The Dick Pic

The Dick Pic

Simon was at it again tonight. And for the umpteenth time for the past six months now. Echoing in his garage was the typical cacophony one could expect to hear from a middle-aged man's home - shrieking drills, thundering hammers, and the deafening clangs of tools falling to the concrete floor.

At forty-two years old with a mostly-bald head, brown eyes, and an average stature in jeans and a white t-shirt, Simon Wells was an inventor by trade, through and through. Though his line of work could rarely ever be considered profitable, there was nevertheless a sense of pride in it that he could derive from nowhere else, from having invented numerous new methods of engine production, to new chemicals he would synthesize from simple household items. This time around, he was hard at work at what would be his magnum opus.

Standing at around eight feet tall before him was a rectangularly shaped contraption comprised of glass, steel, copper, wires, and a plethora of other materials with multisyllabic names - a cloning machine he dedicated so much work into to the detriment of his relationship with his wife, Cecilia.

"Coming to bed yet, honey?" she asked one evening five months ago with a hint of hope in her tone so obvious that even a person in one of the most crowded places on Earth could hear. But not Simon, whose eyes peered down at a notebook laid before him on his office desk, with various scribbles of math equations scattered about.

A disappointed sigh escaped Cecilia's lips while she waited for a response from her husband; as the pause took its long, torturous toll on her, she took in the sight of the office - like the garage, it looked more like a workshop rather than its intended purpose as an office; attached to the wall adjacent to her was a flatscreen TV, and beneath that was a dresser mostly filled with clothes, in addition to more hardware tools and such. And sitting in front of her was Simon, still scribbling away on his notebook. The desk, meanwhile, was scattered with even more hardware tools, along with the usual pens, pencils, and blank sheets of paper. The only other piece furnishing indicating that the room was, indeed, an office, was the collection of framed newspaper clippings of her husband's achievements, along with various degrees and certificates on his academic and professional accomplishments, as well as photographs of himself posed with his inventions.

"Honey, are you coming to bed yet?" Cecilia repeated, more loudly this time. Curvaceous and two years older than Simon, she had dark skin glistening with a fresh, light layer of moisturizer, and she was clad in purple lingerie and a black bathrobe that was untied around her waist; in addition to this was her bob-cut black hair and warm, amber eyes outlined with makeup that remained fixated on her husband with an air of impatience that gradually rose.

"Uh, not right now, dear," Simon finally replied, albeit with an offhandedness that only served to further fuel her growing impatience.

"Fine," she snapped before heading off to sleep.

The couple's bedroom had walls painted in a shade of tannish white and a light-colored wooden floor. Positioned in the center of the bedroom was, of course, the bed, with white and purple sheets, blankets and pillows; to the right of the bed was another dresser filled with more of Simon's clothes and with a few pictures of him and his wife together on their wedding day and various other occasions on top. To the left was the white table where Cecilia applied her makeup and stylized her hair. And in front of the bed was the door to the ensuite bathroom, its walls of the same tannish white color, a toilet with a shag covering of the same color of purple as the bed, and a walk-in shower.

Once in bed, she brought out a pink vibrator from under the mattress and eyed it with that same disappointment written all over her face.

"Doesn't my husband even know I exist anymore," she said, dejected, before moving aside her thong and placing the vibrator on her labia and turning it on. As it vibrated and sent waves of pleasure that she could just barely perceive, she closed her eyes and snaked her other hand to her breasts to massage them, though this, too, did little (if at all) to help.

"I need a man," she moaned. "I need a man."

Similarly, as Simon scribbled away on his notebook, his phone (for lack of better words) vibrated in his pocket. Upon retrieving it, he saw a text from a phone number unlisted on his contacts list.

202-555-0173: Giving off that dilf energy, are you?

"What the...?" he mumbled, mildly unsettled. And when there was even a subtle tap on his office window, he jumped in his seat and rose from it to find his neighbor, Kelly Maxwell, smugly gazing at him with her exuberant green eyes.

At twenty-two years old, the freckle-faced college girl had a small grey backpack slung over her shoulders; atop her head was dirty-blonde hair tied into a ponytail, and she was seductively dressed in a loose-fitting, light-blue cropped tank top that only just barely covered her cleavage but accentuated her sun-kissed complexion and thin body, and tight denim shorts with Converse shoes and no socks.              

Phone still in hand another pebble in her other, she sent Simon another text.

202-555-0173: Enjoying the view daddy?

The inventor's heart beat faster than ever before, both at how attractive she was (loathe as he was to admit), and her youthfulness and spontaneity. Not to mention, at his underlying fear of the repercussions of having such an affair as one with someone as young as her.

On pure instinct, he sent his own response.

Simon: Who are you?

Simon: How'd you get this number? And why are you messaging me?

Sweat beaded on his head as his heart continued beating rapidly. And during this whole ordeal with the young temptress, he hardly breathed at all, the oxygen in the air seemingly nonexistent.

202-555-0173: Now your really giving off that big daddy energy.

202-555-0173: I'm Kelly. Hello neighbor!

Simon: We need to talk. Now!

Simon slammed his phone down on his desk and rushed out the door to speak to this strange girl. Once outside after making sure that the door and curtains were closed behind him, he spoke.

"I'm gonna ask again - why are you messaging me?"

"Hey, take a chill pill there," she said, smirking, her voice adorably high-pitched and with a slight southern drawl. "Like I said, I'm Kelly, Brian Maxwell's daughter. I moved here from Texas two years ago to attend Portland State. You've met Brian before, right?"

"Yeah. I did," Simon said tersely. "Brian Maxwell. We met at a Fourth of July barbeque last year, and that was that. But I've never seen you before."

"But I've seen you before," Kelly countered. "Are you always wearing that same outfit? White shirt and jeans?"

"Well, when you have so many good ideas, clothing choice is the last thing on your mind," Simon explained with a feigned hint of modesty in his tone, almost bragging.

An awkward pause between the two of them ensued; for Simon, it may as well have lasted a week, his heart still rapidly beating as he awkwardly stood outside his house with nothing more to say. Kelly, meanwhile, stared deeply into the middle-aged man's eyes, her teeth visibly sinking into her bottom lip, causing an involuntary (albeit somewhat pleasurable) twitch in his cock.

"I know how you're really feeling right now," she said slowly, finally breaking the silence. "I know how hard-working you are. Your wife obviously isn't appreciating that."

"That's none of your business," he snapped. "And how would you know anyway?"

"I have my ways." Kelly's tempting smile grew with each second. And then, without so much as even a subtle warning, she stepped forward until her face was just inches away from Simon's and placed her soft hand on his crotch.

"W-What...are you doing?" he croaked out.

"What are you doing?" said Kelly, smirking. "Why haven't you stepped back yet?" At first, she moved gently up and down on his crotch, her fingers sliding over his cockhead and reaching down to his balls through his pants, while her other hand snaked down to his thighs.

"I know what you want, mister," she whispered, her warm breath kissing his nose and lips. "I know what you want. What you need. Let me take care of you."

Her hand picked up the pace, the pressure from her palm applied more strongly now as she wrapped as much of it as she could all around the older man's sensitive bits.

"I-I'm busy with something right now," Simon grunted back, barely able to speak fluidly anymore. "A-And you're too young."

"I'm twenty-two!" Kelly exclaimed in amusement. "I'm on a gap semester right now. I'm bored. I live all alone away from home. Maybe you can be my daddy."

"Holy shit," Simon groaned. "Fuck!" Slowly, a familiar pressure started building within his crotch, and his cock continued twitching in glee at Kelly's soft, skillful handiwork.

"I can take care of you daddy," she continued. "I know what guys like you need."

"I'm guessing you must be a favorite of your professors'."

"For entirely different reasons." Kelly laughed, her hot, arousing breath continuing its assault on Simon's face and bringing him closer and closer to climax as her hand massaged his cock and balls.

"I'm an A student," she continued. "I've just watched enough porn by now to know what a man wants."

"Oh, so you're actually a virgin?" Simon scoffed, trying his best to keep up his demeanor as a more responsible adult, but to no avail with the pressure in him becoming stronger and stronger.

"Oh, I'm not a virgin," Kelly whispered. "I've had sex before, but only twice. That second time, I realized..." she then moved her lips to Simon's ear, planting soft kisses along the way to sweeten the deal.

"I need an older man," she whispered.

Unable to contain himself any longer, the inventor came. And a visible wet spot on his jeans started to appear, which he then tried his best to conceal with his shirt.

Promptly, Kelly's hand came to a stop; eagerly, she pulled it back and gave it a sniff.

"Smell's good," she said. "If you wanna meet up sometime today, head over to my home. It's just across the street from yours. I'm alone all day and I've got nothing else going on." And with that, Kelly returned home, taking care to walk in a certain fashion such that her hips hypnotically swayed left and right, causing Simon's mouth to hang open in amazement before he quickly closed it shut.

"I need to get back to work."

"By the way..." Kelly momentarily stopped in her tracks and turned around to face Simon one last time for the day. "You never told me your name."

"I assumed you already knew," Simon explained, his wit slowly returning. "Especially considering that you know about my turbulent marriage already. Why bother?"

The devilish, dirty-blonde kept her gaze on him, her expression expectant and demanding in a way that made him shiver at his knees.

"It's Simon," he said finally. "Nice meeting you, Kelly." Pleased with herself, she entered back inside her home, her tight, hypnotic ass disappearing once she shut the door.

With all the stress completely wiped from Simon's mind by his adept neighbor who was now eagerly awaiting his visit, he was back at his desk finishing up the final design plans of his cloning machine. Just when he was about to write the last number necessary for the calculations and such, Cecilia stood behind him once more, this time with a stern look on her face,

"I heard you walk outside for a moment," she said. "What was that about?"

"Nothing, dear," Simon replied quickly. "I just needed to get some air, is all."

"Okay," his wife said, audibly skeptical, but deciding not to ask any further before returning to bed.

Later that night on that same day, whilst the struggling couple laid in bed in complete silence, Cecilia slid next to him and wrapped her arm around his waist while her other hand snaked over to his crotch to fish his cock out of his boxers.

"W-What are you doing?" Simon drowsily mumbled.

"Aren't you gonna be a good husband and take care of me?" she begged, continuing her advances. "I miss those times when we'd make love, and I want us to go back to that."

As she said all this, images of his earlier tryst with Kelly flashed through his mind - the loose-fitting tank top, her hot breath on his face, her soft hand deftly massaging his crotch and bringing him to cum. With his eyelids ajar, he rose from bed and pinned his wife to the mattress, his face hovering over hers.

"You want me to take care of you, huh?" he whispered, imagining his wife as Kelly instead. "I'll do it. I'll take good care of you."

"Oh! Yes, honey!" she said gleefully. "Take me."

Simon started off by sliding the purple bra down his wife's shoulders, exposing her supple breasts and nipples that were erect with delight. He then lowered his lips down to them, only to be stopped by his wife's palm.

"I don't want you to do that," she complained. "I want you to just take me." With her free hand, she gestured for Simon to simply take the plunge into her and plow her, though he had something else in mind. Disappointed and at conflicting interests with his wife, however, he then climbed off of her and laid back in bed.

"Wait, what?" she said. "Did I do something wrong or -"

"I don't think I'm too interested tonight," Simon blurted out. "I just...I wanted to take the time to admire your body first, and -"

"So, you don't really feel like fucking me?" Cecilia snapped. "Is that it? Is this your way of keeping me -"

"That's not what I said!" Simon countered. "I said 'first'. I wanted to take the time to admire your body first."

"Well, I'm not really interested in oral, Simon," she said, this time using her husband's name to damaging effect as he perceptively jumped in bed. "I always have to instruct you on what to do, even though we've been married for the past four years already! And you always seem to do it with the expectation that I'll reciprocate."

"I-I'm sorry. I never meant to...and sometimes...I forget," he stammered, completely taken aback.

"And not to mention, it's always me who has to be the one to initiate," Cecilia continued. "I wanted a man, Simon. And I ended up marrying a geek." Disgusted at her husband and herself, she grumbled and turned her back on him.

"Let's just go to sleep. I don't think I want to talk to you for a while."

Simon resigned himself to Cecilia's words and closed his eyes. As best as he tried to fall asleep, the stinging sensation of the silent night and his wife's tirade remained.

The next morning, at around six o'clock, he quietly rose from bed and retrieved a pair of jeans from one of the drawers in the dresser. Upon slipping out of his pajama pants and into the jeans, he took one last glance at his wife.

"I tried my best, honey," he whispered while she remained fast asleep. And with that, he headed out the door and walked over to the house across the street, where Kelly lived.

Just after Simon left home, Cecilia awoke, her suspicions about her husband stronger than ever.

"I tried my best, honey," he whispered while she remained fast asleep.

"That...asshole," she hissed, her arms punching down on her pillows.

Returning to Simon and his own soon-to-begin extramarital affair after knocking on the door, almost immediately, Kelly appeared, dressed in a simple white t-shirt (no bra) and grey sweatpants, with her dirty-blonde hair bedraggled, and her eyes just barely opened from having just woken up, but nevertheless remaining youthful and alluring, like a new rollercoaster Simon was about to take a ride on.

"So, you invited me over yesterday," he mumbled awkwardly.

"Yes," said Kelly slowly. "You want to come in?"

Not saying anything more, Simon entered her home and stood firmly next to one of the living room's couches while she shut the door.

"You want a drink?" she asked after closing it.

Once again on pure impulse, he pinned the young, Texan temptress to the wall and crashed his lips against hers.

"Holy fuck!" she said breathily between kisses. All the while, the most that the middle-aged inventor could muster were simple, feral growls that served to further turn on Kelly. He then slithered his tongue into her mouth and met hers, resulting in a heated duel that ended in his victory as he claimed his prize with both his mouth and body.

"Yeah, that's right, daddy," she continued. "Savor your prize."

He then slid his mouth down her neck and planted more kisses, his hands also exploring the rest of her body and lifting her t-shirt, exposing her small, firm breasts.

"You like 'em?" she asked.

Still not saying anything, his lips then moved down to her nipples, which he eagerly and desperately suckled and lightly bit.

"Fuck! That feels good," she moaned, her own hands moving to the back of Simon's neck to keep his mouth where she wanted it.

"My wife...never lets me do this," he finally managed to say. "I like...showing a pretty girl how much I admire them."

"Well, I'd be happy to be your pillow princess for the day," she remarked.

Happily, Simon then flicked his tongue against Kelly's left nipple while he gently pinched her other with his thumb and forefinger.

"Thank you, princess," he said gratefully; meanwhile, he then snaked his other hand into Kelly's sweatpants and down to her own sensitive parts, taking in every inch of her body with his touch. Once his hand was at its destination, he grinded his palm against her labia through her panties.

"Wet already?" he asked as smugly as she was just yesterday.

"Older guys are hot as fuck," said Kelly, her breathing harsher now against Simon's neck, a sensation which he gratefully welcomed back. Wanting to continue and enhance it, he picked up the pace of his hand grinding against Kelly's warm, wet womanhood, his thumb occasionally flicking against her clitoris.

"My turn now, naughty girl," he said while he kept his mouth occupied with her nipple. All these sensations happening at once drove Kelly to the edge of climax.

"I'm gonna cum so much," she said. "I'm gonna..."

Emboldened, Simon then got down on his knees and pulled her sweatpants and panties down, fully exposing her vagina, now soaked in its arousal; tingles crawled up her spine when he pouted his lips and lightly blew air on its surface.

"Oh, God! Argh!" Before she knew it, his mouth was all over her pussy, his tongue lapping away her sweet, slightly salty juices, and occasionally flicking at her clitoris.

"Fuck! You're so good at that!" she moaned.

"Mm-hm," he hummed in agreement, his vibrating lips bringing even more tingles up her spine and getting her closer and closer to an intense climax. "My wife...never lets me do this."

Not wanting to cum just yet, she then pushed Simon to the opposite wall with a forcefulness that sent a tsunami wave of shock and fear washing over him.

"Oh shit!" he exclaimed. "Listen, I'm really sorry. It's just I -"

"No, you didn't do anything wrong," Kelly assured, an amused, genuine smile on her face that brought him a warmth he hadn't felt in years and greatly missed.

"It's just...I wanna take care of you too." She then took hold of Simon's wrist and directed him to take a seat in one of the living room couches. Once he took his seat, she got down on her knees.

"Here, let me return the favor by sucking your cock," she said.

As she went to work on Simon's pants, he took a long gaze at the living room and its furnishings - it was white, with a dark-wood floor and a flatscreen TV in front of him. Between him and the TV was a glass-topped coffee table with various books stocked inside, and cheap, black-leather couches.