I Want You

Gail and Andrew were the young couple who lived next door to me. They moved in a couple of years back, shortly after they got married. A friendly couple, they got on well with all the neighbours, even me, which probably surprised some of our other neighbours as I can be a bit of a bastard at times. I've never been one to suffer fools gladly.

Andrew wasn't particularly noticeable, being an average sort of guy. It seemed to me that the longer I knew him the more he seemed to just fade into the background as part of the scenery. He must have been reasonably intelligent as I never noticed him doing anything asinine, which is more than can be said for certain other people.

Gail initially struck me as average. She had quite good looks and a nice figure but didn't really seem to stand out any more than he did. The difference was that the longer you knew her the more she stood out, becoming noticeable even in a crowd. I don't know if it was her personality or what, but she certainly had some sort of slow working charisma.

If I was out the front or down the street and we ran into each other she would always stop for a chat, with a bit of mild flirting going on between us. I'm not being full of myself when I say that women tend to find me attractive and she was no exception. One big difference was that women tend to shy away after a while, especially when they come up against my abrasive side. My attitude to that was, who cares? They weren't going to change their personalities to suit me so why should I change mine? Gail, on the other hand, didn't seem to bring out that abrasive side and so we continued to get on quite well.

One day I was chatting to Gail and she mentioned that it was her birthday the next day.

"Yeah? I'll bake you a cake," I told her. "How many candles do you want?"

"You do that," she said with a laugh, "but skip the candles."

I could tell that she didn't really think that I'd actually bake a cake but I did. I am a very good amateur chef, my cakes and pies being second to none. (In my humble opinion, but that was the one that counted where my baking was concerned.)

I whipped up a sponge, a sponge so light and fluffy that if I hadn't iced it, it would have floated away. The next day I waited until I knew Gail was out and delivered the cake to Andrew, telling him Gail was expecting it.

The next day was a Saturday and in the afternoon Gail came over to see me, carrying my platter and cover. I'd spotted her coming and left the front door open, so when she knocked I just yelled at her to come on through. She wandered down to the kitchen and placed the platter on the kitchen table. I was amused to see that there was still a slice of cake on the platter. A very small slice.

"It was a lovely cake," she told me. "As you can see we kept you a slice. I thought it would be a pity if you couldn't at least have a taste of it. Where'd you buy it? I didn't know there were any good cake shops around here."

"Buy it? Bite your tongue, woman. I wouldn't demean myself by going out and buying an inferior product. That cake was made by my own lily-white hands. I take it you approved?"

"It was marvellous but you're kidding, aren't you? Men don't bake cakes like that."

"That's a sexist statement," I protested. "I'm a superb pâtissier. Brandy snaps are my specialty."

"I thought you were a carpenter."

"That I am, and a good one," I acknowledged, always ready to admit how superb I was. "Baking is a hobby. After explaining to a customer exactly why he is an idiot without offending him as I don't want to lose the contract I tend to come home and bake something, safe in the knowledge that a cake is not going to argue with me."

"What sort of idiotic requests does a carpenter get?" she asked. "I'd have thought carpentry was quite straight forward. Please build this or that."

"You'd think that, wouldn't you? How about asking me to build a large dresser, and I mean large, to be installed against a wall at the far end of a room. The dresser went from floor to ceiling and stretched from wall to wall. It included a mirror and glass shelves in the centre with glass faced doors for the cupboards and about a dozen drawers. It was a beautiful piece and I was very proud of it. No sooner had I finished than the customer announced that his landlord wasn't renewing the lease and he had to move. What was the best way to move his nice new dresser?"

"How do you move it? You'd need to be very careful with it, wouldn't you?"

"The short answer is, you don't. No way, no how. Not without cutting a hole in the wall to slide it through. You'd then have to cut a hole in the wall of wherever he moves to, to get it in. He didn't want to pay me if he couldn't take it with him."

"Couldn't you just take it apart and reassemble it elsewhere? I know I can do that with some of my stuff."

"That is cheap, mass-produced junk," I said dismissively. "This was a hand-made work of art without a single nail or screw in the whole unit. All joins were tongue in groove and glued. The only way to take it apart would be with a chainsaw. I had a couple of very polite discussions with the man before he eventually paid me. Then I came home and baked enough cakes and pastries to feed the old people's home."

"What did you do with them?" Gail asked, sounding mightily amused.

"I just told you. I gave them to the old people's home for their Sunday dinner. They were much appreciated."

Gail laughed. "You're not the old grouch that some people say, are you?"

"I'll deny the old. I've only recently turned thirty. The grouch? It depends on who I'm talking to. It serves to scare away idiots." I smiled at the thought of one neighbour who scrupulously avoided me.

"Well, I suppose I'd better get going and leave you to do some more baking," Gail said.

I tilted my head slight while I gave her the once over. She was wearing bright yellow yoga-pants that looked as though they'd been put on with a paint brush. Her top was a kind of pink that should have clashed with those pants but didn't. Damned if I know how women can pick colours that clash and still make them seem reasonable. One other thing that I'd already noticed was that Gail had a tendency to talk with her hands. While talking today I'd been admiring the way her breasts bounced and swayed under her top, a strong indication that they weren't being constrained by anything. I wondered just how shapely they were.

"Before you go," I said, "I want you."

She blushed and looked a little flustered. I also saw her eyes flick down to check out the size of my package.

"Really," she blustered. "What a thing to say. I am married, you know."

"That's okay," I said, waving away and inconsequential husband. "I only intend to borrow you for a short time."

"You're not supposed to say things like that," she said, trying to sound stern but only succeeded in sounding a little nervous. Just a little.

"I know," I said, most unrepentantly. "There again, I'm not supposed to do things like this, either."

I place my hands on her waist and slid them downwards, slipping inside the yoga-pants and taking them with me. I also managed to collect her panties along the way. I didn't take them far - just far enough to clear her pussy, letting me see that which was forbidden. (Also high enough that she thought she was still in control.)

"Nathan," she protested, her hands dropping down to cover her vulnerability. And that was all, I noticed. She wasn't trying to drag her panties and yoga-pants back into place.

It was a simple matter to slide my hand between her and her hands. This resulted in me rubbing her mound while she held my hand in place, telling me I shouldn't be doing that. Not telling me to stop, just that I shouldn't.

After a pleasurable interval giving her a nice little massage while she twisted about under my touch I stopped and turned her to face the kitchen table. With my hand on her back I gently encouraged her to lean forward over the table, my other hand now moving between her legs from behind to continue rubbing.

"A little further," I told her, wanting her to lean just that bit extra so that her pert little bottom presented properly. Her yoga-pants and panties had been pushed down far enough that the gap at the top was exposed, giving me ample room to attack.

She gave a shocked gasp when I moved my cock into that gap, letting her feel the length of it rubbing against her lips.

"You shouldn't," she protested again.

Perhaps that should have been we shouldn't, or even the word no, not that it made any difference. If she wanted to consider that it was all on me and she was just an innocent bystander I didn't mind.

I adjusted my position slightly and now my erection was pressing rather firmly against her. A couple of fingers to ease her lips apart and I was starting to move into position.

"You can't do that," she feebly protested, which was a silly comment when you consider the fact that I was doing it. I continued pressing forward, finding Gail was now pushing back to meet me, letting me sink fully into her.

I just held there for a few moments while my hands went under her top and moved up, finally cupping her breasts. I'd been spot on with that no bra bit.

I started a nice gentle movement. Gail gave a groan and went with me, no hesitation in the way she moved. I settled down to a nice slow rhythm, stroking her breasts to the same pace as my cock thrusting into her. I could feel the pressure of her breasts against my hands increase as she pressed them more firmly into my grasp.

After a while that nice rhythm started building and I was thrusting home faster as we progressed. Then I pulled out and turned her back to face me.

Gail was all, "What? What? What?" but I took hold of the hem of her top and told her to lift her arms. She did so and I lifted her top up and off, then took hold of her yoga-pants and continued to pull them down, telling her to lift her feet. She obliged and I whipped yoga-pants and panties right off, tossing them to one side.

From there I simply pushed her back against the table, moving between her

thighs and trusting firmly home, with Gail pushing eagerly to accept me once more. Now I was thrusting in with a lot more gusto, fondling her breasts and watching her face as I did so. Without any prompting from me she lifted her legs and wrapped them firmly around me, drawing me in even harder, her bottom wedged against the table to give her support.

Her eyes were closed and she was making eager little noises as I drove into her, every so often shouting encouragement and wanting more, something which I was only too happy to provide.

When I was ready for a nice climax I kept an eye on her, gauging her reactions. Deciding she was in the right state I took off the brakes and started driving in with everything I had. Gail gave a small scream, rushing to match my increased efforts, and followed up that small scream with a much louder one, her eyes popping open as she did so, her climax rolling through her, while I gave her everything I had.

She glared at me once she was dressed again, but her heart wasn't really in it. It was more a case she felt she had to be angry and was trying to force it.

"You had no right to do that," she told me.

Uh-huh. No right at all. She wasn't accepting that she might have partaken in our recent activities. It was just me. I could understand that.

"Maybe, but if you're looking for an apology you're way out of luck," I told her. "I thought you were marvellous and I have no regrets whatsoever."

"Well let me tell you, it won't happen ever again, I assure you."

"I understand," I said soothingly, "Except possibly on your birthday, but that's a year away."

"Not on my birthday, either."

"Okay. I suppose my birthday is out of the question? And Christmas?"

She just gave me an 'I am not amused' look and turned to go. Being a gentleman I escorted her to the door. As she strolled down the path I considered the future. She hadn't ruled out my birthday and it was coming up soon. I'd have to let her know when it was.