Member Article:I Teach Oral to neighbor Post Your Comment

rm_saleem22003 55 C
67  Articles
Don't like So so Good Very Good Excellent

What do you think?

 

I Teach Oral to neighbor

12/4/2004

Neighbors. Everyone has them. Sometimes they get along
with them, sometimes they don't. My wife and I are fairly
lucky. We live in a suburban neighborhood full of tract
houses. Front and back, our house contacts four others;
our two next-door neighbors and two that adjoin our backyard.
We've never had any major problems with any of them
but our relationships with each vary. On the right rear
we don't know the people. On the right, next door, we're
cordial with them, never socializing or anything else.
On the left, next door, they are very good friends of ours.
We socialize with them frequently and they are among our
closest acquaintances. And then there are the left rear
people. They're different without a doubt and neither
my wife nor myself cares too much for them. Their names are
Maggie and Jonathan. Jonathan sells real estate for a living.
Maggie is mostly a housewife but she works part time as a
receptionist at some insurance company. They have a son
named Joseph who is the same age as my oldest daughter; seven.
Maggie and Joseph are born-again Christians with all of
the zeal that goes along with that particular breed. Now
I have no problem with religion. I don't believe in
organized religion myself; I think it's so obviously
a form of mass behavioral control that it sometimes surprises
me that so many people fall for it, but I've always been
a firm believer in live and let live. I have my own views on
God and morality and for the most part I like to think I'm
a good person. I rarely lie, I don't steal or kill, and
I do my best to think of others than myself in my actions.
I'm proud of the fact that I do this voluntarily, without
the threat of eternal damnation if I don't. I don't
know or profess to know what happens after we die, figuring
I'll find out eventually anyway. Maggie and Jonathan
have both professed to me that if I don't believe in
Jesus Christ as the Savior that I will burn in hell after
death for this. "Even though I'm a nice, moral
person?" I ask them on the many occasions that they'd
discussed this with me. "Even though I live my life
pretty much according to the Bible's standards of
saintly behavior? Even with all of that, I'll be cast
into hell simply because I don't believe in J.C.?"
"Exactly." They would reply, and then usually
admonish me for referring to The Lord as 'J.C.".
"I simply cannot accept that as the workings of a so-called
kind and rational God." I would tell them. "It's
completely without logic. By your own argument, Hitler,
if he believed in Christ, is up there in Paradise right now
while all of those six million Jews he killed, no matter
how moral they were, are burning in hell." "That's
correct." They would say, pleased that they'd
made their point so nicely, completely unaware of the madness
of what they were saying. That's the problem with devout
believers in the bible. You simply can't argue with
them. It's frustrating beyond belief trying to argue
a point with someone who does not find it necessary to incorporate
logic and common sense into their arguments. Religion
is one of those subjects I do not like to debate. You will
never change anyone's mind about it. There are others
of course. Gun control, abortion, republican vs. democrat.
I stay away from those subjects whenever possible but when
someone like Maggie or Jonathan insists upon bringing
them up, I have my ammunition always ready (and interestingly
enough, Maggie and Joseph disagree with me on ALL of the
previous examples). Now their born-again zeal is annoying
but that is not the main reason that I don't care too
much for them. The main reason is their hypocrisy. I respect
people who believe in what they preach and practice it.
One of my co-workers is a Roman Catholic. Though that seems
to me to be one of the more bizarre manifestations of religion,
he follows it to the letter. He is moral to the point of sainthood.
He follows every directive that the Pope hands down. He
does not practice any form of birth control and as a result
has fathered six children to this point. He does not believe
in public schools so his wife home- schools all of his children.
I've met these children and they are intelligent,
thoughtful kids that any parent would be proud to have.
He lives his life according to the rules set down in the bible
and he is one of the nicest, most honest, decent people I've
ever met in my entire life. He does not impose his views upon
others unless he is asked to and he does not come across as
if he and his family are better than others because of their
beliefs. Maggie and Jonathan however, are not like this.
They preach to you one minute, telling you you're a
sinner, inviting you to bible studies, and try to stab you
in the back the next. Jonathan has more than once tried to
get me involved in shady real estate deals. Maggie has tried
to bully my wife into hosting one of those pampered chef
parties, one of those deals where the distributor, Maggie,
is the one to make all of the money while the host does all
of the work and has her house get trashed. Both of them have
lied and smooth-talked while trying to convince us to join
in these ventures. Maggie has tried to sell us household
items like curtains, throw rugs, or furniture for outrageously
inflated prices. When we've been strapped for a babysitter
on occasion and forced to call on Maggie, she actually charged
us for watching our two girls, despite the fact that we've
watched her kid multiple times for longer periods for free.
The best example of their legacy is their child, Joseph.
He goes to school with my two daughters and often talks to
them through the fence when they're playing outside.
Sometimes he comes over to our house to play (often these
are actually babysitting episodes, his mother will sometimes
ask if he can come over to play and then take off to run some
errands). He is the most spoiled brat I've ever encountered
in my life. My children are well behaved if I do say so myself.
My wife and I are strict but fair with them. If we tell our
kids not to do something, they damn sure don't do it.
Joseph however, will listen to you explain the rules and
then break them two minutes later when your back is turned.
He is a manipulator, talking my kids constantly into doing
things they shouldn't be doing ('your daddy won't
mind if you turn on the hose and squirt you mommy's flowers'.
Maggie and Jonathan do not discipline him at all. They'll
threaten him with punishment for doing something anti-social
but they never follow through with what they threaten.
Joseph, I imagine, picked up on this long ago. Carla and
I long ago decided to keep our contact with this family to
a minimum. For the most part we're successful. But
then came the attack of the dreaded stomach flu. When you
have kids that go to public school they pick up all kinds
of weird viruses and bring them home with them. The stomach
flu is perhaps the worst of this variety. As fate would have
it, it was during my shift of childcare that it struck my
two girls with a vengeance. My wife is a nine to fiver, Monday
through Friday as an accountant at the local television
station. I am not a nine to fiver. I work at the same television
station in the news department (at work is where we'd
initially met each other). I am nothing so glamorous as
a reporter or an anchorman. I'm a computer technician
and an expert on graphics. When you watch the news and see
all of those weather satellite pictures, captions beneath
newsclips, maps, or cute little graphic pictures in the
background, you have someone like me to thank for them.
I work the weekend swing shift. My hours are Thursday through
Monday from 4:00 PM to 11:30, the hours that encompass the
afternoon and nightly news broadcasts. On most of my days
off I watch my two girls, getting them up in the morning,
feeding them their breakfasts and sending them off to school.
When they get home I feed them a snack and prepare dinner
for the family. On that particular Tuesday morning my wife
got ready for work while I fried up eggs for the girls, Megan
and Ashley. They seemed a little slow that morning, a little
lethargic, picking at their food instead of wolfing it
like they usually did. "Daddy." Ashley, the
younger child who was in kindergarten told me. "My
tummy doesn't feel good." "Mine either."
Megan agreed. Just as Carla, dressed in a smart business
outfit was preparing to kiss them goodbye, Megan hiccuped
and then vomited an incredible amount of stomach contents
all over her shirt and pants. Her face turned instantly
green as she struggled to rush to the bathroom and the toilet.
She spewed vomit out of her as she went. As if on cue, Ashley,
who was still sitting at the table, did the same, blemishing
her own favorite dress. She headed for the other bathroom,
leaving a similar trail behind her. I closed my eyes in resignation
as Carla fought to suppress a chuckle of amusement. "I
don't envy you today." She told me, grabbing
her purse and car keys and heading for the door after giving
me a quick kiss. I gave her a vaguely obscene curse as she
left. I'd been through this before and though it is
not pleasant, it's simply one of those things you have
to put up with as a parent. The kids knew WHERE they were supposed
to vomit but the problem was that they had a hard time reading
the warning signs that their bodies gave. The result was
soiled clothes and carpets. So far the sickness had been
routine. I wouldn't realize that a major problem was
developing in my household until later that day. I comforted
the kids and called them in sick from school. I changed their
clothes and threw the soiled ones in the laundry pile, which
was already quite high from yesterday's clothes.
They promptly barfed on their fresh clothes, adding them
to the laundry pile. They had diarrhea as well, soiling
several pairs of underwear. They threw up on their favorite
stuffed animals, causing them to be added to the laundry
pile. They went to bed to lie down and they vomited and/or
defecated on their linen, not just the bottom sheet mind
you, they managed to stain every piece of bedding in one
way or another. I replaced the linen and had the same thing
happen again. Again, this was all routine unpleasantness
until I decided to start washing some of the huge pile of
laundry. The first load went through the wash cycle without
any problem and I transferred it to the dryer. It was when
I went to pull this load out of the dryer an hour later that
I realized that fate was shitting on me. The laundry was
still soaking wet and cold. Some experimentation finally
showed me that the heating element in the dryer had picked
this particular, inconvenient time to go out on me. There
was no way to dry the clothes. A call to my friendly appliance
repairman revealed that I could not get the thing fixed
for two days. In the meantime I had at least four loads of
laundry to do, some of which was vital to the progression
of the household. I considered stringing a clothesline
out in the backyard but a quick glance at the weather told
me that this was impossible. A typical Seattle early spring
day was in progress. Grey clouds filled the sky and misty
moisture, not quite heavy enough to qualify as rain was
drifting down from them. Clothes hung outside would do
nothing but get wetter. I needed to borrow someone's
dryer in a bad way. I called our next door neighbors, Tim
and Lisa, but only got an answering machine. I called our
across-the-street neighbors, another couple we were
friendly with and got another answering machine. I called
Carla's mother who lived a few miles away, receiving
nothing but perpetual rings. Finally, out of desperation,
I called Maggie, who I was reasonably certain would be home,
though I figured she would want to charge me for the use of
her dryer. She picked up the phone on the second ring and
greeted me politely. I explained my problem to her and,
to my delight, she offered to come over and take my wet laundry
for no charge whatsoever. She showed up at the door a few
minutes later. I had heard from Tim and Lisa that Maggie
was pregnant but it was surprising to see her anyway. Maggie
is an attractive woman with a well-proportioned body and
large, firm breasts. She has dark blonde hair, always styled
smartly, and is fond of short skirts that show off her attractive
legs. She was wearing one of these skirts despite the weather
and her stomach bulged out considerably with her mid-term
pregnancy. Her breasts had also grown considerably too.
I remembered hearing from Lisa once that Maggie had been
"a little wild" before she'd found salvation
with Jonathan and The Lord. Looking at her pretty legs I
wondered just how wild she'd been. I thanked her gratefully
as I showed her into the house. She wobbled her stomach behind
me, looking at the pile of soiled laundry that sat before
the washing machine. "You're sure you don't
mind doing this for me?" I asked her as I handed over
a basket full of wet darks. "Not at all." She
smiled. "Is it the stomach flu? I heard that it's
going around the school. Do you need any more help?"
I was about to tell her that I didn't when Megan wandered
in to see who the visitor was. She was about to speak but her
face turned green again and fresh vomit sprayed out of her
mouth, splattering her pajamas and the carpet at her feet
before she rushed off to the bathroom. I lowered my head
once more, resigned to my fate, before looking at Maggie.
"I don't suppose." I asked, "That
you have any carpet cleaner? I used the last of mine about
three vomits ago." "Sure." She smiled,
eyeing the stain that Megan had left. "I'll bring
some right over." By the time she returned I had things
stable once again. The worst of the stain was removed, the
two girls were in their beds with their third set of linen
of the day, sleeping soundly, their faces feverish and
moist. I took the opportunity to crack open a bottle of beer
and sip it while watching the History Channel on television.
I invited Maggie in and she demonstrated her carpet cleaner
for me and then offered to sell me a year's supply of
it from the distributor she was associated with. I told
her that Carla handled all of those sorts of decisions and
that she would have to talk to her about that. Unfair to Carla
maybe, but then she didn't have to deal with the stomach
flu and the broken dryer at the same time. "Didn't
you just love the way it cleaned the carpet though?"
Maggie asked me. "Be sure to tell her how great of a
job it does." "I will." I promised absently,
although I hadn't noticed any difference in cleaning
ability from standard carpet cleaners. I waved to the couch.
"Would you like to sit down?" "Sure."
She smiled, waddling over to the couch and planting herself
there. I offered her something to drink and, although I
didn't have any caffeine-free diet cola on hand, she
settled for some herbal tea that Carla kept around. I served
her and that sat down in my chair across from her, sipping
at my beer, which went down my throat like the finest wine.
"It's really strange." Maggie told me,
eyeing my beer. "I haven't drank alcohol since
I found The Lord, but since I've been pregnant, I've
been craving the taste of it. The same thing happened with
Joseph." She shrugged. "I guess God is testing
me." I nodded, though I figured it was probably just
one of those bizarre cravings that pregnant women had.
Carla used to crave honeydew melons and Cornish game hens
when she was pregnant. She once ate three honeydews at a
sitting and then threw it all up twenty minutes later. The
alcohol thing interested me though. "You used to
drink?" I asked her. She nodded. "Oh yes, back
in high school and college, before I was saved, I used to
drink some." Her eyes glazed a little with nostalgia.
"I never really liked it that much, you understand,
but I drank a little." I could see in her eyes and hear
in the tone of her voice that she was lying. I got the impression
that she used to drink a lot and liked it immensely. I decided
to pursue this line of questioning and see where it led.
"Did you ever smoke pot?" I asked next. "Oh
no." She said, much too quickly. "I never touched
THAT at all." "What were you like?" I enquired.
"Before you found The Lord?" "I was a little
bit of a wretch." She said, taking her words directly
from 'Amazing Grace'. "I used to, you know,
have a lot of boyfriends and such. I used to go to parties
all of the time where everyone got drunk. But when I found
the Lord, He showed me the errors of my ways." So she
used to have a good time, I figured, but now she was repressing
it. It was a pity she was pregnant. Had she not been, I would
have offered to roll a joint from the supply of greenbud
I kept in the top shelf of the pantry and smoke it with her,
just to test her resistance to temptation. Oh well, maybe
some other time when she was not pregnant. "You ever
miss those days?" I asked her next. "Never."
She said, with conviction that was much too firm. "In
the Lord I've found the strength to live a moral and
decent life." "I see." I said. A minute
later she was offering to make us a set of curtains for our
dining room window. She could probably do it, she figured,
for less than two hundred dollars. Again I belayed that
decision to Carla, taking a perverse delight in doing so.
I knew of course that Carla was perfectly capable of making
new curtains with her own sewing machine for less than forty
bucks worth of material. She helped me throughout that
miserable day, bringing my fresh, folded laundry to me
and taking the wet loads back to her house. Together we finished
all of the loads that had accumulated. In between loads
she would sit and talk with me, drinking my wife's herbal
tea (I was tempted to offer to sell her a supply of it for an
inflated cost, but restrained myself) while I drank soda,
water, or beer. She discussed frequently her favorite
subject of conversation when talking to me, the personalities
of the newscasters I dealt with at work. She particularly
delighted in finding out that they were arrogant assholes,
which most of them are. She tried to sell me things about
ten times. She tried to invite me to bible studies or their
church about twenty. But also, she seemed to be flirting
with me in a friendly way, chatting in a way that she probably
hadn't done since she'd found The Lord. I admired
her looks and her body while we talked, entranced by her
legs. They were really very pretty, shapely and well muscled,
the edema of pregnancy only shaping them more alluringly.
Pregnant women had always turned me on. When it was time
for her to go pick up Joseph from school and start making
dinner for her family, she bade me farewell, reminding
me to talk to Carla about the curtains and the carpet cleaner
and all of the other things she tried to pawn off. I assured
her I would. She then offered to help me with the laundry
the next day if I required it. I gladly accepted for more
than one reason. Carla came home on schedule and helped
me the rest of the night. She sympathized with me about having
to put up, not only with stomach flu and a broken dryer, but
Maggie as well. When we got the girls put down we shared a
bottle of wine and then went to bed, stripping down and engaging
in a typical session of marriage sex. As I thrust into my
wife I found myself imagining that it was Maggie beneath
me, her swollen stomach pressing into mine. I enjoyed the
orgasm that this produced very much. The good thing about
the stomach flu is that it burns itself out very quickly.
The girls stained one more set of bedding and two sets of
pajamas but in the morning they were back to themselves,
wolfing their breakfasts down and chattering happily
to each other about how many times they'd puked the
day before. I deemed them well enough to go to school and,
once Carla left for work, drove them there and dropped them
off. I ran into Maggie there as she dropped Joseph off. "So
they're better huh?" She asked, smiling. "Much."
I told her. "Do you still need my help with laundry?"
"Please." I said. "It's not as much
as yesterday but I still have quite a pile." "What
time should I come over?" "Gimmee an hour to
clean up and get the first load done. Sound good?"
"It's a date." She grinned, heading for
her car, hands supporting her stomach. She came over to
pick up the first wet load precisely on time. She looked
very pretty I noticed, dressed in a pair of loose-fitting
bluejean overalls that bulged outward at the abdomen,
and a white sweater. Her hair was pulled back in it's
usual ponytail. I felt a strong tug of sexual attraction
for her as I stood aside to allow her entry into my home. She
carried off my load of laundry and, although there was no
reason for her to do so, she came back five minutes later
to sit with me. I made her some tea as I emptied the dishwasher
and then poured myself a cup of coffee and joined her in the
living room. As we chatted she became slightly flirty again
(in between trying to sell me things or save my soul that
is) and I realized that she was starved for conversation.
Bringing up the image of Jonathan in my mind, I didn't
find this very surprising. At one point I brought up her
son. "So how is Joseph going to react to having a new
baby in the house?" I asked her. "It'll
be quite a change for him." "Oh he's as excited
as the Jonathan and I." She answered automatically.
"He already loves the baby." I nodded though
I had my doubts. Joseph was a spoiled brat already and he'd
had his parents to himself for seven years. I didn't
think he was going to be too keen when he suddenly found his
parent's attention taken almost completely by a squalling
infant. I commented on how much time they'd chosen
between their two children. "We've wanted to
have another one for a long time." She said. "I
guess God finally decided to bless us again after all this
time." She paused, and then said something completely
out of character. "Or maybe Jonathan just finally
picked the right time to get his dickens up." While
I translated the archaic statement in my mind I saw her blushing
at what she'd said. She was talking about sex. Maggie!
I certainly wasn't going to let this door shut once
it had been opened. "Really?" I said, raising
my eyebrows. "Carla and I found that if we passed each
other in the hall at the right time she was pregnant. I guess
it just takes a little longer with some people. Did you have
to do the temperature thing and ovulation prediction and
all that?" "No." She said. "We just
let God's will take care of it." She soured. "Of
course God could've put Jonathan in the mood a little
more often and it might have saved a year or two." Again
she blushed, as if unable to believe that she'd said
that. "So Jonathan's not in the mood that often
huh?" Her face was now as red as a stop sign. "I
really shouldn't be talking about it." She said.
"It's not proper." I shrugged, but continued
to prod. "That's okay." I said. "But
we're friends and neighbors. I understand what it's
like. Carla's not always in the mood when I am, but that's
just men for you. I'm in the mood a lot." "Sometimes
I wish Jonathan would think like most men." She said.
"He a saintly man and I'll be at his side come the
rapture, but he always feels guilty about.... You know,
making love." "What's to feel guilty about?"
I enquired. "You're married. You're supposed
to make love. Often and well." "No, we, that
is Jonathan feels that making love is a necessary evil reserved
for procreation only." "You're kidding."
"Oh no." She said. "And I agree of course."
She sounded very unconvincing about this last statement.
"So since you found out you were pregnant, you haven't
had sex?" "No!" She seemed shocked. "You
and Carla didn't... you know, when she was pregnant
did you?" "Not much the first trimester."
I said honestly. "She was sick all the time. But during
the second and third trimesters, when those hormones kicked
in." I grinned lasciviously. "We were like
rabbits. Once a day at least. Hell, I had to turn it down a
lot just because I was so tired. Pregnancy is great."
She was someone taken aback by the bluntness of my words,
but I could see a twinkle in her eyes at the same time. "You
actually did it when she was showing?" "You
know it." I answered. "I think pregnant women
are sexy. When does a woman look more feminine after all?
We did it all the way up to less than a week before delivery,
both times." "Isn't that dangerous?"
She asked, wide-eyed. "Aside from the morality issue
that is?" I wasn't going to argue morality with
her but I answered her other question. "Not at all.
Her doctor said to go for broke until the cervix started
to dilate just before delivery. Even then there's
other ways to make love." "Other ways?"
She asked, incredulous at our paganhood, but fascinated
too, I could tell. "You know? Oral sex. We both love
to do that." "You two do THAT?" She asked.
"Sure." I said. "Don't you and Jonathan?
It's part of making love." "No!"
She said firmly. "It's a perversion. I don't
think we should talk about this any more." I shrugged
again. "To each their own I guess. It's hard to
believe you never go down on each other though. Not even
once?" "No!" I smiled, relishing how
shocked and self-righteous she was, also noting that she
was still in my house and not storming out the door in disgust.
"Well didn't you do that when you used to party?
Before you found The Lord?" She hesitated. "Welllll,
a few times. But I never liked it." "Which one?"
I asked. "Going down or being gone down upon?"
"I did them both. And I didn't like either one."
She said strongly. "Now let's change the subject
or I'm going to leave." v"Okay."
I said, folding. For the moment. It was Maggie that next
brought up the subject of sex. I knew I had her hooked then.
She had just carried over a folded set of laundry, taken
another load to her dryer, and once again had come back to
my house without any real reason to do so. After I'd
put away the last of what she'd brought, we sat down
to another cup of tea. "So how often do you and Carla,
you know, do that that we were talking about?" She
asked timidly, a fresh flush on her face. "You mean
go down on each other?" I asked, pulling no punches.
She nodded quietly, her eyes sparkling again, betraying
her. "Quite a bit." I said. "We really
do like to do that. She doesn't do it to me as often as
I do it to her. She maybe sucks me once a month or so but I eat
her damn near every time we have sex. I've gotten quite
good at it, if I do say so myself." "Every time?"
She asked, mouth agape. "Well, I don't do it when
she's on her period of course. I do have SOME limits
to what I'll do." "You have sex with her
when she's on her period?" She seemed genuinely
disgusted by that one. "Why not?" I asked. "You
just put down a towel and take a shower afterword. When you're
horny you're horny, right? But as for eating, Carla's
got me and she knows it. I LOVE to do it to her. I can eat her
for an hour at a time, until my tongue cramps. I just wish
she'd go down on me a little more." "Disgusting."
She opined, but her face and eyes said differently. Until
that moment I hadn't given much thought to where this
discussion was leading. I was just trying to shock our righteous
neighbor a little, all in good fun. But I could now see that,
despite her words, I was arousing her. Her nipples were
clearly hard, showing even through the thick material
of her overalls. She fidgeted in her seat, crossing and
uncrossing her legs. She stroked her neck and her cheek
as she listened, running her manicured nails over her flushed
skin. Her blue eyes were shining at me. Her tongue reached
out and licked her lips quite often. And I was getting aroused
too, imagining the beautiful, pregnant body beneath those
clothes. Imagining the wet pussy that had to be between
those legs. Could I seduce her? It seemed a good possibility.
Did I want to, really? I'd never cheated on my wife before
and I'm quite certain that she'd never cheated
on me. Doing so would be an awful betrayal of her. But I'd
never been tempted like this before and the allure of bagging
Maggie overrode my marital concerns. Part of me cried out
to put a stop to this before it went too far. But a bigger part
of me said to go forward and see where this led. "Now
come on." I told her, my voice conveying confidentiality.
"I've lived with a pregnant woman before and
I know what pregnancy does at your stage. You've got
to be horny as hell with all of those hormones in you and your
husband never fulfilling your womanly needs. Can you tell
me with a straight face that you don't want a little
wang in you?" "No." She admitted. "I
do get urges, strong ones in fact. But God..." "God
is the one that gave you those urges, right? Why suppress
them? You oughtta demand that Jonathan give you a good hosing.
And if you went down on him I bet he'd be much more inclined
to give it up." "You don't understand."
She said. "He thinks it's wrong. He'd never
allow me to..." "Sure he would." I scoffed.
"You may know how he thinks about God and the bible,
but he's a man like I am and I know that he would not be
able to resist if you opened his pants and slurped him down.
Sexual instinct is stronger than religion." "That's
a blasphemy." She told me weakly. "Call it what
you want." I told her. "But ninety percent of
the planet is religious and we have almost six billion people
and a horrid overpopulation problem. It's hard to
believe that only ten percent of us are doing all the screwing.
Trust me, you take him in your mouth and you'll get some
dick. He won't be able to control himself. He won't
try to stop you once you start the action. Were you any good
at it when you used to do it?" "I don't know."
She said, confused. "I never had any complaints."
"I don't imagine you did." I answered.
"I'll tell you what, why don't you try it
on me first. I'll evaluate your technique, let you
know if you're doing it right. Give you tips."
I watched her face carefully as I said this, knowing that
I'd just crossed over a big line. If she took major offense
I could claim that I was joking around, that I'd never
intended her to take me seriously. Her face registered
shock but not disgust. "That would be adultery."
She said softly. "That's against the Ten Commandments."
"Not really." I theorized for her, using my
best used car salesman voice. "Adultery would technically
be intercourse. Oral sex doesn't really fit that category.
It would be just an instructional thing to help you with
your husband, to change his misguided views on sexuality.
There's no commitment or anything behind it. It would
be kind of like... marriage counseling I guess."
I saw a battle taking place behind her eyes. The devil and
the angel were struggling over how she should react to my
words. It went on for nearly thirty seconds or so. The devil
won. "I suppose." She said finally, her voice
soft. "That I could use a little practice before I
tried it on Jonathan." "That a girl."
I said, feeling mixed emotions of my own. "Come over
here and show me how you do it." I opened my legs and
rubbed my crotch. She hesitated for the briefest second
and then stood up and walked over to me. She stood before
me, licking her lips nervously, her nipples still showing
through the denim of her clothes. "What do I do first?"
"Well." I said, leaning back on the couch. "Pretend
I'm Jonathan. He's sitting on the couch like I
am, doing whatever he does, and you want to seduce me. The
best thing to do is sit next to me, undo my pants, take out
my cock, and start sucking. By the time he realizes what's
happening, he'll be too enraptured to try and stop
you." "Okay." She breathed. She sat down
next to me on the couch. Her hands were trembling as she opened
the button on my fly and unzipped me, baring my blue underwear
and my bulging cock beneath them. Moving quickly she pulled
my underwear downward as far as they could go without my
lifting my hips. My cock sprang into the air. She grasped
it in her cool hand and lowered her mouth to it, sucking its
entire length down her throat in one smooth motion. "Ahhhh."
I couldn't help but emit as I felt her swallow me. Her
mouth was very wet, her tongue teasing, her hand jacking.
I knew instantly that she would need no instruction from
me. She had obviously sucked more than a few cocks in her
"wild days" before the Lord and hadn't
forgotten much. Once she'd taken the first step she
was insatiable. She pulled my hips upward, never losing
contact with my cock, and pushed my pants and underwear
down my legs. I kicked off my shoes and soon I was naked from
the waste down. She bobbed up and down on me, sucking and
teasing my dick while applying just the right amount of
pressure with her hand. She played with my balls, making
pleasant grunting noises with her vocal cords. I let my
head fall back on my shoulders, enjoying the sensation
of my neighbor sucking me. She was good. Much better at this
than Carla in fact. I ran my hands through her dark blonde
hair as she blew me. It was soft and silky. I felt her large
breasts pressing against my leg. I moved a hand beneath
the back of her overalls, trailing down her back to the top
of her panties, slipping my fingers beneath them and feeling
the beginning of the crack of her ass. Her flesh was soft
and warm, very feminine. She made no protest but picked
up the pace of her sucking. She deep throated me, taking
me all the way into her mouth, her lips meeting my pubic hair.
She paused and then pulled up before diving back down again.
She did this over and over, her hand fondling my balls, her
rhythm picking up in speed. My hips started to rise up and
down on the couch as wet slurping sounds emanated from my
groin. I felt myself starting to come. Not just a simple
orgasm but the granddaddy of orgasms. It started somewhere
in my lower back and soon spread throughout my entire groin
and abdomen. I began panting. I groaned out what was about
to happen to Maggie and she grunted her approval while sucking
harder and faster. "Ahhhh." I moaned, shooting
the first load down her throat. Her mouth worked furiously,
sucking every drop out of my spasming dick. When she was
done she raised her head out of my crotch, licking her lips
as she did so. I could tell, even through the post-orgasmic
bliss that was enfolding me, that she was turned on in a big
way. She stared in my eyes. "How was that?" She
asked breathlessly. "I think you got that down."
I breathed. "You've done that before, haven't
you?" "A time or two." She said sweetly.
"Do you think Jonathan will like it?" I nodded.
"I think SO." I looked at her, taking in her body
and her swollen abdomen. I wanted more. "You know, "
I said, "I feel I should repay you somehow."
"Oh?" She asked, smiling. "Yes."
I said. "How about I do the same for you? It's only
fair." "You mean..." "I'll
eat your pussy for you." I said. "It wouldn't
be adultery any more than what you just did for me."
"No." She said, already reaching for the strap
on her overalls. "I guess it wouldn't."
She kicked off her shoes and stood up before me. With a nervous,
though lustful expression, she unsnapped her straps and
let the overalls fall to the floor, leaving her only in a
pair of white panties and her sweater. Her legs made my dick
start to stiffen once again. They were beautiful, firm
and smooth and nicely tanned, well shaped from her exercises.
She stepped out of her clothes and sat on the couch again,
leaning back into the arm of it. I leaned forward, sliding
my hands up the outside of her thighs, feeling their silky
smoothness. I gazed between them, seeing a large wet stain
on the crotch of her panties that outlined her vaginal lips.
I caught the scent of her arousal with my nose, wafting upwards
from her wetness. I continued my hands upward, running
them beneath her sweater, pulling it up over her swollen
stomach, which I caressed. It was tight and smooth, covered
with goose flesh. I cupped her bra-clad breasts for a moment,
giving them a squeeze and then pulled her forward, towards
me, lifting her sweater at the same instant. She raised
her arms up to allow me to remove it. I tossed it aside, looking
at her restrained breasts. I reached behind her for her
bra clasp. "I thought you were just going to eat me."
She said, making no move to stop me. "This is part of
the eating experience." I said, undoing the clasp.
Her bra fell off of her, allowing her tits to bounce free.
They were very large, the size of cantaloupes, and firm
with impending lactation development. They were capped
with huge nipples that stood proudly erect. I ran the backs
of my hands over them gently, feeling the nipples brush
against my flesh, seeing them jump and twitch with the contact.
I pulled my own shirt over my head and tossed it aside. "Why'd
you do that?" Maggie asked, near panting now. "I
want you to feel my chest against your tits." I told
her. "It's part of the eating experience."
"Oh." She breathed as I leaned forward and kissed
her. She put her arms around me and returned my embrace,
her hands gliding over my back while our tongues began sliding
together on a film of saliva. I rubbed our bare chests back
and forth, feeling our nipples glide against one another.
Her swollen abdomen pushed into mine. I ran my hands over
her tits again and down her sides, feeling the thin flesh
of her flanks. She was a fabulous kisser, making all the
right moves in a kind of desperate duel. Did her husband
ever get kissed like this? I thought not. I broke our kiss
and began working my way down her neck, licking and sucking,
taking my time. I kissed her shoulders and the tops of her
breasts, placing little sucks on the pale flesh north of
her nipples. Finally I took a nipple into my mouth and began
to suckle it like a baby. I remembered from Carla's
pregnancies that female nipples are very sensitive during
this time period and, if you do it right, you can damn near
make them come just by sucking on them. She ran her fingers
through my hair as I stroked her legs, moving from one nipple
to the other until her hips were actually moving up and down.
I let the back of my hand trail across the crotch of her panties
for an instant, feeling wetness seeping through and her
crotch lift upward to increase the pressure. I began moving
down on her, leaving her tits behind and kissing my way across
her lower chest and to the bulge of her pregnant stomach.
I slid my index finger under the crotch of her panties as
I did this, feeling kinky hair and wet, swollen flesh. I
paused at her navel, kissing it and sticking my tongue into
it teasingly. She squealed in delight. I let the knuckle
of my index finger rest between her wet pussy lips, moving
in small circles. The moisture increased and her hips kept
trying to push me in deeper. I continued over the peak of
her stomach and started down the other side, towards her
crotch. I tugged at her panties with my finger, pulling
them downward. She put her legs together and lifted her
hips, allowing them safe passage off of her body. When her
panties were on the floor I open her legs wide and placed
them on my shoulders. Her pussy was before me now, its lips
open, the clit hard and wet. She had a thin covering of dark
brown pubic hair that was matted and wet with her secretions.
Her smell was powerful, arousing, filling my nose and making
me long to bury my face into its source. I brought my head
down and let my tongue slide between her vaginal lips. She
groaned pleasurably as I finally made contact with her.
I licked up and down, tasting her juices, relishing them.
I plunged in and out. I licked up and down, taking her lips
into my mouth and sucking them. I circled her clit, brushing
aside her hair with my tongue. I probed inside of her wetness
with my fingers, feeling her sheath contract around them
as I moved them in and out. While I pumped her with my fingers
I began sucking gently on her clit. It was a large one, as
large as a small nipple, and she reacted strongly to my attention
to it. "Yessss." She cried, moving her hips
to the rhythm, her baby-smooth thighs pressed against
my cheeks. I wanted to see her face as I ate her but was prevented
from doing this by her swollen belly. I started sucking
more intently on her clit as I sensed her approaching orgasm.
Her hips began to move faster, with less control. Her pussy
began to clench my fingers harder. I gave her my piece de
resistance, something that always served to push Carla
over the edge. I slid my wet fingers out of her pussy and moved
them south, against the puckered bud of her asshole. I pushed
forward with my slippery index, sliding it past the second
knuckle into her tight ass. "Ohhhh!" She screamed
in surprise and alarm. "What are you.... Ohhhh! Ohhh
my God!" I began to thrust the finger in and out of her
ass while I sucked frantically on her clit. Her crotch began
to smash against my face and she screamed even louder as
orgasm overtook her. It was a big one and she nearly choked
me out by clamping her legs around my neck. Her ass clenched
tight around my finger, making it go numb. Finally her moans
and thrusts slowed and stopped, but I wasn't done,
not by a long shot. I continued to lick and suck at her pussy
while finger fucking her ass. I brought her to two more orgasms,
each more powerful than the last before I lifted my wet face
from her crotch. I stared into her face as I stood up. Her
forehead was covered with sweat and she was panting like
a dog. Her eyes were wild and filled with desire. My dick
was standing out before me once more. She locked her eyes
on it, licking her lips again. Her legs were still spread
widely, her swollen pussy lips red and inviting and dripping
with saliva and secretions. "Fuck me." She
commanded, running her feet up and down the outside of my
legs. "Put it in me and fuck me. Now!" "That
would be adultery." I told her teasingly. "I
don't care!" She barked. "I need it! Now
fuck me!" I stepped forward, kneeling between her
legs and taking them into my hands. I placed her calves on
my shoulders and pushed forward with my crotch, planting
the head of my dick against her slimy lips. I thrust forward,
sliding inside of her. Her hips pushed forward to meet me
halfway. I found myself encased in a strange vagina for
the first time in forever. She was tight and wet, her muscles
squeezing as I began to move in and out. "Yesss!"
She cried. "Fuck me hard! Fuck me hard!" I ran
my hands up and down her legs as I pounded in and out of her.
She reached forward and grabbed my waist, pulling me atop
her. Her stomach pushed almost painfully into mine and
her legs came around my back, making her tighter. Her mouth
sought out mine and our tongues came together, swirling
madly in and out of each other's mouth. Her hands squeezed
my ass cheeks, pulling me harder into her with each thrust.
We kissed each other's mouths, our necks, our shoulders,
our arms as we fucked on the couch like pagans. I sped up,
slowed down, thrust hard, thrust soft. She groaned her
way through first one orgasm and then another before I felt
the familiar tickle running down my spine. "I'm
gonna come." I said breathlessly, my pelvis picking
up the pace. "Yes! Come in me! Shoot it in me. Oh God!"
I slammed in harder and felt orgasm spread through my body
as I blasted the inside of her with a large load. I felt her
coming at the same time and mangaged to keep up my thrusts
until she was finished with her last. Finally we collapsed
atop each other, kissing and sucking each other's
lips, my hands still stroking her legs. After laying there
for nearly ten minutes I pulled myself out of and off of her,
leaving her lying on my couch with sperm and juices running
freely out of her pussy, staining the cushion she was atop.
We looked at each other sheepishly for a moment and then
she stood up. The better part of my seed poured out of her
as she did this, running down her legs and dripping on the
carpet. A common problem with screwing pregnant women
I remembered, since their cervix is closed tight to protect
the baby. "Sorry." She mumbled, seeing the
stains she left. "Can I use your bathroom to, you know,
clean myself up?" "Of course." I said,
waving her towards it. She picked up her clothes and headed
that way. While she was gone I pondered what I had just done.
I felt an intense wave of guilt for cheating on my wife now
that the testosterone in my body had been relieved. I'd
let lust get the better of me. What if Carla found out what
I'd done? Mechanically I put my clothes back on. When
Maggie emerged from the bathroom she was smiling. "I
want to thank you." She said brightly. "For
showing me what to do about Jonathan." "Sure."
I said, "But..." "That was a great demonstration
of how he'll react if I just do a little, you know, oral
sex. Very realistic demonstration." "What?"
She came over and kissed me on the lips, poking a little at
me with her tongue. "I'll go get your laundry
now. I do have a short memory however. I might need another
demonstration later." She winked, heading for the
door. I watched her go numbly, my desire for her all but gone.
While I was feeling guilt and shame for what had just happened,
she wanted to continue to screw me. What in the hell was I
going to do about that?
<br>

saleem 22003

Post Your Comment | Mark As Favorite

Member Responses Post Your Comment

No responders found