Espied Pt. 11

"Are you OK, Sal?"

She stepped through the windows.

"Mmmm. I've just been for a walk, after the evening."

"You must be exhausted. I'd have thought you would have gone straight to bed. A nice shower and then..."

"I haven't yet. I couldn't settle. Too much..."

His hand reached and cupped her sex, palm resting on her mons veneris and her curls, his fingers curling under.

"Excitement? "You're still..."

"Very wet and messy."

His finger had found her little erect clitoris and was toying with it. He did not need to know she had been playing with it herself atop the stile not minutes before.

"Come," he said, "I've a nice shower, let me wash you."

Sal was not so much led upstairs as pushed from behind, a hand on her bottom. He was right. It was a very nice shower indeed. Not so much a cubicle as a space. No curtain or door, no shower tray, you just walked into the water – and there was room for two, if not three. The walls and floor were tiled.

Her neighbour turned on the water, undressed and propelled Sal in. She had not been in a shower with another person before, still less finding herself being soaped by another. He had clearly recovered from the photography session: his penis was hard and pointing upwards. Sal reached, she liked holding penises. She had not soaped one before.

"I'll wash your hair too, kneel."

Sal knelt, her knees on the tiles and leant forward as her neighbour began massaging her hair, getting it wet. She leant forward to take his penis into her mouth. It seemed such a natural thing to do, such a pleasant thing to be able to suck whilst having your hair washed and, indeed, such a lovely thing to suck. So big, so smooth, so fleshy and male!

Sal awoke to the sun bright behind her curtains. She lay there in her own bed having declined her neighbour's offer for her to spend the night – in his bed. She had been on that bed most definitely, but not stayed. She had not had sexual intercourse again; her neighbour's penis had not travelled into her vagina, but his tongue had. She had come with his penis in her mouth and his tongue on her clitoris – the sixty-nine position she had read about. Sal on top. She had seen stars with half his penis in her mouth, her tongue unmoving but her lips opening and closing like a fish – or rather a fish that had caught something rather too big to eat!

She had then fellated him some more as his face had stayed between her thighs. She had been so gentle, delicate movements of mouth and tongue, seeing how long she could play with him before he came. Only when he finally began to shoot his stuff into her mouth did she really move, her wet lips sliding up and down his shaft and smooth knob at speed, her tongue flicking, milking his cock into her mouth.

Sal had risen and swivelled around to sit on the still erect penis, feeling its hardness all along her wet sex rather than pushing it in. She had smiled down at her neighbour, leant forward and opened her mouth a little to let his semen run out, down it went, elongating till it touched his mouth. He grinned back, and it ran into his mouth. His face was soaked with her lubrication. Sal bent and touched his mouth with her lips, her tongue sliding over them, tasting her own wetness. His tongue pushed into her mouth and she regained some of the semen. They kissed, a very moist joining of lips and embrace of tongues. Again, a first for Sal. Her first French kiss and accompanied by the male taste of semen and the female taste of her own wetness. She giggled. Had Al or Vince – or indeed both of them – or Mr. Grant or her young black friend or... been there, she would happily have engaged in more sexual play.

Instead she had got up off the bed.

"You can stay the night."

Sal picked up his penis and wobbled it in her hand, its still swollen knob going this way and that on the end of its now soft stalk. She slid the foreskin wanking it. "No, thanks, it's not much use to a girl now. Perhaps tomorrow!"

What a change from the woman who had first looked out on her neighbour naked in his garden. Sal smiled up at the ceiling in the comfort of her own bed the next morning. The session at the photography club the night before and her easy preparedness to go around to her neighbour for yet more sexual satisfaction was the culmination of the change. What would she do now? Her relationships had become sexual with quite a few people but they were not romantic liaisons. Paul had his Chloe, the young black lad was not, she thought, interested in that way – and nor was she – and whilst she liked her neighbour, there did not seem to be those tender feelings. Perhaps they might come. But what of the future? She touched herself. There was much in prospect.

Chloe and Paul had invited her to visit, which, no doubt, entailed a visit to the naturist beach and perhaps more; there was the black lad's prospective visit to Lady Godiva and she would be most interested to see what became of that; her neighbour had mentioned Mr. Grant inviting her to dinner and she knew that would lead to sucking Mr. Grant's and her neighbour's cocks – at the very least; she could not but think there would be more sessions at the photography group of one sort or another; and then there was Mrs. Riley's suggestion of private posing with Mr. Riley – was she agreeable to that; and what of her neighbour and his friends Al and Vince, she could see she might well be invited around perhaps for drinks but more likely, what was the phrase, a 'gang bang?' Sal's fingers roamed as she smiled to herself. She was rather looking forward to what was to come. She had changed so much since she had first espied her neighbour and his penis.