The Women Next Door

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A knock on the door transforms a quiet night with a book.
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“I’ll only be away for two days,” my wife said. She had already spent ages explaining how her mother had asked that she come up and help her with the Christmas shopping now that her own eyes had become so bad.

“I don’t mind, honestly. With all the food in the freezer I could last a month.”

“Now, are you sure you don’t mind?”

I was thinking, “What part of the word ‘No’ don’t you understand?” but only replied,

“Really Wendy, I don’t mind. I have a load of things to catch up on for work and you will enjoy the break.”

She left after lunch on the Friday and telephoned me about three hours later to say she had had a good journey and had arrived ten minutes ago. It stopped me worrying and I made some coffee.

I don’t know about other men but although I love my wife dearly, I do enjoy the odd evening alone. They are evenings of my choices: how much to drink, whether to stay in or go out and which programs to watch on TV. I opened a nicer bottle of Chilean Merlot and prepared a light meal before settling down in front of the early evening news with a plate on my lap.

The next couple of hours passed pleasantly as I read and sipped at the wine until about nine o’clock when the doorbell rang. I opened the door to find my elderly and evidently, agitated, neighbour looking up at me.

“Oh, John. I don’t like disturbing you but the overflow on my water tank is running constantly and, as you fixed it last time, I was hoping you could do the same again. I really am sorry to bother you.”

I raise a hand, “ It won’t take a minute Mary and don’t fret, I don't mind at all.”

Closing my own door behind me I led Mary back to her house, collecting a stepladder from my garage en route. I expected the problem to be the same as before – a sticking ball cock valve on the header tank and it was. A few sharp up-and-down actions of the lever arm and the thing functioned properly again and the water stopped streaming from the feed pipe.

“There, it’s OK now," I said, climbing down the ladder to join the old lady at its foot. However, since I had ascended a second face had joined the old lady’s. It was a similar, but younger and a much prettier face framed in straw coloured hair.

“ You know Cathy, don’t you John?”

“ Of course, but it must be six or seven years since I last saw you.” I stammered as I took the proffered hand and starred into the most beautiful cornflower blue eyes.

She smiled naughtily, making her face even more beautiful and took a little too long to pull her hand away from mine. I followed the two women down into the hall and was about to say goodbye when Mary asked,

“If your wife won’t miss you for ten minutes I will make you a coffee. Please go through to the lounge.”

“Actually, she’s gone to her mothers’ for the weekend,” I responded automatically as she disappeared into the kitchen

“If you don’t have to go straight away then let me get you something stronger,” laughed Cathy. That twinkle was still in her eye.

In the main room I sat in the chair she indicated and she took the one opposite me. She examined me quizzically and with some amusement as I nervously adjusted my position in the chair.

I had not really known Cathy very well. We had moved into the house next door to her mother the year after she had married and moved out, although I had seen her to speak to when she visited her mother.

I had not realised that she was actually staying with her mother at the moment.

“You are just visiting, are you Cathy?” I asked.

“You haven’t heard have you John? I am single again and I am staying with mum until I find a place of my own.”

“ I am sorry,” I said and left it at that.

The coffee arrived and Mary sat down.

“Are you not having one, Mary?” I asked.

Cathy volunteered, “ The truth is John, Mum is usually in bed at this time and had already taken her sleeping tablet when we called you. The excitement has kept her awake but she will be asleep any minute now.”

Speaking to her mother she said, “Go on up Mum, John won’t mind.”

“Do you mind if I go, John?” Mary asked by way of confirming Cathy's statement, “Only I will drop off if I don’t go soon.”

“Please, don’t mind me. Go on up. I’ll be off just as soon as I have drunk this.”

I took another gulp of coffee. She apologised again and left Cathy and I alone.

We sat drinking in silence watching the, until then, unnoticed TV when Cathy said,

“I’ve sat here every night for the last week on my own watching TV. It is nice to talk to someone after nine o’clock.” she laughed again and her blue eyes sparkled.

“If you don’t have to get back, would you like a glass of wine?” she rose to fulfil the order without waiting for my reply.

“That would be nice,” I said to her departing back.

Moments later she returned complete with bottle and glasses and placed them on the mantelpiece above the fire. She picked up a box of matches and lit candles in the hearth and others scattered around the room before switching off the main electric lights.

The fire, despite being gas, was a realistic log fire which, together with the candles, made the room feel cosy and intimate and I began to get very comfortable in my soft chair.

Sitting on the hearthrug before me, Trudy poured two glassfuls of wine and offered one to me. I took it and thanked her. She smiled again, said nothing and leaned back onto the chair behind her, sipping slowly at the red liquid in her glass.

We watched the TV again and I was able to steal glances at her, unnoticed. She was tall and slim and the designer, blue denim jeans looked made-to-measure. Her top was a simple cotton semi- translucent shirt with small white pearl buttons down the front. Several of the top ones were unfastened so that I could see a low cut white bra that held apricot breasts which rose and fell rhythmically. She was elegant, right down to her tiny pale ankles.

She caught me looking but pretended not to and I said, "How long is it since you lived here then Cathy?"

"Ten years next month."

"You can't have been very old when you married, then."

"Twenty three."

"Really!" It was genuine disbelief.

"All things come to an end." she added reflectively

I lowered my voice, " People usually say 'all good things come to an end'. Surely there was a lot of good?"

"Yeh, about seven inches of it," she blurted out and then went a dark shade of pink and hid her face in her hands.

"I'm sorry. I've embarrassed you," she said at last," I don't know what made me say that."

"Don't be sorry. I admire your honesty. I suspect lots of couples only stay together for the sex."

I tried to sound clinical and understanding but the thought of this delightful lady thoroughly enjoying sex left me surprisingly aroused and I shifted nervously in my seat.

She sensed a listening ear.

"You don't know what you are missing until it's gone do you?" she confessed, lowering her eyes coyly.

"It hasn't been all that long, Cathy, you will meet someone pretty soon if I'm any judge of attractive women."

She had been looking into her glass but stole a quick glance at me and said,

"Em, I suppose so but right now all I want is the fun without any of the commitment."

I sat silently looking into my own, almost empty glass whose contents, combined with what I had previously drunk, had begun to give me that mellow warm glow inside.

She mistook my looking into my glass as a request for more wine, so she shuffled over to me on her knees with the bottle and, steadying herself in front of me with a hand placed on the top of my right thigh, refilled my glass.

Her hand remained where it was long after she had poured the wine and her eyes held my gaze.

"Do you like it," she asked ambiguously.

"Candles, firelight and a beautiful woman - how could I not," I teased.

A broad smile transformed her sombre face and she leaned up and kissed me on the cheek, pulled back to see my reaction, then kissed me again, full on the lips. It was an urgent, passionate kiss, and full of need. Her tongue snaked into my mouth and darted here and there, duelling with my own tongue. Her free hand kneaded my thigh and I squeezed her shoulder - our other hands being occupied with the wine glasses.

She broke off the kiss, coughed and stood up. Her breasts were now rising and falling at a pace to indicate an increased level of arousal.

" Would I be too bold if I asked you to make love to me, John?"

Even my wife had not been this direct in all the years that we had been married and I replied, "You may be as bold as you like since, I guess, that is the only thing on my mind at the moment as well."

She put down the bottle and I did the same with my glass.

Smiling she asked, "Has my directness made you hard?" and gently stroked her fingers down the front of my jeans.

" Not entirely but you have certainly woken it up."

" I love to watch a man get hard. Will you let me watch you?"

"What do you have in mind?"

"Well, you will see and I'm sure you'll enjoy it."

"Then, be my guest," I invited, throwing my arms wide apart in acceptance.

Being on the receiving end of the attentions of a predatory female was a new experience for me and I was certainly going to enjoy it. She pushed me back, playfully, into the chair, and knelt before me to unfasten my shirt buttons, not sexily, but like a mother undressing her child at bath time.

"We don't want to miss the show do we?" she laughed meaning that she did not want to have removed my clothes only to find me already hard.

When my shirt was open wide she unbuckled my belt and drew down the zipper of my jeans yanking them down my thighs and leaving me in only my underwear. I crossed myself in front and feigned a shyness that made her scoff.

"Trust me, I'm a nurse," she laughed as she removed the final cover to my privacy.

The matter-of-fact way in which she had stripped me had drained away any erection fluid I had in my penis and it lay semi-flaccid and cowering on its bed of pubic hair. Fortunately for my self-esteem, it had not withdrawn completely.

"Now let's see if I can get it interested."

She stood before me, fixed my eye with hers and, stiff backed with legs astride, undid the top button of her blouse, then she slowly undid each of the small white pearl buttons down her front until she reached her waistband and pulled her shirt top free of her jeans.

Cupping her bra-clad breasts with both hands she gently rolled and kneaded them - all the time looking for my reaction through lowered sexy eyelashes. She unclipped the garment at the front, leaned forward, hands on knees and let its contents hang free for a moment. They were great breasts. She resumed her self administrations to those wonderful naked breasts, attending this time to her already enlarged nipples and feeding each one in turn into her mouth to be wetly sucked.

My penis stirred and she raised an approving eyebrow.

Moving her attention to her lower regions, she undid the top button of her jeans and then unzipped them slowly, to let them fall to her calves. Stepping out of them, she spun around and turned her back to me, then bent over forwards with her stiffened legs widely parted. The skimpy white garment covering the mounds of her perfectly rounded rump, stretched grudgingly over the enlarged opening between her legs. My penis twitched again and grew another inch as I spied a damp stain on the pristine material. I noted that small blond hairs glistened and peaked shyly from their covering as I grew another inch.

Watching me over her shoulder and smiling she rubbed the damp mound with a well-manicured finger for a few seconds before slipping down that final covering. Her spread legs only allowed her panties to fall to half way down her thighs but I had a ring side view of her pussy as it hung, moist, pink and pouting between her legs. Again she ran an index finger down the valley it formed and then let a third disappear inside, between her engorged lips.

I looked down at several inches of throbbing manhood and then across to her.

"Happy now?" I grinned.

She turned, letting her panties fall onto her crumpled jeans below.

"Not by a long chalk," she answered playfully. "I am sure that that there is more to be had here."

Kneeling once more in front of my chair, with her head only inches from my penis, she placed her hands firmly on both my thighs and then ran them up to their apex where they grasped my engorged member.

" This is gorgeous, John," she said as she leaned forward and took my purple helmet in her mouth.

Some women suck cocks just to please their men, but some, and Cathy was obviously one, suck cocks because they love the sensation it gives them.

Her stiff little tongue traced its lower ridge and then around and around its sensitive end before taking it deep into her throat. She looked up and I said, "You are enjoying this aren't you?"

"Mmmm!" she moaned and resumed her attention.

She fondled my balls and twirled my pubic hairs into little ringlets as she administered the most excruciating pleasure with her teeth and mouth. I could feel the sap rising and said so. Lifting her reluctant head free, I kissed her mouth. "Women can't live by head alone," I said and she laughed.

"I'm hungry too." I added and stood up.

Lifting her to her feet with one hand I walked her backwards to the long low coffee table in the centre of the room, where, with gentle pressure, I pushed her into a sitting position on the table and then into a lying position. I took each leg in turn and pulled it to the side, but she knew my requirement and slid towards me so that her pussy was on the very end of the table.

"I was brought up always to eat at the table," I said and fell onto my knees between her legs.

She grinned, closed her eyes and lay back. The pulse in her groin betrayed the extent of her excitement as if the lubrication around her engorged pussy was not evidence enough of this. Her pussy was starting to unfold like a flower exposing its pink inner lips. I stroked the inside of her thigh, up and down, nearly, but never touching her ripening pussy lips. I blew cool air, first on her legs then across the folds of her labia and it unfurled even more. I kissed her inner thigh and drew a stiffened tongue along the inside of her leg, reaching, but not touching, her most intimate part.

She arched her body towards me and I traced a faint line down the length of her slippery crevice with a fingertip. She moaned. I repeated the action with my tongue and the moan grew louder so I repeated it - only this time, I traced the outline of the entire organ with a wet firm tongue drawing another, deeper moan from her.

My attentions to this sensitive zone increased as I dug her clitoris out from its cloak of skin with my tongue, suck it into my mouth and chew on it with my lips. It had grown large and quite stiff. She pushed herself into my face, grinding up and down, round and round. I sucked her still-growing stub harder, nibbling it lightly with my teeth and with my arms underneath her thighs I reached up to cover and squeeze both her breasts with my hands. It was the first time that I had touched them. They were small but beautifully shaped and firm: firm with an exquisite texture that distracted me for a second from my administrations between her legs. I rolled her nipples, like tiny balls of hard clay, between my thumb and forefinger in the same way that I was fondling her clitoris between my lips. After a few more moments of this I was rewarded as the pace of her writhing increased and a moaning sound came from deep within her.

Placing my arms under her thighs had raised her legs higher and she wrapped these around my neck to draw my face hard into her pussy, almost suffocating me.

At that moment I decided that that was the way I wanted to spend my last few minutes on earth, but by this time, my tongue was stabbing at her vagina and gnawing at her oozing pussy with complete abandon.

Before I finally expired she flung her legs out straight, releasing their grip from my neck, moaned from the pit of her stomach and went completely limp.

I stopped and, after one final caress, stood up, picked up my wine and took a long gulp. I still had the mother of all erections, having fully intended to plunge deeply into her at the appropriate time, but the turn-on I got from the pleasuring of her put my own relief on the back burner.

Cathy was recovering. She sighed and sat up.

"I do hope that you are not just a cum-once girl, Cathy," I said, flicking an eye down to my neglected outcrop.

"Not me, " she replied standing and embracing me tenderly.

Breaking off from a wet kiss she said with a challenge in her voice, "You taste of pussy, what have you been eating?"

" I hope it was only a starter," I replied and she responded, "It most certainly was."

She helped herself to another glass of wine and sat back on the sofa patting the space beside her for me to join her.

I sat down and she cuddled up beside me and sipped her wine. We held each other for a while, her head on my chest and then she tipped her face to mine to be kissed. I kissed her full and sweetly for a long time before letting my hands wander to cup her exquisite breasts again. I fondled and kneaded them and she obviously liked having such attention paid to her breasts. Many women can have an orgasm simply from breast stimulation and I suspect that Cathy was such a women. In minutes she was breathing deeply again and squeezing my penis. Eventually she placed a wet mouth to my ear and whispered, "Fuck me, John,"

Leaving the sofa, she knelt on the hearth carpet with her legs apart and her superb arse in the air, presenting another wonderful view of her perfect, glistening pussy.

I positioned myself behind her and placed the end of my own stiff offering to her waiting lips and pushed the head between them. It disappeared easily and readily and then the remaining taught inches were sucked in until I was fully embedded inside her.

I withdrew and drove forward again and again and again, slurp, slap, slurp slap - my balls smacked against her buttocks on every driven stroke and her pussy held onto me each time I tried to withdraw.

I had been holding her around her waist but I leaned forward and grabbed her, now wildly swaying, breasts. She bucked and I fucked - faster and faster until I felt the juice in her pussy curdle and my balls tighten.

"Is it OK to cum?" I gasped, hoping to God, she would say 'Yes' and she did.

I came on the next stroke shooting a salvo of angel's milk into her. Our actions now became even more audible as I drove forward again, lubricated by my own cum, to shoot a second load deep inside her. I felt her vagina contract around me as I drove into her and eject a third load. My head swam and my body sweated as I pushed frantically into her.

I don't care what people say about the "love" act, but that last, grunting explosion is personal. The road to it may well be by the mutual attention paid by each party to the other's pleasure, but those last few throbs of an ejaculating penis are intensely personal and selfish.

I was satisfied and stopped, my penis softened and slipped out to hang limp and shining in my lap. Cathy remained on all fours breathing deeply - she was a magnificent sight from where I knelt and I caressed her slim thighs.

She rolled onto her side and beckoned me to join her. I did, taking her in my arms and letting her nuzzle her head into my neck.

We lay for twenty minutes and I was almost dozing off when she rolled away from me. It was her turn to chide.

"I hope you're not a one-time guy," she taunted with playful sarcasm.

"It depends what's next on the menu," I countered, rolling onto my back and letting my half-erect penis flop against my thigh.

She straddled me and, leaning forward, draped her breasts on my chest and kissed me hungrily, her blond hair fell about both our faces and her tongue duelled with mine.

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