tagExhibitionist & VoyeurCoveting Thy Neighbor's Wife

Coveting Thy Neighbor's Wife

byBOSTONFICTIONWRITER©

My friends Pat and Dave were a normal couple, whatever that means. Married 15 years, they had a couple of kids, a dog, two cars, a second mortgage, and drank every weekend.

Pat was an attractive woman but not attractive enough for me to leave my wife for or to have an affair with, which gives you insight on how we guys think. She and her husband were just neighbors who had grown to become close friends. Besides, I did not want to take the chance at ruining our friendship by starting something that I could not finish and they were neighbors after all with our children attending the same school.

"That's the guy that had sex with my Mom," I imagined hearing my neighbor's kid pointing me out to his friend, as I was getting into my car. "He lives next door."

Dave always drank until he was drunk. There was no in-between with him, he drank to get drunk. Yet, he was okay when just drinking beer; he could down a six pack and not fall over but, as soon as he started with the shots, he got drunk real quick.

We both had pools in our backyard and took turns hosting pool parties. I noticed that every time we visited Pat and Dave's house, Pat always wore something provocatively revealing, something that made her feel and look sexy. I imagined her thinking while shopping in the store for the perfect outfit to host our summer barbeques, now what can I buy that will show off and expose my tits. She was not overly big on top, she had a definite B cup but her tits looked better and bigger with every drink.

Pat was one of those women who thought that she was fat and would not wear a bathing suit. She was 5'4" and. maybe, 135. It is difficult to tell with women because they manage to hide their weight with clothes, whereas, men just let it all hang out.

"Nice shirt, Freddie. What is that a boy's size large?"

"I've had this shirt since high school and it still fits," I said with a proud smile. Then, I looked down at my stomach peeking out of the bottom of the shirt giving me a Brittany Spears when she was pregnant look. "I guess it is a little small, huh?"

Sure, Pat's thighs and ass were a little bigger than they were when she was in high school, no doubt, I did not know her then, but we all put on the pounds as we get older. No matter, I thought she looked good with a body that was curvy, sexy, and desirable. Besides, women are supposed to be voluptuous and not be as skinny as they were before they developed boobs, womanly curves, and had a couple of kids. I don't know about some of the rest of you guys but I want to feel like I am hanging on to a sexy woman instead of a skeleton when I am holding on to her ass with my cock buried deep inside of her. (Besides, if I write that I like thin women, I'll never get any more at home, if you know what I mean.) "So, like I was writing, (I said aloud for the benefit of my sweetie in the next room) yep, the bigger the women are the better I like them."

"Sorry, Twiggy, but I need to put a pillow between us when we fuck; your bones are chaffing my skin."

(Hey, have you seen Twiggy recently, even she got woman padding. She looks better, now.)

Whenever we went to their house, Pat wore a fairly low cut blouse with no bra and her nipples were always at full high beam stage. Gee, is she cold or do I excite her with my modest but manly good looks? I always wondered that when staring at her nipples. I admit I am a guy who is easily turned on and who is easily hypnotized by seeing the outline that a nipple makes in silk, satin or cotton (or anything for that matter, Seran wrap, especially.) Suddenly, my mouth automatically goes in the shape of a baby nursing or a fish wanting food.

"Freddie, what's wrong with your mouth?"

"My mouth? Nothing. I, uhm, just need another drink. I'm parched is all."

Pat, our hostess, was appropriately dressed for a pool party that is, until she leaned forward and her blouse leaned forward with her giving me a full view down her blouse and a great view of her tits. I really got a good look of her tits when she brought a tray of treats over to the patio and leaned forward to place them down on the table. I stood only a few feet from her while watching her flashing fashion accident reveal her round boobs of delight.

"Freddie, why do you stand every time Pat gets up or approaches?"

"I am a gentleman, of course."

"Well, how come you do not stand up for me, then?"

"Geez, you're my wife. Isn't it enough that I can barely stand you, now you want me to stand up for you?"

I guess that I am a breast man because I more enjoy the down blouse views than the upskirt ones. Don't get me wrong, I love upskirt views, especially when seeing a sudden and unexpected flash of a white panty clad pussy or a lovely, round panty clad ass, but naked tits are better to see sometimes than just panties.

Also, I made sure that I always grabbed the patio chair next to her and sat upright so that I had an unobstructed view down her top.

"Doesn't Freddie have such great posture?" Pat smiled and made eye contact.

"Yeah," said Dave before emptying the rest of his can of beer, "he sits like he has a pole up his ass."

It was difficult to steal glances of her tits without my wife and her husband seeing me and without making Pat uncomfortably aware that she was giving me a show. (Besides, with what she was wearing, the only way that I could have had a better view of her tits was if I sat there holding a sign that read, "Show me your tits.") So, I always offered to get everyone another round of drinks. That way, when I delivered the drinks, one at a time, it gave me the opportunity to walk over by Pat and to steal a look down her top, as I handed out the drink.

"You know, Freddie, there is a tray in the kitchen that you can use to carry the drinks, instead of making four separate trips."

"It's okay, Dave, I need the exercise. Besides, this way, everyone gets a fresh drink, as soon as I make them."

I think that I was pretty cool in disguising my ulterior motives. In hindsight, I often wondered if Dave and Pat were setting me up, knowing full well that I was a pervert like every other guy and would spend my evening staring at his wife's tits. Then, later, after my wife and I left to go home, they probably had hot sex with the thoughts of me seeing Pat's tits because I know that I had hot sex when I went home, albeit, sometimes with myself.

"Every time you leaned over, Pat, your top opened all the way and he was looking at your tits. I know he saw them because I looked down at his crotch and he had an erection the entire night."

"Really, he was staring at my tits? Do you think he saw my nipples?"

"Yeah, I am sure he saw your nipples because I could see them from across the table and he was closer to you and always hovering over you, the pervert, while staring down your top."

That was the other thing; I always wondered if Pat knew that she was giving me a show of her tits. We guys always think that women are modest and incapable of being a little tease, a little slutty but, then again, we guys are dumb. I spent the entire summer trying to see and imagining that I saw her nipples. We guys are all so simply entertained and are all such perverts. Ah, but it is so good to be a guy at times like this when tits are out on display.

This went on for 3 summers and as we grew closer as friends, Pat and I got wilder and bolder in our private game of exhibitionism and my voyeurism. Still, even after she lost a few pounds, she never wore a bathing suit. Then, she started wearing these oversized shorts that almost look like men's shorts. Only they were very short and when she sat in her patio chair with her blouse or t-sheet cascading all around her hips and thighs, it appeared that she wasn't wearing anything on her bottom; it was definitely very sexy. Still, they were wide enough that I needed to know if she was wearing any panties. When she got up from the table, I stared at her butt to see if I could see a panty line. There was none. Now, I wondered if she was shaved, bushy or trimmed.

This is one of those times that I wished that I had Superman's X-ray vision or a million candle power spotlight that would make her white shorts totally transparent.

"Pat, stand in the light, please, bend over, and turn just a little to the right. I, uhm, just wanna see somethin'."

I suspected that she had a shaved beaver because she was whispering to my wife about her first Brazilian bikini hot wax. Suddenly, I imagined Emerson Fittipaldi, the Brazilian race car driver giving Pat a very fast bikini wax.

"Now, Pat, you will feel excruciating pain as soon as I quickly pull off your pussy hair with this strip of paper but it will be worth it."

Every time she wore those shorts, I routinely dropped my plastic fork, spoon, or knife, hoping to steal a glance at her pussy. It never worked because when she sat, the shorts pulled tighter around her bottom and thighs than they did when she was standing. Somehow, I would have to get a look up her shorts as she stood, but how in the Hell was I to do that?

I thought of a mirror but there were no mirrors in the backyard. I thought of lying on my back pretending to fix a screw in the table as she walked over to the table but that would look kind of obvious. Don't forget; her husband and my wife were in the backyard with us, too. Then, Dave got the idea of building a deck.

Towards the end of the summer, Dave's monumental deck was finished. A testament to backyard handymen everywhere, Dave's deck went from the second floor master bedroom, down to the kitchen. And when Pat stood on the second floor, waving to us, greeting us, and telling us that she would be down in a minute, I had a perfect and unobstructed view up her wide, white shorts. She was shaved.

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