in deep, while trying to capture her juices with my mouth and face.
Whatever year she was born in was an excellent year, judging by her vintage. Intoxicating, I ate her for all I was worth, while she continued to abuse her titties. Her orgasm was incredible, wave after wave of muscular contractions accompanied by a chorus of noises. Staying with her took all my energy as she pushed herself up on the counter. My hands stayed glued to her ass as I followed her up and over the orgasm to end all orgasms. Beautiful Amy collapsed on the counter, breathing like she was giving birth, her eyes closed, her breasts covered in red marks that might bruise later, her legs splayed open.
I gave her sweet pussy a final lick and left it; she sighed and opened her eyes. “You weren’t supposed to do that,” she murmured.
“I know, but I couldn’t stop myself. Are you complaining?”
“Not about that. The question is, where do we go from here?” She lifted her hand, and I helped her up. She wobbled dangerously as she started to slide off the counter. When I stepped to help, one of her legs went around me and the very tip of my now firmed-up member slipped into her very well lubricated cunt.
We froze. “We can’t do this,” one of us said. Then she slipped down another inch. “This is wrong,” the other said. Nodding, her weight came all the way off the counter and she clung to me as I went all the way in. We didn’t move as we adjusted our position, keeping me firmly entrenched in that hot and amazingly tight pussy. Her weight was against me; if I moved, we were going to fall down. She understood and told me to push forward and she would get back on the counter.
Pushing forward was bliss because as her ass hit the edge of the counter, I wound up pushing deeper into her.
She bit her lip as she hitched herself up, causing me to pull out just a hair. Knowing I would never have this opportunity again, I pulled slowly out of her pussy. Her hands were on my arms as she watched my cock. She wasn’t pushing me away, so I stopped with the tip still in her. My hands rose along her ribs, not light enough to tickle, but heavy enough that she knew where I was going. My thumbs brushed over her nipples and she tensed.
Her leg pulled me back, making my cock go deep again. We both sighed with pleasure.
Looking in my eyes, “I don’t want to get pregnant again. We shouldn’t do this.” Her legs held me tight, preventing me from moving.
“You are right; we shouldn’t, but it feels so incredible.” The muscles of her vagina contracted around me, and she smiled.
“I know — all of it was amazing. But we can’t have sex like this. Please, Rob.”
“You still owe me masturbation, you know,” I teased her.
“No way, buster, what…”
I pinched her nipples and felt her convulse.
“You bastard,” she said with a grin. “Do you have any idea what that does to me?”
She grinned while squeezing and tugging on her nipples; her pussy responded.
“I know we can’t just fuck, but loosen your legs and I’ll show you what we are going to do.” She loosened up her legs and I pulled back until just my tip was in. I reached down and touched her clit lightly. She shivered! “I want you to play with yourself just like this.”
“But–!” she interrupted.
“I’ll pull out before I cum, and I will spray on your belly and breasts.”
She smiled at that idea and her fingers replaced mine on her clitoris. She was hesitant at first, feeling around gently. I could tell when she hit something good because her muscles would almost milk my cocktip. She started moving a bit, which caused me to pop out. Without a word, her hand would grab my cock, and after rubbing the tip along her cunt, she would push it in for me. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could hold out. Her fingers were all over her cunt and my shaft. She got so wet I thought she was going to squirt me out at one point. Her other hand came down and got all wet, then went back to her left breast, making it shine with her juices.
That did it for me. Removing my cock, I laid it right across her pussy lips, her hand pressed down holding my cock against her, and I started humping her clit while she pushed her hips up at me. She was so hot and slick; I was starting to move faster when she started cumming. She screamed out, “Slut!” which shocked me. “I am a fucking slut.” “Fuck me.” “Cum in me, cum on me.”
Her words were surprising but understandable. Heedless of the danger, I joined her. “Yes, you are a slut. You are my slut, and I am going to cum all over your tits.”
“Yes, yes, cum on me, your slut, your slut.”
I lost it hearing that. My second orgasm felt bigger than my first. Her hand pumped me as I groaned and grunted. Her belly and tits were getting hit; her hand was covered by the time I stopped. Then both her hands started rubbing it into her skin, like lotion. Then she started scooping it up with her hands and licking it off her fingers.
“You like that taste, don’t you?”
“Mmmm, yes. Not a lot of flavor, but the texture slippery on my tongue is great. Will Dave taste different?”
“Having never tasted another guy, I have no idea. I’ve only tasted myself, usually tasting it from Bren’s mouth or cunt.”
“You mean you eat her after you cum in her?”
“Sometimes. Brenda loves it.”
“Beats the hell out of scrambling for a towel to avoid sleeping in a wet spot. I would love for Dave to do that to me.”
“So you forgive him?”
“Nope.”
“No?” I exclaimed in surprise.
“Well not until I get even for letting me stay in the dark so long. He knew about all this and let me live the old way. I will be getting even with him! Robbie, big favor?”
“Sure thing Aim, you know that.”
“Can the kids crash here tonight? We may need some extra privacy for tonight.”
“Sure thing. I can feed them dinner too. Payment will be a full report tomorrow?”
“Okay, but where does that leave us, Rob?”
“Us, we are still friends. We just proved that we can really trust each other. Are you okay with this?”
“You mean all this?” Gesturing to her sweat- and cum-covered body. “Yeah, I think I am, but Bren?”
“If she discovers it, I will tell her the whole story, and while she’ll be pissed off, she will be angrier if we started sneaking around having an affair.”
“So you aren’t going to tell her?”
“Not right away. Besides, I don’t see today as happening again. This was pure serendipity!”
“I am not sure about the never part,” she grinned evilly. “But I have a husband to re-train, and right now we both need to get cleaned up.”
I helped her up from the table; she dressed, flashing me her ass once. I buttoned up and we looked at each other and busted up laughing. We looked like a mess.
“I got an idea.” She went to the sink and grabbed the sprayer. Thinking she was going rinse her hair, I stepped one step too many toward her when Wham! she nailed me in the crotch with ice-cold water. I rushed her and we both ended up all wet. “Now I am going to run out the back door and grab your hose. I’ll get you when you come outside. This way, if anyone sees us, they’ll just think it was business as usual.” She tore out the back door and onto the deck. I gave her a few seconds and went after her.
Getting nailed on the deck with the hose and listening to her laugh was actually a welcome sight after first seeing her this morning. Andy, a retired guy who lives across the street, was out walking his dog and he was cheering her on. I attacked, wrestling the hose from her. By then, we were totally soaked and the cold water kept her little nips nice and tight. I threw her over my shoulder, and with her kicking and screaming, I said ‘Hi’ to Andy. He was laughing his ass off, but it didn’t stop him from eyeing her ass appreciatively.
Tempted to pat her bottom, I just put her down. She straightened up and summoning her dignity, walked home.
As she got out of earshot, Andy said, “If I was forty years younger, I would…”
“Sure, Andy; she wouldn’t have been born yet.”
“How about you, Robbie? Have you had a piece of that?”
Laughing, “Yeah, right, Andy. That isn’t any Sylvia,” I gestured after her.
“True. She’s worth a hundred of her. But a guy can dream,” he said wistfully.
“Yeah, we can. But it’s nice to know girls like her exist. Makes me feel the world is spinning on her axis the right way. Dave is a very lucky man!” To myself, I hoped Dave appreciated her – because she wasn’t the type to settle for less.
Amy sent her kids over almost right after they got home from school. Callie, the third-grader kept saying thing like, ‘Mom wants to be alone with Daddy…GROSS!’ Mike is a year younger and really didn’t care. They groused about doing their homework before dinner, but we were longtime friends so I knew how to handle them. We played computer games instead of watching TV. All the while I kept thinking about Amy and what she was up to. You see, aside from being a little sheltered sexually, Aim has a temper and can also be quite mischievous. Dave was either going to be ecstatic or well abused by morning. Whatever he was, I hoped he could handle the shock.
The kids were perfect and loved ‘camping’ out in my upstairs spare bedroom. Amazing what kids can do with a pile of cushions and two sleeping bags. Sure, they could have had their own rooms, but this was more fun. I got them off to school with a minimum of fuss and anxiously waited for Aim to come by.
