If our story got out we would probably have to move.
We have been married for over 10 years and our sex life was always boring. My wife Broomhilda (we will call her that) often joked, “I’ll face the wall and think of England.” She was a dead fish in bed and knew it.
Don’t get me wrong, the dead fish thing will work if I just need a release. Sometimes I only want that warm wet place. All she had to do was lie still with her eyes closed, let me spread her legs, lube up and slip it in. She didn’t like anything about anal or giving or receiving oral sex. Boring missionary was about it. Her sex drive was low and getting lower over time.
That is when I started fantasizing about Alison. It became a lot more than fantasy very soon. That is where my story really begins.
Like us, Alison was married with two kids. She and her family lived across the cactus and mesquite lined streets of our quiet neighborhood of flat-roofed, slump-block, Santa Fe style houses. Her husband was a big jock type and I liked to imagine he couldn’t satisfy her.
Alison was not a supermodel by any means, but had very nice silky toned legs and very nice ass that I could not help but check out at the neighborhood pool. She was not thin, but not fat. She was a little bit of a jock, running, swimming, and biking. It showed in her toned thighs.
She liked to lie out in their secluded backyard on a blanket to get some morning sun, before it got too hot. I could just see her from the corner of one out of the way window in my house. Several times I watched with binoculars and masturbated, thinking about slipping my hand in her bikini bottoms to discover how she was groomed.
Alison and I talked at the school bus stop every morning Broomhilda worked (7 to 7 shifts in a hospital). Whenever she worked, I worked from home. At the bus stop the kids would play and we would just chat about little shit. Alison liked wearing form fitting tops, tight workout shorts and tennis shoes. Her shorts really showed off her beautiful ass and her tops emphasized her tits, which were small but perky. She had runner’s hips, not wide, but still feminine. She had a deep voice and deep southern accent with a quick smile. She was a Southern Belle transplanted to the desert.
Normally, after the school bus takes the kids, Alison and I would chat briefly and then go back to our respective homes. I loved those chats and would sometimes masturbate when I got home thinking about Alison’s ass as she walked back down her driveway and into her garage. It wiggled just the right amount. She didn’t show it off, but clearly had a woman’s wiggle. With a dead fish of a wife and a hottie across the street, I masturbated a lot.
One day after the school bus left, Alison mentioned that they were not taking a vacation that year, because money was tight. She and her husband were both in sales and it was not a great market.
Absent mindedly, I said, “Well we live in Nevada. You could make a fortune.”
I immediately regretted it. I had just told my neighbor she would make a great hooker. Yikes. Fortunately, she just laughed and we walked back to our houses. On her way into the garage, she turned her head and caught me checking out her ass. I think she grinned slightly and turned back.
A few days later, back at the bus stop as usual we talked. When the bus took the kids, she didn’t start walking back.
She said, “What did you mean I could make a fortune?”
Uh oh. Maybe she really didn’t know what I meant.
I just said, “I was joking, you know, about prostitution being legal here.”
“Do guys really think that is attractive?,” she said a little shyly while wrinkling her eyebrows a little. It showed off her deep blue eyes in the morning sun.
I said, “I wouldn’t say attractive, but I think it is true that every guy has a fantasy about paying for sex. You know, no strings attached, just, well, sex.”
“I don’t think I could ever do that,” she said as she started to walk back. “I’m too much of a chicken. What if the guy was ugly?”
Sensing a small opening, I said, “Well I think they get to choose. The high end ones anyway.”
She is still very shy, but asks, “Have you ever done that? You know, paid for sex?”
I told the truth, “No, but like I said, every guy has that fantasy. I’ve never acted on it. I’ve wanted to though.”
“How much do you think they get paid, you know, for that?”
I was getting hard now and hoping it didn’t show, “I don’t really know, but a women like you, a hot MILF? I bet you could get $500 for a 30 minute ‘date,’ so to speak.”
She practically gasped and said in a hush tone as if neighbors could hear, “Are you serious?” She paused and then asked, “What is a MILF?”
No matter what happened at this point, I would forever have a fantasy about taking this conversation to a fun conclusion.
Time was right to test the waters, “Well it is a little vulgar, but MILF stands for Mother I’d Like to ‘F,’ you know.”
She blushed a little, “Guys would really pay $500 for that … just for a quickie?”
“God yes, with a woman like you.
She said with a little more confidence now that the ice was broken, “You know, I shouldn’t talk about it, but William and I don’t have a great sex life. The idea of getting paid for sex is a kind of hot. We could use the cash flow right now, for sure.”
“Then let’s do it. I’ll pay you $500 to show up at a hotel room for 30 minutes. I’ll use you for what I’m not getting and you take the money. Nothing ever happened. It’s even legal here.”
She laughed and slapped my arm, “Get out of here,” and walked into her garage. Her butt wiggled more than usual. This was a somewhat shy women thinking about turning tricks. Her ass told the truth. She was feeling sexy and she enjoyed the taboo flirtation. She gave me that quick over the shoulder glance and caught me checking out her ass. Again. This time her grin was a little more obvious.
It was difficult to work that day with a perpetual erection.
I got an email from her that afternoon that simply read, “Were you serious?”
Oh my god, she is right across the street and thinking about me paying her for sex. I replied with a one word email, “Yes.” I was imagining her sitting in front of her computer in a bath robe with a vibrator on the table beside her.
A few days later Broomhilda again had to work so I was at the bus stop with Alison. Surprisingly, it was not awkward. When the bus left she said, “Suppose I was to agree to it. How would it work?”
I said, “I will get a hotel room during the day while the kids are at school and everyone else is at work.”
She interrupted, “You mean our spouses. Our spouses will be at work. This is crazy.”
She walked back into her garage. Her butt was a bit clenched and didn’t do that nice wiggle. Maybe I pushed too hard. Maybe she thought I was joking. What a let down.
But that afternoon I got an email, “Tell me exactly how it would work.”
My hands were shaking, but my pecker was hard as a rock when I wrote her back:
“You would show up at a specific time and knock on the door. You would be wearing that light blue patterned sun dress and sandals, but no panties or bra. I would open the door and hand you a glass of champagne.
“We would pretend not to know each other. This is just a business transaction. I would walk up to you and put my hand up your dress to feel your naked crotch and tell you how beautiful you are.
“I want you to ask me, ‘What do you want me to do?’
“We don’t get undressed. Instead I back you up to the bed and lay you back. I open a container of coconut oil lube and use it to massage your pussy. I unzip my jeans and pull down my shorts and my erection stands out straight. You watch while I put the condom on and add a little more coconut oil to make sure my cock is slippery. I stand you up and turn you around. I bend you over and put your hands on the bed and I lift your dress. My penis slides into you easily as oil and your juices mix. I glide it in and out of you until I cum.
“Deed done. We part and nothing ever happened.”
Half an hour later, she replied, “Oh my God you have actually thought this through. I’m having some wine and maybe this the alcohol talking, but get the room. I would say now, but the kids will be home soon. Just get the room and I’ll do it.”
I immediately responded, “I hope you don’t mind me telling you. I have never been so excited. I am hard as a rock and I am imaging you with a vibrator.”
Then the phone rang and I almost lost my erection. I picked it up and it was Alison with her deep southern drawl!
“Hi. I hope you don’t mind me calling, I know Broomhilda isn’t home. I can see your garage and only your car.”
“I don’t mind at all. Truthfully I was getting pretty hot and bothered trading email.”
She paused and whispered, “I was too. Are we really going to do this?”
I replied, “Yes. I want sex with you. I want to tell you how bad I want it, but it’s a little risqué.”
“Tell me anyway. I’ve had some wine.” After a pause she said shyly, “and yes, I do have a vibrator.”
At this point, I am thinking we are going to have phone sex.
“I love your body. I love your hot shorts and your perky tits and I sometimes imagine you using a vibrator. I’d like to watch you cum. I’d like to cum on your chest while you show me how you use your toy.”
She surprised me, saying softly and slowly, “So is this phone sex? William can’t talk about sex. This is getting me pretty hot.”
I said, “I like talking about sex. It’s freeing. Do you want to hear about the things I want to do to you?”
Her reply was simple and quiet, almost a slow whisper, “Yes.”
“I want you to turn on your vibrator and let me hear it.”
Only a few seconds passed and I heard a luscious humming sound. She put it on the phone and I swear I could smell between her legs. I told her to use it and make herself feel good. I wanted to suck her clitty and hear southern moans. I could hear heavier breathing and could almost feel the breath leaving her lips as she neared an orgasm. I imagined her bath robe open and could see her perky tits. I nearly creamed my jeans.
We must have both been looking out the window at each other’s house, because we both saw the school bus arrive at the same time and we were clearly disappointed.
Her final words were strong and coming from a woman who was just denied a release, “Get the room for tomorrow.”
