For the second time in a week, I found myself standing in Joyce's kitchen with her on her knees and her fantastic mouth working my cock like the skilled artisan that she is. She changes up her technique, never allowing me to get used to one particular style of fellatio while I stand over her, looking down, and watching in amazement.
Her tiny hands twisted their way up the shaft, she stuck the tip of her tongue between my balls and licked gently, she took light nips at my nut sack with her perfectly aligned teeth, and then she'd open wide and shove her full face all the way down on it until she choked on it from its length. Every time I found myself building to an explosive orgasm, she'd change the tempo or the style of her cocksucking. When I'd reach down to curl my fingers in her hair and try to control her motions, she'd flip my hand away with one of hers. She never closed her eyes or stopped watching me while working my rod, so she saw my hand coming every time.
I vaguely wondered whether the furor with which she was sucking my dick was a reaction to me ruining a pair of her perfectly good panties on Saturday night (and not replacing them immediately like she'd told me to) or if she was "punishing" me for handling her so roughly during our first coupling.
I didn't think about it long, since watching her petite form trying to handle my cock, which was clearly not made for such a small woman, was quite the turn on. She seemed quite intent on working me over without letting me come and for my part, I was willing to let her just so I could watch the show.
It didn't take a genius to figure out why I was risking my stable home life by diddling the pretty neighbor lady. With the skills she was exhibiting, I think most men would make the same decision.
The girlfriend was out late again, having dinner with one of her friends and certainly discussing all kinds of trivial things. I had decided to wander next door and drop in on Joyce and see if I could get a feel for whether Saturday's tryst had been a one time fling, or if I would be able to work over that tight little box between her legs any time my girl was gone and her son was not home. Joyce knows that I'm with someone; hell she can see us together across the street from her house any day of the week. She clearly is only in this for the sex, just like I am.
When the late afternoon started to turn to evening, I had walked across the street to help her put a cover on her silver Mercury. As we worked in the cooling air, we spoke pleasantries in case any of the neighbors could hear. It wouldn't do to have the neighbors whispering about us; that could mess up our happy homes. The privacy fence on either side of Joyce's house would help us remain discreet, but there was always the possibility that a neighbor could see me walk up the long set of stairs to her wrap around porch.
In between phrases of greeting and "how do you do" that two neighbors would normally exchange, we held a second whispered conversation that was simply a prelude to the coming tempest of flying clothes and profane commands.
"Did you bring me some new drawers, asshole?" she hissed at me in mock-anger.
"No, but I'm willing to try to be more careful if given another chance." There simply hadn't been a chance to hit up a Victoria's Secret or a Frederick's of Hollywood since Saturday and I told her so. "I definitely plan to get you a nice replacement, but I haven't done it yet." In fact, my plans were to buy her something so naughty that she would never be able to forget who gave her the present. There hadn't been time yet to make the purchase.
She looked at me as if I'd just become the most presumptuous person she knew, "You ruined a fifteen dollar pair of underwear and you think you can walk across the street any time you want and do it again?" she teased. "Fifteen bucks?" I thought. Hell my entire underwear collection isn't worth fifteen bucks combined. "I'm willing to work hard and try to make it up to you." My mock subservient tone made her pull a face in my direction.
We finished the job of covering the car, and she looked up and down the road to see if any neighbors were outside.
"Where's your son?" I asked. I hadn't seen him in several days. It was too much to hope that she'd sent him away to facilitate another encounter with me without the danger of him catching us together.
"Staying with his grandmother. He can ride the bus to school from her house. But that leaves me all alone here to watch TV, drink beer, and hit up the happy hours with Sheila."
"Really? You sit in there and drink alone?" I asked.
"Not like a drunk in denial, stupid. I have a few before she picks me up so that when we run down to Talbot's for happy hour, it doesn't cost as much to get tight."
"Speaking of 'tight'," I said, "why don't we go inside, have another drink, and see if we can't stretch you out again?"
She pretended to be shocked at my suggestion. Her mouth dropped open as her eyes widened. She started to say something, then caught herself. Wordlessly, she turned and mounted the stairs to her porch, opened the door, and went inside. The half open door was a clear invitation. I took one last look around and headed up the stairs. As my eyes adjusted to the low lighting in her house, I heard the door slam behind me. I turned to see her standing there naked but for her white Ked's sneakers. A pile of girl clothes lay on the floor nearby. What a sight she was.
When we'd fucked on Saturday night, it was fast and abrupt, with no time to reflect and take in all the sights. Plus we'd never moved more than a foot apart. From six feet away, I was now able to properly check out her hot little body. Her B-cup breasts were still pert for a woman in her early forties, with very little noticeable sag. The legs that I admire all the time from across the road were certainly just as shapely and tanned as they appeared from the distance between our houses. Her tummy exhibited only the slightest bulge, a paunch that instead of looking slovenly on her, actually looked sexy. Instead of attempting to appear like the models in magazines, Joyce stood in her own kitchen, in her own skin, comfortable in being just what she is; a sexy, single mother in her early forties.
"Time to account for what you owe me."
My raised eyebrow must have been taken as the challenge I intended it to be. She checked one last time to see if the door was locked and said, "Strip off those clothes. Don't think. Just do it."
Once I was down to just my underwear, she stepped to me quickly and grabbed the waistband and pulled...hard. The ripping sound took me by surprise and the force it took to tear through the elastic band pulled me towards her. The tearing away of the boxers almost made a rug burn on my sack and ass cheeks as the fabric pulled from my body. Standing there with the remains of the garment in her hand, she suppressed a laugh and threw them in the direction of the garbage can. She grabbed me roughly by the shaft of my cock and dragged me to the kitchen counter. I stood with my back to it, the hard, unaccommodating counter top pressed into my lower back. "So this is what that's like for her when I took charge the other night," I thought to myself as she dropped to her knees, never letting go of my prong.
Before gobbling up my shaft, she said, "Don't even think that we're even. My panties that you ruined cost a lot more than those fucking boxers." For emphasis, she shoved my cock roughly into the back of her mouth and dragged her upper and lower teeth along its entire length. There was just enough pain from this action that I quickly re-affirmed that I intended to replace the expensive thong that I'd ruined a few days before. She allowed her lips to extend back over those perfect white teeth and protect my sensitive skin as she began to bob up and down on me.
While she stared up at me with my cock in her mouth, she used her free hand to kneed my nuts. If it was possible, I believe she would have started juggling them in their sack. While she roughly manipulated my balls, she allowed my dick to slide out of her mouth. Her slippery tongue worked the underside of my rod and the head of my cock slid back and forth across her forehead and into her bangs. Pre-cum started to make a stringy mess in her hair as I watched her lick and nip at the big vein on the underside of the shaft. Re-positioning herself on her knees, she straightened her back, cocked her head, and swallowed me to her tonsils. The sphincter in the back of her throat clutched at my cock head on every thrust and just as I was nearing orgasm, I felt her manicured finger at my back door.