Girl Next Door

A while back my wife shot through. I wasn't earning enough to keep her in the way to which she felt entitled, so she found someone else. I wish him luck. He's going to need it.

Naturally, when she left, Gloria took everything that had any sort of value at all. This saved us any problems with dividing the property when we got divorced. She was considerate, that way. Mind you, she did want the house, but as I explained to her lawyer, it was a rental. I couldn't give it to her, even if I wanted to.

She's history, and the only reason that I mentioned her is that when she left one of the few things she didn't take was a stack of chic lit. Mills & Boon romances and such. I'd initially just stuffed them up on top of a wardrobe in case she came back for them. Noticing them up there one day, I decided that the time was right to throw them out.

Being at heart a thrifty type, I just couldn't see myself throwing a few dozen perfectly good books in the rubbish. Neither could I bother loading them in my car and taking them to a charity shop. Too much work. My solution; I packed them in a box and took them next door.

The guy next door was in his forties and had twins, a boy and girl, nineteen years of age. While the boy wouldn't be interested, I thought there was a fair chance that Sharon wouldn't mind taking the books.

It was a Friday evening when I stepped around to offer the books. Sharon answered the door, dressed in a pink fluffy dressing gown, and showing a freshly scrubbed face. She was quite happy to take the books, dumping the box on a little side table in the hallway.

She apologised for answering the door in her dressing gown. Her father and brother had already gone out and she was getting ready for her own date. It so happened that the architecture of the place had resulted in the bathroom being directly in front of the front door. Still talking, Sharon edged back into the bathroom, standing in front of a big wall mirror, doing her hair and applying makeup.

It had been a while since I'd watched a woman dolling herself up for an evening out, and I just leant against the front doorway and enjoyed the show. I didn't need to contribute much to the conversation, Sharon easily handled the load, only requiring agreement and a few casual observations from me.

Now I'm not a totally insensitive clod. It did occur to me that maybe she was running off at the mouth because she couldn't think of a polite way to tell me to push off while she got ready.

"You don't mind me watching you get ready, do you, Sharon?" I asked. "I've always found it fascinating watching a woman doing all these little bits and pieces when they're getting ready."

She looked at me, shaking her head, her face alight with silent laughter.

"Doesn't worry me," she said. "I'll let you know when you have to leave."

Taking her at her word I continued to watch as she prepared for her night out.

When Sharon finally turned away from the mirror the magic had been wrought. She'd started off looking like a fresh faced eighteen year old, requiring ID before anyone would admit her to a pub or club. Now she looked to be in her mid-twenties, a sophisticated and attractive young woman who would walk in anywhere, unchallenged.

"Very nice," I said. "You look superb."

"Thank you," she said with a giggle. "Now you're going to have to go as I'm going to get dressed."

She moved towards me with the obvious intention of shutting the door. I, I should point out, was still outside. I hadn't actually entered the house. Another thing I have to admit is that I had been wondering just what she had on under the dressing gown. Her legs were bare, and it was extremely unlikely that she was actually dressed. The most she'd have on would be her undies.

Sharon stepped closer to me, door starting to swing shut when I reached over and pulled on the bow of her dressing gown belt.

"You'll have to excuse me," I said quietly, "but I've been itching to know what's under the dressing gown."

Before Sharon could react I'd caught the edges of her gown as they started to gape and swung them wide. I'd been right about the clothes, but wrong about the undies. She hadn't put them on yet. She was standing there, effectively naked, blushing, one hand on the door and the other on the door frame, looking shocked. She was breathtaking.

The pair of us just froze like that for a few seconds. A few seconds where my eyes were very busy, trying to take all of her in at once. Sharon suddenly gave a little gasp and twitched, although she didn't try to pull away or cover herself.

"You can't do that," she gasped, looking properly horrified.

"You mean I shouldn't have done that," I murmured. "It's bloody obvious that I can and have. You're very lovely, you know."

I didn't mention that she should also have had more sense than to stand around chatting to a man when she only had on a wraparound robe fastened by a single bow. I'm sure she'd probably already worked that out.

I was still holding the sides of the dressing gown, and I gave them a gentle tug while moving forward a little myself. Sharon didn't resist the tug, moving closer to me, and just like that we were scant inches apart.

"What are you doing?" she demanded.

"Getting rid of this," I said, brushing the gown off her shoulders and letting it drop."

Naturally it caught at her elbows.

"Let it go, please," I suggested, and Sharon seemed to gulp and then relaxed her arms, letting the gown fall away.

"Satisfied," she asked, trying for sarcastic but only managed to sound excitedly nervous.

At this stage I hadn't actually laid a finger on her. Her dressing gown, maybe, but not her. This now changed. My finger-tips brushed across her breasts, then trailed down and around, my hands closing lightly upon her bottom.

"Ah, I think that's about enough," she said, almost sounding as though she meant it.

"No, I don't think so. I think I'm going to make love to you right now, right here, and you're going to let me."

"What?" She said it quietly, but the intonation in her voice said it was a shout. "You've got to be kidding. Apart from anything else we're standing where anyone who goes past can see us. An exhibitionist, I'm not. And I'm not inviting you in, so forget it."

"You have a high front fence and a lot of bushes in the garden. No-one will see." I was stroking her bottom lightly while I talked, keeping her a little off balance.

"Yes, and when my boyfriend comes and turns into the drive?" she asked, and this time she got the sarcasm working quite nicely.

"Hopefully we'll be finished by then," I said casually, transferring the stroking action from her rear to her front. "Give me your leg?"

"Give you my leg? What the hell do you mean?"

"I mean that you lift up your leg so that I can take hold of it," I said, patting her left leg. "Come on."

I suspect that it was sheer curiosity that made her lift her leg. I caught it behind the knee and lifted it higher. She gave a little yelp and grabbed hold of the door to help herself balance.

"What are you doing?"

I didn't answer as it was self-explanatory. With her leg lifted like that she was completely exposed and I was already rubbing against her mound. She gasped and squirmed a little, but wasn't protesting. At least not immediately. It wasn't until I slipped a finger inside her that she seemed to become aware of what was happening and realising that it shouldn't be happening.

"Oh, god, stop that," she suddenly snapped out, sounding more nervous than ever.

So I stopped it. I moved my hand away, watching with interest as her eyes opened wide when I slid my zipper down. I guess she knew the sound of a zipper when she hears one.

"You wouldn't dare," she said, speaking very softly.

Seeing I was still holding her leg high enough that she was almost doing vertical splits, she must have known that I would. She blinked when she felt my cock brushing against her, but didn't tell me to stop.

I pushed forward, finding her ready to receive me. I didn't rush, just made a firm and steady progression, sinking deeper into her. I gave one last little rush and I was inside her. She gasped, her leg lifting out of my grasp and curling around my waist. I turned her slightly so she was leaning back against the door frame. It would have been so anti-climatic to lean against the door. Imagine the pair of us going flying when the door swung wide; didn't bear thinking about.

My hands closed over her breasts and I started to move inside her.

"I'd kiss you," I said quietly, "but I don't think you'd appreciate your make-up being ruined."

She blushed, but she also kept rocking against me, urging me to slide deeply with her. I was only too willing to oblige, driving in hard, arousing her and, in turn, being aroused. Mind you, the size of my erection hinted strongly at the fact that I'd already been aroused.

It was an interesting situation. How many woman, I idly wondered, stopped for a little dalliance while getting ready for a date with someone else? And at the front door, at that. I still hadn't entered the house, and she hadn't left it. Unusual, to say the least.

And quite exhilarating. Even though she was basically standing on one leg, Sharon still managed to push hard towards me each time I drove into her. Maybe she was clenching her buttocks and using those for some thrust. She was certainly using the leg curled around my waist to help draw me in.

We'd started off at quite a steady pace, and the longer we kept going, the faster the tempo built. I was driving in hard, hands making free of her delicious breasts. They were softly firm, malleable beneath my groping touch, with a hard little nub that I found distractingly erotic to tease.

Sharon had a real problem. She was making excited noises as her excitement built, but she was also trying to keep her face still, not wanting to ruin her makeup. I was looking into her eyes while I plunged in, and she must have noticed the amusement mingled with my passion. A faint smile touched her lips, and I could see she found the situation just as amusing, but possibly a bit frustrating for her, as well.

I was breathing heavily, my own passions close to boiling point. I drove in harder than ever, quite ready to push things to a finish. Sharon's voice was rising, telling me, "Yes, now, yes," and I hastened to obey.

Hitting hard I finally let go, feeling Sharon sag against me, clinging helplessly to me as I vented into her and she shuddered and accepted what I was giving her.

When I disengaged Sharon just leaned against me and I held her, helping her to stand while she recovered. After a few moments she shook her head and a touch of steel crept back into her spine. She pushed me back and straightened, still breathing hard and looking a bit bemused. Then she looked down at herself and made a rude scatological reference.

"I'm never going to be ready in time," she wailed. "This is your fault. I'm going to have to have another shower before I get dressed. Then I'll have to do my makeup again."

I have to admit that she did seem to have a number of fluids on her, together with a definite musky aroma of sex. She pushed me away from the door and slammed it. Then she opened it, glared at me, and bent down to pick up her dressing gown, it having been pushed outside by the closing door. Then she banged the door again, leaving me to go home.

Fifteen minutes later I strolled into my bedroom. My bedroom was directly opposite Sharon's, though I don't think she knew this, otherwise she'd have taken more care with her blinds. Then again, maybe she wouldn't. I happened to glance across, as her light was on, just in time to see her walk in, all wrapped in her fluffy pink dressing gown.

The next thing, she turned her head, then turned and walked out of the bedroom. I watched for a moment and she came back in, a young man with her. I assumed that was the boyfriend, there to pick her up for her date.

He seemed to be suggesting something with which she was disagreeing. I could guess what he wanted when he reached out to undo the bow on her dressing gown. She was a fast learner, stepping back very smartly, very firmly shaking her head.

It didn't help her. He just moved closer, pushed her hands aside and undid the bow. Once again, Sharon found her dressing gown hitting the floor, with a horny male facing her.

He didn't face her for long. As I watched, he took her arm and turned her around, pushing her forward over the bed. He unzipped and was approaching her and I couldn't help feeling a little sorry for her. She was never going to be ready for her date if this sort of thing kept on happening.