My Wife is a Good Neighbour

"My Wife Is A Good Neighbour."

by Lustdarkly

A follow-on from "My Wife Makes a New Friend."

-

I wanted to hate Mr, Rippendale as much as I hated that prick James Thompson, but I couldn't. It would've been the same as, say, punching a little puppy. Not possible. Our elderly neighbour from across the cul-de-sac was every bit as charming as Karen had told me. He was a humble, unassuming old fellow, with a paternal air about him and kind eyes, just as my wife had described.

She'd invited him over for afternoon tea so we could meet. He brought her a small, but pretty, bunch of flowers from his garden attached to which was a tag with a poem by Emily Dickinson; Karen's favourite author. Very smooth. Karen nearly swooned with delight.

Sitting down on our couch, he surprised me by taking my hand in his and holding it as he talked. "Son, I have something on my chest that I must talk to you about. I acted inappropriately and I owe you both an apology. It's been so long since I had company, especially a sweet, beguiling young woman as Karen here and I got carried away, upsetting myself talking about my Betty."

He was making a confession! Karen had already told me what had happened, as she did with all her extra-marital affairs. She did so in bed, caressing my erection, recounting every vivid detail. Mr. Rippendale had rescued her, simply put, after James Thompson, her arrogant-prick lover, had dumped her, nude, outside our locked and empty house. Naked and afraid, Mr. Rippendale had beckoned her over and given her sanctuary. Naturally she was fearful of the old man at first but he was a true gentleman and they soon became fast friends, chatting and drinking tea long into the night. She tried to seduce him by removing her clothes but decency prevented him from taking advantage. Karen did manage to persuade him into lying his head upon her lap so she could stroke his hair the same way his late wife used to. It was a very intimate act, she told me, and she could feel his tears on her thighs. After a long hour or so of that, my horny little wife started masturbating in front of him and climaxed as he held her.

And now, here he was, not just confessing but twisting events to make it sound like he was to blame. He explained that Karen was just trying cheer up a decrepit old fool because she felt sorry for him and at the same time turned to her, asking her to forgive his behaviour.

"That's not what happened!" Karen cried, sitting beside him, clutching her arms around him, much to his embarrassment. He squirmed but I squeezed his hand and assuaged his fears, explaining that I already knew what had gone on and that I didn't blame him.

Over the course of their night Karen had openly discussed her relationship with James Thompson and her unconventional, open attitude towards sex. I told him I'd accepted it. And come to terms with it. "At the end of the day, as long as she comes home to me, as long as I still have her heart, she'll have mine, and with it, my support. She may fuck whoever she wishes, if it's what she wants - no, if it's what she needs to do." I reassured him. "And you know... " I gulped, "That includes you."

Karen took hold of his head in both her hands and kissed him on the mouth. Not a full-on kiss because he was still skittish and uncomfortable; more of a secret-handshake, welcome to the club, sort of kiss. Small but intimate.

The tension evaporated now that the subject had been put under the spotlight and I discovered that I liked this man very much. The afternoon was so enjoyable that we made him stay for dinner and he insisted on making us a huge pot of minestrone soup for our starter, popping over the road to fetch a few ingredients from his home that we didn't have.

At the end of the night, as I walked him to his door, he said something profound. "The way you let your wife fuck around, son. A lot of people would say that makes you less of a man but you know what? It doesn't. It makes you more of a man." I stopped and asked him to elaborate. "Well, it can't be an easy thing to sit by and allow. But I know this. When one person tries to force another person to conform to their code, whatever it may be, they risk a great deal of damage. I know this from experience. I should have left well enough alone instead of barging in and taking control because I was "a real man!" I wish I'd let my Betty sort out some things on her own. At the time, I thought I was doing the right thing but all I did was rob her of her confidence. I took away her power."

My eyes actually started welling up, much to my embarrassment.

He squeezed my shoulder. "If it all blows up, you'll be there to catch her. Trust me on this, son. Your Karen loves you and needs you more than you know. Hell, more than even she knows!"

I thought of his words the following night as I watched James Thompson finger-fuck my wife in our hallway. He was taking her out for a dinner date and she was wearing a beautiful gold dress, low cut and very sexy. On top of that she wore a long, black coat matching her stockings and shoes. He smirked with approval and asked "Are you wearing panties?"

My wife grinned and pulled up her skirt, revealing her bald pussy.

"Fuck! That's beautiful. Show me more."

Karen lifted her leg high above her head like a ballet dancer, amazing us, her high heel pointing directly at the ceiling. James threw down onto his knees and I stood there like an idiot as he sucked her pussy lips into his mouth. Karen gasped, her mouth agog. "So fucking beautiful." James mumbled, biting her clit, licking and pulling. He pulled apart her folds, obscenely relishing the sight of her gaping hole. He spat into it, grinning at me at the same time. Oh, how I wanted to murder him, just then. He started fingerfucking her.

"Your wife has the nicest little cunt I've ever seen. Isn't it perfect?"

I nodded stupidly.

"Want to lick it?"

I hesitated for a moment, then nodded.

"Tough! This cunt is all for me, isn't it, baby?"

"Yes!" Karen gasped. "This is your cunt. All for you. Oh, fuck! I'm your little slut, baby. My holes are all for you. Oh, God, that feels so fucking good!"

"Want your husband to lick your pussy?"

"No. I only want you James! I'm your fuck-slut. I want your cock! I want to be your filthy little cum-slut!"

"Good. Say goodbye then. Let's be off."

He got up off his knees and strutted out the front door, leaving my dishevelled wife to arrange her skirt and give me a peck on the mouth goodbye.

I was still standing there in the hall when, ten minutes later, there was a knock on the door and there was Mr. Rippendale. "I've a twenty-year-old malt with your name on it, son. Been looking for a good reason to crack it open. Seems like this'll do.

I nodded wordlessly and followed him to his house.

-

During our first afternoon tea, Mr. Rippendale - John - at one point, mentioned the clothes he'd lent Karen.

"I'll go get them!" Karen chirped, getting up to go fetch them but then she stopped. "Oh, wait! They're still in the wash!"

I knew they weren't. They were washed and pressed and sitting neatly folded in a pile. I was a bit confused but I didn't contradict her. Next day, when she skipped playfully into the room wearing them, huge old-man pants and a gigantic shirt and saggy old socks, I saw that she had some devilish plan in her head. "I'm just popping over to John's. He invited me to tea." she said excitedly, kissing me quickly on the lips.

"Why are you wearing his clothes?"

"I'll tell you later." She giggled, skipping off.

"Don't give him a heart attack! He's old!" I yelled after her.

John was in the kitchen preparing them both tea when she arrived. He called out for her to let herself in and make herself at home. "Lovely to see you, sweetheart." he said over his shoulder. She kissed him on the cheek and made her way to his sitting room, examining his bookshelves with interest. He started chuckling when he entered and saw for the first time that she was wearing his clothes. "My goodness, I thought Charlie Chaplin had come for tea, just then!"

Giggling, she hurriedly unbuttoned the huge shirt, pattering her tiny socked feet on the floor to make the trousers fall down. "Thought you might want your clothes back." she grinned naughtily, running into his arms completely naked. Well, apart from the socks.

"Oh, my God, girl! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?"

"That's what my husband just said!" she laughed, embracing him. He cuddled her too, rubbing her soft back with his huge leathery hand. "If you don't want to do anything... sexual, that's okay." she said, sensing his reluctance, "But, can I keep my clothes off? I like it when you look at me." naughtily, she added, "You can touch me too, if you like." showing him her large, beautiful boobs.

He considered thoughtfully and agreed. "Just so long as your husband doesn't mind. And we can still have tea."

"I'll pour!" she chirped.

Maybe it was his age or great mental powers or more likely that Karen's personality is so sweet-natured and engaging, John actually managed to unsee her nudity and they chatted as they had before, like two old friends. They talked about books and art and music and the hours flew by.

"Before I go," she said, her voice becoming quieter, "Would it be alright if I make myself cum? I want you to watch me." She spread her legs wide for him, massaging her clit slowly and roughly. "Please?" she whispered, cupping her breasts, tugging her nipples.

John was unsure of himself but her voluptuous, tight young body, was mind-blowingly erotic and her eyes, so wide and cute and sincere, begging him to relent, he couldn't refuse her. So, he nodded silently from his armchair and watched as she smiled and began to writhe on his sofa. Her eyes never left his as she rubbed herself seductively. She stretched her legs for him, as far apart as they'd go and licked her lips and teeth as she teased her nipples, arching her back, presenting her perfect breasts, undulating like a stripper. She spat slowly onto her fingers, massaging the saliva into her clit, slipping her fingers into her glistening, fertile hole, pulling open her lips for him, revealing the inviting pink flesh. Then she began moaning and closing her eyes as her fingers worked harder. Sucking the fingers of her free hand and pinching her nipple so it stood for his attention, she teased him, "Hmm. That's so fucking nice." she groaned. "I like it when you watch me. Oh, fuck, yes. I like it when you look at my little bald pussy." She slid four fingers in and out of herself, pausing to lick the juice seductively into her mouth. "I like it when you look at my titties. Do you like my titties? Hmm, fuck, I feel so fucking dirty right now." Lust consumed her and she started frigging her pussy in earnest. His eyes on her was an aphrodisiac like she'd never before experienced and her orgasm came much, much sooner than she wanted.

"John, please cum on me!" she begged, staring at the surprisingly huge trouser-tent in his lap. "Stroke your cock! Please! I want to see it. Cum on me! Please! Cover me with your sperm. Please, John! Please cum all over my tits and my cunt and my face!"

He hurried to her, unzipping his fly and releasing a cock so large and impressive she would've taken it in her mouth there and then if her orgasm hadn't suddenly hit her. John, at the same time, ejaculated a powerful stream of cum, striking her full in the face, intensifying her orgasm. Blinking through semen she watched in amazement as rope after rope of spunk splashed upon her body, on her tits, neck and shoulders; all over her belly and arms. He kept shooting. Her fingers were slick with it as she rubbed her clit madly, her mouth frozen in an o-shape, catching more. Her climax lasted a long time, allowing John all the time in the world to drink in the sight of her luscious, extraordinary young body, now literally plastered in cum. She told me later he produced more cum than four men and we laughed when I suggested he must've been saving it up for years.

When she regained hold of her senses, she gazed at her body in admiration and full-on lust. As John watched, she scooped semen from her thighs and pubic mound, dragging it onto her belly. With the cum from her boobs too, she literally had two full handfuls. Sitting up on the edge of the seat she smeared the lot into her hair like it was luxuriating shampoo, arching her back for him to gasp at the view of her glistening body, loving the fat white globs that escaped, running down her face and neck. She took her time, licking her hands, caressing her breasts and belly and pussy, running her hands through her wet hair like a swim-show-beach-babe. John watched agog, spell-bound. She dropped to her knees and took his cock into her mouth, consuming hungrily the excess semen, cleaning him and worshipping the impressive member. She couldn't believe the size of the thing!

By the time she finished, he was nearly hard again. Lovingly, she wanked him with both hands, smiling up at him but he'd had more than enough and only with great reluctance did she release his manhood. "I'm really going to need you to fuck me with this at some point." she smiled up at him.

John sat dazed on his sofa, staring blindly into space for the entire duration as Karen showered. And she was gone for a long time. He wondered if he was having a transcendental experience. Or a minor stroke maybe? and smiled goofily to himself. The most extraordinary thing of all was, he didn't feel bad or guilty. He didn't feel like he was cheating on his late wife. He felt good in fact. Better than he could remember.

When Karen returned, drying her nude, blooming, exceptional young body, she grinned, leaping into his lap, straddling him, forcing her tongue into his mouth, thrusting her vagina against him. He kissed her back with eyes closed, cupping her boobs in his hands, allowing them to roam down her sides, over her belly and smooth round ass. Reaching behind her, Karen held his hand and guided it down, arching her back, through the cleft of her ass cheeks, sinking his fingers into her warm, wet cunt and stuffing her nipple into his mouth at the same time. He sucked and bit and teased and then took her other boob in his mouth while she groaned with pleasure. "Oh, my God, that feels so fucking good." She French-kissed him deeply, at the same time pulling his cock out of his pants. It was as hard as a rock but John struggled.

"Please , honey. No more." He took her hand and gave a sincere squeeze. "I might be hard again but I'm feeling a little woozy."

"Oh, God! Sorry! Of course!" Disappointed but concerned, she wrapped her arms around his head, stuffing her boobs in his face. He stroked her sides and patted her thighs.

"No. Don't be. Don't want to overdo things, that's all. God, that was... well, it was a bit more than I'm used to, let's just say."

Karen grinned, pleased. "And I didn't even get to fuck this beautiful thing." she said, gripping her small hands around his thick shaft. She peered down, pulling her labia apart with both hands. "Could we put it in just a little? I promise I won't fuck it."

"Oh, honey..."

"Just the head, that'll do." she grinned cheekily and he couldn't say no. Excitedly she rubbed her bud on his throbbing cock-head. They enjoyed the way her folds moved, the way her lips wrapped around his bulb as it slid back and forth along her slit. Karen added more pressure, her tight opening stretching as she forced herself onto it, stretching to maximum, painful and blissful at the same time. She gasped as his head entered her and she clutched hold of his hand, eyes rolling into the back of her head. Knowing full-well that she was about to try for the rest of it, he pressed her once more to stop and she snapped back to reality.

"Okay. Sorry. Yes. Okay. I'll stop. But, oh my, it feels nice."

John nodded in agreement.

"I had a really lovely afternoon. Thanks." Karen said. "I know I was a bit forward. I hope I didn't push too far."

"No. Not at all." he laughed. "S'funny, isn't it? Our roles are reversed. Here's me, the fella, fighting off this ravenous young woman. It's supposed to be the other way around."

Karen chuckled. "Well, yes. I'm a strong, independent woman, you know! It's not the forties anymore you know."

"Forties!" he gasped with mock alarm. "Just how old do you think I am?"

Karen started giggling and the stimulation of the movement reminded them that his penis was still inside her vagina. She saw him watching her boobs shake as she laughed and his eyes on her made her feel excited again. She wobbled them from side to side for him, smiling.

"I love your bosoms." He sighed. "They're so sexy."

"Touch them. I love to feel your hands on me."

He did so, cupping them and squeezing them together, rubbing his thumbs over her nipples, pinching them as they hardened. His cock throbbed, making her moan and he snapped his hands away, knowing that if he continued a second more, Karen would impale herself and fuck him senseless.

A long, long moment of stillness descended as they both struggled internally to control their desires, staring deep into each other's eyes.

"Can we have another cup of tea before I go home?" Karen asked, breaking the silence.

"Yes. I think that would be a tremendous idea. You better take that thing out of you first."

"Can I stay naked?"

"Yes. That also, is a tremendous idea." he said, kissing her lips. "Now. Get off."

-

Since then, Karen's been somewhat besotted by our neighbour and spends a lot of time over at his place. I must add that I do too. He's become a really close friend actually. And every time she's with him, Karen insists on being butt-naked. Even when he's here in our house. It was awkward at first of course, John was decidedly anxious about the whole thing but after continual reassurances from me, he relaxed into the strange routine. I say strange because, it's not a particularly sexual act. Karen doesn't do it to seduce him, though she will often pull out his cock and fondle it. She just likes being naked in his company. It's exciting and intimate. John, in time became so used to it he often forgot she was naked and we became comfortable.

It added an extra frisson of excitement to our relationship. I loved watching my little wife cuddled into him on the couch watching TV, his arm around her, absent-mindedly playing with her boobs. Her favourite position though, was nestled under his arm with her knees wide apart and feet together. That way he could reach her pussy and fondle her lips. After a few hours she'd get really horny and ask me fuck her mouth in front of our neighbour, which led to me fucking her proper as she lay in his lap. He enjoyed watching us, tweaking Karen's nipples the way she liked, kissing her when she needed to be kissed. I think he encouraged us because part of him still worried he was encroaching.

-

Several months passed by and as promised, Karen brought the girls to meet Mr. Rippendale. They arrived at ours, one by one, giggly and flirty with excitement. They were looking forward to meeting him and teased me mercilessly, Karen having told them all about her horny exploits with the pensioner. But I didn't mind because it was all flirty and in fun and they cuddled me and kissed my mouth. Michelle at one point, with her arms around my waist, said to the others, "I just realised. I'm the only person here that hasn't fucked Tom!" Her hand glided over my crotch, feeling my hardening penis.

"You totally should fuck him." Sam replied breezily, without hesitation. "Tom's a great lay."

"And his cock is lovely." added Kay, winking at me.

"Would you sluts' please stop talking about my husband like he's a piece of meat. He's a very wonderful gentleman." Karen laughed, kissing me with a light peck, patting my cock through my trousers.