Wilderness Road Ch. 01

I tugged at the waistband and slipped a warm hand inside, feeling his cock stir as I ran a finger along his flaccid shaft. "Ready for your extra present, birthday boy?" I whispered, my lips next to his ear as I slowly coaxed his cock to life, feeling it stiffen under my fingertips.

Feeling him become aroused like this always made me hot too. I snuggled up against him, my soft boobs pressed against the firm muscle of his back as I nibbled his earlobe. I could hear him groaning contentedly as our warm bodies pressed together, my hand fondling him until he was fully erect, his prick threatening to tear through his pyjama bottoms.

He shifted position then, rolling over into his back and lifting his buttocks, letting me ease the blue-and-white checked cotton over his thighs, until his cock sprang free.

"Gosh, Ellen, that feels so good," he moaned as I slowly ran my fingers up and down his swollen shaft, unencumbered by his clothing. He was naked now, lying prone, his hands crossed behind his head, his eyes closed. I lay alongside him, my head resting on his chest, listening to the quickening thump of his heart.

As I stroked his lovely thick dick, enjoying the solid heft of it, I wondered when this "birthday blowjob" had become a tradition. I couldn't remember exactly how it had started, it just seemed to have happened. Now it was just assumed that I'd do this for him on his birthday, and our anniversary. And Valentine's Day.

I took my time, leisurely stroking the full length of his shaft from his balls to the tip and soon his breathing became more laboured, his body starting to rock from side to side and I started to pump a little faster. I was rewarded with more loud groans of pleasure as I used my other hand to gently tickle his perineum and balls.

His hand, which had been stroking my hair, began to exert a little pressure now, making it clear what he wanted. I shifted position, kissing my way down over his chest, until I was kneeling beside him. Jay had a lovely cock, thick and long with a trim covering of frizzy blonde pubic hair. I felt my bare boobs brush against my silk pyjama top as I leant over him, slowly lapping at the juices oozing from the swollen purple head. As I squeezed his shaft tighter, I ran my tongue up and down his hot fleshy column

It wasn't that I minded doing it or didn't get some enjoyment from it, but sometimes I did think it was all a bit one-sided. He rarely considered my pleasure in bed. If I was lucky, there might be a bit of foreplay before we made love, but even then it felt rushed, like a chore he had to perform before getting to the main event. It went without saying that he'd never dream of going down on me these days.

I leant over him, sweeping my tousled red hair away from my face as I took him in my mouth, enjoying his hot, salty taste. He let out a series of low, contented groans as I eased my soft lips down over the taut, velvety skin of his shaft, swirling my tongue around the thick head, tracing the ridges and veins. He was too long to fit in my mouth, but soon my lips were sliding smoothly up and down the top half of his shaft whilst my hand gripped the base. As he panted happily, I undid the buttons of my pyjama top. I have quite small but nicely-shaped boobs, tipped with tiny pink nipples. They were already erect as I slid a hand beneath my pyjama top and began to caress myself, my body instantly responding.

I seemed to remember Jay going down on me when we first met, back in university, back when we were young and wild and passionate. But now we were both older, it just seemed we were too tired or preoccupied to make the time to do anything that wasn't just routine missionary-style sex. Unless I made the effort of course. "Yes, yes," Jay was repeating now, his whole body undulating as I took him deep into my mouth, making loud slurping sounds as I sucked at him hungrily.

I eased my mouth off his wet prick and looked up at him as my hand pumped his slick shaft faster and faster. His arms were crossed behind his head, his mouth open, his breath ragged, his eyes burning with desire as he watched me, and I could tell he was close. "Yes, yes, just like that," he pleaded, his body tensing, suddenly stiff like a coiled spring.

"That's it, come for me, babe," I said breathlessly, vigorously pumping his pulsing shaft.

"Yes, faster, don't stop!" he pleaded, his buttocks straining, his hips arching off the bed.

"That's it, come all over my boobs," I panted, my hand a blur now as he twitched and shuddered.

"Yes!" he shouted as his body suddenly convulsed, as if all his muscles had clenched at the same time, and then he was coming, a long, animal growl of pleasure spilling from his lips as hot pearly-white ropes of come erupted from his angry red cock and splashed messily over my boobs and his stomach. I continued to slowly stroke him, coaxing every last drop of come from his softening dick as he shuddered, his broad chest heaving as he gulped great lungfuls of air.

"Happy birthday, babe," I whispered as I lay alongside him, my hand on his chest, a warm, all-encompassing sense of satisfaction spreading through me as I felt his heartbeat slowly return to normal as we lay together, listening to the sounds of our new neighbourhood waking up.

---

After we'd had breakfast, I decided to drive to the local DIY store to get some extra paint and some new brushes. As I slowed down to turn back into our driveway, a man in his fifties walking his dog paused to let me pass. He was still standing there when I got out.

"Hi," he said. "You must be our new neighbour." "Yes, I'm Ellen," I said, striding down the drive and extending my hand.

I looked him up and down as he took my hand in his. He was a stocky man in his sixties, with a sparse greying beard, wild hair and small, round glasses that gave him the appearance of an ageing jazz musician. At the end of the lead, a small, scruffy black dog of indeterminate breed sniffed at my trainers nervously.

"I'm David. David Wilson. Welcome to the neighbourhood, you doing some painting?" he said, eyeing my tatty, old paint-stained t-shirt.

"Yes, just brightening the place up."

"I live right across the street from you," he said, gesturing to the large house opposite. Out in front, it had a large, neatly trimmed lawn bordered by dozens of brightly coloured rose bushes.

"That's your house? You have a lovely garden."

"Thanks, that's mainly my wife's work; I can't really take any credit."

"Well she's done a great job."

"Thanks, well I just wanted to say welcome to the neighbourhood, I'll let you get on," he said, turning away.

I smiled as he started to turn away then had a sudden thought.

"Wait! Do you happen to know anything about the lady who lived here before us? I think she was called Abigail or Roxy, is that right?" I asked, trying to sound casual.

"Yeah, of course I remember her. I usually saw her out running while I was walking Truffle," he said, gesturing towards the dog. "We always called her 'Abby'. Pretty girl, lovely long hair. You look a little bit like her, actually."

"Oh really? Was she here long?"

"Must have been a couple of years, I suppose. You know, I always thought there was something odd about her though."

"Odd? In what way?"

"Well, like I say she was really attractive young lady but she never seemed to have a boyfriend. Or a girlfriend for that matter," he added, smiling a little awkwardly.

"Really?"

"Yeah and I was never sure what she did for a living. She told me she worked from home. I think she said she had her own internet-based marketing business or something like that. I was surprised she made enough from that to support herself. Seemed to go out a lot in the evenings too."

"Oh really?"

"Yes, sometimes she'd be going out when me and the wife were going to bed. Who goes out that late?"

I thought I knew but thought it was best to keep it to myself.

"But she was a good neighbour?"

"Oh yes, she was pleasant enough, always quiet, we never had any problems with her. Quite friendly too. I was quite surprised to find she'd moved out."

"Oh, she didn't tell you?"

"Nope. Just woke up one morning and she was gone. We thought she'd gone on holiday, then a couple of weeks later there was a 'For Sale' sign right there on the lawn," she said, gesturing towards to bottom of the garden.

"So you don't know where she went?"

"Nope, Terry told me she didn't even leave him so much as a note."

"Terry?"

"Terry Ilford. He's a local odd-job man and a friend of hers. Used to drive her around because she didn't have a car, you see."

"Oh, I see. Where could I find him?"

"I'm not sure where he lives. I might have his number indoors but you can probably find him on the internet or in the local directory."

"Ok, thanks."

"Anyway, I've got to be getting on, standing here chatting isn't getting housework done. Welcome to the neighbourhood, let us know if you need anything," he said, his dog straining at the leash, pulling him back towards his house across the road.