That Saturday Morning

"Well maybe you should?" he asked with a wicked grin, "coz you are fucking hot." Carole felt a thrill inside her as the young man spoke, with such passion and honesty, it was the most wonderful thing anyone had said to her. She felt tired, dirty, slutty, sexy, and wonderful all at the same time.

"You better go," she whispered, "but, thank you, that was the most amazing..." her timid voice trailed off.

"Yes baby," the young man said, "it was, bye bye honey." And he made his way back to the front of the house, stopping for a moment at the corner to admire her still naked body, then he was gone. Carole leaned back against the wall breathing hard, her mind blown, her eyes closed, her heart raced, her pink tits tingled and her gaping wet cunt leaked a strangers cum from it's lips and down the inside of her thighs. Slowly she gathered herself until at last she remembered where she was and opened her eyes only to find herself looking at he pale white face of the old man next door, watching her from his window.

"Oh fuck..." Carole gasped, and in a panic tried to put on her tangled T-shirt quickly. "Fuck... fuck... fuck." she swore as she fought to untangle it and pull it over her head. She looked up again and the neighbour was still there, still watching her, he grinned. Carole rushed back inside, her face red with embarrassment, her mind awash with thoughts of sex and naughtiness that never existed before. She thought long and hard that day about what she had done, feelings of guilt and shame conflicting with passion, excitement and desire. The more she thought about it, the more turned on she became and slowly started to realise, it was in no small part the guilt and shame that was getting her so excited. But old Phil, next door, what would he be thinking? The sweet little seventy year old man had always been so friendly and nice. Carole decided to just ignore it, maybe nothing would ever be said. It would be like it never happened.