Suzanne Mellows

The neighbor_s pet

CHAPTER ONE

A descriptive paragraph she had typed onto final draft the day before from her husband's current masterpiece raced sensually through Beth Ann Durke's young mind as she watched her handsome neighbor leave his expensive home across Tasman Drive and walk with a smooth, athletic grace toward his three-car garage. Mmmm, he did! He literally radiated virility! What had Jay entitled the book? HER LUSTY NEIGHBOR? Yes, that was it… and very fitting, or so it would seem. She remembered the exact passage:

He was tall, broad-shouldered and handsome, the possessor of a wealthy crop of black hair which was worn in fashionable masculine shagginess to the nape of his neck. Only slight tinges of grey brushed his temples; flecks of a similar color floated about in his lecherous dark eyes. Neighborhood wives, the promiscuous young girls who worked for him, in fact, women in general who happened to lay eye on him, couldn't help but secretly ask themselves the same erotic question. With such a handsome face and built, could he possibly be as good in bed as he physically suggested? In fact, just how big and enduring was it… that unknown quantity he had to be superbly endowed with?

Yes, the intrigued, blonde wife lustfully imagined as she stood behind the front room drapes admiring Stan Wilson, he just had to be masterfully blessed with a large penis. She watched him back the black Continental from the garage, then saw his vivacious Sara come running from the house in a smart looking wrapper and matching gold slippers to bestow a day-lasting kiss on him through the lowered car window. With what Beth had come to regard as almost a neighborhood tradition, Sara Wilson carried on a simpering flourish of bye-byes and dainty swipes at her long, coal-black hair, then demurely clutched at the expanded bosom of her attractive robe until he was into the street and gone.

Undoubtedly, she'd bought the morning wrap in Los Angeles, Beth reasoned with envy. Certainly, there wasn't anything that chic in San Arbella, to say nothing of the Edgemont Heights shopping center! She tasted from her cup, letting her thoughts return to the male reason for her secret excitement as she moved from the window toward the kitchen. Again, she glanced down at the provocative ensemble she'd chosen for her intended role of seduction, trying to recall the reflection that her vanity mirror had offered.

It was her favorite outfit, but she was growing tired of it. Still, she was satisfied that it showed her legs and ripely curved body off best, and that was the delight of finely knitted material. Black always did things for her anyway – like most blondes who wore their long hair in a straight, below-the-shoulder fall of casualness and the skirt was more than just a little bit mini. Turtle necked and clinging, the combination not only displayed a racy eyeful of thigh, but made it possible for her to go without a brassiere and yet not appear chippyish. Fortunately, she still had the firm uplift of full rounded breasts to carry off the braless fad with a proud "in" look, though she couldn't remember when she'd last discarded the snugly reassuring garment before that morning. Nor for that matter, she mused, a chill of lewd incitement prickling up her back, could she ever remember wearing a sexy garter-belt and high-thighed hose with a mini, either; but she was that morning, and with the sheerest wisp of black nylon panties she owned shading her most intimate parts!

The rackety-tat-tat of Jay's prolific typewriter coming from his study only helped to underscore her lurid intentions. Even if she didn't need shoes, her naughty little scheme would have taken her into Stan Wilson's "Footwear For The Family" store to try on a new pair, and Jay's erotic writings were responsible. She'd certainly been conscious of their handsome neighbor's existence before her husband had chosen him as a model for his lead character, but it was the satyric lustiness that Jay had fleshed him with that had set the fire warmly glowing inside her loins. Silly though it was, Stan Wilson and Vic Slade of THE LUSTY NEIGHBOR had become one and the same person for her, while she saw herself as Della Stewart, the novel's sensuous and sexually frustrated young wife. As for Sara, Beth could hardly see her in the role of Maggie Slade, the bi-swinging temptress; she was too petite and prissily shy, as if she wouldn't speak at the table if she had a mouthful. But perhaps Jay was right when he insisted that those were the kind who came on like a prairie-fire in bed. She, herself, wouldn't know, though she couldn't help but wonder what Jay would ever do with such a wanton ball of flame if given the opportunity. In the fifteen months of their marriage he'd never once taken her all the way, and damnit, she wasn't that under-sexed, nor given to just lying there waiting for ecstasy to sweep her away…

Oh well, to hell with it! The die had already been cast as far as she was concerned! If there were any regrets, providing her seductive little trap worked, they certainly wouldn't be on her part, the young blonde wife determined, a risque thrill of arousal edging her nerves. She set her empty cup onto the kitchen table, tracing her lush, white-glossed lips with a skilled little finger. For a moment, she listened to the rhythmic typing clatter of her egotistical, near middle-aged husband, the infuriating knowledge that he had unwittingly ensnared her with believable spoofs of security when she was on the rebound of a heartbreaking romance, adding to her fervid sense of non-guilt.

Love him? Yes, oddly enough, she knew that she did in some ridiculous sort of way. But what she had in mind, what had begun as a mere caprice and continued to ferment ever since she'd begun to re-type her spouse's pornographic manuscripts was far removed from that vein of affection. In the beginning, she'd had hope for their marriage, but the sexual frustrations had quickly drained the sap from it, leaving some sort of sterile bond she compared to the feeling she'd had for the uncle and aunt who'd raised her.

Jay Robert Durke was a big man, bearded of late, robust and a shade less than achieving complete failure when she'd met him. Generally, she thought of him as an overgrown child, awesomely equipped genitally, but God knows, heartbreakingly inadequate with all of his blessing. She'd actually met him in the office where she'd clerked and he'd been a once a month calling salesman. Her lover and future husband, who had been winding up his last year at law school, had done the sonofabitch thing… met and married another woman two weeks before!

She'd lived and breathed agony, probably two steps away from shoving her head into the gas oven of her apartment! Jay Durke, drunken lingerie traveler and an unknown week away from being fired, had been a desperately needed pillar to cling to. She had let him sleep with her the very first night and damned near laughed in his face in both mental and sensual chaos at his inexperienced love-making. Still, she'd had hopes, and he did mean security, so she had blindly married him that very week-end in Chicago and climbed aboard a 707 with everything she owned stored in the cargo below.

The dawning had come slowly. He'd found them a rundown apartment in San Arbella, and that's where they had stayed until he started making money and they'd moved to this rented luxury home across the street from the wealthy Stan Wilson. Though they had never completely run out of money, her meatloaf had begun to taste like salted glue before he'd made his connection with "Mr. Ace", proving that he could write, as he'd invariably insisted. From the beginning, after his continual bed fiascoes and the sickening realization that his offered security was little more than sand-castles he, himself, believed, Beth had sneaked off to bed at night when she could, while he worked into the wee hours. In the daytime, he faithfully chased down the "Help Wanted" ads, but their romance which had never existed from the onset as far as she'd been concerned, was rapidly destroying her. She'd been closer to leaving him than she had shoving her head in the oven back in Chicago! Then, he'd sold his first porno book!

All of those grueling midnight hours he'd spent had suddenly taken on meaning for her, but nothing in comparison to the sight of his first check! She'd sat there staring at it in an almost greedily wicked passion, the full meaning of her tearful happiness leading to the utter fizzle that erotic night of love-making should have been. God! she'd inwardly groaned in despair, how long was a girl expected to indulge her natural need with the caresses of her own finger?

Indefinitely, she'd finally concluded, while reveling in the extravagances the self-glorious man showered on her! But as the weeks passed the feeling of security became matter-of-fact, and his impractical spending less consoling. By the time they'd settled on Tasman Drive, Beth knew she had to do something, or hopelessly lose her mind! She was twenty-six years old and he damned near twice that, not an intolerable age difference had they been compatible in bed. But instead, he was destroying the most intimate of her possessions… her sensuality! It was sometime during that period of desperation that she'd offered to do his final typing in one last effort to drown her frustration in his work, and try to save their marriage.

"Hey… this is pretty raw stuff for you, baby," Jay had replied to her offer, a big grin broadening his reddish, hairy face. "Maybe you should read a book or two, first…"

"Oh… come on, Daddy. I'm twenty-six remember? Your little Beth knows all the nasties…"

Oh, but had she been wrong! The vintage of her erotica, she'd quickly discovered, was early teenage… schoolgirl… and at that, a dozen years behind the time! Jay's first two books had enlightened her there, and then some. Maybe he was no fireball in bed, but what he couldn't conceive of with the lust-inciting, written word, had sent her avidly pouring through his following novel, plus the two after that! Whewww! She'd always considered herself a normal, desirous female with basic tendencies, but her forty-six year old husband's pornographic tales had generated unknown fiery tingles of forbidden temptation inside her the likes of which she'd never even dreamed of! She'd even attempted to experiment with some of his wanton females' antics, taking them to bed with her to try on him, but for some reason she'd never, never understand, that had been futile too. He was a paper tiger!

His maddening pattern of inability, in fact, had grown even worse before her increasing, passionate hunger, until the reading and typing of his manuscripts had, like an aphrodisiac, brought her to this very morning! Frightened? Yes, she was that and then some, but just as determined, too…!

"Beth…? How about some hot coffee for your lover-man, baby?"

A grating twinge immediately gnawed at the sexily dressed young wife's belly at her trumpeting husband's summons. Lover-man, she repeated in mockery under her breath. He'd been that the night before, too! As usual, he'd driven her almost to the peak of the mountain, then left her there to get over the top by herself, or slide back down, whichever she preferred. He'd been too drunk to know how she'd managed it, but she had and by stealing a page from one of his salacious volumes, while he'd snored like a disgusting, satiated ox beside her… It was right then that she'd definitely made up her mind…!

"Beth?" he shouted again, louder this time.

"Yes… I heard you, Jay. It's coming," she returned, carefully keeping the irritation from her tone, and it wasn't too difficult. With the morning sunshine, she realized that she had again slept away the frustrated anger. That, along with the sensuous intentions she'd set her pruriently fevered mind to in luring her handsome neighbor into an affair, left small room for wasted resentment.

Still, she couldn't help but recall with little fiery ripples of lust how close Jay had come to doing it for her the night before! They both had plenty to drink, he, twice as much as she, of course, and that had been her fault. She'd fed them to him with purpose, operating on another theory which he repeatedly had used in his novels… the staying power of the well-liquored male. God, if there was any truth in it – she had excitedly thought as she skipped around in her see-through nightie to make him drinks before curling up beside him on the couch and letting him lustfully run his big, hot hands over her nearly naked, erogenous curves – he should wind up a human dynamo! She'd gotten him drunk, amazed as always by his alcoholic capacity, and just as astonished at his unbelievable recuperative ability, such as this very morning. She doubted if he even knew the meaning of the word "hangover".

He had been panting, animalish, and staggering when they'd made it to the bedroom for the final course. Smoldering, she'd whipped her nightie over her head, bouncing nakedly onto the bed into a lewd, thigh-spread position like a child playing "statue", except she'd been a very hot young wife with no intentions of taking an immobile part in the game! "Christ, baby, you're a voluptuous doll to look at!" he'd thick-tongued in a hoarse voice, pulling at his clothes while she laid there watching him.

Sure, he was getting soft with age and noticeably paunchy with an overhang of spare-tire around the middle, but the long, thick hardness of his lust-swollen penis standing out from his strong, hairy loins immediately dwarfed all else. Trembling sensations of shameless desire had shivered over her exciting nakedness, her craving eyes riveted on his large, sperm-bloated testicles heavily swaying between his legs. God, how desperately she had hoped…!

Suddenly, he'd been on top of her, kissing her with drunken passion, nibbling at the hardened pink nipples of her swollen breasts, running his big, searing hands over her wetly throbbing pussy, while his cock throbbed against the sensitive flesh of her thigh. He'd muttered and panted to her sensual writhings beneath him, choking out obscene, stimulating words and phrases of love that had fervidly goaded her to a point of whorish lust. God, she'd suck him if he'd let her! But no… no, not first! He had to… had to make her cum at least once before anything else, and she wanted to do nothing that might destroy that possibility!

He drunkenly crawled between her eagerly trembling thighs which she'd anxiously spread wide for him. "I'm going to fuck you right out of your mind, lady!" he'd lewdly promised, using the four-letter tools of his trade that she wanted to hear. Their graphic sounds fired her with wild chills of intensive passion. "Put it in, baby! Stuff it in your hot little cunt-hole!"

She'd been that certain of the "at last" moment when she'd reached down and grasped the heated length of his solid, thick cock to splay open the moistened lips of her hungrily throbbing vagina, placing its fleshy head at the mouth of her cunt. Impatiently, she'd spread her legs even further as she raised her steaming loins up to him, confident that this time his fantastic spear of hardness was going to do it for her, and not caring how hard he plunged that first time!

He had! His huge, hotly throbbing cock had raced into the liquid reception of her wanting pussy-channel like a challenging knight with huge lance in jousting charge, filling the dilated core of her seething young body with an enchantment of fury. Yes… yes, this time! It would happen this time, she'd feverishly reasoned, straining beneath this powerful man, her husband, in sluttish abandon!

His raging cock had wildly pounded in and out of the tight, pink opening up between her legs, while he grunted and spewed deliciously foul words and phrases down at her, each and every one inciting her all the more.

"Oh, oh, Jay lover…! It's beautiful! Yessss! Fuck me out of my mind… like you promised!"

"Yehhhh… right out of your cunt-boggled mind, baby!" he'd gasped. "Your lover-man's layin' it in there, ain't he? Filling your hot belly with a yard of fat cock, eh eh?"

"Oooo yes, darling yesss! A-And I'm going… going to suck it for you… make it cum right in my mouth!" she'd obscenely hissed up at him, realizing now that her lewd promise had been her first mistake because he had gone out of his mind in excitement.

She'd felt the tremble of muscular tension ripple over his big heavy body above her. "Goddamn!" he'd blurted. "And… and you mean it, too, don't you, kitten! S-Suck me off…! Shit…! Get ready, honey, big daddy's gonna blow 'em! Oh Christ…"

And he had, his cock had raced into her frantically churning pussy and began to spew its life-draining, masculine semen into her. With bitter frustration, she'd dug her nails into his naked ribs, his arms, his shoulders!

"Oh no… nnooo, Jay, pleaseee?" she'd begged, even knowing it was useless as she thrust her wetly pulsating loins up at him to accept his warmth puddling into her belly.

Until finally, there'd been nothing but the rolling of his huge, passed-out frame off of her, the wild burning hunger aflame in her loins and belly nearly driving her to tears! She wasn't about to try and haul him up onto the pillow; in fact, he could have died right there and she would have probably celebrated! The bastard! The drunken, selfish bastard! Oohhhh… and she'd been so hot… hooottt!

She'd remembered, then, his very own words from the written page luridly streaming through her mind! The identical situation… and without hesitation, she'd sat up, taken Jay's limp hand to place his thick fingers the way she wanted them, and then wormed two of them up into her hotly seething vagina. She locked her naked thighs to hold his fingers in place while she obscenely squirmed and writhed her naked loins onto their semi-limpness, at the same time fingering her tiny, sensitively erect clitoris. In the interim of building climax, she'd lustfully fondled his long flaccid cock and played with his emptied balls, but all of it together as she remembered it now, had hardly been a night of love… anything but the erotic scene she'd enthusiastically imagined…!

"Beth, what about that coffee?"

"Coming… right now," she called back, satisfied that all was on the tray she carried, except her own cup. This, he noticed immediately when she set it on his desk.

"You're not having any, baby?" he questioned, looking up at her with those watery gray eyes that too much Scotch had tattooed with a crimson fringe. He smiled in part, his teeth and lips showing with contrasting white and red through the mow of graying whiskers covering his broad face. Shades of the poor-man's Hemingway, she derisively thought.

"No. I'm going down to the center to do some shopping," she casually replied, examining with feigned interest the work he had ready for her.

"Say… you look sharp, doll… real sexy!" he said, swiveling his chair around to better ogle her. "Now that's my gal! Look at those gams! Christ!"

She smiled to his compliment. "Is there anything you'd like before I leave?"

"Hmmmm, maybe… A fifteen minute taste of you might fire the day's production to no Goddamned end!"

The urge to ask him what he intended to do with the last ten of them, Beth forced herself to put to one side. Instead, she poured his coffee, adding two lumps of sugar. Some fresh air… that's what she needed… amongst other things…

"Where the hell did you get that outfit? I never saw it before, did I?"

She swallowed. Mustn't screw up. "Not since last Thursday or so," she replied, portraying the wifely expression of pleasure at his noticing her. "I bought it the week before I met you."

"Yeah…?" He shook his big head in amazement. "That's a real mini, all right. But you can wear 'em, baby! Come here and give your lover-man a little kiss."

Beth did, smiling. As raucous, lewd, drunken, and self-inflated as he was, there was something about him that could trigger her! Maybe it was his beard, soft and fuzzy when it tickled her cheeks. How would she react to it taunting her inner thighs, like Myra in THE SATANIC MONK…?

"Mmmmmm, honey-dipped lips," he sighed, reaching around to smooth his big hand over the rounded swell of her buttocks.

"Down, rover," Beth gently countered, backing out of his reach, knowing his next move was to ease up in under her tiny skirt, and she certainly didn't want him to learn what she wasn't wearing there! "Can I get you anything before I go?"

He slurped at his coffee, setting the cup down with a clatter of cheap earthen-ware. "As a matter of fact, I think I'll go with you, doll. I need a hair-trim and I can get that while you're doing your thing. What're you shopping for, anyway?"

Beth tensed as she reached down for one of his cigarettes, anger needling her. He sat watching and waiting, making no effort to offer her a light. She scooped up his desk lighter and did it herself, irately wondering what the hell it was that kept her from climbing onto a bus for Chicago!

"Groceries and shoes," she snapped with an exhale of smoke, struggling to keep the ire from her voice. "I-I need a pair… or else a bale of cardboard to slip into those I'm wearing!" she uncontrollably added.

Though she wasn't looking directly at him, his curvaceous long-haired young wife saw his face squinch into a hurt grimace. She walked around his desk toward the window, keeping her back to him, immediately sorry she had said it. Damn, it was those pained expressions he could get in his pitiable eyes which made her melt inside.

"Hey, honey… what's this bit? Y-You know you can have anything you want, don't you? We've got it now… money in the bank… whatever you need to make you happy. Come on, don't twist Daddy's testes like that? Just name it, doll, and it's yours!"

"A-All I want is a pair of shoes, Jay… and I'm not even sure I can find them in the center," she calmly managed, gazing idly through the window as she smoked. "I-I thought I'd stop in at Stan Wilson's…"

"Okay, let's give it a shot, hon! I could use a pair of kicks, myself!" He bounded up from his chair. "This little gem can spare me the morning. Come on, baby! Lover-man's going to take you shopping! Goddamnit, you're going to have all the shoes you can carry home…!"

CHAPTER TWO

Beth couldn't remember when she'd been more uptight, unless it was at her junior prom when her aunt had been chaperone-in-charge, and she'd dated a senior with a reputation of being the coolest, swingingest guy in school! He'd had to drive her home in his father's car with her aunt in the back seat, and the entire way Beth had breathlessly tried to restrain his hot, young hand secretly smoothing up and down her trembling inner thigh for fear Aunt Zelda would get wise and lay an egg right there! And that had been that! He'd never asked her out again! Somehow, this seemed like a repeat performance of that disastrous night!

At the moment, her doting husband, in the most unconventional garb his blatant taste could imagine, was guiding her along the walkways of Edgemont Heights shopping center. Not that there were any fashion-plates in the area, and not that she gave a damn what other people thought, but a pith-helmet, shooting jacket, and bedroom slippers…? And worse, he was sure as the devil about to louse up her vampish little scheme! He had all intentions of accompanying her into Stan Wilson's store and trying on shoes, boots, whatever it was, dumping his big frame right in the seat beside her, and how could she do one damned thing?

Blast it! If only there was some other way of getting to know their neighbors better… at a party, perhaps… She felt certain she could manage it all nicely from there. Last Sunday, in her white, skin-tight shorts and a tiny halter, she'd purposely gone out to putter around the yard, work which she wouldn't even consider if Sara Wilson hadn't set the pace, and knowing that Jay ogled the vivacious brunette in her usual bikini as if she were an exotic dancer. At first, Beth hadn't been sure the handsome Mr. Wilson was seeing her out there doing her exaggerated stoopings and squattings, antics that bordered on the obscene, but she had finally glanced up to catch him watching her from a bedroom window. He'd smiled and waved, and for two days she'd lived on that…

"Here we are, baby," Jay gratingly crunched her thoughts, leading her into Wilson's Shoe Salon. "Have at it, hon! Just turn yourself loose. Your lover-man feels like indulging you!"

Beth moved away from him, tripping silently along the strip of carpeting in front of the empty chairs. Indulging you, she inwardly repeated, incensed. More of his jargon shit! Damn, she could throttle him for tagging along with her! She casually looked around, working to keep her rage from showing. At least, the store was empty of customers… clerks too, for that matter. And that pleased her. She'd planned to ask for Mr. Wilson anyway; that is, before her lover-man decided to escort her…

Her blood-pressure quickened when with a handsome smile, the thirtyish, tall and broad shouldered Wilson himself appeared from the back room. Little twinges of lurid excitement immediately stirred in the depths of her belly at the way he carried himself; but there was something else in her belly – an apprehensive knot forming there too. God… she could never go through with it, even if Jay wasn't with her! Imagining such lurid scenes was one thing, but when it came right down to the nitty-gritty…?

"Well, hello neighbors! Nice to see you! Won't you have a seat and let's see if we can help you?" Stan Wilson suavely beamed, dollar-bill signs almost clicking in his eyeballs, Beth thought, but she hardly cared. Lord, he was handsome! "Who can we make happy?"

"The little wife, Stan," she heard her boisterous husband say, using their neighbor's first name as if they'd known him for years, and adding a gruff little laugh. "Poor kid needs some foot-wear… and why not, on the end of those legs, eh?"

Beth cringed with embarrassment as Stan drew up his stool, still smiling toward her husband, an obvious starchiness in the expression. Oh, why didn't that asshole keep his big, blowhard mouth shut? She crossed her legs, presenting her right foot.

"What did you have in mind, milady?" her gentlemanly neighbor softly questioned, gazing up at her with deep, dark eyes, the trace of a smile flickering about his attractive mouth, as with seemingly super-sensitive hands, he removed her shoe.

"Oh… something in a sandal, maybe. Black and with platform heel… though I'm not sure," she quickly added, reluctant to discard her original baiting temptation, and the longer she sat there trying on shoes, perhaps…

"Aahh… we have a sharp new sandal that's all the rage this season, Mrs. Durke," he said, agilely swinging up and away.

"Come on now, Stan, you guys should call us by first name, seeing we're neighbors, right?" Jay mouthed after him. "She's Beth and I'm Jay. You're Stan and your wife's name's Sara, isn't it?"

"Yes… that's right. Sara and Stan."

"So…? Seeing we live right across the street from each other, let's get better acquainted?" the nearly exasperated young wife's middle-aged husband continued, winking at her. "First names from now on, right?"

"Why not?" Stan Wilson coolly answered, pulling boxes from tiers.

"You're a shop keeper and I'm an author," Jay said, his choice of titles mortifying Beth. "… Or maybe you didn't know that," her husband grinningly went on as their neighbor returned to seat himself on the stool. "Did you?"

"I… ah… never gave it much thought, to tell you the truth," the wavy haired, handsome man almost icily replied, taking the shoe from its box.

"I understand. You got your daily grind… not much time to think about what other people do. I know what it is. I was in the old selling game myself for awhile… grueling contest. But those days are gone, now… just the creative art when the spirit moves me. Beth, here, does all my final work for me, when I'm not chasing her around the desk… if you get what I mean, Stan…"

She wanted to kill him right there! Dumping a shovelful of white-hot coals into his lying mouth would have served the purpose, Beth thought, utter rage shamefully scathing her insides. Goddamn him, she tremblingly seethed, intentionally uncrossing her nylon-sheathed legs to let their neighbor fit her foot into the shoe!

"H-How… How's that feel?" the dark-eyed shoe salesman stammered, letting her know that he'd caught his first glimpse of what she'd originally come prepared to show him.

"Hmmmmm…" She gained her feet, taking several observing steps on the carpet. They were absolutely ugly! But that had nothing to do with it. He'd looked right up between her legs for a brief moment, and she well knew what he could see through the snug fit of those sheer, nylon panties! Her pubic curls… the very crevice of her pink-fleshed pussy, itself…! "No… no, I don't think so. These aren't what I had in mind…"

"We have many more sandals, Mrs. – Beth," he lumpishly got out, his beautiful Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. "S-Shall we try on a few?"

"Sure, give 'em all the once over, baby," Jay butted in. "Hell, might better throw our business to old Stan here, than take it to L.A., right?" He leaned back, lighting a cigar. "Fella's got to sweat today to make it, eh Stan?"

Ignoring her coarse husband, Wilson said in a tone that trembled enough for her to feel its sensuous vibrations: "Let's try this one, Beth…?"

The alluringly dressed young wife tossed her long blonde hair in a characteristic gesture, then swept it back over her shoulders. The act, she was well aware, had made her braless, ripely full breasts ripple in provocative freedom. She was hardly conscious of her husband's presence, and could barely contain the smile she felt tugging at her wetly parted lips at her handsome neighbor's visible uneasiness. It registered that he must enjoy many sensual panoramas from his strategic position, and she was suddenly determined that none would be more equal to the bird's-eye view than that she would shortly offer him!

At the moment, while his perceptive hands were skillfully removing and replacing the shoe, her eyes were drawn to the short, black masculine hair lightly enshadowing their backs, a sensory shiver dancing up her spine. She leaned forward then, supposedly observing the sandal, coyly spreading her thighs, but not without a certain gracefulness.