The Lady Next Door Ch. 01

Alice sniffled and blew her nose. Then she looked up at me. 'There isn't anything else. That was it.' She was silent for a few seconds. 'Can I have some time to think about what you've said to me this evening?'

'As much time as you want.'

'You've been very kind to me. Not just this evening but ever since I moved here and I feel bad about putting you through this sort of emotional stress just because I'm a bit of a mess. But if we are going to have a, you know, physical relationship then I need to know you're genuine and I don't want you to be disappointed in me and I'm sorry, I know you're genuine and... it just seems too good to be true,' she ended simply.

I kissed her gently on the lips. 'Take your time. Take as long as you want. I'll be waiting. I'm only next door.'

***

I didn't have to wait for very long. Early on Sunday morning a handwritten note was pushed through my letterbox. I slit the envelope and extracted the single sheet with some trepidation. Why hadn't she knocked to tell me in person. That could only mean bad news. And I'd spent the whole night tossing and turning and preparing myself for the bad news: rehearsing various scenarios from good to bad, realistic to incredible. The note was very short, written in a rounded feminine hand.

Dear Paul,

I'm so sorry I put you through all that fuss yesterday. My answer is yes! What do we do now?

Alice xx

Ps I'm posting this at ten past five. I didn't want to wake you and tell you.

I shuddered with relief, and with anticipation. Butterflies rose and swarmed through my stomach and intestines. I was going to make love with Alice. Weeks of fantasising were about to become a reality. I felt my penis start to engorge with blood and I had to resist the temptation to return to bed and masturbate. Instead I had breakfast and took my coffee into the conservatory. No sooner had I sat down than the door knocker heralded a visitor who, of course, was Alice.

She stood on the doorstep looking flustered and embarrassed. 'You got my note then?' she asked, breathlessly. Then, before I could reply: 'I'm all knotted up inside! I couldn't sit around and wait for you! Sorry,' she said, belatedly, 'am I disturbing you?'

I asked her in and made her some coffee and we went into my conservatory. This time when I sat down on the settee she sat right next to me and I put my arm around her. 'Thank you for your note,' I began. 'I'm all butterflies now too.'

'Really!' She seemed pleased by this confession. 'Look, Paul, I had a bit of an idea. If you don't like it that's ok,' she said quickly before I'd even opened my mouth. Then she laughed, a bit nervously. 'Sorry. Look I thought maybe next weekend we could do something together on the Saturday then maybe dress up and go out for a nice meal and then come back and... you know.' She blushed, deeply. 'Make it sort of romantic.'

'Sounds perfect,' I said. How about a walk if the weather's not too awful?'

'That's what I was thinking.'

'What about this "dressing up" bit? What had you got in mind,' I teased her: 'Vicars and tarts?'

'No, silly. And you've probably got lots of suits and ties and things anyway, but I thought I'd go into Oxford this week and buy myself some new clothes and have my hair done and get some fresh makeup... I'll be less nervous if I think I'm looking half-way presentable,' she admitted, blushing again.

'Alice,' I said, kissing her forehead, you'll look like a million dollars to me whatever you wear. It's you I want the relationship with, not your clothes.' This wasn't strictly true. I was greatly in favour of sexy underwear and stockings and I guessed that Alice probably didn't count much of that sort of stuff in her wardrobe.

Then we kissed again and this time, for the first time, Alice gave herself to me and opened her lovely mouth and pushed out her tongue to meet mine and we mashed our lips together and kissed passionately for long minutes. Eventually we pulled apart, both slightly breathless, a dab of saliva on my chin. Alice was smiling, her eyes shining.

'Well that's a first for me at nine o'clock on a Sunday morning.'

'Just you wait until next Sunday morning,' I said, laughing, and she laughed too and we hugged and then Alice pleaded housework and she disappeared and I sat for over an hour staring into the garden, the most pleasant thoughts swarming through my brain.

***

That Sunday dragged by. I tried to do some housework myself but couldn't really muster the enthusiasm. Then I watched my team get annihilated on the television in the afternoon but I didn't care. All I could think about was the prospect of making love to Alice Sayers next weekend. The week dragged too. Thursday and Friday seemed particularly long. About that time a ridge of high pressure moved over the UK from the continent so the following Saturday was cold and bright. Bitterly cold in fact, the ground had frozen solid overnight and a hoar frost covered the fields and the branches of the trees. Alice knocked on my door at ten o'clock, as we had arranged and we spent the next few hours plodding around the countryside, not talking much, wrapped in our coats and our thoughts. We lunched briefly in the Three Horseshoes and were back by just after three. 'The taxi's at seven,' I told her as she disappeared into her house.

She appeared just before seven, dressed in a black woollen coat with a broad belt and black, leather gloves. Her hair, freshly styled into a collar-length bob, was shining in the light from the porch security light and I could see she had put on eye make-up and lipstick. But it wasn't until we got to the Italian restaurant in Abingdon, and she took her coat off, that I could see the trouble she'd obviously gone to. She was wearing a black, pencil skirt that reached to her knees, it's tight fit accentuating the minimal flare of her hips. Above that she wore an off-white satin blouse with a string of pearls at her throat. Below her skirt were black stockings and matching high heels. Her make-up had been thoughtfully and carefully applied to enhance the size of her eyes and highlight the perfection of her lips, and to give her naturally thin face a bit more body. When she removed her gloves I was surprised to see that she had painted her nails a dark red. I was pleased and surprised at how good she looked in the muted light of the restaurant. She wasn't going to turn that many heads, but there would be a few. And I was humbled that she had gone to this trouble for me and that she had consented to sleep with me.

'You look wonderful,' I said, with feeling and she blushed charmingly.

The meal was another one of those blurs. It happened, and I can remember bits and pieces, but to be honest neither of us were concentrating too hard on what was on the table. I spent a lot of the evening staring at Alice over the candle and imagining what she would look like naked, and how she would feel in my arms. Maybe she was thinking along the same lines; she didn't say much and neither did I. In the taxi home we said nothing, just sat there in the back of the car holding hands.

When the taxi had driven off, it occurred to me, belatedly, that we hadn't decided whose house we would go to. I'd taken the precaution of changing my bed sheets that day but I had an idea that Alice would be more comfortable in her own bed. To my surprise she suggested my place when I put the question to her. Inside we took our coats off and went into my kitchen where I opened a bottle of wine; we'd only had a couple of glasses with the meal. There was an awkwardness between us, a tension that was almost palpable.

'Nervous?' I asked, handing her a glass of red.

'Yes. Petrified.'

'I'm nervous too, if that helps.'

'Not really,' she said, but she smiled and put her glass down and came to me, putting her head on my shoulder. 'Would you take me to bed now please Paul?'

I took her hand and she followed me upstairs and into my bedroom. The curtains were open and there was a three-quarters moon, lighting up the room with a silvery sheen and reflecting off her satin blouse. I went to switch on a bedside lamp but she stopped me.

'It's lovely in the moonlight. Can we just leave it like that please?'

I took her into my arms and she turned her face up to mine and we kissed in the silvery light and I felt her lips, full and warm on mine, and her tongue, hot and wet and slippery. I was very aroused, my penis rock-hard and uncomfortable in my underpants. Eventually I broke the kiss and undid the top button of her blouse.

'If you're not comfortable, at any time, just tell me to stop and I'll stop,' I said softly.

'Thank you,' she whispered back. 'It's easier in the dark.'

I continued undoing buttons and pulled her blouse free of her skirt. Underneath I could see she was wearing a lacy bra. Without prompting she held up her wrists so that I could undo the buttons on her cuffs and slip her blouse from her shoulders. She shivered as I did this.

'Cold?' I asked.

'Nervous.'

I kissed her again and stroked her shoulders and upper arms. Her skin was smooth, taut, with no age-related wrinkles. No cellulite. Feeling around I found and released the button and zip at the side of her skirt. It's silk lining rustled as it came down over her narrow hips and nylon stockings. And stockings they were, I now saw, held up by a black satin garter belt. She was also wearing black, lacy panties and I was thrilled that she had gone to this trouble for me and my cock twitched and strained inside my trousers. We kissed again and I ran my hands lightly down her back, admiring the sweep of her small, neat buttocks. She shivered again as I used my hands on her bottom to pull her closer, my erection pressing into her groin.

'Still nervous?' I whispered in her ear.

'Yes,' She murmured, breathlessly, 'and excited.'

I unfastened her bra and she took a half step back to allow me to pull it over her arms and drop it onto the bedroom carpet, joining her blouse and skirt. She was facing the window and the moonlight lit her breasts and I saw for the first time the little upturned mounds with their dark areolae and nipples. I kissed her gently, cupping one breast and feeling the hard little nub at its centre against my palm. Her breasts were small and firm, almost hard, the nipples a perfect size: maybe half an inch across and the same long.

'I'm sorry they're so small,' she whispered.

'They're beautiful.' I motioned her forward and she stooped to pull her high heels off then went and lay in the centre of the bed, underneath the window, the silvery light catching and sculpting the curves of her chest and loins, her black-stockinged legs and panties dark against the white duvet cover, her hair black against the pillow. She watched me as I took off my shirt and shoes and socks, then my trousers. I stood before her for a few seconds then took down my underpants and let my erection spring up unfettered, a feeling of considerable relief to me. I stood there for a few moments regarding her, and she looked back. I was an ok size, maybe six and a half inches. I liked to think seven. It wasn't anything to frighten her with. 'Still ok darling?' I asked, softly, wanting to reassure her but not wishing to break the spell.

'Still ok,' She replied.

I lay down next to her and she came into my arms and we kissed and the kiss went on forever and it was magical and so very intimate and satisfying and wonderful that two human beings could be so close and so giving and caring. And while we kissed I stoked her breasts, tenderly, taking the nipples between my finger and thumb and squeezing gently and she sighed underneath my lips and held me closer and pressed her painted nails lightly into my back and my neck as she mashed her face against mine.

Eventually I lifted my face from her hers and we looked at each other in the moonlight, her eyes huge, her mouth partially open. I lowered my head again and took one of her nipples in my mouth, savouring its firmness, licking and suckling the little bud, listening to her moaning softly, aware of her grasping handfuls of the duvet and flexing her legs. I took her teats gently between my teeth and pulled and let them slip out of my mouth and took them back in again and repeated the process and licked them harder, rasping my tongue over the ends and her moans became louder and I brushed my hand against her ribcage and traced a finger to her navel then lower to the waistband of her panties. She was breathing more heavily as I cupped her vulva through the fabric of her knickers and gently squeezed the mound, aware of the pubic bush underneath the material and the vague outline of her labia. I squeezed and stroked and she opened her legs and her breathing got louder and she arched her back and gasped as I slipped my hand inside her panties. Her pubic hair was silky smooth and I ran my fingers through its luxuriance, seeking her labia and the wetness within. And when my exploring finger gently parted her outer lips I found that she was soaking wet; drenched with warm, slippery secretions. I slid one finger in, then two, finding the entrance to her vagina, gently finger-fucking her, moving my fingers up to find her clitoris, rubbing the little nub, smearing her cunt juices around it and slowly, very slowly, rubbing my fingertip over it as she started to writhe and cry out.

'Oh Paul, oh Paul, oh yes...'

I rubbed harder, then faster, then faster still, strumming her clit. Alice wailed and cried out again: 'yes, darling, faster please. Faster, faster oh my God...!'

I clamped one of her nipples in my teeth as her orgasm hit and she screamed and raked my back with her nails and pulled my hair as a shockwave of intense pleasure seared through her, the muscles in her neck like cords, her back arched, her legs rigid. Then the peak passed and the waves subsided and she went limp. I kissed her tenderly on the lips and to my horror she burst into tears, the sobs racking her thin body. I held her tight and stroked her hair and arms.

'It's alright, darling. It's ok.'

The crying subsided and she sniffled and looked up at me, her make-up a wreck, the mascara running down her cheeks. 'I'm sorry,' she whispered. 'I'm alright now...'

I knelt up and slipped my fingers into the waistband of her panties. She raised her bottom off the bed and I pulled them off. Her vulva was a dark, damp patch in the silvery sheen of her loins. I knelt between her legs and guided myself into her, feeling for the entrance to her vagina, finding the slippery wetness, pushing, very gently, sliding in slowly in, to my full length. Underneath me Alice moaned again and gripped my shoulders. I kissed her on the lips.

'Does that feel ok?'

'It's wonderful,' she breathed.

She felt wonderful too: hot, wet and deliciously tight, as tight as a twenty-year-old, the walls of her vagina clamping around me. Supporting myself on my elbows I leaned down and kissed her again as I started to move in and out of her, slowly at first, just a few inches at a time, my mind whirling with the thought that here, underneath me, was my next-door neighbour; sweet, gentle, middle-aged Alice. And my rigid penis was deep inside her cunt.

I felt her hook her legs over the back of my calves, felt her stockings against my skin, as she started to make little bucking movements to meet me. I increased the length of my thrusts, taking longer and longer strokes until she was taking my full length at each thrust. The feeling was intense and I had to slow down to stop myself from coming. We stayed like this, moving gently and slowly, for a long time. It must have been twenty minutes, maybe half an hour. I was in a delirious heaven, hardly able to believe that the subject of my secret passion was naked in my arms, taking me inside her, gasping and mewing and kissing me with those full, sweet lips.

Eventually I leaned down lower and, with each thrust, rubbed my pubic bone up her labia to try and stimulate her clitoris. It was something I'd tried with previous girlfriends and they'd enjoyed it very much. Alice was no exception; she gave a deep groan and said, thickly: 'I'm going to come again.'

I thrust harder and faster, feeling the tingle in my balls as my orgasm approached, going up my spine like a bolt of lightning and crashing into my brain. I came hard, spurting jet after jet of spunk into her sopping cunt and, as the waves billowed and crashed through me, I was dimly aware of her crying again, underneath me, and this brought me back to a full consciousness of my surroundings and my vulnerable and nervous lover consumed with tears. Still inside her, but deflating rapidly, I brushed the hair from her face and kissed her lips and forehead and cheeks and eyes, the tears salty on my tongue.

'Did I hurt you, darling?' I guessed this was emotional catharsis, about ten years' worth, but I didn't know how to phrase it.

'I need to go to the bathroom,' she said quickly. 'I'm leaking on your duvet.' I withdrew and allowed her to get up. She was gone for what seemed a long time, and I was becoming concerned, when I heard the toilet flush and water run in the sink and then she was back in the room, crawling onto the bed and coming into my arms. She was calmer now, her face wiped clean. I kissed her and held her and eventually she spoke.

'It's never felt like that before. I never imagined it could.' She paused, her face against my chest. 'I do masturbate, sometimes,' she said quietly, 'but it's not like that. That's the first time anybody else has given me an orgasm, and I'm fifty-six. It suddenly made me feel very sad. I'm sorry I burst into tears; it must have been quite disconcerting for you. I promise I'll do better next time.'

We lay together until the heating went off, then we crawled under the duvet and into each other's arms again. We fell asleep in that position that first night, my mind still trying the grasp the wonderful enormity of what had happened and running her last words to me round and round in my head like a tape recorder -- "I promise I'll do better next time".

***

I was awake by seven o'clock the following morning. I looked over at Alice, a mop of dark hair on the pillow. She was still asleep, her breathing regular and light. I got up, carefully, took my bathrobe from the back of the door, went and brushed my teeth and went downstairs. It looked the same as it had last night. Last night's wine untouched on the kitchen table. I don't know what I was expecting to see; just because Alice and I were now lovers didn't mean the world had changed, it just felt like it. I put the kettle on and mooched into the conservatory where I stared out into the garden, seeing nothing except what was in my mind's eye: my neighbour, naked, in my arms. She was still naked, I reflected, as I made tea and took two mugs back up to the bedroom.

'Good morning,' I smiled down at her, putting one of the mugs on her bedside table. She stirred and her eyes opened.

'What time is it?'

'Just after half-seven.'

'Goodness, I've had the most wonderful sleep!'

'Well that's sex for you.' I shrugged off my bathrobe and went to get into bed.

'Oh Paul! Did I do that to you?'

'What?'

'Those marks on your back! I think I must have done that with my nails when... when I came,' she ended, reddening.

I got into bed and Alice insisted on me turning onto my stomach so she could examine my wounds. They can't have been very bad, I wasn't even aware of them, but she kissed and stoked my back and neck and it felt good and I felt my penis harden so I rolled over and pulled her towards me but she wriggled out of my grasp.

'Oh no, I must go and clean my teeth. I didn't do it last night! Can I borrow your brush?'

'There's a new one in the bathroom cabinet. Don't take too long.' She slipped out of bed and I watched her naked rear as she disappeared through the bedroom door. Five minutes later she was back and my cock was aching with anticipation, the veins standing out, my glans purple. Alice tasted fresh and minty as I kissed her and ran my hand over her breasts and stomach, heading towards her sex. She opened her legs to allow access to my exploring fingers and I felt the wetness of her pubic hair.