One Time Is an AccidentbyTonyjoe©
The first time happened when I went over to Bill and Roberta's house to drop off a package. I had done the polite thing and called first, and Bill said to come over in about 15 minutes.
Roberta met me at the door, wearing her robe. I smiled a little, thinking my phone call may have interrupted a little morning delight for them. Ah, there was no Bill in sight, he must still be upstairs, waiting for Roberta to come back so they could pick up where they left off. I gave her the package and said "Gotta go, Roberta."
She blushed a little, and bent down – from the hips, really bad body mechanics – to put the box on a kitchen chair. Her robe sagged open showing cleavage and skin, and most of a pretty little breast. Then her shoulders rounded a little and I had a wonderful view of a protruding nipple, too. She was only wearing the robe! Oh, I for sure interrupted something when I called, and 15 minutes wasn't enough time for them to finish! It was a delicious sight and Bill was going to be having some more fun as soon as l left. Roberta had been looking down at the box as though examining the shipping label, then looked up. She had to know what I was seeing. She had a small almost embarrassed smile on her blushing face, then stood up, thanked me for bringing the box over, got on tip-toes and gave me a kiss on the cheek.
I left, closing the outside door behind me, remembering the view, and heard muffled voices. I thought I heard her say "I did it, do you see me do it?" and Bill's voice respond "Now let's get back to bed, you bad girl." It wasn't an accident. I was flashed on purpose: it was with Bill's consent and maybe even with his instigation.
Two weeks passed. My own wife was working on one of those this-has-to-be-done-right-now projects that seemed to come up every couple of months for her. I decided it was a good Saturday for golf. Bill and I had a mid morning tee time. Any round is nice when you win a match 4 and 2. "Look, I owe you a beer, but the stuff they have here is pretty bad. I have some fresh beer from Edo's microbrewery that's out of this world. Would it count if you had it at my house instead?"
"I'll call Roberta and tell her we're coming there," he said. He took out his cell phone while I loaded our clubs into the car. The conversation took a moment or two too long, I thought. Oh well, I didn't care if there was a problem, I wanted a cold beer!
Roberta had come to the door to wave goodbye when we left for the course. I noticed she was in her knock-around clothes, old jeans, beat up sweat shirt, that sort of thing.
That's not what she was wearing when we got back. Now it was a really full skirt, sandals, and a blouse with some kind of a scooped neckline. It was a really pretty outfit, kind of, well, flirty. I wondered where they were going after I left.
Bill and I were in the den – he in a reclining chair, me on the sofa, when Roberta came in with three bottles of beer. "Wonderful service for guys who had been committing golf all day, thanks," Bill said.
"It's the least I could do since you lost again" she laughed, giving him a beer, then coming to the coffee table with the other two bottles of Edo's finest. Her face was a little flushed again. Somehow I knew what to expect, and it went just as I imagined it was scripted. Was planned and practiced? She bent down to put a cork coaster on the table, her blouse neckline fell away from her body – no bra! – and two breasts came into view, and two taut nipples. I loved it! The show ended too soon, but it was clear Bill was watching carefully, and knew what Roberta did, and what I saw.
Bill and Roberta finished their beer pretty quickly, and were obviously waiting for me to finish mine. I did, and left. I had wondered where they were going, now I knew. It was to bed. I would bet at high odds she was nude before I walked across the lawn to my house.
That was not a coincidence. I vowed the next time I'd be taking enemy action.
When we were playing golf Bill told me he had to travel overnight Tuesday to Wednesday. I mentioned I'd be working out of my home office Tuesday, and joked with him about me working in the 21st century, while he was somewhere in the 20th. He laughingly agreed, but did say that face time with the largest account his firm had was a way to keep the account. I understood that all right.
Tuesday came and I had a productive day, completing all I wanted to by mid afternoon. I was deep into planning my next project when I noticed Roberta pull into their garage. She went to get the mail, and I watched with interest, wondering when I'd be flashed again. It couldn't happen too soon, I decided.
My own wife was going to be working late, that urgent project was eating her alive.
I had an idea and called Roberta: "Hey kid, Babs is working late, she might even stay in the city overnight. Want to go down to TGI Friday's for a bite to eat? It's no fun cooking for one."
There was a long pause, then an "Uh, OK, that sounds good. When?"
"How about in 10 or 15 minutes?"
"I'll be ready."
I knocked on her door, and couldn't help but notice she had changed into jeans and long sleeved shirt, fully buttoned. No flashing today, I concluded, but then it was obviously a game she and Bill were playing, and Bill wasn't home. Off to TGI Friday's we went. A drink or two and a Cobb Salad later and we decided it was time to go home. I pulled into our driveway, and Roberta got out: "Thanks, Tony, that was fun, and you were thoughtful to ask me out."
"Oh, you're welcome Roberta," I said, and then instinctively added "and sure, I'd love to have a beer with you."
"I didn't, ah, oh, ah, sure, come on over," she said.
She was careful to sit me in their living room, and brought in two beers. She was fully buttoned up, both literally and figuratively. No private flashing was on the agenda, too bad.
"No, sit beside me," I insisted, more or less forcing the issue. She did, and was wound up as tightly as could be.
"Roberta," I know what you and Bill have been doing with me. Are you enjoying it?"
"Wh, ah, what are you talking about?"
"The flashing, Roberta, you guys are getting off on it, aren't you?"
Her face reddened. "It's OK," I assured her, "lots of people like to do it, it makes their sex life more exciting. I like looking at you too, so I'm ahead of the game too, but flashing me while Bill knows exactly what you/re doing, that's what's happening here, isn't it?" I was being comforting, matter of fact, when I was talking to her. "Bill likes you to do it, doesn't he? I can tell you were enjoying it, too."
"Ah, well, ah. . ."
"Let me guess, you guys talked about doing more, everyone does that, too."
"Like maybe kissing me?'
"Ah, we, ah, this is embarrassing, but yeah, we did talk about that." She was blushing.
"It's fun, teasing like that, isn't it? And Bill likes you to do it. I just bet he wants you to, and even more, right?" I was smiling, making it easy for her to answer. "And it's fun for me, too," I assured her.
Her face was getting more and more red, but finally she smiled and nodded: "yes, I guess that's right, and I'm glad you're not mad at us."
"No, like I said, it's fun for me, too. Come over here, and you'll have a story to tell Bill when he comes back. Tell him I took you out, and kissed you. Sort of, like this."
I leaned towards her, and out lips met – just a little more intense than a neighborly kiss, but longer, much longer. It was, I decided, a step in the erotic direction. When it ended I said "No, Roberta, not like that, Bill would want to hear I kissed you like this."
That led to an open mouth, fully involved sexy kiss, and during it I maneuvered us so we were lying on the sofa.
"Uh, Tony. . ."
"Shush now, you're getting a story for Bill," I told her, and kissed her again, and pressed against her hard enough so my leg moved between hers. She was responding to my kiss, she was kissing back, hard. I took my time, enjoying every second, trying to learn if I had a willing partner, or one who was being forced.
"Fun, huh?" I asked.
"Mmm, it is," she agreed, and moved closer for the kissing to continue.
I let my arm caress her lower back across her buttocks.
"No, not that," she whispered, then continued the kiss. Well, we'll see about that.
A little while later I moved just a little away from her, rolled her mostly on her back, while I was more on my side, and kissed at her again. "Is Bill going to like hearing about this?" I asked, sure I knew the answer.
She whispered a yes, and our lips met again.
I put my hand on her belly, and she stiffened, pulled her lips away, and gripped my wrist. I opened my eyes, she was staring at me, her grip was very firm, but I forced my fingertips under the waistband of her jeans. She held me back. "No, Tony!"
I worked my fingers, bunching her shirt up, until my fingertips were on her belly.
"No, Tony, Bill would kill me if he thought I was sneaking around behind him, stop!"
I did stop. She sighed with relief, lips met again, tongues touched again but her grip on my wrist was strong.
I took a deep breath and said "Roberta, I'm going to kiss you again, and when I do, let go of my wrist."
We kissed, there was a moment's hesitation, and then I felt her grip loosen a little. My fingers moved down a little, along almost hot skin. Oh, this was fun.
"Roberta, when I kiss you again, unbutton your jeans, they're too tight."
She started to say "I can't. . ." but my lips covered hers, no sound escaped, but the kiss, ah, the intensity of her kiss, that told the story. A moment or two passed and then I felt some movement and the tight band across my fingers relaxed: she did it.
She did it.
That kiss ended, and I asked "do you know what I'm going to do the next time you kiss me?"
She nodded her head, her eyes were shut, she was biting her lip, but when I said "Come here, and kiss me," she moved closer, our lips met, and I moved my hands deeper under her jeans.
She kissed me harder, my fingertips found pubic hair, and her mouth opened wide against mine. I sensed moist warmth, and she half rolled toward me, lifting her upper leg, encouraging me.
I talked through the kiss: "Are you going to tell Bill about this?"
"Ah, I don't know. . ." She stopped talking as my fingertips moved over those lips, my index finger's pad glided across her clit, just the softest touch, but feeling all of that warmth. I stroked her and she moved up, against my fingers. She needed kissing, she needed what I was doing, and I complied, my fingers teased her, just touching those lips, rubbing against that little erect clit.
Then, during that kiss I pulled my hand away and could almost feel her sigh in disappointment and relief. I pulled at my own belt, got my pants unbuttoned, then took the wrist of the arm she had around my shoulder, and put it on my own belly.
"My turn to be touched," I told her, pressing her fingers against my own shirt, and smothered the "no, I can't" she wanted to say with my own lips.
I pushed at her wrist, pushing her hand down against my belly, and lower. I put my hand flat against hers, and pushed her fingers under my own pants., felt her fingers on the waistband of by own briefs. "Put your fingers under them," I said, then our lips met again, my senses were focused on lips and her finger tips.
I could feel her fingers curl a little, felt their tips move across the elastic of my shorts, then extend under them.
I pulled my lips away, and looked at Roberta's flushed face, closed eyes, saw a sheen of perspiration on her face.
"Look at me!" I insisted.
Her eyes opened.
"Now touch me."
She kept her eyes focused on mine, and her fingers moved, slowly until they found my shaft, went out around it, curved over it, and cupped my scrotum.
"Like that?" she asked.
My own fingers found her belly again, and her pubic hair, and her slit, and entered her, deeper than before. Her eyes widened, and her own hand began stroking me, too, she was breathing through her mouth, and so was I.
Then her eyes closed and she moved closer, our lips met, and the whole world was limited to the connections. Her lips to mine, my hand to her center, hers to mine, a double loop, a symbol of infinity, a circuit completed.
It was delicious!
"Did you like flashing me, did you know you were exciting me?" I asked, and she nodded a yes.
"Did you and Bill talk about you having sex with me?"
"Yes," she said.
We were lost in the sensations again for what seemed to be forever and then I pulled away again.
Her eyes opened, she looked at me, still touching me, still being – what's that crude expression? – being finger fucked: masturbated.
I wanted more: "I want you," I said.
"Why are you waiting?" was her response.
It took only a minute for me sit up, peel off shirt and push pants and briefs, shoes and socks, all off as a single tangled mass.
And Roberta sat up, unbuttoned her shirt. I helped her pull her arms from its sleeves, then reached behind her and released her bra.
There's something so sexy about a woman brushing her bra straps from her shoulders, pulling her arms from it, and dropping it to the side, especially if it's someone else's wife, and it's even sexier to see her lay back, bridge, and push her jeans and panties down, gracefully withdrawing one leg, then the other, and lying back down.
I moved onto her without preamble, with no more foreplay, her legs opened, knees bracketed my hips, and she reached between us and guided my cock to its target.
"Come in me now," she said, rotating her hips upward, presenting her center to me.
And in I went, I was deep in her in one smooth stroke, feeling a strange body close around me, feeling a woman as fully wet and ready as I had ever experienced in my life. "So this is what adultery felt like," I thought.
I usually have good endurance, and was able to control myself by thinking about anything but the woman I was fucking. It worked for a few minutes at least, but a more relevant thought intruded. "Roberta, is this what you and Bill talked about doing with me?"
"Sometimes," she said.
"Are you going to tell him?"
She pushed against me, being as active in the act as I was. "I have to."
"And what do you think he'll do?"
She was moving fast against me: we were both moving fast. "I think he'll want to fuck me."
"I thought so." I was ready to explode.
"And then. . . "
Oh, I was getting bigger, hotter, ready, so ready, so close. . .
"and then he'll want me to do it with you again, but this time where he could watch us."
And that did it!
We were resting afterward, holding each other, enjoying the afterglow, when a question came from somewhere in my unconsciousness mind.
"Roberta, how come you started flashing me?"
"Oh, we were bored with our sex life, I guess, and we weren't planning a trip anytime soon, and I thought you would be fun to play with. We didn't plan on you and me having sex, though, I mean, you're our neighbor."
"Neighbor? You mean, it would be better if we weren't neighbors?"
"No, that's not it. Oh hell, I'll tell you. I told you we were bored with our sex life, so we figured out how to liven it up."
"By flashing me?"
"Well, around here, yes, but sometimes we go away for a weekend then we do more and sometimes Bill gets to watch."
"You said something like that before, when we were, uh, making love. . ."
"We were fucking, Tony, not making love, and yes, we both get off on me being a flirt and a tease, and if it goes farther than that Bill likes to watch."
My mouth fell open. "He's a voyeur?"
"A cuckold and a voyeur. He gets off – no, we get off – if I do this when he can watch. That's why I'll tell him what we did, it's only fair."
I was at a loss for words!
"And me – I like putting on a show, I like being sexy."
She looked at me carefully. "What about you? Do you think I'm sexy? Isn't porno in the flesh better than on the TV?"
"Sure, you're sexy, and sure, real life porno is better, but, but. . ."
"Think about this for a minute or two, Tony. I know Bill likes to watch, he gets off on it. Do you think you would?"
"I, I don't know, ah,. . ."
"Close your eyes for a moment, and imagine it was Babs being sexy. Go on, do that – think about her dancing with someone else, maybe a stranger, maybe kissing him. What would you think about, seeing her do that?"
I did as she asked, about how it would look if Babs was driving some other guy crazy, holding him, and if I knew in a little while she was going to take him to a room somewhere where I'd be able to watch, and I thought about clothes coming off, and touching and kissing and going down and fucking, and my own penis betrayed me, it got bigger and harder. Roberta saw that.
"You don't have to answer in words, your body is answering for you." She rolled over on her back, opening her legs for me. "Get on me, tell me all about it, Tony. Be in me, and think about your wife doing to someone else what you're doing to me."
Babs finished her do or die project that Thursday. Somehow we were talking about celebrating her new freedom – only 5 day 40 hour weeks for a while, when I made my offer. "Let's get away for the weekend to celebrate, honey. Let's go to Vegas, and let's remember what they say about that place: 'what happens there stays there.'
"Oh, sounds exciting. Especially the 'it stays there' part," she said. "I want to let my hair down."
"Not just your hair, baby," I was thinking, "not just that is what you'll be letting down."
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