Hop, Skip & A Jumpbyonce upon a time©
Less than 20 feet separate us from our neighbors, Joanie and Hal, our two houses having been built cheek by jowl along the property line with the minimum clearance required by code. Each is fronted by hedges, plants and trees; each is backed by a hillside that falls away steeply to the street behind and below us. Both the landscaping and the terrain make it unlikely any of our other neighbors might ever see an occupant of one house – let's say, just as an example, myself – darting across those 20 feet to visit an occupant of the other house – let's say, just as another example, Joanie. It's just a hop, skip and a jump from the side door of our utility room to the back door of their garage.
Joan and Hal are our new neighbors, having bought the house next door last year. Hal's a commercial airline pilot and is away from home for several days at a time during the month. But when he's home, he's still usually out – on a golf course or off skiing somewhere. Joanie had been a flight attendant with Hal's airline (that's how they met), but is now a stay-at-home mom with their 7-year-old son.
I‘m a successful free-lance writer, working out of the home, and that's where you'll find me most of the time. My wife's a bank branch manager on the other side of town, so she's gone all day and never gets home before 6 o'clock at night. We don't have kids.
You can pretty much see where this story's going, right?
It begins one morning, not very long after they'd moved in. I'm at my computer, writing an article, when the phone rings. It's Joanie. "Chuck," she says, "can you help me? The garbage disposal in our kitchen is jammed, the sink is filled with yucky stuff, and I can't get it to work. Do you know to fix these things?"
"Sure," I say. "I'll be right over."
"Come through the garage back door," she says, "It's unlocked."
I stroll over there a few minutes later, go through the garage and knock on the kitchen door. "C'mon in," she yells.
My eyeballs go "boing!" the second I step inside and see her. It's not that I didn't know she's attractive and sexy, because I do – I've been able to see that from Day One. No, what freaks me out this particular morning is that she's standing there in a gossamer peignoir, so transparent I can see the only other thing she's wearing is panties – and they're just as see-through. Her tits sway gracefully, freely, whenever she makes the slightest move because they're unencumbered by a bra. Her nipples protrude just enough to distend the fabric. Figuring maybe I've responded too quickly to her call for help and she hasn't yet had a chance to get dressed, I back up toward the door.
"Oh, it's okay," she says, reading my mind. "It's so warm today and I really don't like air-conditioning unless it's hotter than hell and I absolutely have to run it. Do you mind?"
"Not at all," I reply. "Not at all."
Her sink is half-full with gray water and gunk. I reach down through that mess and feel around until I find the blockage: A spoon. No big deal, I tell her; I just have to get at the disposal's motor, under the sink, and back it off. I've even brought along the appropriate tool.
"Oh!" she says. "You've have to get under the sink? I'm sorry; there's a lot of junk down there."
"That's okay," I say, squatting to move whatever's there and handing it to her to put somewhere else temporarily. When I turn to give her some stuff, I find myself looking straight at her pussy. She's standing maybe a foot away, a lot closer than she needs to be, and since her peignoir and panties are about as opaque as glass, I'm getting a front-row view of her pussy. Her pubic hair appears to be trimmed and makes a sort of "V" pattern, with the point of the "V" like a sign post to that wonderful cleft just below.
Okay, I think, I know how to play this game. I lay flat on her kitchen floor and pretend to be struggling with the disposal. Joanie stands right over me – just in case, she says, I need her to do anything. What she's doing, of course, is inviting me to look up her peignoir at her long legs, smooth thighs and crotch.
I'm getting quite a hard-on at this point and make absolutely no effort to hide it. I'm in my usual workday outfit – jeans and a polo shirt – so I know Joanie can see the tell-tale bulge, but I figure, whathehell, if we're playing you-show-me-yours, I'll definitely show you mine, sweetheart.
I deliberately take another few minutes to fix the problem, just because I'm enjoying the view. Finally, I free the jam, tell her to remove the spoon and then hit the "on" switch. The unit roars back to life and the sink empties. As I stand at the sink, washing my hands, she insists I stay and have a cup of coffee with her.
Fine with me, I say, and I watch her as she bustles about, reaching up into a cabinet to get mugs (some nice tit flopping there), milk from the fridge (very nice bend-over; splendid ass), pouring the coffee (more tit shaking) and carrying everything to the table (more ass action; marvelous!). By now I'm convinced this pretty, 30-something woman had more in mind for me than her disposal when she called me earlier.
Joanie pulls her chair up against the kitchen table, folds one leg under her, places her elbows on the table edge and hunches over so that both tits now rest comfortably on her forearms. This pose has the effect of throwing open the upper part of her peignoir and exposing her right tit.
We make small talk about nothing, but she knows I know she knows that I'm looking at that sweet tit hanging out. I put down my coffee mug and casually stretch my hand across the table to take it in my hand. It feels soft as velvet, yet as firm as a tennis ball. "Chuck," she says in mock horror, but making no effort to resist, "what are you doing?"
"I'm admiring your tits," I answer as my other hand reaches across the table, pulls the peignoir fully open and takes possession of her other tit as well. I knead both. "They're nice," I tell her, looking admiringly at both, "very, very nice."
"I think you're trying to take advantage of a poor, defenseless housewife," Joanie says and adds that little laugh she seems to tack onto the end of just about everything she says. She doesn't push my hands away.
"Damned right I am. Come here."
With that, she gets up, lets the peignoir slide to the floor, sits on my lap and wraps her arms around my neck. That first kiss isn't five seconds old before her tongue is running along my lips, searching for an entrance, and her breathing is just a tiny bit fast.
I fondle her tits for a while because I learned long ago that a woman, even one who's eager, doesn't like to be grabbed right away. So I take it real slow, running my hands all over her body, coming back to gently squeeze those sweet tits every now and again, brushing my fingertips on her nipples. And when my tongue isn't playing tag with her tongue, I'm running it up and down her neck, just below her ear, or sticking it in her ear.
It's only after she starts squirming on my lap and her breathing gets more irregular that I slide a hand down her belly and into her panties. I pause there briefly before continuing down to her pubic bone, which I rub for several long minutes, and then it's on to the slippery warmth of the arch between her legs. It is slippery. It is warm. It's wonderful.
I trace the outlines of her outer labia with my fingertip as I resume mouthing her nipples. Now, it seems, everything I do elicits a gasp, a sharp, breathy intake or a deep sigh. My middle finger pushes gently between those lips, locates the entrance to her vagina and, finding it open, strolls right in. This gets another strong reaction from her. Like a tourist in a scenic country, my finger roams around inside her – going in, coming out, going back in, coming out again, and on and on. I soon add a second finger. She's enjoying this exploration; she's squirming.
I withdraw both fingers from her and hold them up so she can see them – and then I slowly, deliberately, wipe her sweet juices across my upper lip.
"Why…why did you do that?" she asks.
"Because I like the smell of you," I say and then put both fingers in my mouth and lick my lips with obvious relish, "as well as the taste."
"You like the taste of my pussy?"
"I love it."
She laughs her little laugh. "I like that in a man."
By this time, the excitement that's rising in both of us is demanding some resolution. "C'mon," she says, breaking off another long, wet kiss, "let's go back to the bedroom."
"Yeah. But lose your panties first, right here."
"Okay. But why here?"
"Because I want to watch your ass wiggle as I follow you to the bedroom."
Another little laugh. "You like my ass? I think it's fat."
"You're wrong; it's beautiful. I've been admiring it since I walked in here this morning."
She laughs again, but stands up so I can slowly, slowly, ease that tiny little nothing of a panty down around her ankles. She pulls out first one foot, then the other, and kicks it to one side. It has so little substance it almost floats in the air, like a feather.
"Ready for the bedroom now?" she says, with a wicked little smile.
"I'm ready," I reply. "I'm definitely ready."
As she walks down the hallway, she exaggerates the roll of her hips so her buns swing and sway. And all the while she's looking back over her shoulder at me, smiling. "Like this?" she asks. "Like that," I say.
In the bedroom, she plops down on the edge of the bed and extends her arms straight behind her and her legs, partly opened, straight out in front so she's forming a sort of erotic "X." It's now my turn to get naked and as I pull my shirt off, she looks at my chest, giggles and says: "Nice pecs. Nice abs. I like that in a man."
I push both my jeans and shorts down and even before I can get them all the way off, she reaches out and touches my erect cock. "Oh, my," she says, with that little laugh of hers, "and I like this even better in a man."
We're both naked now. I kneel on the bedroom rug, between her legs, and stare into her eyes across her mons, her tummy and her tits. She smiles at me; I smile back. There's no question but that she's aroused: Her outer labia are plump, swollen with sexual excitement. I kiss the inside of her knees and move slowly all the way up to that sweet junction where her legs meet.
I sweep my nose back and forth over her sex, like a connoisseur sniffing an exquisite wine – and the smell of her is almost as intoxicating as wine. I brush her mons with the tip of my nose and make little growly sounds to tell her how much I like her. She's squirming again, her ass and hips wiggling almost involuntarily, as I slowly slide a finger back into her, just as I did only minutes before, in the kitchen.
With the fingers of my other hand, I now spread her labia to reveal her inner lips and clit. She's a bright, bright pink. My tongue snakes forward and licks her inner lips up and down. She gasps and her pelvis twitches up into my face. I lick her everywhere but her clit before pressing my mouth to her pussy and kissing it as if it were her mouth. She lets out a little yelp of surprise and pleasure. There's a bigger, much louder yelp when I suck her clit strongly into my mouth. "Oh! Oh!" she cries, "ohmigod, oh, oh, ohmigod!" I don't let go of it, but tug it from side to side. She grabs my head and digs her fingers into my scalp. I wince but don't let go of that precious pink pearl.
She revels in this licking and sucking for several minutes before she pushes me back and throws herself backward on the bed. "You're driving me crazy!" she says and there's no little tacked-on laugh this time. "C'mon, let's fuck!"
She asks if I'll let her be on top: "I like being on top the first time. Do you mind?" I roll on to my back and hold my hard-on straight up. She backs down to about my knees, takes my cock in one hand and pops it in her mouth. Actually, what she does is slather it with saliva. She pulls my cock out of her mouth, assesses its slippery-ness for a moment and returns it to her mouth for a second, more generous spit-coating. Satisfied, she grips it at the base, lifts a leg up and over my legs to straddle me, aligns it with her vagina and then sinks down. There's no better, more exhilarating feeling in the world than the silky slide of a hard cock into a warm, moist pussy.
"Oh, yes," she says with a sibilant hiss, closing her eyes and throwing her head back, as she feels my cock expand her pouch, "yes, yes, yessss…."
She sits there, upright, for maybe a minute before starting to bounce up and down on me, an equestrienne cantering to the pace of her own lust. And over and over again, she's murmuring "yes…yes…yesssssssss, ohgod, yessssssssssss." I reach down with one hand, find her clit and begin flicking it lightly; my other hand is tormenting her nipples, twisting and pinching hard. She winces in pain, but she loves it. "Yes…yes….yesssssss!"
Joanie gives as good as she gets. She reaches down, behind her, and squeezes my balls, just beneath her ass. It's all I can do not to lose it right there. I groan to let her know how good she feels. She rises, lifting her sheath almost all the way off my cock, and then sinks down quickly. My hands abandon her clit and nipples and grab her ass, holding her so I can thrust more fiercely into her. She's a sexual pump, pulling my cum to the surface from some aquifer deep down in my balls, and then the moment occurs: My cock becomes a well-head and great, thick strands of semen shoot up inside her. I cannot help it: I whimper from the intensity of the sensation.
Joanie is also now yelling as her own powerful orgasm erupts. It shakes her for what seems an eternity before she collapses on my chest, a strangled string of "oh…oh…oh …ohs" escaping from her open mouth.
We lie there, both of us as spent as if we'd just washed up on some far-distant beach. I run my hand down her back and feel sweat. She's covered in sweat. So am I. Her eyes are still closed, her head is resting on one of my shoulders and she's still moaning softly. It's only when I feel that delicious little shudder in the tip of my cock, when it slips from her still-tight vaginal grasp, that I break the silence.
She's half-asleep. "Huh?"
"I said, not bad."
After a second or two, she lifts her head and glares at me. "Not bad? Is that all you can say?"
I smile and kiss her lightly. "No. It was sensational, sen…saysh…ah…nahl. Sen… fucking...sational." She sees I'm teasing her and drops her head back on my shoulder. "That's more like it," she whispers.
In time, she gets up and goes into the bathroom. I hear water running. She returns with a warm washcloth and wipes the semen off my cock, balls and thighs. "There," she says, "all clean! Now let's see if I can resuscitate the little fellow." She takes me in her mouth and starts sucking me into a fresh hard-on.
She lies alongside me, as she does so, her head toward my feet, and spreads her legs so I can play with her pussy. In almost no time, we're both as randy as two goats in May and ready for another session. "My call, this time," I tell her. "On your knees, girl, on all fours." Joanie quickly assumes the position and I move behind her, captivated by the sight of her pussy. It's gorgeous, exciting. I spend several minutes fingering her, tapping her clit lightly and pretending to penetrate her before backing off.
She can take this for only so long before she starts thrusting back into me quickly every time she feels the tip of my cock between her lips, hoping to snare my hardness. I won't let her. "Oh shit," she says with a moan, "stop that and put it in me! Fuck me again! Fuck me!"
I oblige; pussy and cock are re-united. I try to maintain a slow, easy pace but Joanie will have none of that. She's doing a vigorous backward hump; she wants me on fast-forward. Whatthehell, I figure, we're both excited as hell so what if we come sooner rather than later? There's obviously going to be plenty more where this came from. I grip her bucking hips with one hand, reach under and up with the other to massage her clit fast and furiously, and hump us both into another mind-blowing, spectacular orgasm.
So it's been like this for several months. When Hal leaves for a flight, Joanie waits, calls the airline's arrival/departure number to make sure his plane has taken off and then calls me. I do the hop, skip and jump to her house, enter – and, usually within a minute or two – am entering her for our first fuck of the day. Sometimes it happens right there on the kitchen table, sometimes on the living room couch and sometimes we manage to get all the way back to the bedroom. The master bedroom is the setting for the second and third fucks and, one memorable day, for the fourth.
There's an old saying that every silver lining has a cloud and this thing with Joanie is no exception. Yesterday, after we'd fucked twice, she said to me: "Chuck, we need to talk. I may be pregnant." Stay tuned.