tagFetishMr. Norton From Next Door

Mr. Norton From Next Door


He was fifty-odd and just a little overweight, around five-nine, and beginning to go bald. Though he was a pleasant man he always came across as a serious sort, smiling but never laughing; a friendly man, always ready to help out. I was not tall, five feet four aged twenty-five, but with generous well shaped breasts, though not massive and my shapely legs and hips made men admire and look twice.

It felt funny, in a weird sort of way to notice that the safe Mr Norton was ogling me. That day, I was leaning against the kitchen worktop on the phone to my friend while the man was bent down under the sink tightening a loose joint. I first noticed his crafty looks trying to see that little bit further up my skirt as he shifted around. Never would I have associated Mr Norton with anything remotely connected to sex, which was why it all seemed strange. (I never would have imagined that he ever thought of me in a sexual way.)

Was he getting hard -- did he fantasise what it would be like to fuck me? I wasn't even sure just how much he could see. Up to that point I had been having a joke with my friend about what opportunities I would have to misbehave the following week given that my husband was going away and hadn't meant it to sound as though we really did intend to go off the rails; Mr Norton clearly wouldn't have known that.

I felt devilish and wicked, moving my hips and turning my body to the side I teased the man keeping just far enough away to prevent him from seeing all the way up to my crotch.

"Yeah!" I told my friend knowing the man was listening, "I was ready for some excitement; we will go out and make the most of my freedom."

Norton caught my eye and the look on his face sent a shiver through me. Suddenly there was a sexual charge in the air; to him, in his mind I was making serious plans, sexual plans, letting him hear every word while I stood over him, happily allowing him to ogle and lust over me, see up my skirt, (well, most of the way!). I looked down at the man while he gazed up at me, our eyes fixed on each other.

"I have a man here now," I told my friend (who was already aware that it was only old Mr Norton who was there with me) lowering the tone and volume of my voice, "But he won't say anything -- he won't tell on me." I covered the receiver so Brenda's raucous laughter couldn't be heard.

Wickedly I dared to take a small step nearer to the man, not being too obvious I let a foot slide making my thighs spread wider as I leaned sideways on to the counter. It felt terrific and exciting, such bad behaviour -- now I knew he really would be able to see the gusset of my panties. In my head I couldn't decide whether I should eventually confess to him that I was only joking and teasing him about going out on the town or whether to test his loyalty, say nothing but tell my husband all about it and see if he got a call from our neighbour.

Brenda had to go, so we rung off. Norton's eyes were fixed on my crotch and he wasn't bashful about letting me see his lewd stares. I was quite astounded as I expected him to have shyly looked away embarrassed but I felt a strange compulsion to remain where I was, to let him carry on looking. The atmosphere was a little tense now I was off the phone, it was very silent.

"You're a very pretty and sexy looking young woman; it shouldn't be difficult for you," he suddenly said.

How weird it was talking to this, to me, elderly neighbour while almost standing over him, legs spread unladylike.

"What shouldn't?" I asked, hesitantly.

"Finding some fun," he said calmly without any trace of light heartedness or humour, "When your husband goes away."

I was stunned by his comment. He kept letting his eyes go from meeting mine to blatantly staring at my crotch; somehow that increased my feelings of nervous excitement.

"Do you not disapprove?" I asked shocked at my audacity to pursue this conversation while I continued to let him enjoy the view of my panties.

He shrugged his shoulders and fiddled with his wrench, "If you were my wife you would have to pay a price," he said curiously.

I gave a laugh, "What the hell does that mean?" My mind was already conjuring up several possibilities -- most of them very intriguing. "You mean you would allow her to have her fun -- but she would have to submit to some sort of forfeit?"

Norton slowly began to rise from his kneeling position fixing his eyes on me making my tummy turn over. He stood close, intimidating, almost menacing -- but oddly arousing.

His voice was low in volume, his words measured and slowly spoken, which added to the tension, "You are one of those women who needs something different from time to time. Not one who wants to disrupt her life totally, but has needs, craves certain pleasures, ones that don't come from regular married life."

I grinned but felt uncomfortable, "You're talking nonsense Mr Norton" I laughed. "So if your wife was such a person you would accept she needs to satisfy those urges -- but you would make her pay; how would you do that Mr Norton? Are you speaking from experience?"

The idea that the Norton's had lived such an unconventional life was more than interesting but seemed unlikely.

He was standing so close that a whiff of body odour reached my nostrils, the smell of sweat from a workman. His eyes seemed to burrow into my mind and the nervousness took away my breath making me pant, my chest visibly rising and falling, appearing to me, when I became aware of it, to be sexual and potentially arousing for both he and me!

He took time to think before answering, "I won't discuss my wife or marriage, we are talking about you -- everyone is different. Some may find enjoyment in an act while another might regard it as punishment -- some may enjoy the punishment."

Mr Norton was surely a very spooky man.

"What if I told you that I have been teasing you -- winding you up?" I decided to come clean though I suspected that this would not be enough as this conversation had already changed our relationship and the way I thought of him.

"Then I too, apart from your husband should have the right to make you pay a price -- but I don't fully believe you. I know you are a woman who would delight in taking advantage of your husband's absence if temptation came your way."

Norton let his voice slow down and his eyes narrowed, a sinister just discernable grin appeared on his face as he added, "If you have been trying to ridicule me then you should submit to me dishing out an appropriate form of punishment."

I shivered and felt a tremble in my tummy -- but was it a feeling of excitement and arousal rather than fright or terror?

"You wouldn't have known if I hadn't have told you -- do I get let off -- credit for honesty? And I would only have to pay a price for being unfaithful if my husband caught me Mr Norton."

I did feel silly, finding myself encouraging this game, this mental jousting, knowing that I probably now sounded quite as bizarre as the old man. Nevertheless I carried on winding him up, provoking him.

He studied me, and not normally expected from Mr Norton he let his stare linger on my tits making me feel on edge.

"Is it usually the victim that gets to personally punish the perpetrator?"

I laughed, "Now you're stretching a point -- would you think you have the right to punish me if you found out I had been with another man? You're just the neighbour from next door -- I'd expect you to keep your nose out of it!"

He smiled as he bent to pick up a strip of leather that he used to hold his battered toolbox together.

"Well, I'll make do with chastising you for trying to ridicule me."

As I began to turn away harbouring the excitedly wicked intention of faking a need to bend forward to open a cupboard, and flash a little bit of my white knickers for him I unwisely went a step further. Not prepared to let him even begin to deliver some sort of sanctimonious moral lecture I did bend over and push out my bottom giggling as I did so.

"So you think I ought to let you spank my little bum do you?"

I felt the strap make contact with my backside, striking across both cheeks with a crack. It didn't really hurt but immediately I was stopped in my tracks, astounded and shocked. Never would I have believed that my neighbour, strange as he was sometimes, would have the audacity or nerve, to do something so outlandish, so forbidden!

I didn't know what the hell to say or do and cried out when he delivered another blow, this time making me tense up tightening my bottom cheeks. Now it really did sting.

"Mr Norton!" I gasped. He answered with another lash, this time coming up vertically to catch me between the legs. "Oh, my goodness!" I cried.

Now I was facing away from him, scared and too humiliated to turn around already feeling the stinging pain turn into a burning throb. I was for a time paralysed with awe fright and shock.

"You really should not be doing that Mr Norton!" I scolded, with more than a little nervousness in my tone.

"Well, you really shouldn't have displayed your panties to me while I was knelt down." The leather slapped against my upper thighs, just hard enough to make me wince and jerk my arse forward.

"Should you not?"

"No!" I answered meekly wondering why I was so easily admitting to my brazenly sexual antics -- but it was fact -- I should not have done it! "Were you trying to arouse me -- make me lust over you?" he asked flicking his wrist to make the strap slap against my thighs.

I was almost dancing as the stinging sensation caused my bum and legs to wobble as I tried to absorb the burning slaps.

"No, not really -- well, not lust, just surprise you, turn you on, make you hot under the collar. I didn't mean any harm!"

I winced as he brought the lash down with more force across my arse.

"You wanted to arouse me -- sexually?" he demanded.

"Well, yes! Please stop now!"

The leather made contact again, between my legs, not once, or twice, but continually in short snaps -- hitting the most sensitive of places.

"Mr Norton, please, this is silly!"

Another lash came up between my legs in line with my pussy slit.

"Now show me your panties -- now - do it! Dare you do it now -- and pay the price?"

I was astonished but couldn't think straight due to the constant whips, that varied in time making me falsely anticipate when the next one would strike which, to add to my humiliation, reduced me to wriggling my arse as I stiffened, attempting to absorb the blows. When the whack did come my arse muscles tensed then relaxed, before tightening again as I expected another stinging lash, but when it didn't come the feeling was weirdly electrifying.

I heard the menacingly demanding whisper of the old man's voice.

"Show me -- bend forward!"

Why would I obey the pervert? Why would I want to indulge him in his oddball kinks? Did he expect me to beg him to leave me alone? Did he want to see me cry? What if I showed him that I was stronger -- called his bluff -- he would be the one to back down?

I tried it; I stayed exactly where I was, supporting myself with my arms on the work counter and bent just far enough forward to give him a little show.

I heard the snap of the leather thong between my legs before I felt the burning sharp pain. It was not enough to make me scream but enough to make me yelp and tighten my buttocks. As they relaxed involuntarily I received a further physical and mind-blowing shock as Mr Norton's big hand spanked my arse hard.

"This is the price you pay -- but like I say, some people find much pleasure from the punishment itself."

As I tried to protest my voice faltered every time the hand whacked my arse cheeks. The leather strap was now alternating with the smacks but had changed from stinging blows to sharp little well aimed flicks hitting my swollen pubes. As my arse went forward under the mercy of Mr Norton's big hands spanking my cheeks my hips wriggled at the feel of leather against my pussy. Now, if the man decided to increase the intensity and speed of slap and lash he could make me simulate the action of a woman who was exciting herself on a rampant cock. Sometimes he did just that making me thrust back and forth, then he would make me slow down, to perform what must have appeared from behind to be a very wanton and sexy wriggle of my backside.

Mr Norton's hand firmly pulled my skirt over my hips and I imagined the sight he would be able to see, my white panties pulled tightly across my arse -- and maybe, to my utter horror, he would see between my legs the bulging vulva and wet patch created by that constant tormenting but strangely tantalising leather strap agitating my cunt. I didn't object when Mr Norton left his hand on my throbbing hot bottom, but still flicked the strap under my legs.

Though the old man continued to smack my bottom with his bare hand the blows came unpredictably and varied in ferocity. The 'intervals' when his hand would slowly rub my arse or squeeze a buttock forced me to concentrate on the teasing of the leather strap as it flicked over my vaginal slit and because it inflicted a brief but intense pain when it made contact with the tenderness of my inner thigh I widened my stance; much to the man's delight I think.

Now those intervals between slaps began to have an unexpected and astounding affect. Occasionally I would tense my arse muscles then relax them moving my hips and torso in such a way that the action, together with the mental anguish of not knowing when he would strike made me feel amazingly sexually aroused. He had seemed to fold the strap to make it firm whereby he was able to leave it in place against the line of my slit and when he started to draw it to and fro I moaned finding myself quite easily tempted to 'work' my groin on it like I was pleasuring myself.

The big hand slid round my waist to massage my lower belly and as I relaxed and bathed in the sheer sexual joy I felt the strap suddenly removed and shockingly I let out a disapproving complaining groan. A sharp whip across the arse cheeks was my punishment for complaining making me scream -- then the leather returned to it's place between my legs to continue to excite my cunt. Mr Norton was making me hungry for more, forcing me to enthusiastically enjoy the strap while I could, before it was removed again. And it was, for longer and longer periods the delicious sensation of the leather thong that tantalised my clitoris disappeared from between my legs to chastise my backside, sending a hot searing pain through my body. I cried and moaned and begged glad that the thin cotton of my panties provided at least some sort of barrier, some protection from the strap. I hoped, in a saner moment that no welts or angry stripes would be visible before the next time my husband saw me naked.

To my shame I have to confess that in those periods when the strap returned to my pussy I would bawdily and lewdly rotate and thrust my hips against the strap panting and moaning in a most disgusting way making the most of it's presence.

I eventually fooled Mr Norton! I was eager, desperate, like a drug addict craving her next fix. I wanted to savour the very maximum of sexual pleasure -- an orgasm. I waited, sobbing, while the strap returned to excite my cunt then closed my thighs and trapped it hard bending my knees to increase contact with my wet pussy then I fucked it fast and hard -- I fucked the leather strap. Mr Norton must have conceded defeat for he allowed it to happen and held it in place for me, even sliding it back and forth slowly but never trying to extract it though I had it clamped so tightly I slid back and forth with it. My banshee-like moaning that accompanied my very powerful orgasm let the man know the extent of sexual joy he had delivered up for me there in my kitchen on that otherwise quiet afternoon.

There was no uncomfortable aftermath or deep recriminations caused by pangs of guilt or troubled conscience.

"There, I've proved my point, several of them in fact," said a smug Mr Norton; "You can easily be tempted to enjoy illicit sex when husband is out of the way. And also my point that some enjoy the punishment and pain as much as they do the pleasure!"

I remained silent as he gathered his tools and left without uttering another word

I stayed there in a mental fog, in a trancelike state, but as rational thought returned I wondered; would I be brazen enough to continue to allow my neighbour to visit -- especially next week when my husband would be away? I felt astonished at the way I had allowed the incident to turn into something so intensely sexual and to reach to such an amazing finale. As my neighbour considered it inevitable that I would use my husband's absence as an excuse to pick up another man for some fun (because I was that sort of woman) then should I test the theory -- and explore the opportunities? The next thoughts were to wonder just exactly what I would be capable of?

I could then tell Mr Norton that either he was wrong -- or confess to him details of my wicked misdeeds and tell him that he was right. Though inevitably, there would be a price to pay!

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