This is a story that I wrote and posted some time previously under a different name. I have subsequently re-edited it to correct some details and context and so that it can be better continued with further chapters according to the narrative I wanted to follow at the outset. It is entirely fantasy and if you are not comfortable with the subject matters of infidelity or supposed forced sex, then please don't bother reading it nor providing pious feedback. It is here for your enjoyment and so I sincerely hope that it has that desired affect!
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Perhaps I should explain something. I have never been a 'Bored Housewife' but I have always been perpetually horny! There is a simple reason for that and it's mainly physical rather than anything to do with my fantasies or sexual thoughts.
The physical reason is; I have a chubby pussy with a rude pouting clitoris that swells to the size of the end of my little finger! That naughty clitoris is always there, rudely protruding so that it rubs on my panties when I walk. I am ALWAYS sopping wet because of it and if I wear tight jeans or any outer clothing with a seam that rubs me, I am unbearably turned on, even whilst walking and doing such mundane things as grocery shopping!
I did lots of gymnastics from when I was very young and competed right through to my late teens. As I grew through puberty, I was blessed with very pert and firm shapely breasts plus noticeable and prominent vulva to the extent that my 'Camel Toe' grew very evident in my leotard compared to other girls.
My coach when I was a kid (and beyond) was Sally, who was five years my senior, a gymnast too and she remains my best and closest friend. At this time, I had got to aged thirty and we were both still very shapely and fit but completely different physically. I am five feet two and petite whereas she is four inches taller with larger breasts than mine and wider hips. I am mousy blonde and Sally is a brunette and slightly thicker set than me. I have always looked up to her, aspiring to her grace and femininity plus her expertise with the opposite sex and awareness of her own sexuality. She has always been my confidante, adviser, sex consultant and inspiration.
As I grew through puberty, she pointed out what she termed my 'Lucky Blessings' and she awakened my body awareness, teaching me little female tricks to get attention from the opposite sex such as pointing and flexing my toes, flicking and stroking my shoulder length hair and also, as she put it; "Good girls bend at the knees, bad girls bend at the waist."
I was trained to march to each routine with head held high, shoulders back and arms swinging at forty five degrees. It was to be graceful whilst being quick.
Being equipped with a very shapely and firm bottom and tiny waist, I used the bending advice Sally had imparted to attract male attention when I really needed to close a deal! Whilst I had aged to bloom into a full grown woman, I learned to slow my walk and glide. I had even styled my two inch long, one inch wide 'Landing Strip' to mirror Sally after we had chatted about it when I had observed her naked in the showers!
Sally also figured that shaving the lips of my pussy bare once I passed through puberty would somewhat lessen the prominence of my womanhood in a leotard and besides, I actually loved the clean and smooth feel.
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In terms of sexual experience, I remained quite naive compared to Sally. She was always regaling me with her tales, sexual conquests and experiences. It was thanks to her non-gymnastic coaching that I became an expert cock sucker too, which I simply love doing! She had already married and divorced twice by the time I got married at age twenty one.
I had frequent discussions with Sally about my own sex life in my marriage so she knew everything. At this time, she was a single parent with six year old son and he was in his early teens when my kids reached school age. I had limited sexual experience and had only had three boyfriends before I met my husband.
I will confess; I got lucky. My husband was good looking, renowned as a thoroughly nice guy, has a very successful executive career and we enjoyed the trappings of success that this brings including a lovely large home with a pool in an exclusive suburban enclave.
Sex has always been pleasant albeit conventional and it had become more of a weekly ritual on our 'Date Night' than spontaneous and frequent. I didn't really know any better, aside from Sally's tales and I was blissfully happy to play the housewife and young mother.
I best admit it outright though, that I was a frequent and dedicated masturbator! That rude protruding clitoris would get the better of me even during my daily routine of housework and shopping! I never really shared just how horny I was with my husband as he was generally in career mode most of the time and completely disinterested.
Sex as a married woman was rather conventional; I simply love giving blowjobs so my husband would get off at least four times weekly but aside from our early years, wouldn't reciprocate and pleasure me. He never even questioned my shaving and grooming habits, nor noticed when I was bra-less (and occasionally went without panties to give my throbbing womanhood a break!).
My husband met Sally back when we started dating and she was aware from what I had shared with her just how reserved and unadventurous he was in bed, so she would take the opportunity to flirt and tease him, much it has to be said, to no avail.
Indeed, we had a babysitter most Saturdays for our 'Date Nights.' Trisha was the eighteen year old daughter of a neighbour Mrs. Walker and a bit of a handful. She worked in a local beauty salon, was blonde, busty, tanned and tarty in that order! She was a very pretty girl and she flaunted it in front of any male within eyesight. I would watch her working my husband with some of the tricks Sally had me master including bare feet pointy toes, toe wiggling and this girl even offered a frequent up-skirt or down blouse view to my husband whenever the opportunity arose.
As a woman, I could see what she was up to and quietly but diligently observed her in action. I also watched my husband closely too and was content to note that Trisha had as little effect on him as Sally and I did with our best efforts! It simply went straight past him.
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Anyway, I digress. I'm here to tell you about what happened with Joe. He was our local 'Hire a Hubby' who would come each day during the week to clean our pool and do odd jobs. He did the same for several of the households in our enclave.
Joe was around fifty when my husband got him to start coming over at ten in the morning to do our pool maintenance. He would be over for an hour unless there was something else needing fixing. I figured out his age during the frequent chats we had once I'd got to know him. He told me that he had a daughter not that much younger than me. He confided in me that he got married around that age and had since divorced.
Joe absolutely fascinated me. He was of Greek heritage (with unpronounceable surname) with a swarthy complexion, piercing dark blue eyes and had short black curly hair. His temples had grey creeping in, as was the case amongst his mat of tight black curly chest hair. He would turn up in running shoes and a pair of loose fitting sports shorts with a tee shirt or vest.
I ogled him as I regarded him as a magnificent specimen of manhood and stood a foot taller than me with enormous arms, shoulders, chest and hands. He was muscular yet not what would be termed as 'Cut.' When I told him about my gymnastics background, he told me that he used to be a body builder in his younger days. His muscular thighs and calves, his tanned skin and overall size and stature represented as one word to me; he was an Adonis. He reminded me very much of James Caan with his rugged good looks and broad smile displaying a fine set of white, perfect teeth.
When he first started working for us, I would catch a glimpse of him from the kitchen or an upstairs window as I went about my daily chores. My routine was to get everyone fed with breakfast, do the school run, then housework followed by a shower and afternoon TV or a nap. I enjoyed my domesticated existence!
I stopped to observe Joe on one particularly hot day looking down from the upstairs bedroom window. He had stripped off his top and was wading around in the pool brushing and vacuuming the bottom. I found myself staring at him tanned and topless with his flat tummy and an outline of a six pack. I admired his huge arms and his bare muscular chest that had an expansive covering of short, tight hair that ran down over his tummy and a single line of black hair ran down from his belly button into his shorts.
Almost unconsciously, I was stroking my right nipple through my tee shirt and jolts of pleasure were darting to my groin. I couldn't resist pulling down my track bottoms and had slipped my hand into my panties and started vigorously diddling myself with my middle finger as I stood legs apart staring at Joe. I didn't last long. I had an intense orgasm and came with a jolt that left me on my knees in a heap leaning with my forehead against the wall beneath the window.
The excitement and arousal I had from watching Joe compelled me from that moment and launched me into a mission! I would do the school run and rush around getting beds made and chores done, then take my shower in time for Joe to arrive. I'd make a point of going to chat with him whilst I would employ a few subtle girlie tricks; not least to not wear a bra beneath a white tee shirt with shorts.
I deployed my bare feet with painted pointy toes and my hair was worn in a ponytail to gain his attention. I would fiddle with flowers and pull the occasional weed (or a flower if I couldn't spot a weed!). I used any ploy to get me up close and within good viewing distance. Invariably, a brief chat with Joe would end up with me dashing inside to masturbate as I watched through the window or spread-eagled on one of the beds upstairs where I could frig myself like crazy and picture him in my mind's eye.
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Stalking Joe was like being a teenager all over again. I looked forward to my daily dose of chatting to him, flirting with him, then relieving myself, sometimes with the musky masculine smell of him in my nostrils and with the vision of his huge hands, arms and chest fully etched in my mind.
