I Hate You! I Hate How I Loved It!
A neglected housewife put’s it all on the line and is taken by her own lust!
He lives across the street. He's Just a guy. Not particularly good looking or noteworthy in any way. Except how he looks at me. I hate going to the garden in the front yard. Within minutes he seems to come out to watch me. Women constantly stream in and out of his place since he arrived.
We had a pool party. I was dressed in a two-piece and a wrap, attending to my guests when my husband told me we were out of drinks and he was going to the store. Seconds later he arrived. Maybe he had been there, waiting to pounce.
“Nice suit,” he said.
“So that’s what you lead with, not great party or what weather we are having?”
“I admire beautiful things, what can I say.”
“I bet. Wouldn’t be able to tell from the company you keep.”
He acted wounded and put his hand over his heart. “What can I say, I have a much needed talent.”
“Pig.” I spat and walked off. He sipped his coke as I walked away. A neighbor that was helping me grill the food told me he needed more hotdogs, so I went to the kitchen to get them.
I turned and there he was in my way. We looked at each other and then he reached out and cupped my left breast, rubbing my nipple with his thumb. I shivered.
“You are really repressed. Poor thing.”
Part of me wanted him to stop but couldn’t will myself to say a thing.
“I loved that first day. The day I moved in, remember? I got a clear view into your bay window as you desperately masturbated in your living room. Frantic for release. Is John not taking care of you?”
He smiled. “What impressed me most was how you kept going once you realized I was watching.”
“I’m not listening to this, get out of my way.”
“Does John know how you came as you watched me jerking off to you. I think it’s time.”
“Time for what? Pervert!”
“Time I made you to be my sub. I know you would love it. You can’t know how much it turns me on thinking about being your dom. Teaching you to serve, to come.”
His voice had a smooth, velvety tone. He set down his coke and pressed up against me. I swallowed hard and my throat went dry. A moment later, he lifted me up on the counter. Landing as I did, my legs opened involuntarily to balance.
“Like I said, I have a talent. One I think you would enjoy. First you, so you can see I’m not such a pig,” he said as he found the tie of my bikini bottoms. I watched the string loosen and the cloth covering my pussy give way.
He knelt down on one knee and pushed aside my wrap. I grabbed his hair hard and pulled him back. He smiled and seemed to like it, it only encouraged him. My will broke, and I let him advance into my crotch and his tongue caressing my folds.
I gasped, and a moan appeared in the place my protest should have been. He thrust two fingers inside, curling them up, and instantly a familiar tension built. I was amazed. It had only taken him seconds. My back arched, and I felt my body flush. I tore at his hair again.
He sucked my clit, now engorged with lust. He did things to me, things I had only imagined with my husband, god it felt good. I knew there was no stopping. The swell of pleasure continued to build, and in the space of another second, the most powerful orgasm I have ever felt overtook me. My juices flowing over his face.
One is usually enough, too much in fact to keep going. I always push my husband away after. But his caress was different. I wanted more and now I had my leg hooked over his shoulder I pulled him into me. He used his thumb on my clit as he licked the pucker of my butthole.
“Stop! I can’t take any more.”
“I know you can. I have faith in you. Come for me again.”
“It tickles too much. Fuck you’re a filthy bastard. Licking my asshole.”
“I’m not stopping until you do as your told,” He said, and again inserted two fingers in me. I concentrated on his fingers, not his tongue up my ass, and then my clit. Oh shit, how was he hitting them all. This time I felt an overwhelming surge inside me I had never felt before. Like there in the shadows lay a demon. He coaxed it out, and I doubled over in pleasure as he did battle with it.
My second orgasm hit hard; I bit my lip now not to scream. It made my legs shake uncontrollably as a gush of my cum squirted out, covering him. His face and his shirt soaked. He smiled insanely at me as I recovered. I was a mess.
He stood up and picked up his coke again like nothing had happened. I struggled to retie my bottoms and get off the counter. Landing on my still shaking legs, my pussy twitching with pleasure beyond my imagination, I realized I had never truly come until that moment.
“Hi, I’m back.” I jumped at the sound of my husband’s voice as he entered the kitchen with the drinks.
He would know. How can he not see it? He only had to look at me flushed and spent to know. But he didn’t see me. He never did. But he saw the man that had just brought me the first true sexual pleasure I had ever felt.
“Hey glad you could come,” My husband said.
“My pleasure, glad you invited me yesterday. It’s been a great party.”
“Yeah, kind of spilled some soda on myself and I need to go change. I have someone coming by later, anyway.” He said glancing at me. I saw the soaked shirt for what it was, like a sick joke between us.
“Well OK. Come back if you have time,” John said. Seeing the hotdogs on the counter, John grabbed them and headed out to the grill area to deliver them to the cook. I turned my back to him, hoping he would leave.
“Should I come back?” He asked as he touched my belly just under my breasts. “Should I teach John what I know? A three-way perhaps? No, I don’t think so. Not yet. I think I’ll just keep this to myself. I don’t want to share you for now. I have so much more to teach you.”
“OK.” He kissed the back of my neck. “But Pandora’s box is open. Only I have the key. It’s OK to want more.”
With that, he ran his hand down my belly and cupped my still quivering pussy. Then he left. I felt empty without his touch.
Time passed, and the feelings faded. Guilt set in and I told myself that it wouldn’t happen again. But I knew I wanted to find out what he meant about teaching me. Perhaps I would go out front tomorrow and perform for him again.
“Oh, You still in here?” Asked John. “Nice guy. Shy though, I think. Sort of kept to himself.”
“We should invite him over more then,” I suggested. “To be better neighbors.”
“Sure. Sounds like a plan.”
That night I made the excuse that I wanted to bring him some leftovers. I hated myself for walking across that street. I hated myself for ringing the bell. I hated the way he smiled at me when he opened the door. But the memory of his tongue was fading, and he was right; I needed more, and he had the key.