Otherside

Knackered! Long day at work and the sun's already well on its way down. Still, dinner waits for no man. But first, a lukewarm shower and to slip into something more comfy on this humid, warm evening. It's so close and almost stifling, it only seems appropriate to slip on a pair of very brief, dark blue with cream lace trim panties, courtesy of an ex. They feel good, sheer and close-fitting but light and barely there, perfect for a summer night.

Chopping board out, slicing some steaks and onions for the base of a chili that will eventually be so hot it should help sweat out the humidity. Get that frying and browning gently while I slice some mushrooms. Music! Music needed here, while I pour a glass of Grenache. In goes favourite mix CD, all great 80s and 90s classic grooves. Swing beats and deep rolling bass you could float an oil tanker on. Feeling the movement, sashaying about the kitchen like a dirty loved-up hedonist. Grab some herbs and fresh chilis, red for the heat and green for the flavour, cut, seed, chop finely, into the pan. Bit more browning, bit more hip-swaying grooving, then in with the stock that was ready earlier. Bubble bubble, toil and trouble, simmer and glimmer, quick glug of wine and give myself up to the dirty sexy music for a bit, grabbing my arse and swaying to it.

How exactly did I become aware of her? A hint of movement at the darkening window? A pale face and shock of dirty blonde hair, halfway down the path to my back door, but not so close as to be obvious. So she's having a look? Well she's probably not the first lady of the village to have copped a flash of my bod as I do the crossdress chef. I've seen the looks, heard the whispers at the bus stop. First to seem to want to see more though. I tease her a bit, making out I haven't spotted her, and sex up the dancing a little, hands on my buttocks, up on the balls of my feet. Pretty fucking sexy if you were to ask me, I've got a nice arse and I know it.

Eye contact. You act a bit shocked, your mouth making a bit of an oh, an O. I see you, missy, and damned if I don't recognise you too, although I don't know you exactly. Seen you across the bar in the local on occasion. Thought yeah, she's tidy, not centrefold perfect but with that hard to define sexiness; the way she walks, laughs, chucks back a drink or two more than the doc might recommend, but with a good set of curves and an easy dress sense, where she makes anything she wears look good. So, eye contact. Fuck, this is turning me on. Feeling her eyes all over my nakedness, modesty barely maintained by the panties, and frankly a pretty immodest erection going on there as well.

And she, dirty little thing that she is, she's got one hand at her crotch, the other on her arse, and she's stroking away at her pussy, yes she is. Well well well. OK, I'll play too. Thumbs into the waistband of my panties, teasing a pulldown, cock fucking rock hard now and threatening to pop over the elastic. She lifts her light lace dress and moves closer to the large pane window in the back door. Brief white panties with what looks suspiciously like a wet patch at the fork of her thighs. Looks like she's got a good thatch too, hints of pubic hair at each side of that sexy triangle of cotton. And she confirms that by slipping them down around her thighs, swaying to the music she can hear while her fingers part her labia and display the wet pink flesh of her vagina. Christ, this is hot. Sure I'll join in, missy, and slide the panties down over my buttocks, cock springing up hard and free. She's going at it now, fingering her cunt and lifting her dress further, exposing her tight erect nipples, wanton and unafraid. I move up to the window, inviting her to a kiss divided by the glass. I could ask her in but it seems it'd break the mood of this hot moment, time briefly stopped. So we touch lips either side of the window, and fingertips. She's flushed, sweating slightly, and breathing heavily as she rolls her clit between the fingers of one hand and squeezes a nipple with the other. I get a hand round my cock. And realise I still have some chili on it! Ah well, too late for handwashing now, we're turned on to fuck and in a bubble of otherworldly eroticism. Go with it, the music's still got me riding on a roiling tide, and it's just, almost by some crazy irony, come up with Sweet Harmony by The Beloved. The lyric to the chorus makes me chuckle a little at what's imminent.

You're displaying your sex to me now, legs parted and seemingly on the brink of collapse as you're getting close, fingers in your cunt, frigging away at your clit, and I'm wanking my cock hard, skin tingling with chili juices, delighting in you watching, and I feel the raging tightness rising in my balls. Your head goes back and your eyes half-close as you seem to thrust your cunt open towards me, and I can't hold back any more; I give myself up to the pressure and my semen comes flying, great gouts of it going everywhere, on the glass, on the floor, pumping out in a wild release. I'm shaking, barely able to stand, cock still twitching in spasms as it drips the last drops, and you look spent, sweaty, breathless from your orgasm, outside my door, dress falling back over you.

Reality returns. The song ends. A couple of neighbours walk past at the end of the path, not noticing, or pretending not to, same thing really in rural England. I compose myself enough to wink at you, and you crack me a wide grin, and then slowly, a little shakily, turn and wander off down the path. And I think "Well, missy, I may pay a little more attention next time I see you down the local."