CHAPTER ONE
Stop looking at her tits! So what that they look absolutely perfect - deliciously more than a handful. And firmness is so over-rated these days; just look at that gentle undulating bounce when she moves.
Ignore her nipples fool! Yes I know they look harder than when we first arrived. The way those bullets cast shadows you could tell time, like now - half past time to suck on those little pebbles.
Hey! Hey! Idiot! Try to pay attention to what her husband is saying!
"Naturally, we went all stainless with the appliances - you couldn't guess how much this cooking set-up cost - a commercial grade Viking stove alone costs ... BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH FUCKING BLAH!"
Gerald "Jerry" (yes that's Gerald with a "G" and Jerry with a "J") Macy nodded his head at all the appropriate moments as his host and relatively new neighbor Leonard Johnson droned on and on about the extensive kitchen remodel he and his wife Joyce had just completed. It wasn't that he didn't like the Johnson's - they were good neighbors; even better than simply good neighbors - they were good quiet neighbors. It was just that the Johnson's always seemed to have something interesting going on. Joyce Johnson had a lot going on - damn if she didn't have one of the finest asses he had seen in - STOP, STOP THAT NOW!
Jerry sighed to himself, it wasn't that he didn't appreciate the Johnson's kitchen remodel - they'd done a nice enough job - it was Sally's, his wife, reaction to it. There was a look of pure lust directed at appliances, floor coverings and countertops; a look that Jerry hadn't experience in far too long a time. But what was even worse, what threatened Jerry's peace of mind and sense of well-being was that his long cherished plan to buy a fully-equipped bass boat was slowly drifting away as he mentally calculated the cost of satisfying his wife's undisguised domestic desire.
"I see you got a new back door, are you planning on landscaping the side yard?" Jerry pointed at the new beveled glass portal hoping to change the subject from expensive kitchen remodels to cheap gardening solutions. "The Preston's had talked about putting in a hot tub..."
Thank God the Preston's had finally moved! Talk about loud, obnoxious, and dangerously overweight. If those two weren't screaming at each other, they had their TV blaring at all hours, or that crappy music turned up way too loud. The thought of the Preston's bobbing around in a hot tub was ludicrous (the thought of them doing it sans clothing was repulsive!) But the thought of Joyce Johnson sans clothes, in a hot tub - hot, wet, and naked; that image caused Jerry's trousers to suddenly become too tight and confining.
"Actually we installed a Jacuzzi tub when we redid the master bath..." BLAH, BLAH, BLAH, NO FUCKING OUTSIDE TUBBING BLAH! Shit - couldn't Jerry get a break here? His wife had been after him for years to upgrade their master bathroom. He followed in a daze as his wife pulled him toward what was in all likelihood a huge home equity loan directed solely toward some serious renovation.
Aw crap! The master bath was exquisite and his wife was getting that dreamy expression that meant a lot of money was about to be spent. Something had to be wrong here, some thing had to be off; the Johnson's were just too perfect. Jerry's wife was going to be relentless unless he could find some solution, some salvation, some flaw, something seriously off kilter. Jerry stared at the contraption on the wall above the bed. "Leonard is that supposed to be some kind of modern sculpture? It looks like a doggie door to me? What's up with that?"
Jerry's wife poked him in the ribs and shushed him. Leonard laughed loudly and Joyce blushed a deep crimson. Actually, she did more than just blush, Jerry watched in amazement as her nipples swelled beyond simple hardness into something he couldn't possibly describe. He silently spoke a "Thank You God" when she made no effort to cover them. She did snake her arm around her husband and pull him close.
"Why don't you tell the story Leo?" Joyce asked as she reached up and kissed her husband passionately, though briefly.
And in that moment Jerry was delivered. Leonard goosed his wife and began an undeniably sexy and salacious tale. As his wife Sally tightened her grip on his arm Jerry realized that his long desired bass boat might not be sunk just yet.
CHAPTER TWO
Joyce Johnson carefully maneuvered her car into its proper spot. Or given the circumstances, as close as she was able to determine where the proper spot should be or might have been - or, oh fuck it - this is close enough. The circumstances were that early this evening she'd consumed a number of glasses of wine past her usual limit. She shut the engine off and leaned her head back for a moment...
"WHAT? Where am I?" Joyce jerked awake and almost screamed in alarm until she realized she was still in her car. She unlatched her seat belt, opened the door, and swiveled to the left. A low moaning 'ohhhh' suggested that particular movement was executed too fast. Joyce stood slowly on wobbly legs, "I'm gonna be regretting this tomorrow."
Joyce walked around her car and almost fell over the empty trash cans in the alley. That the cans were not properly put away was a reminder that their youngest had recently gone off to college. She and her husband Leonard were official empty nesters. That's what she'd been celebrating tonight - the house was theirs again. Or as Sylvia from Accounting had stated (and embarrassingly loudly too) "Now when you cum you can scream as loud as you want ... even if it's just you and your favorite vibrator!"
Joyce had laughed with the others as she glared at Sylvia. Thankfully some of the men had decided that this was the right time to dance.
"That is definitely something I would kill to see." Ron held Joyce at a perfectly acceptable distance as they danced. She'd seen him at the bar before and knew he was safe. One of her friends had described Ron as "Oh that's just Ron, believe me, they don't come any safer. He's so happily married it's sickening. I know half a dozen women who've tried to bed him and failed. All he's good for is a few drinks, a couple of slow dances, and then away he goes home to the lucky bitch." Joyce wondered what Ron was referring to; Sylvia's declaration having occurred many minutes and a couple of glasses of wine previously.
"She wha...see what?" Joyce recognized by her own slurred voice that the time for her to go was actually a few drinks past.
"See you...screaming loudly...using your favorite vibrator." It took a moment for his statement to register with Joyce. Sylvia's statement had been embarrassing enough. That Ron had now repeated it demanded a response. She opened her mouth to object when he pulled her close. "I'm more of an old-fashioned guy, I prefer a woman who wants to play with my toy."
Joyce's objection died unexpressed as she was held against a very hard erection. A new reaction began as unabashed arousal raised a flurry of conflicts and desires within her. She pushed for separation from Ron and found herself being spun slowly around. The song, and so to the dance, had come to an end.
"Unfortunately, my wife refuses to share. It's been a pleasure Joyce, but I really need to get this home." Ron smiled, kissed the back of Joyce's hand and thanked her again for the dance.
Joyce approached the alleyway gate muttering about that 'that smart ass Ron's hard on' and his smarmy 'I need to get this home' comment. She'd left the bar as quickly as she could. Driving home had been doubly tricky - too much alcohol and too much stop and go traffic. Moving her right leg back and for to work the gas and the brake had not lessened the needy condition between her legs. Not that there was any chance of relief once home - Leonard was away on a business trip and wouldn't be home until tomorrow at the earliest.
"Well fuck too you Ronny Runaway!" Joyce spoke it over loudly, equally blaming Sylvia 'and her favorite make you scream loudly vibrator' (well I don't own a vibrator bitch!) and 'Ron with his I've to get this Incredible Erection home' (well mine isn't at home - damn it!) declaration as she walked unsteadily across the backyard.
Standing at her backdoor Joyce fumbled with the key, stabbing futilely at the slot. "Need to put some hair around it" Good Lord where did that thought come from? The last time she'd heard words like that was during a drunken frat party decades ago when a friend was telling a story about her date's fumbling efforts to penetrate her. The memory of her sorority days did nothing to lessen her arousal. God if Leonard had any idea of the things she had done in college. Joyce felt a fresh flush of arousal course through her, and she broke out in a hot sweat. She looked at the doorknob again and thrust the key forward. It hit the slot for a moment then slipped sideways and dropped out of her hand.
PING!
She heard it clearly - one ping. One ping and then silence - shouldn't it have pinged a number of times? One ping was not good; one ping meant the key was not on the landing. One ping meant it was in the shrubbery. "SHIT!"
Joyce could either search for it in the dark or walk out the back gate, down the alley, around the end of the block, back up the sidewalk, climb the simple steps to her entry walk and use the spare key in the bottom of the mailbox to open the front door. "SHIT."
Joyce gave the door a frustrated kick and heard the doggie door flap open and close. She kicked it again and listened to the flap; she giggled. No she shouldn't, it was undignified. Joyce hadn't done anything like that since high school when she had snuck in late many a night through the doggie dog at her parent's house. Her giggle became resolve - 'I may have had two kids but I am still in great shape!' - as she bent down closer to the door.
She pushed her purse through the opening and quickly realized that getting through this opening might possibly damage her clothes. The answer to that problem seemed obviously simple to her - she simply undressed. Once the jacket, blouse, and skirt were off they were pushed through the flap.
Joyce suddenly realized that she was standing outside her back door in nothing more than her bra, panties, stockings and high heels. The realization was strangely erotic and she mimicked her idea of a strippers sexy movements. A wave of heat moved through her as she made a mental addition to her usual shopping list - she would check out that sexy lingerie shop (the one with the very large toy section, or so she had heard) across town. By tomorrow night she was going to have her own favorite vibrator to have screaming orgasms with - 'so there Sylvia!'
OHMIGOD! She was touching herself! When had she started doing that? She released her left nipple and pulled her right hand out of her panties. Was that her odor? She didn't even have to bring her fingers close to her nose - 'God I smell like I'm in heat!'
