It's Good to be Neighbourly!

Soon he was making louder noises than she'd been making earlier.

She ate him like she was hungry. Concentrating fully on his erection, she gave him none of the teasing eye contact Helen did when she was giving him head. Helen handled him gently, carefully cupping his balls and eating him delicately like she was eating an ice cream cone—licking around the top, nibbling up the shaft, and only occasionally taking him as deep inside her mouth as she could. Florence, in contrast, was almost aggressive in her attention. He tossed his head from side to side, trying not to look down at her because each time he did it brought him to the point of ejaculation.

He felt her pumping his shaft as she sucked both of his balls into her mouth at the same time and rolled them around her tongue. He had to look down. He needed to see her beautiful mouth rammed full of his balls. He needed to see her small hand wrapped around his bursting erection. He needed one more glance to add to his memories of this incredible occasion.

He looked down and immediately felt his control slippi—

He jumped in surprise as she grasped his erection just below the head and effectively stopped him from coming.

"I want you to come inside me," she smiled apologetically up at him, holding him for a moment longer to ensure that he was under control before letting him go and lying back.

"Thank you." He grabbed two folded kitchen towels and slipped them under her head to make her more comfortable before kissed her softly and straightening. He was grateful that she'd stopped him from coming. It would have been a forceful ejaculation—his cum would have made a mess of the kitchen—but coming, surrounded by her snug warmth, would be so much better.

He lifted her left leg and sucked her toes into his mouth as he rubbed his erection repeatedly over her clit. She wriggled, and giggled, as he forced his tongue between her toes. She was already wet, but he wanted her dripping her juices down between the crack of her behind and onto the table below.

"Let me know when I'm deep enough," he said, positioning himself against her when he was satisfied with the abundance of lubrication.

He slid the head of his erection carefully inside her. Her body pushed it back out. He spread his legs and tried again, remembering at this most inappropriate of moments a tale that Florence had told Helen. She had claimed that some babies in the womb blocked their mothers' vaginal passages, refusing to let men other than their fathers inside their mothers. He had thought the notion peculiar and most unlikely when Helen had related it to him, but suddenly he wondered if there was any truth in the phenomenon.

"Press harder," Florence told him, when a third attempt met with failure. "You're not going to hurt me you know."

He took a deep breath and did as instructed. Her vaginal walls enclosed him in a snug grasp as he slid just over half his length inside her.

This was as far as it was safe to go, he decided, withdrawing partially and then carefully sliding forward again. Her inner walls delicately compressed the head of his penis and massaged the length of shaft inside her. The portion left outside felt cold although it was a warm day. John wanted nothing more than to bury himself deeply, to feel the massaging tightness along his entire erection, but he ignored the devilish voice whispering in his ear and kept his strokes deliberately slow and shallow, giving her just over half his length and then withdrawing.

It was enough just to be inside her.

After all, half an entry didn't mean that she was half 'fucked' (to use Sydney's word).

Idly, John wondered if the man's cock was bigger than his.

Did it really matter?

Surely it wasn't the size of the tool, but how it was used that mattered.

Then he remembered Sydney and Florence dancing to Arrow's Feeling Hot Hot Hot, the only calypso song he and Helen owned, at the barbeque.

They had danced in a way that had made John hot under the collar.

Time to step up the tempo.

Imagining the song playing in his head, John started to rotate his hips.

"Oh, yes! Yes!" Florence immediately moved her hips in counterbalance to his, pressing herself against him. And like a warm knife through butter, he slid effortlessly into her to the crisp hairs of his groin.

Reaching out blindly, he clasped her left hand tightly as he felt her movements become more frenzied. As soon as her tremors started, he released the mental grip on his control and let the physical sensations overwhelm him as she climaxed and took him along for the ride.

***

"Perhaps I should have applied a little more fake tan," Helen remarked as she admired the way the honey skin tone accentuated the sleek muscles of her right leg as she held it up to catch the light. "Now I understand why bodybuilders virtually paint themselves orange."

"I don't want an orange wife." John caressed the smooth swell of her stomach. "An orange wife would give birth to an orange daughter."

She smiled at the silly comment and relaxed back against him. Though he wouldn't have minded twins again, John was glad that it was a single child this time. This pregnancy had been much easier on Helen. He was pleased that it was a daughter, too. Hopefully she will be as light a feeder as her older sister and maybe she would leave a little milk for her dada.

"Wouldn't it be mad if Florence sometimes pretended to be me for Sydney?" Helen laughed at the thought.

"It would be more than mad, but I don't think that Sydney is that kind of fellow." The man was as serious as a heart attack. But then who knew what couples got up to when they were alone together. He still couldn't believe that Helen had pretended to be his sister the previous year and he had made love to her. The thought still filled him with shameful excitement.

"Nice West Indian accent by the way," he complimented.

"I didn't get it quite right though. I sounded more Jamaican than Trinidadian."

"Cat?" he asked suddenly, remembering the bizarre word she had used twice earlier.

"That's what Florence calls her pussy. At first I thought that she had a pet. She was always talking about 'washing her cat'. Then one day I realized that she meant bathing—washing her pussy."

"And is Sydney really a vegetarian?" John chuckled.

"Florence says that he categorically refuses to eat pussies or cats." Helen giggled. Florence was so outspoken she sometimes made Helen blush, but she was great fun to be around. And it was Florence who had advised her to have a herbal cleanse after she'd confessed her longing for another child when Florence mentioned that she'd missed her period and was expecting Sydney's first child. Helen had followed her advice, thinking that at worst she would have given her body a detox. A month later she too had missed a period.

"Well, the man doesn't know what he's missing." John kissed his way across the swell that kept his daughter warmly protected and nourished and down to the place where she would make her first appearance into the world in less than three months, if everything went as smoothly as it had done with the twins. "Well, my dear, I'm a proud carnivore and I especially like eating little blonde pussies."

© Lexy Harper 2010

This is the last of the standalone wedding anniversary stories based on Helen and John Elliott for now. I have a fourth, incomplete story about John and a new young male employee which I've shelved due to the hundred and one other things I have to do, but I may finish it off and post it at some point in the distant future.