Betrayal

"I finally had him last night," the tall dark-haired woman said excitedly as she laid out her towel, "and let me tell you, it was worth all the hard work."

"You're kidding!" the smaller, but no less pretty redhead answered.

"Mmmm, no I'm not. Derek Small is

amazing.

"

"So, my dear," the second woman said, putting a phony sultry tone into her voice, "dish with all the dirty details."

Emma glanced up from the book she was reading and just as quickly buried her nose again, but her ears were extended to pick up the conversation of the newly-arrived pair as they leaned back in their chaise lounges to gossip.

Despite the twinge of shame she felt at eavesdropping on her neighbors at the swimming pool everyone in the complex shared, she wanted to hear what the women were discussing, because she knew the man they were talking about and the previous evening she'd heard most of the liaison. You see, the man had recently moved into the townhouse next to Emma and Peter.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

As the moving van and a stuffed-to-the-gills SUV had arrived that early June morning nearly a month earlier, Emma had been watering the hanging baskets on her front porch. As the new owner strode up the walkway, key in hand to unlock the door, she felt her eyes pulled to stare at him. Later she realized this experience might be just the source of the term "animal magnetism" because that was something Emma had certainly felt. She wouldn't have been able to look away -- even if she'd wanted to.

Mounting the two steps to their shared porch, the man looked up at Emma standing on a kitchen chair and smiled. It was simply dazzling.

"Oh, hello. I'm your new neighbor, Derek Small."

Emma quickly got down off the chair, walked three steps and immediately felt her hand engulfed by Derek's as they shook. His presence completely overwhelmed her.

Her voice came out in a squeak. "Emma Richards. I live here with my husband Peter."

Derek was well over six feet and ruggedly handsome with dark brown hair and piercing blue eyes. She thought of a swimmer as her eyes quickly skittered over his body: broad shoulders tapering to a small waist. His shorts allowed his strong legs to readily show. A wave of heat flowed over Emma being so close to him.

Dragging her mind back, she realized he had gone on with his introduction and she hadn't taken in a word of it.

"I, um, live here with my husband," she repeated lamely.

Derek's eyes lit up with humor. "Yes, I know; you already said that."

"I teach school. I'm off for the summer now."

"I start a new job tomorrow and I've got a hell of a lot of work to do today, so if you'll excuse me?"

"What? Oh, certainly. I understand completely."

Emma went over, grabbed the kitchen chair and scurried inside. Shutting the front door, she leaned against it. What the heck had just happened?

Their new neighbor soon brought another change to Emma's life. Emma's and Peter's townhouse was on the end of one row. The configuration of the interiors meant that their bedroom was separated from Derek's by just the wall. Even though it was made of cinder blocks, loud sounds came through it pretty clearly. They also shared a common balcony, separated by a wood privacy wall. Within a week, Emma began hearing sounds from Derek's bedroom, very specific sounds, very embarrassing sounds, the sounds of lovemaking.

Her husband Peter's job was a very exhausting one, and he'd always been able to fall into a deep sleep very quickly, anyway. His head would hit the pillow, and he'd be out like a light. Emma enjoyed sitting up in bed to read until she got sleepy. It being summer vacation, she could indulge herself quite late.

Five days after Derek moved in, it happened for the first time. It was a Friday night and Peter had suffered through a hellacious week at work, not getting home until after 8:00 most nights. That Friday, he'd managed to get in by 6:15.

Emma was very disappointed that he'd conked out not a half hour after they'd finished dinner. It had been well over a week since they'd made love, and with Peter going out to play golf with some of his fellow employees the following morning, he'd gone right up to bed.

She'd watched TV until 10:00 and then come up to bed to read for a bit. Emma had barely gotten on the long tee-shirt she slept in when she heard it: sounds in Derek's bedroom. He had a female visitor.

Getting into bed, she propped up her pillow and grabbed her book from the night table. Peter was turned away on his side, snoring softly. Since it was a coolish night, Emma hadn't turned on the air conditioning and the sliding door to the balcony was open.

Derek and his guest moved onto his side of the balcony. Figuring their talking might disturb Peter, Emma got up and padded across the room to shut the door. Reaching out for the handle, she froze.

They were kissing. After a few moments, the woman moaned softly. Emma should have immediately slid the door quietly shut, giving them their privacy, but she didn't. Possibly it was the disappointment that Peter had come home, eaten dinner and gone to bed, but Emma just stood with her hand on the door, listening as things quickly heated up on the adjoining balcony.

The woman seemed to be quite excited already, and though she was keeping her voice down, Emma could hear everything she said very clearly.

"Oh, that's it, lover. Suck on them. Mmmm... Oh, yes, that's so good..."

Emma felt her face burning, but it wasn't just with shame at eavesdropping on something so intimate.

Sliding the screen open very quietly, she stepped out onto the balcony. Infinitely slowly, she then closed the inner door. Best not to have Peter be disturbed. But if someone had asked Emma at that moment why she wasn't back in her own bed minding her own business, she couldn't have given a good answer.

More kissing sounds, quiet moans and the sounds of clothes rustling. With her heart pounding and the blood singing in her ears, Emma stepped forward to the privacy fence. The edges of the wood had been butted together, but the wood being thin and probably green, the fence had warped a bit. Emma looked through a crack.

Derek was standing in the dark with his back inches from the fence. Emma couldn't see the woman, blocked by him as she was, but her white blouse could easily be seen in the shadows at her feet. Derek's shirt was open. His belt moved a bit, then she saw the woman's hands reaching around to pull out his shirt. The pants dropped to Derek's knees and Emma was amazed to see that he didn't have on any underwear.

"Oh my goodness," the woman giggled, "there's nothing

small

about you, dear Derek!"

Silence for a moment, then Emma saw the woman kneel, her hands gripping Derek's muscular bottom.

Emma felt herself blushing furiously. She could easily guess what was happening without Derek's low groans and the sloppy wet sounds.

Of course she knew what oral sex was, but she'd never experienced it, either giving or receiving. She'd heard a lot about it from her fellow coeds in college, but well, she'd never had the courage to try it with Peter, and there certainly hadn't been anyone else to whom she'd been close enough. Peter, being pretty conservative and inexperienced when they'd met and married at 29, had also never done it for Emma. It wasn't something either of them felt comfortable bringing up. She innately knew that Peter would find sucking on someone's genitals completely disgusting.

Emma felt her heart pounding in her chest and her head felt faint. The woman, not 3 feet away from her was giving her handsome new neighbor a very enthusiastic blow job.

"It's feels so naughty doing this on your balcony," the woman sighed at one point, "but I hope no one can see us. I don't need the neighbors gossiping."

"Relax. No one can see anything, certainly not you hidden below the railing."

"What about the people next door? Tom and I can hear a lot that goes on in the townhouses next to ours."

"They go to bed very early, I think. I haven't heard anything other than a low rumble when they're talking, certainly nothing like what we're doing now. But perhaps you're right. Let's take this inside. I want to eat what I'm sure is a very tasty little pussy."

"And I can't wait to have this fine specimen of a hard cock inside me after that," the woman said as she rose from her knees.

Emma was shocked to see in the dim light a neighbor from the other end of the complex, a woman, pretty and blonde, who spent her afternoons at the pool with her two small children.

Going inside, they shut the balcony door. Emma reentered her bedroom and returned to bed, fully intending to mind her own business by finishing her novel. Leaning back, her head contacted the connecting wall. She could hear sounds from the other side. Her neighbor (Julie? Jenny?) was moaning loudly, exhorting Derek to savage her pussy with his tongue.

Turning her head, Emma pressed her ear against the wall and could hear even better. After a few minutes the woman enthusiastically orgasmed. Silence for a few moments, then the woman groaned louder still.

"Oh my God, Derek, it is so big! Please go slowly."

Emma was breathing fast, and with a rush of embarrassment, she realized her panties had become soaked. She felt the overwhelming urge to touch herself.

Masturbation was the only way Emma had ever orgasmed. Sometimes when she was single, she'd resorted to it when she felt her concentration suffering because of the time of the month. The urge was always strongest midway through her cycle, and when she felt it was getting in the way of real work, she'd use her hand to quickly bring herself off. Occasionally, she'd have to do it more than once a month. It wasn't something she actively looked forward to, touching herself intimately was just something that occasionally needed doing, like the laundry or yard work.

When Peter and she had married, he would occasionally use his hand on her, bringing her to delicious cums (as she began to think of them after reading a volume of Victorian erotica) before he stuck his erection into her for several frantic moments of pumping before he came. Lately, Emma had begun to feel it was all very mechanical on his part and not particularly satisfying.

Now she had her head pressed to the wall, listening to the enthusiastic sounds of her two neighbors going at it. From the woman's noises, it was clear she was greatly enjoying what Derek was doing to her. Emma distinctly heard the woman come twice more while Derek made love to her. Amazing. Emma had never felt even the first twinge of an impending cum when Peter and she made love, and even if she had, she knew she couldn't manage one in the short time he'd be inside her. Except for those rare occasions when he'd touch her, she usually had to wait until he'd fallen asleep before she could gain her own relief. Peter was a good man, but not imaginative in bed, according to what she knew of Victorian mores -- or those of her new neighbor, at least.

Almost as if of their own volition, her hands stole down to her sodden panties. Moving very carefully so as not to disturb her husband, she removed them and pulled her feet up towards her, spreading her legs under the sheet.

She was absolutely drenched.

Dipping two fingers of her left hand down low, she gathered up some of the moisture, then slid them slowly up her widening slit. As both fingers drifted deliciously across the hard little nubbin of her clitoris, she stifled a surprised gasp at how far along she already was. With her other hand, Emma spread her labia apart, further exposing her "pleasure button" (another favorite term from her Victorian literary pursuits).

As the lovebirds next door spent the next 90 minutes in more enthusiastic "fucking" (a very naughty word indeed!), Emma masturbated herself to two furious cums, the strongest she'd ever experienced. In order not to wake Peter (how could she ever explain what she was doing?), she bit down hard on her forearm, groaning out her release as quietly as she could. Instinctively, she knew it somehow also dampered the intensity.

That night as she slept heavily, Emma dreamed for the first time about Derek's cock.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Emma had been brought up with a pretty sheltered life. Her parents had been very strict, not allowing her to date until she was nearly 17. Sex was never referred to in the house, and everything she knew about it had been gained from overheard conversations and the odd magazine article. In college, she'd been quietly studious, staying away from the post-secondary lifestyle. She'd dated a few guys, all of whom had expected one thing, and she hadn't found a single one that she'd even liked enough to do more than neck with a bit.

After getting her degree, she'd got a job teaching in a small city about 500 miles from where she'd grown up. At school, all of the male staff were married, not that it stopped them from occasionally hitting on her, she'd soon found out to her disgust.

Emma was quite pretty, something she just accepted as a matter of course. Standing 5 foot seven, she was lean and muscular since she'd always loved sports, playing field hockey, basketball and softball all through high school and on into college as much as she could find time for.

She kept her honey blonde hair shortish, above the collar, and the cut was more male than female, but it suited her pixy-ish looks. She had a small upturned nose, gray-blue eyes and a nice mouth with generous lips -- if she were to notice those sorts of things. Male eyes always followed her, but she didn't notice that, either. She dressed nicely, but never provocatively , preferring longer skirts and dresses and loose-fitting slacks. Her bathing suits were always one-piece, and her lingerie could best be described as "utilitarian". When she wore make-up, it was always discreet: a little mascara, maybe some blush, but she didn't really need even that. The sexiest thing about her, though, was her voice. It was surprisingly low and sultry. Peter said it was what had first attracted him to her and he loved to hear her talk. Actually, this was true for most men.

If Emma had only realized it, everything about her made a very alluring package.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

The next morning, she felt ashamed of what had happened the night before. Peter told her she looked as if she'd had a very good sleep indeed, and had enthusiastically mounted her, using his morning erection as an excuse.

"You're much wetter than usual, my dear."

"I must have had some sort of dream last night, but I don't remember it," she lied.

Peter looked down at her and smiled as he thrust merrily away. "But it's really nice. I certainly enjoy making love to my adorable little wifey."

"And I like making love to you, too," she answered, but felt the hollowness of her words.

Peter was out the door 45 minutes later to spend the day golfing with his buddies. Normally, Emma would have looked forward to her morning run, then a day spent tidying the house, puttering in her gardens or just reading on the hammock under the trees.

Today, though, she felt very restless, unable to concentrate on anything or to sit still. She went out for a long run, and came back sweaty, but still uneasy. After getting out of the shower, she went into the bedroom, stood in front of the mirror doors of the closet and slid her bathrobe off her shoulders.

It had been a long time since Emma had looked at the self in the nude, and certainly not with such blatant appraisal. Concerning her physical attributes, her motto had always been "it is what it is" and didn't dwell on them.

She had always readily acknowledged that she had a pretty face. Today, though, she was studying other things.

Emma's breast were not particularly big and rode high on her chest. Even at 34, they hadn't sagged an iota, her nipples weren't huge, but when she was excited, they got very hard and her areolae puffed out nicely, giving her breasts a pointy look -- sort of like they were now, she realized. They also got very sensitive. She experimentally tweaked one, a very naughty thing to do. Oh yes!

Her tummy was nice and flat and her waist small. Her hips didn't flare as much as some women, but they were nice.

Her eyes drifting lower, Emma saw she had a gap at the apex of her legs and her little, um, pussy nestled nicely between it. Her blonde pubic hair was rather sparse, so one could easily see her labia. They were surprisingly red today, and Emma's face colored when she realized why.

She had been thinking what she might look like to Derek if he were to see her like this, naked and ready for him.

As she looked at her muscular legs kept that way by her daily runs, Emma turned to look over her shoulder at her pert bottom, it crossed her mind with some satisfaction that Derek would probably would not be repulsed by what he might see.

Emma's horniness was overwhelming, what with the previous evening's happenings, her dream about Derek (his rampant penis had seemed impossibly gigantic) and her quick and unsatisfying tryst with Peter. She looked over at the bed and realized what she must do if she were going to get accomplish

anything

useful that day.

Propping up her pillows, she lay back, reclining slightly. Pulling her knees up, she spread her legs, modestly at first, than more lewdly. Glancing over at the closet door mirrors, she suddenly had a very naughty idea indeed.

Grabbing all the pillows, she propped them up against the side of the bed, making a comfortable way to partially recline on the floor, facing the mirrors. Emma spread her long legs again, this time as wide as she could. Her reflection looked incredibly wanton, she thought, and she was surprised how red and swollen her genitals had already become, so swollen they'd parted, showing her delicate inner lips and the distinct ridge up the center, at the bottom of which her hard clitoris was beginning to peek out. It was very red.

Realizing she needed to be closer to see really well, Emma quickly rearranged things with the dirty clothes hamper wedged between the bed and the pillows. Now she could touch the mirrored doors with her feet and her crotch was barely two feet away. This blatant behavior made the woman uneasy, but she was too worked up to be able to put a stop to it. She'd never before behaved this way, and it disturbed and excited her at the same time.

Her vaginal opening... No! That was the wrong word for today. It was her pussy, yes, her pussy, and it was dripping she was so turned on. Emma got up one more time to fetch a towel to place underneath her bottom. Now she was ready.

With her eyes glued to her reflection, she started by tweaking her nipples. Oh yes, that was good. Harder. Ummm... Emma felt a warm glow down low and her clit seemed to throb extra hard with passion. Her lips were very swollen now and gaping wide on their own. There would be no need to hold them open today.

Her right hand slid down. Using her middle finger, her "naughty finger", she used the full length of it to press down. The tip was at the opening of her pussy and its base at the top of her slit. It felt sinfully delicious as she slid it slowly back and forth, spreading her slick juices.

For the first time in her life, Emma pushed a finger inside herself, wanting to feel what it was like inside. She found her interior cushioned, delightfully wet and very, very warm. Another finger slipped inside. She touched something and her eyes opened wide.

Emma was very familiar with the effects of touching her clitoris, but this was different and enjoyable in a different way. Hunching herself down more to get better access, she pressed up on this spot, rubbing it first tentatively, exploring, then with more force as she felt her passion begin to rise sharply. It was just behind her pubic bone.