Janet McCoy

The wife next door

AB-5075

CHAPTER ONE

There was only one thing Sam Robbins liked better than fucking in general.

That was fucking his well-stacked wife Helen in particular.

He sat on a kitchen chair watching her go through the ritual of her Saturday morning chores. It was a luxurious feeling – to have the whole day in front of him, with nothing scheduled, with nothing more pressing to do than to watch the taut wiggle of Helen's ass as she rummaged under the sink for her Mr. Clean.

No doubt about it, he thought lustfully. I have got myself one hell of a good-looking old lady. He began to toy with the idea of impaling her right there. Of pulling down her snug little pink shorts and filling her ever-ready twat with a swollen seven inches.

The effect of his fantasy on his penis was impressive. It began to grow and throb under his bathrobe. Part of a day off for Sam was to sit around in his old robe, all day if he felt like it. It felt sexy to have his prick so close at hand. All he had to do was reach inside the fold of his robe.

While he caressed his cock gently, he watched Helen reach up to scrub the cupboards over the counter. The effort made her full breasts stand out invitingly and emphasized the long graceful sweep of her shapely legs. Helen was a tall woman, almost six feet. She was a good two inches taller than Sam. That was the way he liked his women – a good, substantial handful. Besides, he always joked with his friends, it made it a lot easier to fuck standing up when the woman was taller than the guy.

Sam began to fantasize pushing Helen against the fridge, pulling down her shorts and screwing her with her sponge still in her hand. His cock was feeling better and better. It had reached its full length and girth. It was getting impatient for some warm, wet action.

"What's going on in that mischievous head of yours?" Helen called back over her shoulder. "I don't trust you when you it so quiet." Her long thick red hair was pulled back into a ponytail. It bobbed saucily as she scrubbed.

"Just admiring your obvious assets, my dear. Not to mention your unflagging passion for work." Sam was a real estate agent, and he met a lot of good-looking women in the course of his work, but not one of them compared with his wife – her red hair, her bouncing big tits, her swelling ass – or so he thought at the moment. There were, of course, times on the job when he let a deal slip by him in preference for a quick ten minutes' fuck in the empty living room of a house he was showing. There were also the times when a bargain was sealed up inside some warm hungry cunt belonging to a lady with too much money and too little cock from her old man.

Helen knew all about these impulsive trysts, in principle if not always in particulars. Sam knew she got her own jollies on the side. Neither of them objected to the other's infidelity. It only made their marriage more exciting, more vital. No two days were ever the same.

No two fucks were ever the same.

Sam was beginning to imagine what it would be like to wrap Helen's legs around his waist and fuck her with her red hair grazing the floor. Too much work, he decided, as his brain searched for new fantasies. His attention was distracted momentarily by a movement along the hedge that separated the Robbins' yard from their next-door neighbors'.

The moving object was the head of Emma Tate. Sam felt a momentary twinge of desire for the attractive brunette. She was probably taking out the garbage. Maybe he should go out and try to make some conversation.

Hell no, he decided. It's going to take more than a chat in an alley to get me into her pants. But one of these days Helen's eyes followed the direction of her husband's gaze as she turned away from her scrubbing.

"Still spinning daydreams about the fair Emma, eh, stud?" She giggled as she drained the water from the sink and rinsed her sponge under the jet-flow of tap water. "Don't worry, baby. Your day will come."

"Shit, she's tight as a fucking drum. Every time I even look at her sideways, she turns six shades of pink and heads for the hills."

"Did it ever occur to you that she might be intrigued? That she might be trying to work up the nerve to do something about her own secret desires? Her husband's a sweetheart, but I really don't think he's got what it takes to take care of Emma indefinitely."

"So you thing I've got a chance, do you, baby?"

"Sure I do. I know a sensual woman when I see one. Emma's practically vibrating with it all the time. She just hasn't turned on yet to the fact that she can have her cake and eat it too."

Sam was satisfied with his wife's assessment of his chances of seducing his pretty neighbor. He was ready to dismiss that subject and return his concentration to his own sexy wife. His hand began to work more energetically along his swollen cock-shaft.

Only now did Helen notice what he was doing. "So…" she accused him in mock indignation. "The thought of stuffing dear Emma has got your big cock throbbing!"

"Actually, my dear, what got my big cock throbbing was watching that delicious body of yours bending and stretching in every which direction. I was trying to decide how best to fuck you, my dear." Sam's tone was very serious, but his eyes twinkled with unabashed lust.

"My, what a nice thing to think about. Would you care for any suggestions?"

Watching her handsome husband pumping his dick was rapidly bringing Helen's twat to a low wet boil. She stared into his dark brown eyes that were becoming heavy-lidded with arousal. His head of thick black curls tilted back slightly. His upper lip pouted sexily under this thick mustache.

"Oh, Sam, darling, what a delectable sight you are!" She poked a finger inside the crotch of her shorts and began to investigate the moist folds of her hairy snatch. She leaned back against the sink for support and spread her legs lewdly. Her finger prodded the yielding hole of her pussy, then moved on up to her clitoris. "Uuuuuhh," he moaned as her finger grazed the blood-stretched membrane. "Ooohhh, Sam darling, you have such a nice hard cock there. I want to fuck it. Can I, huh?"

Absorbed in the lewd abandon of her sudden arousal, Helen worked her hand greedily inside the crotch of her shorts. She thrust her pubis out toward her watching husband, spreading her legs even wider. She smiled suggestively as she saw the effect her behavior was having on her man.

"How can I say no to a lady?" Sam murmured thickly. His tongue was running nervously along the lower fringe of his mustache. His robe had fallen open on either side of his thighs. The dark kinky hairs around the base of his swollen cock drew attention to his turgid shaft like a garland of roses around a race horse's neck.

"Oh Sam, I've got to have that cock in me!" Never taking her eyes from the pink fleshy shaft of Sam's cock, Helen reached back and unfastened the zipper of her shorts. She slipped them down over her hips and let them fall to the floor. She was not wearing panties. She never wore panties.

The bright red triangle of her cunt was fully visible to her staring husband. Her wedding ring shone amidst the forest of her kinky pubic hair as her fingertips toyed obscenely with her hungry pussy. "I'm going to fuck you now, Sam."

She moved close to Sam where he sat on the kitchen chair. She straddled his legs with her own and started to sit down. At the first touch of his rounded cock-head on her cunt, she paused. "Want it, baby?" she teased him. "Do you want my wet clinging cunt on your lovely big cock?" She was quivering with the excitement of feeling his cock-tip grazing her sensitized pussy.

She wanted it bad. Her passion-slackened face said that clearly.

Eager as he was to have his cock buried in his wife's cunt, Sam couldn't resist teasing her for a minute. "Jeez, baby… I don't know. Are you sure you want to go through with this? You know you're acting like a shameless slut, don't you?"

"Huuuuuuhhhh, Gawd!" It was Helen who gave in first. She couldn't hold out any longer. The hard prodding of his cock-head parting her pussylips was just too much. She wanted all of him! And right now!

She sat down heavily, burying his throbbing prick deep in the clutching confines of her cunt. "Ooooohhhh… Jee-zuz, it feels good-d-d, baby!" Her eyes were clenched tight in the abandoned ecstasy of sensation. "Mmmmm… oohhh, I want it! I want it!"

Like a madwoman, she began to raise and lower her ass over the upthrusting scepter of his cock. Deep, deep into her hot pussy-hole went his penis. Then she raised herself back up until only the very tip was still enclosed in the warm velvety caress of pussy. Then down again. Up, down… up, down… her whole being was absorbed in the tantalizing pleasure-darts shooting this way and that through her trembling, near-naked body.

"Gawd, baby, that's the way! Move that sweet little ass of yours! Shit, Christ, it feels good!" Sam was in seventh heaven. Helen was outdoing every fantasy he had managed to conjure up this morning. His cock was pulsing like it was loaded with a million little beads of light, each one designed to give him a jolting charge of pleasure. Lifting him higher, higher.

He placed a hand on each hip and guided her frantic movements up and down over his erect instrument. He could feel his cock-tip gazing her cervix deep inside. He could feel her cunt-walls clutching him spasmodically, with a fierce reluctance to let go once they had him in their grip.

Helen banged her cunt down harder and harder against Sam's pubic bone. Hot charges of feeling coursed throughout her being on every down-blow.

"Gawd-d-d, oh Gawd, I'm cumming-g-g!" she moaned at last. She rammed her cunt down hard against him, his cock buried far inside her, and she let it ride through her. Her body shook with the intensity of her release.

Sam felt a warm glow of satisfaction. A sexy woman, his wife. Uninhibited. It was nothing for her to climb on top of him and seek her pleasure however she could get it. His cock grew even bigger inside her as he thought about how much he wanted to fill her full of steaming, roiling cum.

Before the powerfully built man knew what was happening, his wife had risen from his lap and was rushing to the oven.

"Oh my Gawd! The cake!" She pulled open the oven door and pulled out a well-risen, black-topped panful of something apparently intended as a cake. "Oh, rats! Damn it! How could I have been so dumb?"

"How soon these shallow cunts forget! Looks like some reminding is in order." Sam walked up behind his wife and bent her forward over the counter. He took the swollen shaft of his cock and shoved it in between her ass-cheeks. She groaned low and long as it found and penetrated the wet hole of her pussy.

"Uuuuuuhhh, Sam… fuck me! Fuck me, darling!" Cake forgotten, Helen began to wriggle her ass back against her husband's loins. Endless moans escaped her lips, that trembled with her passion. Her red ponytail flailed back and forth as she climbed to abandoned peaks of erotic frenzy. She braced herself against the counter and shoved her ass back against Sam's every thrust.

"That's the way, baby! Move it!" Sam's cock swelled to even greater hardness at the sight of his wife's taut round ass squirming back against him.

She looked good, wearing nothing but her skimpy blouse, her body bent over for screwing in the middle of her neat and clean kitchen. With her burnt cake sitting atop the stove next to her. "Shit, woman… you turn me on!"

His thrusts became longer, deeper, more penetrating as his excitement grew. He threw back his head and closed his eyes. His whole universe centered for the moment on the elastic grip of his wife's cunt on his cock. On the warm wet cavern of her tender pussy. He could feel his balls swelling with their load. His passion was becoming urgent. He slammed his cock again and again and again, deep into her welcoming cunt.

"Oh God, yesssss…! Fuck me like that, Sam baby! It's good! It's so damned good!" Sensing that rising pitch of her husband's responses, Helen ground her hips more lasciviously back to meet his urgent thrusts. The kitchen echoed with the rhythmic slap of flesh on flesh, mixed with the slooshing slide of slick cock into wet pussy.

"Uuuuhhh… uuuhhhhhh, yesssss… make me cuuummmm, baby!"

"I'm working on it, Helen!" He held her hips in a vise-like grip and penetrated her flowing cunt again and again with his stiff rod. The sensations were becoming unbearable. He wasn't going to be able to hold on much longer. He reached under and began to tickle the hard nubbin of her clitoris. That was it for Helen.

She was gone!

"Aaaaiiiieeee! I'm cuming-g-g!" The jolts of pleasure coining from her clitoris coupled with the surging excitement in her pussy turned Helen into a feeble mass of gyrating ecstasy. She slammed her ass convulsively back against Sam's groin, urging him on to the climax.

Sam was her willing victim. He wanted to go where she was.

"Look out, baby! Here I cummm!" With a mighty lurch, he sent the hot wet juices of his fiery load deep into her thirsty womb. She clutched greedily at his deflating cock, milking it of every last drop of its sweet jism. Sam leaned heavily against Helen's back while she clung to the counter.

Slowly, gradually, they uncoupled, stood up. Helen threw her arms around her husband and gave him a long, languorous kiss. Her tongue investigated the moist confines of his mouth, dueled lewdly with his tongue, then drew back. "Thanks, baby, I needed that," she drawled. "Especially now that I have to make that damned cake all over again."

"Damn the cake, baby! I want you and me to go to bed with a shaker of martinis. I ain't done yet!"

Helen giggled. "You're a sex fiend arid I love you. In fact, as far as I can remember, that's why I married you!" She rumpled his dark curls playfully. "Okay baby, you mix the martinis and I'll mix the cake. We'll be wanting something sweet to eat when we come up for air."

"Right on, beautiful." Sam rubbed his hands together gleefully as he headed for the bar in the living room. Saturdays were such good days. It was easy to see this one was going to be no exception.

CHAPTER TWO

Emma Tate hated Monday mornings.

The only thing that made them bearable was a good fuck to start the day. Unfortunately, it wasn't that easy to pin her husband Harry down. Once he was out of bed, his mind started to click into gear for his day's work at the lab. It was hard enough to get him to state a preference for his eggs, let alone to get him interested in the differences between boys and girls.

Emma stood by the kitchen table, in her filmiest of filmy negligees. She could hear Harry rummaging around in his study. "Harry, darling your eggs are ready!" She looked anxiously at the clock. Harry still had an hour before he had to be at the lab. And it was only a twenty-minute drive. She figured there was still enough time for his breakfast and a quickie.

Her optimism flagged as Harry wandered into the kitchen with a wad of papers in his hands, rummaging through them like a proverbial absent-minded professor. "If only I could discover the link between them… It should be very simple."

"Good morning, Harry dear." Harry had been in the bathroom when Emma awoke. This was the first time she had seen him this morning. He found his seat at the kitchen table by careful investigation by feet and ass, and slowly sat down. He held up his cheek absently for Emma's good-morning kiss.

"Don't get your papers in the egg yolks, Harry." She watched dismally as he began to eat. One hand on his fork, one on his papers. Both eyes totally captivated by scientific formulas. Emma could have been wearing a paper bag and a horse collar. The effect on her husband would have been equally as dramatic.

"Could I have some coffee, dear?" At last, he had spoken to her. Emma sensed the absurdity of being elated by this minor victory. She looked critically at her husband as he ate and drank and read. He was a good-looking man. His smooth regular features and his neat, closely trimmed beard and mustache made him look very mature and very wise. Emma felt a renewed surge of desire for him as she recalled how his skin smelled very close up, how his beard grazed softly against her cheek. He had such a wonderfully soft beard!

She checked herself as her pussy began to flare hotly. May as well forget it this time around, she told herself. There'll be no rousing Einstein this morning.

Emma and Harry had been married for three years. They had met when she was an undergraduate and he on the last legs of his climb to a Ph.D.. She had been very impressed. She had thought Harry knew everything. And about physics, he probably did know close to everything. His teachers conceded he was a genius.

Where Emma had made her mistake, she realized now, was in thinking Harry knew everything about everything. He did not. One thing he knew practically nothing about was women.

They fucked when he felt like fucking. They did not communicate about sex. He never took the trouble to find out what her real needs and desires were. He assumed he had a perfectly satisfied wife. He liked to assume that. That freed him to think about physics eighteen hours out of the day. The other six hours, he slept.

Emma knew she was bored. She felt guilty about being bored. Harry was a good kind man. He deserved all the love she could give him. And she did love him. But she wanted more out of life than a permanent post as the guardian and watchdog of a professional thinking machine.

She was a woman, with real live hopes and dreams and desires. And needs. Needs that were not being fulfilled.

Once again her thoughts strayed back to her hot aching cunt. If only Harry could get his nose out of his papers long enough to fuck her for just a few minutes.

It wasn't that they didn't fuck often. They did. But it was beginning to seem dull and repetitive to Emma. She didn't know it it was natural to feel the way she did, but she wanted sex to be more adventurous than a hurried, furious coupling before sleep each night. At times she felt more like a fixture in somebody's wet dream than a wife.

"More coffee, Harry?" she asked dully, holding the coffee pot poised over her mate's cup.

"What… huh…? Oh, no thanks, honey. I've got to be going. I've got an important meeting this morning. I want to be there early. I've got some things I want to talk over with Jackson before we start."

"Good… well, you'd better be going, Harry. You don't have much time." Emma wanted him gone now. She needed some time alone, to think things out, maybe to get rid of this awful nagging ache down in her pussy.

"Okay… I'll see you later, honey." He was still leafing through his papers as he left the house, briefcase and raincoat tucked precariously under one arm.

When Emma was alone, she automatically headed back to the bedroom. She felt she had some unfinished business in there. She pulled open the doors of her closet and looked at herself in the mirror hanging on one side.

There she was. A full-blown woman, just ever so slightly on the plump side. Her tits were full and firm. Her waist tucked in provocatively between breasts and hips. Her legs were long and strong. Her light brown hair fell softly around her pouting, sensuous-looking face. Tall and strong, she looked like a statuesque Scandinavian princess.

"I am sexy," she told her mirror emphatically. "How could he possibly be alone with me and not notice me once all morning?" Her nipples and dark cunt-hair were like lures beneath the filmy material of her negligee. She parted the folds and admired her naked chest and belly. She watched, fascinated, as her hand trailed down over her firm stomach and burrowed into her thick thatch of cunt-hair. The fingers made almost immediate contact with the hidden nub of her clitoris. The effect was electric. The little gland stood up in eager erection.

"Mmmmmm!" She watched her blue eyes become hazy, watched her lower lip fell open slackly. Her face, naturally sensuous, became a molten landscape of naked desire. She was hot!

Her pussy palpitating with need, the shy Emma began to sort through ideas for giving her body the satisfaction it craved. It would not be enough for her to just masturbate. She wanted to let her frustrated sexuality come out. She wanted to be wanton.

She went into the bathroom and pulled out her makeup pouch. She almost never wore makeup. Amongst the wives at the lab, it was fashionable to sport the natural look. To let the wrinkles and lines sprout where they may. Emma kept the makeup for very special occasions – for the times when she was alone and she wanted to feel very sexy.