by Havok, Rayne
She reaches high in a cupboard for the coffee can, her shirt lifting and exposing the soft bare skin of her back. I nearly growl, but am able to choke it down before it becomes audible.
She spins unexpectedly. The coffee pot is in front of her and I think she’ll be busy fiddling with that for another moment but just as my ass hits the stool at the bar, the coffee can is instead presented to me.
“It’s all yours,” she says, shoving it further toward me when my confusion stunts my ability to move.
“Oh, um, you sure?” I lift my ass slowly from the stool so it doesn’t embarrass me later thinking how stupid I looked sitting down when she really wanted me to go. I take the coffee from her with graciousness instead of surprise.
“Oh, yea, Steven is so good about keeping us stocked up on things. I’ve got another can just waiting to be used. I notice her shuffling toward the front door; curtesy would have me follow her instead of thinking I should stay. So, I walk with her, this time by her side, as she walks us to the door.
Hannah pulls it open wide and I decide to give her one more chance to read my dirty mind. She could be very good at playing coy while inside she’s begging me to give her my cock. “What are you doing today?" I blurt out, regretting it instantly after I catch the annoyance flicker across her face.
Damn, she’s kind of a bitch.
She begins listing her excuses, “just have a bit of housework to get to, some laundry, and in all honestly,” her voice drops to a whisper of secret, “I’m deep inside this romance novel I’m super excited to get back to.” She bites her bottom lip as if embarrassed by the admission.
It goes right to my dick. So that’s why she’s off a bit, even rushing me out. She’s anxiously waiting to get back to her porn. She’s confessed to me that she’s into such things, welcoming me inside that little world of hers, being so brief about it, she’s encouraging me to read what I will from her reveal.
I prop my arm over my head and against the frame of the door, leaning closer toward her, with a husky and aroused voice, I say, “I couldn’t very well keep you from that in good conscience.” I keep my flirty, cocksure grin while she shyly thanks me.
“See you round, Hannah.” Reluctantly pulling myself away as if my weight has tripled, I turn and go, purposely not looking back. I do note that the door closes a lot later than I think it should if she weren’t watching me leave. I feel hopeful she may have had her eyes on my ass, which I’ve been told looks great in these jeans.
***
I try to get inside my house, demanding my hand remember how to operate the door knob, but the pull from her is too strong and I need to see her again already, the image of her sitting down with her dirty book is all consuming.
Leaving my newly acquired can of coffee on my porch, I turn and head for Hannah’s house once again. After a bit of mental calculation, I’m sure her room—their room, would be on the side of the house opposite mine, but still in the front portion of their yard so I don’t need to sneak through the gate that hides their backyard.
Good, but I’d never be able to explain my reason for being over here.
Best not to get caught then.
I keep hidden from her windows while trying to look inconspicuous to the neighborhood. Not an easy task, but important and could be vital to escape.
I feel relief when I make it to the window, in daylight, it’s not smart and I have no idea how I hope to get away with this.
Brushing concern for that aside and shaking all my nerves from my body, I lean in just a tad to see what, if anything, can be seen. Just one quick look could be all I need, then I could get back home.
Please let that be true.
I’ve never actually been inside this room, only passed by its closed door for the restroom further down the hallway. It’s nice enough, light colored walls and dark wood furniture with little knickknacks on top. Possibly a mix of both of them, female and male sharing a space. The bed is actually on this wall, there is a TV mounted opposite, I can see it’s not on.
Nothing spectacular catches my eye, that is, until I see her feet, one crossed over the other. She is on the wrong side of the bed for me to see her best. But I follow them up and can see her long tan legs lead all the way to her bare thighs and it makes my dick twitch.
I can only use my imagination here, since half of her is missing, but it works perfectly to bring up the vivid pictures that make me rock hard. Taking my cock from my pants, pressing my body close to the house, becoming as small as possible, I imagine what she does when she’s alone.
She turns the page, licking her finger to make the paper separate more easily. Biting her lip, she starts breathing heavy as the book gets more involved, practically writhing as the story unfolds. Hannah leans her head back on the pillow, placing the book next to her, she runs her hands across her tits and down her body. Tucking her hand into the front of her shorts, bringing her knees up, spreading them open so she can finger herself hard and fast, I hear her moaning as her gyrating hips work to fuck her thrusting fingers.
I bite down my own moan of release, keeping it trapped in my throat safe from escape. And then I splash my come on her house.
Like a pervert.
Like the fucking pervert I am.
Back inside reality, she’s made no adjustments in her position while I jacked off to my thoughts. I make my escape quickly before she does, and head toward my house to mentally chastise my behavior… and probably have a cup of coffee.
Three
The days at home are getting both longer and shorter, they all seem to be running together. I either wake up in the morning groggy from dreaming about Hannah, or worse, roll out of bed exhausted after being unable to get to sleep from thinking about Hannah.
I get the bare minimum of work done, all while wondering about her and hoping to see her. My cock screaming in pain as I practically yank it from by body as I watch her in her garden, punishing my dick for not being able to have her. Then maybe I eat—when I think about it, and finally back to bed for the night.
This girl has fucked me up.
I need her, I need to feel the inside of her, make her wet, just have her on my body.
So, when Steven sent an invite to this Sundays barbeque, I didn’t hesitate to accept.
***
I salivate at the sight of her opening the door for me, the little summer dress is white and pale pink, accentuating her tan and shifting my cock into overdrive.
“Gavin,” she smiles and opens the door wide for me, I watch as her body shifts and her muscles work. I’m fucking hard over the subtlest of gestures her body makes.
I intentionally brush against her, even though there is plenty of room for me to maneuver around her. She follows me out to the yard, after which I watch everything she does, admonishing myself for being so fucking obvious.
In an effort to keep as inconspicuous as possible, I try to mingle with everyone else. I’ve met them all before at one or another Clark barbeques. The conversation is easy, letting them at the helm, steering the topics wherever they may want to take them, generally—and not the least bit surprising—about themselves. I’m content to let them think it’s important stuff while using only half smiles and nods.
Steven comes over, Hannah on his arm. She took his—which irks me. But she’s in front of me, standing close enough to smell the summer on her skin and for now that’s all that matters.
“Gavin, glad you could make it, these Sundays are the highlight of my week. Always glad to see you.” Steven shakes my hand with the grip of a car salesman.
I muddle my own words back, unable to pry my eyes from Hannah’s mouth, her tongue is working the back of her teeth, her mouth open just enough to watch it. Sliding her tongue over her lips, top and then bottom, leaving behind glistening saliva, my eyes close briefly to saver that memory to replay over and over.
I can’t help but think she is putting on a show just it for me, she can see I’m watching practically agape. She’s blatant and ov
ertly sexual, one might even be able to imagine the nasty things she’s thinking to display such an act. Aside from coming out and saying she wants to fuck me with her mouth, this is nonverbally a promise of it.
Fuck yes.
Steven pays no mind, waving to someone behind him; he excuses himself and leave us alone together.
“So,” I try to formulate a sentence, something interesting to fill the void, but that’s all I got.
“You’re so funny, Gavin,” she giggles and moves her hand to my forearm. She’s done this countless times, but this time she squeezes a little and my dick takes over all ownership of my mind and body, announcing his presence by shoving against my fly.
She obviously walks away after that, I would too, I’m not behaving like I normally do, or like I should be. I’m a fucking horny teen, ogling an older woman, although she is not, she’s 25, practically new to life. I should be the influencer here. I should be able to be the grown up. Instead I’m tongue tied and nervous, with a raging boner that is awkward to say the least.
I stay for only enough time that it doesn’t seem like I’m running from the incident, and then watch from my window as she flutters around her beautiful yard, tending to all the guests able to maintain themselves like gentlemen—not like perverts looking for a corner to slink away and jack off into.
Recognizing that I’m speaking from circumstance, and true to my perversion, I stoke myself as I imagine little beads of sweat dripping down her throat, cascading between her breasts, her hand swiping the droplets away. I swallow hard, trying to make the fantasy last so keeping my touch light, my grip loose.
But when she looks up at my window, so abruptly that there is no mistaking what she’s doing, what she could be seeing, her eyes going straight to mine and hold them, even from my second story window I can see her stare and the flirty smirk telling me she knows what I’m doing and that she’s more than ok with it.
My hand tugs my dick harder, wrapping tighter, and so much more audacious. I need to come with her eyes on mine, releasing the tension in streams of hot come shooting across my desk, the papers and my laptop are covered. And still her eyes remain upturned and on me.
Through the sheer curtain, I imagine she can’t see too much, but I’m not stupid enough to think she can’t see me when I can see her. And her small, satisfied smile confirms she had seen enough. The flip of her hair and she switch in her hips tells me she may have even liked it.
Four
Hannah is making it nearly impossible to get anything done; my brain is practically full of her. If I could just get a taste of her, I’m sure I could alleviate this issue, possibly even go on with the rest of my life with some dignity.
I’ve always been able to get over any woman from my past—no problem, I simply had to sleep with them. That itch finally scratched, the wonderment and lust quenched, and it’s all of a sudden not the most important thing going on in my head. They were vanquished and I was no longer tormented. That’s what I’ll need now to get my reprieve.
The tricky part here is that Hannah is married, and although she appears to be alluding to something, there doesn’t seem to be a chance in hell for me… yet.
I don’t want to ruin what the Clark’s have if I just need a bit of her, just her body, not her mind, or her fucking breakfast preferences. I just want to feel her insides. That’s what I need. Steven can have the rest.
And so, my dilemma becomes apparent, in my effort to mollify this craving, I don’t think she’d be the type to give it up to me and then go back to her daily norm. Plus, I am next door, so it would probably be too much for her conscience, eventually having to confess all to Steven, ruining my quiet, simple life.
Now, I’m no sicko, just a man with a little too much Hannah on his mind. The thought of her driving me closer to insanity. I have to do something. And I’ve deduced it must leave me anonymous. In every sense, I’m thinking even anonymous to Hannah herself.
Steven informed me at the barbeque a couple weeks ago that he’d be heading to Florida for a week, that he’d like for me to keep an eye on the house. I think knowing he’d be gone made this whole thing worse. It spun my mind and looped an awful thought into it. One I’m thinking is the best option for us all to get back to our lives.
I haven’t finalized the entire plan yet, but I have two days to get it perfected and an entire week to take advantage of it. Or, I’m thinking, forever hold my peace. If I can’t do this, then the next option, with the furious way my mind reels around her, is simply going mad and getting a nice little room with padded walls and lots of fun medication.
The question being, am I receptive and open-minded enough to be able to sneak into her house and rape her? Am I capable of becoming a rapist?
I have chosen to actually use the word in my mind, not to sugar coat it at all. Because when it’s finally time to do it, I want to be able to go through with it. I don’t want the shock of it all to hit me then and scare me off. I need to go in there and actually rape her, to be her rapist.
Just fuck her until my dick has had the taste and can surrender my mind. Only once, it’s all I’ll need, and then back to normal.
I don’t think I’m a creep, I’m simply a man trying to do what’s best for everyone involved. I don’t want to ruin her marriage or take her from her husband—however boring he is. I don’t want to have move, or rearrange my, or their, lives at all. Honestly, this is the most responsible way to go about it.
I’m not a creep.
I’m a thoughtful man.
A forward-thinking man.
This will be simple. I’m convinced of it.
The reel of visuals begin again, inspiring all the nerves in my body start moving. I’m so excited for her.
***
Thursday morning, from my bedroom window, I watch Steven load up the car in his driveway. Coming down and going to my mailbox at the end of mine when I know he’s getting ready to head off.
“Gavin, hey,” he jogs over to my side of our connecting yard. “Hey, I’m leaving this morning, I really appreciate you keeping eyes on the house. Good neighbors are hard to find.” Another of those car salesman handshakes threatening to amputate my fingers.
I nod and smile, concentrating on keeping the whirling thoughts of Hannah being under me from showing on face, the eagerness at bay.
Steven finally relinquishes my hand and I flex my fingers in an effort to recirculate blood to them. “It was going to be a week, but its only two days now, the conference is being condensed. We all thought it was a bit much to ask everyone to be gone from their homes for a full week. So, I’ll be home Sunday.”
“That’s great. I can hold down the cul-de-sac until then,” I chuckle, but to my ears, I can only hear the anxiety in it. That amped up my schedule, which makes be both jittery and wildly excited. I feel the urge to shove him inside his car and push it down the driveway, but I hold back, waiting for him to drive away so I can wave like a good neighbor instead.
I catch sight of Hannah as I turn to go in, standing tucked inside her front door, waving her own goodbye. She’s only wearing an oversized t-shirt and the loud scream of overflowing sexual frustration rings between my ears where only I can hear it.
***
I can’t do anything the first night, I know that, they’d know for sure it was an inside job and someone with intel obviously did it. So, the first night, I go through the plan, mulling it over in my head until it becomes routine—and my cock a little raw from my hand.
Hannah has kept to her mundane routine; I’m watching her in her yard. This afternoon she is in a bikini top and a pair of black shorts which is not unusual, but it still makes me feel like a virgin in high school, every bare inch of skin tugging my cock.
She drags a lounge chair to the center of the yard and positions it into the flat, reclined option, so she can lay on her tummy.
A flood of hostility rushes in from nowhere and I silently beg her to just go the fuck inside her house. It’s all become too much
for me, the pinnacle reached, and now edging toward something else entirely. But she doesn’t listen to my telepathic pleading. Instead, doing the complete opposite, she pulls the string on her top—so as not to get a tan line—and hikes her shorts into her ass crack like some witch tantalizing me.
For fuck’s sake, it’s as if her mission is to have me punch through the wall and pounce on her right now.
I stand, with my forehead pressed to the cool glass, and concentrate on her breathing. I imagine licking up her spine to her neck, collecting the little beads of sweat that cover her, tasting the saltiness of her sun-warmed flesh.
She reaches behind her and reties the strings, when she rolls to her back, she is completely covered, expert level repositioning—not even a nip slip. Folding the elastic of her shorts down low, she’s able to keep all the best parts hidden.
Fuck her modesty.
I’m so annoyed at her right now for not taking this opportunity to bare herself in the solitude of her secluded yard. All alone for the weekend, she’s still unable to let herself be free to enjoy herself.
I take my mounting anger out on my cock. I’m unable to restrain myself, she is infuriating me right now. I need her to reach into her shorts and finger-fuck herself, but she doesn’t. I need her to grab her tits and squeeze them, arch her back and grind her hips, so horny she can’t stand it. But she just fucking lies there, forcing me to come with only my imagination.
Again.
Five
It’s nearly pitch dark outside, the moon is slivered, the stars abundant. I’m no longer worried about someone catching me creeping into the Clark’s yard.
This can finally happen.
I practically died last night from impatience, knowing Hannah was all alone. The smart part of my brain knowing that I needed to hold off until right now, that it was imperative to follow the rules and the plan.