by Cherie Denis
Her luck held. The house was empty. She slammed the door and made a mad dash through the living room and up the steps to her bedroom. She skidded to a stop in front of her bed and yanked her tight, knit tank-top over her head, making her large, braless breasts jiggle and bounce. Then she clawed at the waistband of her black capri pants, tugging them and her panties down her slender thighs and in moments she was as naked as her sexy neighbors.
Tracey threw herself across her bed, her hands digging at her vagina before she hit the mattress. “Oh, my God,” she moaned, thrashing her head and stroking her swollen clit frantically. Her first climax hit in a matter of seconds and her second climax was right on the tail of the first.
Tracey was in a fog of ecstatic, orgasmic delight and it was a long time before she realized she’d been finger-fucking herself in front of an open door, legs splayed, cunt exposed, for all the world to see. Holy shit, if her daddy caught her like this he’d kill her. God only knew what her up-tight, out-of-sight mother would do if she walked in now.
Tracey continued to finger herself to a third and final climax before she bothered to remove her fingers and close her legs. Eventually, when her breathing slowed, she crawled off the bed and closed her bedroom door.
She knew she should be ashamed, but at the moment she simply didn’t care. All she could think about was her hunky neighbor, Mike Sneider and his huge cock. Oh, my God and his wife, the gorgeous, sexy Lainie.
God damn, they were a beautiful, desirable couple.
Tracey threw herself back on her bed and put her hands back on her cunt, stroking her clit with two fingers while she slipped two more fingers into her dripping channel. She was on the verge of another gigantic climax. She couldn’t remember ever being this excited in all her eighteen years. Her hips bounced on the bed as a fourth and fifth climax rolled over her and all Tracey could do was sob and wish she had a boyfriend with a big cock to relieve the pressure. Why wasn’t there a man around when you needed one?
“Tracey Lynn?”
Oh, shit. Mom was home. “Yeah?” Tracey answered as she scrambled off the bed and ran into her private bathroom.
“I’m home and it’s time to help me make dinner.” On the other side of the closed door, her mother’s voice sounded impatient as usual.
“Kay, I’ll be right down,” Tracey answered, turning on the water, she quickly washed her hands. Back in her room, she rushed into her clothes, swiping a trembling hand over her mussed bedspread before hurrying to join her mother in the kitchen.
Her mother gave her a suspicious look. “What have you been doing, young lady?”
Tracey's answer came with practiced innocence, “Nothing, Mom. I ran over and delivered the stuff to the Sneiders like you asked me to, then I came home and was working on my homework.
“Oh? I’m assuming the reason you didn't hear me calling was because you were deep in thought?”
Tracey nodded. “College English is a hell of a lot harder than high school English.”
* * * *
Monica gave Tracey a perfunctory hug. It was hard to believe she was the mother of an almost nineteen-year-old daughter. Monica shook her head. Where had the years gone?
Tracey was half her age, taller and slimmer than she was and a real beauty. She sure had gotten all of the good genes in the family.
Monica watched Tracey pour a glass of soda and shook her head when Tracey asked if she wanted some.
No, what she really wanted was to hear everything she could about the neighbors. “So, honey, how are the Sneiders?” Sometimes, when she was feeling sorry for herself, Monica almost wished her husband, Rog, could be more like Mike Sneider when it came to helping around the house. Otherwise, she had no complaints about her husband. He was a good provider. He still had those boyish good looks she'd fallen in love with when they were just kids. He kept himself in good shape, was fun-loving and a fabulous lover.
She wasn't one to brag, but as far as she was concerned, Rog was as big or bigger in the cock and balls department, so she had no complaints there. He was a generous lover and made sure she climaxed before he did. She loved to roll his balls around in her hands and watch his cock grow while he begged for relief. He was even generous about going down on her, but then she enjoyed sucking him off too. All in all he was great.
She only had one big complaint about Rog. He was lazy as could be when it came to helping her around the house. He never noticed the door knobs needed replacing or the front door stuck. The bathroom needed painting and all the other minor things that drove her nuts.
Monica sighed. Oh well, Rog was never going to change. If she wanted it done, she'd do it herself.
Thank her lucky stars, he was hell on wheels in the bedroom and Monica wanted all he could give her and more.
Rog was the best, but he wasn't Mike Sneider. There was a cockiness about Mike that made him hard to resist. So she spied on the neighbors frequently. It was worth the effort, because she'd seen him wandering through his house many times, naked as the day he was born, his massive cock and balls swinging in cadence with his long stride? God, he was absolutely delicious to watch. Rog had a good body, but Mike had a body to die for; powerful, muscular and sexy. She couldn't help but admire his attributes.
She had to stop thinking about Mike. She had a perfectly wonderful, totally reliable and loving husband of her own.
It wasn’t just Mike Sneider who had a fabulous, sexy body. The more she thought about it, the more she had to admit Lainie’s body was pretty fantastic, too. The younger woman was built like a porn star with large, heavy breasts topped by the most delectable nipples. Monica often thought about those tight nipples when she was screwing Rog. Who could blame her?
Lainie’s breasts were the nicest she’d ever laid eyes on and sometimes Monica wished they were hers. Monica’s breasts were nothing to be ashamed of, but she had given birth to two kids, which had taken a toll on their firmness. Considering she was nearing thirty-eight, her breasts were still where they were supposed to be and she had nice, hard nipples Rog seemed to find fascinating.
Maybe it was her fault their sex life wasn’t as exciting as the Sneiders’. Well, there was a cure for what ailed their marriage, and Monica was willing to try anything. A little more excitement in the bedroom was going to be a major addition to her 'honey do' agenda.
Life for her sweet husband was about to become a lot more interesting. Monica smiled at the thought. Poor ol’ Rog would never know what hit him.
In fact, he’d recently told her he wanted to photograph her breasts and put the pictures on the net. He said he’d found a great website for amateur nude photos. She’d been hesitant to exhibit her body, but maybe she’d do it if he would let her photograph his cock and put the pictures on the web-site along with hers.
Just thinking about their pictures on the net was making her horny as hell. Who knew, it could be a lot of fun. They could take pictures and fuck away the night.
Mmm, humm.
Okay, okay, so she shouldn’t be staring through the windows at her neighbor’s house, but for godsake, they were always naked and seemed to be fucking constantly. Monica couldn’t help it if she happened to be wandering past a window when the action started.
So far Monica was reasonably sure her kids hadn’t seen anything unusual next door, but she supposed she really should mention to the neighbors their sexual habits were on display to anyone who chanced to look. Maybe tomorrow, but not today. She was hoping they would put on a good show tonight.
Rog had been on the road for days and would be all revved up and horny as hell when he arrived home this evening. Watching the neighbors would be just the impetus Monica would need to get Rog all hot and bothered. The kids were going out; tonight would be the perfect time to let him know things were changing for the better.
Thinking about the neighbors fucking and the fact she’d missed Rog terribly this week had her on the edge of exploding. Dammit. Rog wouldn’t be home for hours.
She glanced
at Tracey, who seemed to be stargazing out the window over the sink. Would Tracey notice if she slipped into her bedroom for a little finger-fucking to relieve the pressure?
“Tracey, honey.”
“Yeah, Mom?” Tracey seemed oblivious to her mother’s discomfort.
“I’m going up and change my clothes.” Was that sexy, husky voice hers? Monica cleared her throat and waved a hand in front of her face. The slight breeze did nothing to cool her scalding cheeks.
Tracey continued to stand at the sink, staring out at the back yard.
“I’m going upstairs to change clothes,” Monica continued in a strangled voice. “While I’m gone, why don’t you start browning the meat?” She turned and left the kitchen.
“What meat?” Tracey’s voice followed Monica up the steps.
“Meat.” The word made her think about two large, hot cocks fucking her at the same time.
Halfway up the stairs, Monica began tugging at her constricting clothing. Oh, my God.
She could barely breathe and Tracey was waiting for an answer. Answer her, or she'll come looking for you and see you nearly naked.
Monica took a deep breath. "There's hamburger in a package on the bottom shelf of the refrigerator. Brown it and we'll have tacos tonight.”
Monica rushed up the remaining steps, slammed her bedroom door and threw her blouse and bra on the floor. The remainder of her clothes soon followed. She opened her bedside drawer and took out her clit-tickler dildo, lubed it up and went to work on her sex-starved clit.
* * * *
Mike tied the apron strings around his waist and opened the refrigerator. “Sweetheart, is chicken okay?”
Lainie walked into the kitchen, stood behind him and plastered her hot body against his back. Wiggling her hips, she brushed her pubic hair against his naked butt and thighs. “Love your outfit, darling,” she said with a giggle.
“Stop Lainie. I know what you’re thinking, and I don’t have time right this minute. I’m trying to make dinner.” He swatted a hand behind him hoping to move his sex starved wife away. It didn’t work.
Lainie lifted her hips in a mimic of her husband’s movements when they made love and rubbed her mound against his ass.
“Lainie,” Mike said sternly, slamming the refrigerator door. “We just finished making love for crying out loud. Now stop it.” He turned and wrapped his strong arms around her slender body. “I’m hungry. What do you want to eat?”
Lainie brushed her breasts across his chest, “Mmmhmm.”
“Fine, I've decided...we're having chicken.” Mike was determined to ignore her advances.
They had just finished a rigorous love-fest not fifteen minutes earlier and he was past exhaustion. He’d worked hard all day and then Lainie had wrung him dry. All he wanted to do was fix a little dinner and collapse in front of the TV for the rest of the evening.
Lainie pouted prettily, “You know, if I had a penis I’d share it…all the time.”
“Yeah, I know. You never let me forget.” He gave her an indulgent smile. “But, you don’t, honey…so, get over it.” He put his strong hands on Lainie’s slender shoulders and turned her toward the cabinets. “Put your apron on so you don't get burned and set the table, darling. I'll fix us some dinner. And, for crissake, keep your pretty hands to yourself.” When she frowned, Mike realized he’d probably sounded harsher than he should have, but, shit, he couldn't help it, he was dog tired.
Lainie moved away, but not before she had the last word. “Well, I would share it…if I had one, Mike. All the time.”
“Sure, baby. I know. But, as I just said…you don’t. So, get over it,” Mike said and dropped a heavy skillet onto a burner. Lainie jumped at the racket, but didn't move. Good thing he hadn't gotten the flat-top stove he'd been thinking about purchasing, because he probably would have cracked it.
He opened the cupboard to the left of the stove and brought out a bottle of olive oil. Pouring a dollop of oil into the heating pan, he said calmly, “Chicken, peppers and olives over penne. Take it or leave it.”
Her body language made it very clear she longed to continue the argument, but he didn’t give her the satisfaction of rebuttal. The male in him knew he was right. She didn’t have a cock and never would. Why did she even bother to argue about it? She’d just have to get over the fact he was the keeper of the royal sword, and she was at his mercy when it came to sex. Unless, of course, she wanted to pleasure herself, and she’d told him more than once, self-gratification was okay, but she preferred screwing.
Lainie managed to hold her sulk for a quite some time, even going so far as to verbally damn him for being right. Funny thing about the whole argument, Mike didn’t exactly enjoy always being correct. If only there was a way to give her the cock and balls she longed for.
Lainie sighed and pulled two plates out of the cabinet. “Here or on the table?” she asked holding the plates in one hand, her other hand at her narrow waist.
He turned and grinned. Little minx. She had to know she looked as sexy as hell standing there naked as the day she was born, full breasts proudly displayed; nipples all pouty from the torture of his fingers and mouth a short time ago. Hadn't he told her to put on an apron? Where was it?
“I’ll take them, honey. Thanks.” He held out a hand. “If you don't want to put on an apron, why don’t you go put on your robe and slippers? You'll get cold standing around in the nude.”
“I’m fine, thanks. Don’t you like looking at me, darling?” She turned slowly to give him the full effect of her stunning body.
“Are you kidding? Of course I do, you're gorgeous,” he said kissing the corner of her mouth and getting a smile for his efforts.
Mike loved every curve and plane of her slender body. He couldn’t get enough of touching her, loving her. She was so lovely, so soft and feminine. Touching her was sheer heaven. The smooth silk of her skin, the slope of her breast, the peak of her nipples–everything about his wife fascinated him. He loved the feel of her woman’s body in his hands and under his body.
He let his eyes drift over the fullness of her rosy tipped breasts and felt a touch of envy at the perfection of her body.
Lainie’s lips tipped in a delectable moue and Mike couldn’t help but grin; she was so cute when she pouted.
“As I said, sweetheart, I enjoy looking at you. I just thought you might want to cover up before you get sick or the neighbors see us naked again. The last thing I want is for you to come down with a sore throat or a nasty chest cold on my account.”
“Oh, all right,” she groused. “I’ll go put on something, but I can guarantee you it isn’t going to be much. I have plans for us later tonight.” Lainie turned and flounced out of the kitchen, her little butt jiggling enticingly with each step.
Shit, not again? His body was begging for respite. Why couldn’t she understand? He was thirty-five and not seventeen. His cock ached from hard use and, to be honest, he wasn’t in the mood. “Hmmm,” was all Mike could manage without barking at her to leave him the hell alone. What good would it do? When it came to sex, Lainie never listened to him. Okay, so he shouldn’t complain. There were many men out there who wished they were in his shoes. But, damn it all, Lainie was insatiable and she was wearing him the hell out.
* * * *
Later in their room after dinner, Mike was able to satisfy Lainie with an hour long session of oral sex leaving her limp and languid. And, as he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep from exhaustion, all he could think about was now maybe she’d back off for a day or two.
The following morning as the sun crept its way up over the horizon, Mike woke to find his wife’s hot mouth wrapped around his cock. She sucked and licked with expertise until his cock was standing straight and tall. She held him gently and threw her left leg over his hips and eased her body over his penis. He slipped into her dark heat and as she enclosed him in her hot body, Mike realized he was no longer tired or sore.
Thanking the gods who’d blessed him with
a cock of enviable proportion and response, Mike raised his hips and shoved deep into her welcoming body.
A great sigh escaped her lips as the knob of his shaft touched her cervix and her internal muscles gripped him tight enough to bring a cry to Mike’s lips.
“Oh, God! Lainie…!”
The burning feeling deep in his balls forewarned of his building climax. He bucked his hips and her body answered clasping him tight and deep.
“Ahhhh…There, baby. There. Like that. More…more…mmmooorrreee,” Lainie’s cry echoed through the silent house.
Would this climax be so overwhelming she wouldn’t need to beg him for more? Would he ever be able to satisfy her? Mike was beginning to think he would never be able to totally please Lainie. One question continued to plague him; if he did manage to satisfy her, would he survive the experience?
* * * *
Mike found it hard to concentrate as he negotiated traffic on his way to work. He was only a few minutes late.
What a start to the day. All he could do was thank his lucky stars he had survived the morning. More than once this morning while they were in the throes of yet another climax, he'd been afraid he had fucked himself to death. For a couple of seconds he'd actually seen stars.
But, what a way to go.
The moment he pulled into his regular spot at work, Mike picked up his cell phone and punched in his wife’s private number. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel waiting impatiently for her to answer. The line was busy and Mike felt a certain sense of let-down. He’d been looking forward to hearing her sensual voice one more time before he started his work day.
His phone call rolled over to her voice mail. He never felt satisfaction dealing with Lainie’s voice mail, but sometimes he had no choice.