Claudia’s Neighborly Smokey Service

The source for this story is a tweet by Claudia Jones on X.

"Neighbour just popped round to pinch some rice, I was in middle of a fag, clearly he was enjoying it, so as hubby was out I gave him a sly handjob, he was big and clearly very turned on!!"

I asked her to make it a 2000 word story - she told me that was too much effort, that I should go for it.

So I did. (Well it's actually closer to 1500)

I have got their permission to write and publish this story.

Claudia's Neighbourly Smokey Service

His cock was hard and big. I'm almost ashamed to say it's slightly bigger than my husbands. It looked good with my fingers firmly wrapped around it. Stroking up and down as quickly as I could. All the time I kept my eyes on him as I slowly and purposefully dragged on my cigarette. The large shaft throbbed with every stroke of my right hand, it and my fingers were now glistening with pre cum dribbling the tip. He was responding nicely to me. Before my smoke filled lips locked again around my filter and heaved in once again.

The husband was out for the evening and this one was here. It had been all erect bulging against his shorts. Beggars can't be choosers. It would have been a waste if I had ignored it. I was just helping him by relieving some unwanted pressure. I was just a helping hand shall we say.

It was when he honestly chose to cum, splattering over my hand and the linoleum on my kitchen floor. In all honesty other than me stroking his bouncing hard cock for a few minutes whilst really focusing on smoking a couple of cigarettes. I really had very little to do with it. Honestly.

Me standing in front of him slyly pleasuring him as I smoked. Was exciting fun, but not what I expected for a rainy Wednesday evening. I had eaten dinner then taken a shower and had been snuggled in my pyjamas and pink fluffy dressing gown. All comfortable on the sofa, with my feet up watching EastEnders. Contemplating watching the Grand Designs repeat later, it's always interesting to see if the house gets built before the wife gives birth. Another interesting proposition was wondering when the husband might get home. He promised in his last text, "soon" which could mean anything. His food was now in the fridge and would be microwaved when he came in. I had nothing else planned. The idea of giving a neighbour a hand job is far more exciting.

Tom had chosen to come around to ours. He had an important need.

He had a small problem. He had been cooking dinner for himself, apparently a nice chicken jalfrezi. He was going to take the leftovers into work the next day. When he was letting it reduce a little he had gone to his cupboard and discovered that he hadn't got any rice left. Having drunk a glass or two of wine since getting home from work and training. He couldn't dare drive anywhere. He was good like that.

Our doorbell doesn't get used often this late in the evening. As he wasn't there I couldn't even order the husband to open it as I was sitting there mid cigarette. It was a genuine shock to hear the bell. With the elections due I was half expecting to build up the energy to tell the politicians to fuck off. That's always good fun.

But no it was Tom looking like a drowned rat, it was pouring heavily with rain. He had not come far, he only lived next door wearing a raincoat and what looked like rugby shorts. He was looking very apologetic whilst standing there holding a large empty lidded tupperware box. I was expecting him to say "please ma'am can I have some more?" His face was so pitiful.

I had only just lit my latest fag, it was dangling in the corner of my mouth. His eyes were fixated on my lips as the smoke twisted from my cigarette. His mouth started stuttering about rice. I could have said "spit it out boy."

But I invited him into the kitchen, smiling. Did he want basmati or long grain? I had both.

He stayed silent, almost transfixed as I removed the filter from my lips and exhaled a cloud of smoke, his eyes again followed my hand as I brought it back to my lips. It was as if I had them on a piece of string pulling them around dancing to my tune. I exhaled my latest drag, then put my hand with the cigarette on the counter as I bent over to rummage in the cupboard. Eventually finding what I was looking for. Standing up and turning around with a swirl of smoke with the two bags in my hand. I couldn't help but chuckle as I looked down and watched his crotch very noticeably bulge in his shorts twitching. I have seen my husband have the same reaction hundreds of times.

It seemed at that moment he was no longer interested in the rice. His eyes darted up from where he had been looking at my panty-less ass wiggling through my dressing gown as I hunted in the under counter cupboard.

To be fair to him, at that moment the two bags of rice sitting on the kitchen table was the last thing I was thinking about.

"I take it you enjoy my smoking?" I grin. Making a point of dragging once again. I may have exaggerated a little. Tilting my head back and sucking hard.

There was a fake denial. He shakes his head. "No, never, why would you think that?"

As I briefly hold the smoke in my lungs I notice the bulge in his shorts twitching. It tells me something different. His right hand is desperate to adjust himself. His sail is trying to unfurl. He shuffles behind one of my chairs. I spot the quick hand movement of the adjustment.

"Come on?" I practically purr an exhale of smoke into the kitchen.

His eyes widened taking in the cloud. He is like a cat with a ball of string. Utterly fascinated. I could visualise him standing there pawing at it, playing with the smoke making it twist and swirl. But that was my job. I dragged once again and sent half a dozen smoke rings dancing across the room.

He followed each one with an open mouth, his crotch twitched and danced to the tune in his pants once again. Poor Tom, I was teasing him now. That was my scratching post, right in there. Just how much I could play with it, was up to him.

"Well, I do..."

Finally we had broken the camel's back, just not the one burning between my fingers, that was nearly finished.. "Go on?" I quickly probed further, I found myself fluttering my eyelids.

"...I've got to admit, I've watched you for years over the hedge, you know, err smoking."

"What?" My turn to feign being confused. It was my turn for my jaw to drop. I was now ignoring the bags of rice on the kitchen table and now focusing on him. I could feel myself getting aroused. Just at the idea of Tom standing there over the years watching me over the fence enjoying my cigarettes. The amount of times I had sunbathed in the back garden wearing very little, whilst chain smoking. He was there watching me. Fuck. There was a lot to process. But then my husband enjoys watching me too. "Hang on." I ordered him.

I need to probe this further. I am loving these thoughts of his eyes studying my body as I pull smoke into my lungs. I ignore him for thirty seconds and disappear to retrieve my pack from the living room. Looks like I will definitely miss the beginning of Grand Designs. In moments like this I really need a fresh cigarette. With that lit, I look to deal with his problem. He is still standing there looking nervous and awkwardly trying not to continually adjust his hard on. It's not surprising as I even think I look hot smoking a cigarette. I just wish I was wearing something more sexy and racy, rather than my warm comfortable cotton pyjamas and snuggly dressing gown. There was no way of making myself sexy quickly.

Somehow I was standing a little closer to him, I dangled my cigarette and lowered the elastic around his waist.

Yes I made the first move. He was just nervously standing there enjoying my performance.

His hard cock instantly popped out his shorts. My heart beat faster just looking at it. I could feel my pyjama bottoms getting damp with excitement.

It only took a cigarette and a half. I got him to light the second one for me as I continued to focus on stroking his glorious hard member. I also made sure to bathe him in all of my smokey exhales.

He was that turned on it, it didn't take me long for him to cum and splatter. I wasn't surprised as he watched every drag so intently. It was obvious that he loved seeing me take every lungful as much as I did feeling it.

Three squares of kitchen towel later, one for him, one for me and another for the floor, he was securely tucked back in.

In the awkward almost apologetic silence afterwards as I focused in a motherly way on filling his box with basmati rice, it would go better with the curry. Which might be getting a little dry now.

There was a slightly strange hug goodbye. I was grateful he didn't try for a kiss. I would have said no.

With the house again empty I poured myself an emergency glass of wine and then sitting back on the sofa, with my fingers inside my pyjamas bottoms, I waited intently for the husband.

He walked in only about fifteen minutes later and certainly didn't complain about how enthusiastic I was for sex that night, I just couldn't wait for bedtime I pounced on him sitting on the sofa.

I just now knew that I needed to give Tom some smoke filled love when I waved at him over the fence next time I saw him.

The End.