The Amazon guy had been gone in a flash, dumping the neighbour's parcel in my hands and running off to his truck. I checked the label and saw it was for Mrs Fortune, the stunning blonde who lived opposite. A few hours passed, and it was now a gloriously sunny afternoon. I fancied a walk in the sun, so why not take the parcel over to her house and see if she was in.
I rang the door bell; no answer. Hmmm. I didn't feel like carrying a parcel around with me, so I took the side gate into their back garden. I'd leave it in a safe place and drop them a note. As I stepped into the beautifully manicured garden I stopped, stared and very nearly dropped the parcel. Stretched out before me on a luxurious wooden sun lounger was Mrs Fortune, stark naked bar a pair of stylish flip-flops, a chilled glass of white wine in her hand. She raised her glass and smiled.
"Hi Matt! Is that for me? I must have missed the delivery man."
Her long blonde hair trailed over the side of the lounger, her legs seemed endless, lithe, supple. This reclining Venus beckoned me over.
"Come on, don't be shy, you've seen a woman naked before surely," she teased, patting the seat of the lounger next to hers. Her confidence was infectious, so I did as I was bidden, trying to keep my eyes on her face, fighting the magnetic attraction of her firm, sensuous breasts.
"Join me in some wine," she asked, tilting her head, smiling. "If I drink the whole bottle I'll only do something I regret later."
"Thanks Mrs F," I said, taking a spare glass and taking a sip, the cold, refreshing hit going straight to my head.
"One condition Matt," she purred, "you'd better strip off too, it's far too warm for clothes."
My mind raced. The heat of the sun, the wine, and the lure of this stunning siren buzzed in my head. Surely this was wrong, what about her husband? Clearly cock won over brain, as the next thing I knew, I was naked on a sun lounger, wine in hand, chatting to my naked neighbour. Even though I tried to disguise it, she knew I was checking her out, furtive glances at her nipples, firm in the breeze. I tried sneaking a peek between her legs; was she trimmed? shaven? I had to know.
I gave up trying to pretend not to look, she was clearly loving the attention. My eyes were mesmerised by her perfect breasts. Soft, large and firm and clearly natural. When she threw back her head and giggled, they jiggled softly, sensuously. Her nipples were proud points set in large pink disks. Every so often she would press the cold wine glass to her chest to keep them in peak condition, teasing me with a wink. I was desperately trying to keep my cock from getting out of control; thinking of dull things in order to keep myself down to a thick semi.
Mrs Fortune took a big sip of her wine, put own the glass and stretched, purring like a kitten. Arms up behind her head, she gratuitously spread her legs, drawing her feet up to her pert ass. Like a powerful magnetic force, my eyes were drawn downwards, tearing themselves away from the soft perfection of her breasts, down between her legs.
"Shaven then!" I thought to myself, though she must have either waxed or lasered to get her pussy that smooth all over. Her lips were already slick and wet, making me dangerously aroused. I forced the cold wine glass on my now burgeoning cock in an attempt to suppress my stiffening shaft. I had to do something, what could be safer? I gazed down at her feet, red nail polish glinting on her toes. That had to be safe, compliment her on her makeup.
"Those are great nails Mrs F," I blurted out, "Looks expensive, is it Chanel or something?"
"Why thank you Matt," she said with a smile, stretching her elegant feet out straight, moving them from side to side, showing off her handiwork. The sun dazzled on a shiny silver toe ring, its glare combined with her rippling toes were quite mesmeric.
She rested her head on her hand, leaning towards me, smiling.
"I can do tricks with my toes, they're almost as good as fingers with me. Want to see?"
She gracefully slipped off one flip-flop letting it hang on her big toe, before letting it drop to the grass. Deftly her toes gripped the other flip-flop, easing it off gently before releasing it with a flourish. She moved each toe in turn, like a pianist flexing their fingers before a concert.
"That's some serious control you've got there Mrs F." I was frankly amazed. "I bet you could probably type using your feet!"
Pivoting on her firm pert ass, she swung her legs round, resting her feet on my sun lounger. "That's not all they do, Matt," she whispered seductively, stroking her toes along my thigh, toes crawling towards my crotch. Before I knew it, her feet were softly massaging my cock. Staring at her expert foot work, I saw I was almost fully hard, and my smooth shaven balls were pulsing. Her delicate toes had pulled back my foreskin and my cock was laid bare before her, a river of precum streaming down my shaft. I watched transfixed as her feet massaged me, rubbing my natural lube into my shaft, squeezing, teasing most definitely pleasing.
