The Neighborhood

I ran down the street like a man possessed until I finally settled into a nice, smooth rhythm. I tried to lose myself in the run, but my mind kept rolling back to my encounters with Kim, Mom and Nancy. I had to find an outlet soon, even if that meant punishing my already abused palm. My shame slowly turned to concern however, as I started to feel bolts of pain shooting up from my ankle. What the hell? I must have twisted it jumping around Nancy! So here I was a mile from home with a bum ankle. I was smart enough not to push it and came to a slow walk. In my rush, I had forgotten my cell phone, so I couldn't call for a ride. I resignedly turned back and began to limp for home.

Car after car sped by me and as my ankle continued to throb, I prayed that a familiar face might notice me, have pity and give me a ride home. It was at that moment that a black Lexus SUV eased past me then braked to a stop at the curb. I didn't recognize it, but walked to the passenger side window as it rolled down.

"Hey Mark! Need a ride?"

And there she was the second place finisher to Nancy Taylor in my self-abuse fantasy file, my best friend Spencer's mom and our next door neighbor, Mrs. Kay Reynolds.

The Reynolds had moved in next door to us when Spencer and I were in the sixth grade, right about the time girls had moved from the icky column to the interesting column for me. So it was no wonder that Mrs. Reynolds had cum, err come to hold such a significant place of interest for me. She was drop dead gorgeous, with mid-length curly brownish red hair and a time less "girl next door" creamy complexion that she obviously spent a lot of time and her husband's money keeping up. She was probably 5'4" or so, maybe 110 lbs, with violet blue eyes. She looked like she was coming back from the gym, as her hair was pulled back in a pony tail. A low cut "wife beater" tee strained to hold in her bountiful chest. In one of my few brave moments, I had taken a chance and rifled through her lingerie drawer. I knew for a fact she was sporting a nice pair of 32DDs.

(Author's note: Ok, I acknowledge that all the women are busty. I get it. My story, my fantasy)

I was not surprised to see that her nipples were threatening to cut through the fabric. Somehow Mrs. Reynolds nipples were always hard, not sometimes, always. I chalked it up to her libido, which to hear Spencer talk, was insatiable. Even though she was his mom, Spencer acknowledged that she was the walking epitome of a MILF. For years he had regaled me with stories of listening to his parents fuck almost every night in their bedroom next to his. Or walking into the den to find his mom getting quickly off her knees while his father clutched a couch cushion to his lap and pretending to be enthralled by another "Seinfeld" re-run. And then there was the memorable time she served Spencer breakfast while something that looked suspiciously like a blob of cum clung to her nightgown.

I chalked all the stories up to bullshit guy talk until our sophomore year when a camping trip got rained out and we went back to Spencer's house to sleep. Something woke me up and I took the opportunity to go piss. As I passed his parents room, I heard the unmistakable grunts and moans of two people fucking. Being a normal teen, that is to say perpetually horny, I couldn't help but press my ear to the door. As the earlier parts of this story demonstrate, I'm somewhat clumsy and managed to stumble and push the door half open! Luckily, Spencer's dad, Bob, had his head thrown back in pleasure as he pistoned his hips back and forth behind his wife, who was on all fours, while he stood behind her. She was oriented on the bed facing me, and luckily again, she also had her eyes squeezed shut while her body shook from the pounding she was receiving. Despite the danger of discovery, I knew I'd never get a better chance at seeing Mrs. Reynolds nude than right now. The bottom of her two-piece nightie was pulled to the side, giving Mr. Reynolds access and her top was pulled down and bunched around her waist allowing her 32DD boobs to sway and bounce in perfect time with his strokes. I was mesmerized! Her natural tits swung low and full, but I could tell they were still as firm as any teenagers since they didn't flop like I'd seen in some of the "mature" videos on the net (guilty!). As I stood there, drinking in this forbidden sight, some kind of sixth Bat-sense made me pull my eyes up to Mrs. Reynolds' face.

She was looking right at me!!

Like a deer caught in the head lights of an approaching car, I froze in place, waiting for the inevitable scream, followed by the ass-kicking by her husband, not to mention the disowning by my best-friend and then the surefire "perverted voyeur" label that would haunt me the rest of my days.

Instead, she smiled! Then, not breaking our eye-lock, she rose up and entwined her hands behind her husband's head and pulled his mouth to her neck, as his hands came up from her ass to cup her breasts and support her upper body.

"Oh God! You love this don't you?!"

I felt like DeNiro in "Taxidriver", but had enough sense to not launch into a "You talkin' to me?" monologue. Mr. Reynolds only grunted, continuing to lick and suck her neck while pile-driving her pussy from behind.

"I can't get enough, baby," she moaned. "I might have to give in and let you bring that hot assistant of yours with the cute ass home, or better yet, talk you into getting a couple of your young, strong stock boys to pound me while you watch."

I couldn't take it any longer. My cock had found its way through the fly of my boxers to see what all the commotion was about. Another second there and I would have repainted their bedroom door in my custom mix of "Creamy Pearl". Thankfully (hopefully!), it was too dark in the hall for Mrs. Reynolds to see my condition. I spun around and fled to the bathroom across the hall. I stood shakily over the toilet and tried to point my crowbar hard cock down toward the bowl. In hindsight, I should have given myself a minute or two to calm down because no sooner had my hand touched my shaft than I started blasting like the 4th of July.

I stifled a groan by biting the knuckles of my left hand, while rubbing it out with my right. Out of fear of discovery, I had left the light off. As I hosed down the bathroom, I could only imagine what sort of mess I was making. I tried to track the splats of my load so I could clean up afterwards. After 5 or 6 toe curling spurts it was over. I stood there trying to catch my breath and wondering how to clean up the bathroom and get back to Spencer's room with no one but Mrs. Reynolds being the wiser that I was awake. I tore toilet paper off the roll and did the best I could of tracking down my volleys and sopping them up. I still could not get over the intensity of staring into her eyes while she was getting royally pounded by her husband. What did she mean by what she said? She must have been getting off by my watching her. Did I have the guts to take it to the next level?

Of course not.

After slipping back to Spencer's room and laying there wide awake for the rest of the night, I tried to act like nothing had happened the next day. Of course, Spencer and his dad were in the dark and Mrs. Reynolds continued to kid and joke with me like she always had. I didn't detect any double entendres' in her conversation, no, "More SAUSAGE with your breakfast Mark?", nor did she pull me into the laundry room for a quick grope. Maybe it was my imagination though, but she did linger over wiping the breakfast table, allowing me ample time to gape down her blouse at the sight of those firm knockers swaying with her efforts. And it seemed every time I turned around, she was dropping something on the floor which required her to bend over at the waist to pick it up. After going home, I spent the rest of the day in my room revisiting what I'd seen the night before and doing my best to rub a groove in my right palm. I looked like Peter Parker the first time he discovered his web shooting ability.

"Mark? Mark? Are you alright?"

I snapped back to present time reality and smiled sheepishly.

"Sorry Mrs. Reynolds. I, uh, think I twisted my ankle. Could you give me a ride home?"

She smiled brightly and reached over to open the door.

"Sure sweetie! Hop in. I was just on my way home from the gym."

I eased myself into the seat and shut the door as she pulled back into traffic. Since this was the first time this morning that I hadn't had a head swimming erection, I studiously examined everything in the car, except Mrs. Reynolds.

"Is this a new car Mrs. Reynolds?"

She smiled and rested her hand on the gear shift.

"It is Mark. What do you think?"

I continued to feign interest in the interior of the car, but suddenly became aware that her hand had moved from the gear shift and was resting on the mid console beside my leg. Out of the corner of my eye I couldn't help but notice the slight shifting and bounce of her tits as she drove. Yikes! I summoned all restraint I could, imagining chess matches, vacation slide shows and "Margaret Thatcher naked on a cold day". Anything to keep from popping a boner in front of Mrs. Reynolds.

"So Mark...what's been up with you?"

Well, something was coming up Mrs. Reynolds, but I don't think it's what you want to talk about. I scrambled for something to say as she pulled into their driveway.

"Oh, nothing much. Just hanging out. What kind of engine does this thing have in it?" What?!? Where did that come from? I was definitely not a gear head being just intuitive enough to know how to fill a car up with gas.

She looked at me quizzically and said, "I'm not sure Mark. It's probably in the owner's manual. Here it is." With that she leaned over the console to open the glove box on my side, resting her right boob on my leg and brushing her curly locks against my face. Houston we have lift off! She had to feel my growing boner, no way around it! God I've done it now! One call from her to Mom and I'd find myself in therapy for the summer! But she didn't recoil back. She merely kept her position and turned her head to smile up at me.

"Are you sure you're interested in the engine Mark?"

I grabbed the door lever and prepared to make a bolt for my house. It was then I noticed that Mom's car was gone. Damn! She must have been taking Kim and Nancy somewhere. She always locked the house and I did not have a key on me.

"Uh, my mom's gone."

Mrs. Reynolds turned her head to look at our house.

"Well you need some ice on that ankle, stat Mister. Come inside the house. You can keep an old woman company while you wait on your mom to get back. Spencer spends most of the day doing God knows what around town since he came back from school."

That was true. I had only seen Spencer once in the two weeks since I had been back. He left early most mornings on his bike and didn't get in until later in the evening. Despite my unease with the sausage store's grand opening in my pants, I did realize I needed to ice my ankle or I'd be limping around for days. I happened to spy Mrs. Reynolds gym bag on the back seat and grabbed it, happy to have something to use as a boner block.

"I'll carry this in for you Mrs. Reynolds!"

She smiled, "Thanks Mark."

As we headed in the house I could not tear my eyes from the sway of her hips and how that tight, little bubble butt looked in her spandex biker shorts. The sight only increased blood flow to my crotch which was now snaking down my leg and trying to worm its way out. She unlocked the door and went in, then took the gym bag from me before I could protest. Thankfully she didn't look down!

"Make yourself at home. I'll get some ice."

I slunk to the kitchen table as Mrs. Reynolds took a baggie and began to fill it with ice cubes. She wrapped it in a dishtowel and came over to me.

"Elevate your ankle on this other chair Mark." She slid out the chair adjacent to me and stood expectantly. I was horrified! I had half slid under the table to hide my condition, but I would have to turn out to put my right ankle on the chair and I'm sure I wouldn't be able to limp far before Mr. Reynolds could get home to beat my ass after the Mrs. sees my tool hanging out of my shorts!

"It's okay Mrs. Reynolds. It really feels much better now!" I smiled brightly, hoping to head off impending disaster. She huffed and dropped to her knees (!!) beside me reaching under the table and grabbing my knees to swivel me around.

"Yeah right. Now come on Mark before you..."

As she turned me, her words trailed off upon coming face to face with the one-eyed monster with a mind of its own. For a couple of seconds she just stared at it, pulsing and twitching against my leg, half of it exposed to the fresh air. Fresh air is supposed to make you feel better and it definitely affected my cock. It now started to raise its mushroom head, pulling my shorts back further on the shaft. Mrs. Reynolds raised a hand to her mouth and then looked up at me. I was petrified! But then, the worm turned.

Mrs. Reynolds looked back down at my boner. In an instant she pulled my knees apart and almost simultaneously grabbed my cock shaft in both hands.

"I have so got to suck this thing!" With that she plunged her head down like a striking cobra and inhaled a third of my dick.

"God!" That was me by the way, since Mrs. Reynolds had her mouth full to say the least! Her tiny mouth and full red lips were stretched to bursting around my shaft. It felt like my dick had been plunged into a furnace, albeit a wet, sucking furnace which just happened to have a soft tongue on the underside that wiggled along my main vein like something possessed. She pulled back until just the head rested in her mouth and wiggled her tongue all over the head and ridge. She then pulled it all the way out of her mouth, turned her head to the side and skinned those ruby red lips down the cock shaft to the base. She dropped her mouth lower and began to bat my balls around in their sac with her tongue. My tool rested across her face, steadily dripping precum on her hair. It looked almost obscene (almost) the way it draped across her features. Due to its size (I know, poor me), I never got those flat against the belly boners most guys my age get. The best my vascular system could manage was a good 45 degree angle, not that it mattered to me. I knew I was somewhat big, but to see its size compared to Mrs. Reynolds face was a huge ego boost.

While my brain continued to spin inside my skull, Mrs. Reynolds started taking batting practice on my balls with her tongue. I groaned again and gripped the chair. Looking up at me, her green eyes twinkled and she turned back to press the flat of her tongue along my shaft and began to drag it back up. Upon reaching the top, she teased a drop of precum out of my shaft and pulled back with the strand still connected to her puffy bottom lip. She smiled at me as she brought her right hand around my shaft and her left came up to cradle my balls.

"I can tell you've got a whopper of a load in there for me Mark! If I'd known you were packing this much meat we would have made the sandwich to end all sandwiches that night in my bedroom." She had been getting off by me being there! "Relax baby. I want this as much or more than you do. I see the way you look at me. And I'm sure that motor mouth Spencer has shared with you how much of a nympho I am." I started at this. She was talking about him listening in on them right? Surely she couldn't mean...

"Now lean back and enjoy. I'm not stopping this for anything. At least not until you've given me what I need." At this she plunged her mouth back over my cock and began twisting her head and hands in tandem as she crammed more and more of my stick in her hot, sucking mouth.

Now, this is usually the point of the story (I read Literotica online too) where the hero grabs the wench by her pony tail in one hand, rips her top off with the other, and says something like, "Yeah!! Take my fucking load bitch!" Not gonna happen here folks. I lasted about ten seconds more under Mrs. Reynolds onslaught before I felt my balls curling back against my body and my shaft lurched and pulsed in her grip.

"Mrs. Reynolds, uh, Kay (I think we could safely be on a first name basis now), I'mmmm....."

I never finished my sentence as I was gripped by the most intense orgasm of my life. When I started speaking Kay realized what was happening and had quickly slid her mouth up and off, hoping to delay the inevitable. But I was not to be stopped!

My first moon shot left the launch pad and disappeared somewhere over her head. She squealed and then crammed my cock back in her mouth. I continued to buck and convulse, shooting what must have been a pint of hot cream into her mouth. She mewled and closed her eyes, clearly enjoying it. God what a slut! My best friends' mother was eating my load and loving it! None of my fantasies had prepared me for this and I lost all semblance of control, starting to babble and drum my feet against the floor (my ankle was forgotten). After what seemed like a lifetime, my balls were drained and I slumped back in the chair.

"My god Mark! That was..."

I couldn't bear to open my eyes and look at her. I had a hair trigger like The Rifleman and now I had missed the best, probably only, chance at impressing my ultra-hot next door neighbor.

"...fucking incredible!!"

At this my eyes shot open. She was smiling up at me! Her hair was a little mussed with what looked like a cum track across the side, but she looked genuinely happy!

"Really? You're not mad at me for...you know...cumming so quick?"

She shook her curly locks quickly, "God no Mark! That was intense and I must admit you tasted soooo good!"

I got back a little confidence at this, but then disappointment washed over me as I realized I had fucked up any chance of getting in her pants.

She noticed my expression and said, "What's wrong? Your not regretting this are you?"

I shook my head almost maniacally, "Hell no! That was the best thing I have ever felt. I'm just sorry we didn't...well, you know."

She smirked as she reached down to grasp the bottom of her shirt and began to pull it up over her flat abs and over the mounds of glory.

"You mean fuck? Oh, were gonna fuck Mark. I guarantee you that. I've found that getting the edge off with a quick pop right up front only heightens the pleasure. Besides, guys your age can always get it back up." Was that fact from experience? One thing for certain, she was right. I didn't need to get it back up though. It had never gone down!

I think time actually stood still when she finally whipped off her top and I was treated to the sight of her deep cleavage disappearing down into the depths of her bulging jog bra. I know I held my breath as her hand went to the front and grasped the front clasp. Noticing my expression, she smiled and dropped her hands to my thighs, running them back and forth.

"You are such a guy Mark. A rare one that is nice and polite, but still just a guy. These babies really do it for you huh?" I could only nod numbly. My brain circuits were still misfiring!

"Well, be my guest sweetie. You take the honors."

My arms somehow found the strength to raise my hands to her chest. I tentatively rested the palm of my hand on the exposed flesh above the jog bra and felt the pulsing beat of her heart. I raised my eyes to hers. She licked her lips and looked deeply at me.

"I won't lie Mark. I know I'm a major league slut, but there is just something about this that is doing it in a big, big way for me. I don't know if it's the forbidden part of it or...ohhhh!"

I had now moved both hands to her chest and palmed her globes, feeling the ice pick nipples through the fabric. Damn those tits were firm! I know, my experience is limited, but they felt just like "two bags of sand" (points for what movie), no that wasn't right. They felt just like those big sponges the track team had used last summer during our fund raiser car wash. They were full and heavy and resilient, springing back to shape despite my attempts to squeeze them into oblivion. I worried that I might be hurting her with my big paws, but Kay's moans told another story. I moved my hands lower and grasped the bottom of the bra and pulled it out and up. The backs of my knuckles burned from the hot flesh of her boobs and her nipples felt just as hard as they looked. A smattering of freckles capped the creamy mounds. Kay took over for me, pulling her top over her head as I dropped out of the chair to my knees facing her. She took my face in both hands and pulled it down to her chest. Thank goodness she took the initiative; I probably would have been content to kneel there all day squeezing her big jugs!