Next Door Neighbour's Secret

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shaunreagh
shaunreagh
1,248 Followers

I had become hot chocolate in Penny's arms. I was starting to relish every fragrant soft moment of having a young and bright and supremely healthy, and very attractive, young lady whom I had always admired from afar, as close as she was, doing what she wanted to do to me, and letting me do what I wanted to do to her. There was even, I have to confess, added heat in the knowledge of young men, strangers to me, watching the girls in the room as the two of us 'worked on each other' -- as I am sure they would think of it as -- working on each other with such obvious hunger and mutual delight as we were.

Why hadn't Penny let me know how she felt about me earlier than this? Not that we could have done anything about it -- or would have done anything about it, of course -- but just to know. It would have been nice. I've always thought of her as lovely. If I had known how she'd felt I could have told her that. I would have loved for us both to know. How close we might then have become. It's nice to be loved.

'Ngaaar!' I groaned. Her fingers had slithered between my legs and started to do things to me there as if they knew exactly what it was I liked having done to me there, and she was right, I did, and maybe, I thought to myself, she did these things to herself? The thought had my fingers travelling south intent on finding out, if she did ... like, having these sort of things ... done to herself. I am soon finding out that she does as we lovingly -- selfishly, hungrily -- play and toy, compete with the other, mounting arousal and moistening lips in face and groin and finding the motion of breasts against breasts and the growing discernable hardening nipples ... the texture of lips and tongues against lips and tongues against equally urgent explorations of lips and tongues of the other.

Our bodies writhe and coil together like two competing pumas as our skilful girlish fingers go to secret private places and get up to mischief honed from years of practice on ourselves. Who can notice what is moving when the whole world seems to move. When everything around, arousal brings; and everything below, excitement gives. "Ngaar!" I growl and 'Ngegh!' I yelp as the youngster's supple fingers do their damnedest unto me and she reacts the self same way as my own as busy finger do the same things back to her. But we move, and have moved, and are being moved as I am laid on my back and feel her female form come over mine. I sink into the bed and her softness covers me and we continue with the game but then. She's gone.

Another mouth is over mine, another tongue at work, another hand, or two, or three, is struggling with the buttons of my dress. The tongue, no longer Penny's, but a harder manly version of another in the room. Do I continue as I have been with the kiss? With the embrace? Am I extending my permission to the new hands, the broader hands, the rougher hands, the guys hands, to do to me as Penny's just has done? Is there some unspoken rule here? Some understanding?

My pelvis kicks as a broad man's hand curls around my pudenda and fingers stroke what's in my pants. I grunt into the mouth over mine as my bikini top goes the way of the front of my dress and finger and thumb grasp a nipple and tweak it intensely. My chest lifts off the bed as I crush a now naked breast into the hand that torments it. I open my eyes, a slit, to see what is going on.

The party's youthful hostess lies on her parent's large, round, custom-made bed with her top around her neck and her skirt around her waist and her panties round an ankle and the head of a young student guest face down between her legs as next to her, also on her back, is their next door neighbour's wife with one young guest hotly French kissing her mouth with a hand on her breast and fingers toying brightly with a nipple, as another crouches between her widely spread legs and, with both hands, plays with her private parts, as a fourth hovers overhead them all, seemingly making up his mind which of the ladies he will join.

Vince is really huge, towering over us like this.

There is a point at which any responsible adult can tell when things have gone too far and matters must now end but these tend more to normal things. Like making cakes or cooking stew or putting petrol in the car. It is easy to see when the car is full of petrol. There is no objection whatsoever to releasing the device and stopping the flow. To do otherwise would risk smearing the paintwork, and waste the petrol, and run the risk of fire. But sex and its peripherals do not work like that. An overflow of petrol is unwelcome, smelly, dangerous and wasteful -- especially at current prices -- but an overflow of sex is very different. It's called an orgasm, rather than overflow, for a start. And it doesn't cost a cent -- no matter who runs Iraq. And most of us cherish the feeling. Some of us can't get enough of it -- another thing my mother warned me of.

And ... and here's the thing ... when you start to feel ready for the nozzle -- to continue the petrol pump analogy -- it is very DIFFICULT to simply call the whole thing off. It is no longer an every-day affair, like turning down the oven to save the cakes, or switching off the stove to protect the stew. There are other things involved here. Like hormones and urges and lust and desire. Like wanting more heat in the oven. Like needing to burn some rubber, and eat some cake. Like driving things onwards and upwards and wanting others to drive YOU onward and upwards, and the sooner and quicker and firmer and deeper that fat damn nozzle can be introduced into the bake, or stew, or whatever-you-want-to-call-it the better things are likely to go, as everything joins together in a glorious horizon-blinding flash, and heads towards that ultimate nirvana -- the bliss of sexual overflow.

Which is kinda what happened to the objection inside me, when it became apparent that those around me had objections of their own, and that they wanted to put these objections ... inside me. It wasn't helped when my fingers curled around one such objection, with urges to 'rub it up and down'. (Which I did.) And my objections finally disappeared entirely, swamped by a mood of rising excitement, in response to an objection pushed firmly in my mouth, in place of a tongue, and a tongue pushed equally firmly into my pussy, in place of finger. Both mouth and pussy, by now, slavering obscenely. (What can I say. Girls will be girls.)

I have no idea who fucked me first. Nor who fucked the daughter of my neighbour first. Nor who of the two came first. But both were fast and furious, and far too fast, if you take my meaning. I turned my head and glanced at Penny just as she rolled her head in my direction and looked at me. If I looked as dazed and bright and sparkling as she did, then that could explain how I felt, because that's how I felt. But I wanted more -- just I think as she did -- and the way our eyes both suddenly went wide, and our heads flipped back to the ceiling, and our backs arched and our pelvises kicked and we groaned in perfect unison, you sorta got the feeling that as a synchronised fucking team, we weren't half bad. 'Olympics here we come!' as they say, or may just have said.

My second fuck was Vince. I know this because it was also my last. The guy didn't quit. He went on, and on, and on, and on. It was a trip to paradise on a round trip ticket, as long as it was round, and just as far around as it was long. It made me quiver and writhe and cringe and scream and beg for mercy as I came then quivered then came again then wept and shivered and came again and the piston of the guy went in and out and in and in and in and out and my pelvis lifted him off the bed and I came again and he kept on going and others started kissing me as we worked each other to yet another frenzy and hands came onto my breasts and played with them as I whimpered and gasped and came again and even Penny, bless her little heart started kissing me softly as I came again then started to kiss my breasts as I whimpered and yelped and bucked then came again.

They got some of it on film, near the end, so I'm told.

(By that time the party was all upstairs.)

Sam and Penny's mother couldn't believe the downstairs was in such good order when they got back. Asked me what my secret was.

shaunreagh
shaunreagh
1,248 Followers
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5 Comments
plusepluseover 1 year ago

5*

One of the best stiles here.

More of Emily and Annette please!

nora91nora91about 2 years ago

Fun story.thank you

puncturepunctureover 6 years ago

That was a great story. Thanks

AnonymousAnonymousover 9 years ago
Short and sweet

I really enjoyed this story. Real hot.

AnonymousAnonymousover 15 years ago
WOW

Perhaps THE most erotic story I've read on here in over five years. More of Emily please!

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