An Old Story of An Old Affair

This is a true story, a bit long. Still not sure if I feel bad about it or not.

It all started at a block party in the old neighborhood where I lived while between marriages. Or between divorces.

My next-door neighbor Pam and I and her husband Bill usually hosted the parties in our neighborhood, which everyone called Divorcee Acres. Pam and Bill were one of the few married couples still together.

Pam worked from home a lot during the day, as I did. Bill was an airline pilot and gone constantly. So Pam and I became best friends, always at each other's house, each other's pool, taking and picking up kids to Little League or school functions or sleepovers.

We'd spend the afternoons on my deck, talking about my ex wife or Bill or the kids or whatever. We even talked about sex. She was very interested in my sex life as a divorced dad. She made it very clear she and Bill were no longer intimate, in part because Bill was borderline impotent, and as Pam said "and he has a pitiful little cock."

That became a running inside joke between us. I made it known that all she had to do was say when, and she could be my personal sex slave and my cock would be all hers. As far as she knew.

We would laugh about it, but deep down we both wanted each other.

Over time, we became bolder about our sex lives, her telling me that before they were married she was quite the slut behind closed doors. I would get her to tell me more and more, and little by little, we'd revealed more to each other than anyone else on earth.

It became our bond. And it became wildly erotic.

We were both in our late 30s, in great shape and in our prime, and we both knew it. So there was more than a little frustrations that we seemed to alleviate by flirting and talking, but it also created more pent-up sexual tension.

Eventually, it had to break. We both knew that, too.

So it came to a head at one of our block parties one summer. My kids were with their mom, and Pam's kids were at camp or something. Bill had just come home from a long trip, and I'm pretty sure they were fighting in the hours leading up to the party.

Pam and I spent most of the afternoon getting everything ready. Bill mostly stayed inside drinking.

As the evening began, and neighbors started showing up with hamburgers and hot dogs and potato salad and coolers full of beer and wine, it was just another normal gathering of friends. Bill had come out onto their deck and spent a couple hours bragging and bellowing about how big a deal he was. Neither Pam nor I liked him all that much.

He was the kind of guy who talked a big game but had nothing. He didn't mow his own lawn. Didn't do anything around the house. Couldn't work a screw driver, much less fix anything that needed fixing.

That's where I came in.

The party was going well, and everyone was laughing and getting tipsy, and no one noticed the wind picking up or the dark clouds gathering over the trees, until suddenly a bolt of lightning and a crack of thunder sent everyone scurrying for cover.

Pam and I quickly gathered all the stuff we could, putting out grills and covering up food as the rains came and sent everyone running for home. Pam and I ran into her kitchen through the back door, soaking wet. Bill was at the kitchen table, drinking and swaying and garbling his words, laughing at us but sort of in a mean way.

He said something about Pam's tits, which were indeed showing through her white pullover, and he asked me if I liked his wife's tits.

I ignored him and went into their hall closet where I knew their towels were and brought out a couple, tossing one to Pam and I dried off the best I could.

Bill was mad and kept repeating the same thing.

"Just show him your tits, Pam," he slurred.

To my surprise and to Bill's shock, she finally said "OK."

Pam slowly slid the top off, throwing it at Bill, then reached behind her and undid her bra, letting it fall to the floor.

"You happy?" she asked.

Bill didn't respond, but said something to me that made no sense, waving his arms and trying to make a point, but he was gone. I walked over to him and helped him up, all but dragging him into the den and letting him fall onto the couch. He passed out on the way down.

I stood there and stared at him, mouth agape and looking pitiful when I realized Pam was standing next to me. She was holding a couple of t-shirts.

"Get out of those wet clothes," she said. She was already unbuttoning her shorts, revealing a pair of pink panties as I stared and began to slide out of my wet shirt and shorts. We just sort of stood there, Pam in nothing but panties and me in nothing but white boxers, my cock half hard and beginning to stir.

In one motion, she threw the t-shirts onto the couch, right onto snoring Bill, went to her knees and began to slide my boxers down, maybe three feet from her husband.

Neither of us said a word. She took my cock in her mouth and began to swirl her tongue around it, holding my balls in one hand and sliding her other hand around to my ass, pulling me deeper into her mouth.

Bill stirred but didn't wake up.

I reached down and grabbed a handful of Pam's blonde hair, pulling her off my cock and making her stand. I kissed her full on the mouth, our tongues sword-fighting, our hands roaming freely over each other.

Pam pulled away, brushed her hair from her face and said breathlessly "Fuck me, Charlie. Fuck me right here."

We both fell onto the carpet as lightning crashed and thunder pounded outside, neither of us noticing the power flickering and then finally going out as we groped and moaned and licked and sucked each other like animals.

Then she got on her knees, reached over to Bill's shorts and unzipped them, letting his tiny little cock fall out. Pam looked back at me, her hands on the couch, her ass in the air.

"Fuck me," she said.

I stood and looked as lightning flashed and I could see her silhouette, her legs apart, leaning against the couch, inches from Bill, whose pitiful cock lay there shriveled and dead.

I slid my cock inside Pam's hot, wet pussy and began to fuck her from behind as she whispered dirty words and taunted her limp husband. She began to talk louder, telling me to fuck her harder, screaming "Yes!" and "God yes!" as I pounded her from behind, holding her hips and slamming my cock deep inside her.

Bill never woke. Pam came twice, pushing back against my cock as her body trembled and released months of sexual tension. I actually felt her warm juices as the sound of my cock inside her made wet, slapping noises. She begged for more, wiggling her ass and telling me to fuck her deeper.

"Cum inside me," she said. "Own me, Charlie."

We came together in a wild and primal orgasm, my cock shooting white ropes of cum inside her as she grit her teeth and growled.

"Fuck me, Charlie," she said in a voice I'd never heard before. "Fuck the hell out of me. Make me your slut."

The last few thrusts were soaking wet, sloppy and dripping cum that was running down her legs as she shivered and collapsed next to the couch. I thought she was crying, but she was laughing, giggling like a little girl, pulling me down to her as we kissed like school kids, mumbling without making words.

Pam took her panties from the floor next to us, and slid them between our mouths, getting them wet as we kissed passionately, both our bodies covered in sweat and cum.

Slowly we stood together, Pam taking her panties and laying them on Bill's chest as we took each other's hand and walked in the darkness, picking up our clothes and walking outside into the rain. We kissed long and hard, our hands all over each other as the rain fell and the storm subsided.

Eventually, she pulled away and looked me in the eyes.

"Go home," she said. "I think I might love you."

"I think I might own you," I said, winking.

It was the beginning of a long relationship that would evolve over time. Eventually we would come out to Bill, cucking him little by little, reducing him to a pitiful man, stripped of pride and forced to watch us, humiliated by his wife and his next-door neighbor.

Pam and I became permanent lovers, intense sexual partners with no boundaries and no expectations. We always went home.

After about a year of cucking poor Bill, he came over to my house late one night. Pam was out of town, and Bill was drunk. He was slurring his words, but I let him in.

"Pam's leaving me," he said. "I'm moving out tomorrow."

I reached out and pulled him toward me, hugging him as he swayed. Then I felt his hand reach down to my cock, rubbing it as I kept him from falling.

"Let me suck your cock," he said.

I stared at him, watching him wobble and plead.

"I want to suck your big cock," he said again, as I held him upright by his shoulders and shook my head.

"Go home, Bill," I said. "Go home."

The next morning, he was gone.

Pam and I were lovers for two or three more years before I took a job out of state and she went back to teaching. We kept in touch. We still do.

About a year after I moved, I got a call from Pam who was laughing and crying at the same time. I finally got her calmed down to tell me what she was so excited about.

"It's Bill," she said.

I was silent, not knowing what the next words were going to be. I tensed and finally asked.

"What?"

Pam's voice lowered and then she chuckled again.

"He's gay," she said.

I didn't ask how she knew or if they'd talked or anything. I just stayed silent as she laughed and cried and finally said "Oh, Charlie. What have we done?"

It was a question that still lingers between us all these years later.

Pam and I were never together again. We both remarried and moved on.

But we still talk. And we still ask that question.

"What have we done?"

I never saw Bill again, but sometimes I come back home and drive though Divorcee Acres and reminisce about those days long ago, when Pam and I became lovers and Bill became gay.

Pam said something to me a couple years ago, and it stuck with me.

"I'd do it again," she said.

I didn't even have to answer. I would too.