Mr Norton From Next Door Ch 02

Brian my husband had just got off the phone. I felt apprehensive, for the understandable reason that the person he had been talking to was Mr Norton. My husband was due to set off on Sunday morning, off on his trip and had been making arrangements.

"Why did you call Mr Norton? I asked him meekly.

"Oh, well, to thank him for fixing the kitchen sink for one thing," he answered.

"And the other reason?"

"I've asked him to keep an eye on you and the house. If you need anything sorting out while I'm gone just give him a shout," Brian said.

What a statement I thought! Should I feel the need of a spanking perhaps; or if I craved a little chastisement mixed with sexual stimulation – then I should call Norton? Funny how the pictures that kept creeping back into the forefront of my mind were of how another person might have viewed the scene; how my bottom was presented to Norton, of exactly what detail was visible, my movements and gyrations – and most of all, the red lines and glowing cheeks undulating as my arse wriggled and wobbled. It seemed strange to me that another person's perspective, and not my own, could arouse me in such a powerful way. Surely enough my own eyes had only been able to stare at the kitchen counter

So just what was it that aroused me, and brought me to orgasm? Was it the submissiveness, the offering up of my arse to this weird neighbour, being scared but excited, not knowing just how hard and violent the lashes would come, falling across my backside? The sensation of stinging pain that turned into a hot throbbing glow definitely produced inside me a sensuous pleasure, depraved and kinky though it was.

Had I found it arousing to be displaying my panties, showing how the tight skimpy material creased and gathered before almost disappearing in my anal crack then eaten totally by my damp swollen pubes? I needed to concentrate on my husband's words now because my mind was wandering, thinking about the 'What if?' - I was feeling wet and sexy. What if, another man had been there, watching? Just toying with the thought, the very idea was thrilling and exciting!

"I don't need keeping an eye on!" I snapped, "You've no right to do that – have someone spy on me."

"Hey, cool down! It's mainly for my peace of mind. If I wanted to spy on you there would be point asking old Norton would there?"

I looked at my husband, sensing more than a little sarcasm but scared of what the old man might have said.

"How do you mean?" I asked.

"Well, if you're going to misbehave it will be when you're out with Brenda! Norton's not likely to see that is he? I saw her yesterday and she told me that you'd both arranged a night out - or two – while I'm away. It's me who ought to be angry; you kept it from me."

"No! She's being presumptuous, I never actually agreed to go out!"

"It's fine," said Brian, staring me in the eye, "You are no different than other wives."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"That's what wives do isn't – and also we husbands!"

Brian knew how to wind me up.

"Look, I'm not going to get manic if you chat to some guys in a bar, or even have the odd dance. Hell, you must know that sometimes I'm in female company on the courses and conferences I have to attend. You know we have disco's and free bars so we can bond and socialise."

"You dance and flirt and...fuck! What else do you do?" I was livid now.

"No, I don't do that bit - fuck!" Brian smirked. "Don't try to tell me that you and Brenda don't eye up other men and enjoy male company."

"Yes, I admire other guys occasionally. But I don't bloody well normally go out! How can I flirt?"

Brian often came out with really stupid gags. "For all I know you might flirt with old Norton!" he laughed.

My husband looked calmly at me and spoke slowly, "Listen, all I'm saying is that I expect you to know where to draw the line if you find yourself in a certain situation. I know! Okay, there may be a lot of joking and talking, and a bit of smooching, dancing close, and a friendly peck of a kiss. It's all harmless stuff – but if you go out and find yourself doing the same – know where to draw the line. A friendly goodnight kiss is the limit."

He had shocked me with this eye-opening brutally honest divulgence.

"I think I will go out with Brenda!" I screamed mentally.

Tired from all the hard study? Fatigued after returning home from yet another conference? Right! What's good for the gander will be fine for me when I get goosed!

Sunday morning was a mess. Brian overslept and went off bad tempered. It wasn't due to any bad feeling between us mind; on the contrary, we had been awake late into the night, sex was passionate and we went at it like two rampant dogs. Maybe our thoughts were somewhere quite different. Or perhaps we both experienced a certain feeling of release and freedom, feelings that excited us, anticipating and wondering what delights and interesting encounters might be in store for us; free for us to enjoy, within certain limitations!

In the cold light of the morning though an annoying hassle ruled our mood. I opened the door, half asleep and caring not one jot as to who should be knocking at such an early hour.

"I wanted to catch Brian before he left – but I noticed his car's gone."

Well figured out Sherlock Holmes! I thought, scratching my unkempt hair. Briefly a thought fluttered through my foggy head, asking why, being in my nightclothes, I had stood to one side holding open the door like it was an invitation for him to come on in. Suddenly I was conscious that he was running his eyes up and down my legs, pausing when he reached my groin. I was glad that I had put my little knickers back on under the too-big tee shirt that passed as nightwear, and was just able to hide a few inches of upper thigh.

Normally I would never dream of answering the door in such a state of undress but after what transpired the other day – did it matter? Old Norton would never see me misbehave - so my husband said! Now he was trying to see if his eyes were able to penetrate the thin cotton that hid my wobbling tits, my nipples teasingly formed little bumps, pressing against the cloth advertising that underneath was nakedness. Did I care? Was I secretly thrilled to notice the effect it was having on him, how he was beginning to show signs of arousal?

Norton bored me with detailed explanations of why he wanted to speak to Brian. Not even half listening I walked over to the kettle then rudely turning my back to the old man waited for the water to boil. I plunged a spoon into the coffee jar and deposited it into a beaker trying to decide if I was the one displaying bad manners or was it Norton who ought not have lingered at this early hour knowing I wasn't yet dressed or even fully awake. In any case, hadn't I already told him he was too late to speak to my husband? So why was he impolitely hanging about? Well, considering the obvious reason (which, finally, I was honest enough to admit was nothing to do with bad manners) began to cause feelings of devilish recklessness, and a desire to torment the man.

"Would you like a coffee?" I asked, without turning around or even waiting until he had finished a sentence.

I didn't wait for an answer. He took sugar; I knew that. I would have to stretch my arm high to open the cupboard to get another beaker. What would he be able to see now as my tee shirt rode up? Of course he liked it white so he may have liked to watch as I stretched inside the fridge. Clumsily I accidentally pushed the small tea towel off the counter and had to bend to pick it up. What would he see now?

I more or less, to all accounts and purposes acted as though he wasn't really there, not facing him, not acknowledging anything he said. He grew silent, save for the sound of him sipping from the beaker. I bent and stretched and reached as I would when alone. I wondered how thin my shirt was, if it would become transparent if I stood against the light; I decided to wash the pile of crockery dumped after my husband's hurried breakfast and last nights supper so stood beside the sink bathing in the warmness and bright sunshine that poured through the window. Mr Norton drew in a deep breath.

"Are you looking forward to the week ahead?" he asked after a long silence.

"In what way do you mean?" I queried, feeling little butterflies in my tummy now because I knew this signalled the start of what the man hoped would be an opportunity to indulge his fetish.

I saved him having to explain. "Brian knows now that I intend to go out with Brenda. He even expects and, more importantly, accepts, that I may find myself in the company of, and drinking, with other men! Now what do you think of that Mr Norton?"

Norton didn't mince his words. "I think you will enjoy the satisfaction of feeling you have his blessing and permission to flirt. A freedom that will leave you easily tempted to go a step further, several steps in fact. I would be willing to bet that just surmising what things you might get up to, the ways you might like to misbehave, already excite you sexually."

"Mr Norton, you mind works in a very weird and kinky way – you are quite a perverted man – disturbed even!"

He actually laughed, nay, guffawed, briefly but loudly. "I'm old too. Though you still enjoy teasing and displaying your body for my titillation. You should ask yourself," he added slowly and with a mock menace usually only heard in the dialogue of cheap scary old b-movies, "Why, here in your kitchen, with your husband having only just left, you feel the inclination, the desire, to arouse the cock of this old man you consider to be depraved and perverted?"

He waited for an answer but none came.

"Just you and I here with no one to bother us, we are in your home, we have the privacy to do whatever we like. Will you bring a man here this week? Let one escort you home, invite him in for coffee – then take him to your bed to fuck? He will leave in the darkness of the early morning and no one will ever know he was here.

Will you bring different men, would you like to try out more than one man, experience how different men feel and compare their techniques?"

I answered, saying I didn't know, I wasn't sure. He came up close behind me, not touching me, but my soap-covered hands began to shake in the water. My heart thumped when I felt just the slightest pressure of fingers describe circles my bottom cheeks before suddenly, though very gently, touch under my armpits then trace a line down each side of my body over my hips, stopping on my upper thighs.

"Please will you pass me the towel?" I asked meekly.

I felt a hand leave my leg then the towel appeared from my left side. I took it from him and began to dry my trembling hands.

"Will your wife not wonder where you are?" I said not quite avoiding the nervous stutter.

"No." The hands caressed my flanks, up and down from thigh to chest. "Have you wondered about two men, pictured two men, together, with you at the same time, four hands, two cocks?"

Questions and answers – just questions and answers.

"Yes." Why lie – he would only know, confuse me and catch me out. "Will she not come looking for you – your wife?"

"No. Do you hope to do more than flirt, to kiss, do you hope that this week you will get the chance to fuck – feel another cock?"

"Yes. I want to move away from the window."

"And if the chance came your way to have more than one man? Would you be tempted, let it happen?"

"Very much so!" I breathed. "Look! Look at the amount of stuff my husband has left in the laundry basket."

I moved away from Mr Norton and began to sort out the washing, checking the articles before I pitched them into the washing machine. The third article was a pair of denims – and I had to remove the leather belt first. Mr Norton watched as I dropped the jeans but carefully folded the belt in half. I ran the palm of my hand along the length then looked across at him.

"Are you sure your wife won't be missing you – won't come looking for you?"

He shook his head without changing the blank expression on his face. I walked toward the back door but as I passed the table I placed the leather belt down – close to Mr Norton. Turning the key in the lock to make sure no one could walk in I avoided facing my neighbour and stepped back to face the wall. Standing with feet apart, shoulder width and a good four feet from the counter edge I felt the shake in my hands spread throughout my body. I began to bite my nails.

"I'm scared of what I might do this week," I began, "I know how easily I will give in to temptation, let a man have his way with me. I want it to happen! I want to have sex with a different man – different men. I have strange feelings inside. The pictures that come into my head of what I imagine could happen are filthy and perverted. I don't know where they come from!"

I heard the sound of leather being dragged across wood. It told me that Norton had picked up the belt. There were slapping sounds, leather against flesh like he was bringing it down across his palm, warming up his arm, loosening up his muscles.

It was time for me to bend forward, to grip the kitchen counter, brace myself, and wait for the first of many stinging blows of the belt across my tender buttocks. How very perverted it seemed that I felt reassurance from knowing that Brian would not be here to spot the telltale marks and stripes of my whipping! Maybe that's why with every delicious slap I cried out as my body jerked forward from the searing pain yet my tearstained face carried a smile like I knew that the burning agony would convert to a warm sensuous pleasure all the more sooner.

It was an easy task that morning, easier than the previous time, for Mr Norton to slide his hand up and inside my clothes. He was giving his whipping arm a rest and as was his style he stood beside me side on, to deliver gentle smacks, across my thighs and up against my pubes. Today he concentrated more on stimulating my nipples too then alternated between tweaking them then slipping down my belly to delve inside my panties and seek out my clitoris with his expert fingers. Pleasure and pain rolled into one – how delightful it was what that sudden sharp smack came reigning down making my cunt jerk against the busy fingers of the man's hand.

I was ecstatic and cried and sobbed with joy when I felt the stiff hotness of Mr Norton's old cock press against my arse cheeks.

"Oh, please, put it inside me!" I demanded, hissing like a mad woman.

Mr Norton's reply was short and concise, "No" he answered.

I sobbed, I yelled, and I begged. That earned me a good thrashing, but knowing that the stiff cock was but a few millimetres away from plunging into my hole was exasperating and cruel. How degrading to have to express my gratitude when he offered the hard leather against my wet cunt asking if he should leave it in place as a substitute for a dick.

"You will have to go out and find your own willing dicks!" he said. "You will be all the more eager and hungry for cock!"

Once again I fucked a leather belt and a delightful orgasm erupted when I began to imagine that the belt and the fingers of the hand were two different dicks. And what an added pleasure when my arse was soaked with a thick liquid that I realised could only possibly be Mr Norton's sticky jism! I later thought how much more nice it would have been if we had finished with him showing me his weapon and allowed me to clean it with my tongue.

Norton quietly disappeared through the back door leaving me mentally confused and flustered. I kept busy cleaning the house then needing to get out went off for a walk in the park. Now I have been known to turn a few heads but today I wasn't dressed particularly eye-catching so I couldn't understand why there seemed to be lots of men taking notice of me. Did I have a sign on my head that said 'husband away'? Eventually it dawned on me that it was not the men ogling and staring at me, it was I who was ogling them! I was attracting attention by giving lingering looks at any man who passed, subconsciously imagining what having sex with them would be like.

For a while I sat on a bench (which had I wanted to avoid attention would have proved a bad idea.) Several men ogled me from a distance, sitting on seats opposite, some clearly hoping I would perhaps flash some thigh or maybe several had a fantasy and thought I may smile and invite them over to join me. It was late Sunday afternoon now and the weekend strollers were all but gone. There was no harm in a little teasing as there were still enough people passing by to make me feel safe. Crossing and uncrossing my legs, letting my skirt ride up excited quite a few of the men who sat in that little square area where several paths converged. Even a woman caught my eye nodding with a smile letting her gaze dart to my lower half as though signalling that she knew what I was up to and I had her approval.

It was obvious to me now just how easy it was to attract a man; the right clothes and the inviting smile. There was I wondering if I would get 'opportunities' when all I had to do was go out! Though attracting the right calibre of man was another matter. I would however be seeking sex, not looking to start a relationship!

The most adventurous man in the park was called George. He came and sat next to me. Definitely he would be a contender and I happily chatted away to him considering the possibilities of having sex in the shrubbery, or be really filthy and accompany him past the flowerbeds to stand up against the wall in the men's urinals lift my skirt drop my pants and have a knee-trembling fuck! Maybe we would get caught – then the men who discovered us would insist on having a turn with me.

In the end I succumbed to going off with him to a small café where we drank tea and flirted. I think he enjoyed my blatantly obvious willingness to expose as much upper thigh as I could decently bare in a public place. We sat in a corner outside, with most of the other customers facing toward the street; I made it clear I was doing it for him. When it was time to go the disappointment on his face made me feel sorry for him. I could have taken him home but I wasn't that brave – yet.

By the time I arrived home my body was screaming out demanding some sort of sexual enjoyment. I wished I had arranged for George to come round later, when the neighbours closed their curtains and the light faded. I would have welcomed another visit from old Mr Norton. When Brenda rang and suggested we try out a bar she knew I was more than agreeable. Hardly able to eat I made a small meal just to keep the hunger pangs at bay; then selected items of appropriate clothing.

At eight thirty a taxi pulled up; Brenda was already in it waving like an excited teenager. Feeling just a little self-conscious and worrying if my skirt was a little too short or tight, or if the neckline of my clinging top was a bit too low I hobbled over the cobbled driveway in my high heels carefully of where I tread. A shadow across my path made me look up, to see the smirking face of Norton.

"So you're off for a night out then?"

"Nothing exciting, just a couple of drinks," I answered.

"Sorry, I'm not being nosey – I hope you have a good time."

Suddenly Norton looked the old man he was, the helpful neighbour who came in to do odd jobs. Why I had allowed this man to manipulate me and get right inside my head. There he was, stood before me armed with the knowledge that I harboured secret desires and had developed a craving to have sex with other men. It was hard to believe that I had bent over for this man, while he strapped my arse and spanked me. I had let him spill his sperm over me and like the filthiest of sluts I had fucked his fingers and come to orgasm on the very belt that tanned my backside. I had even begged for this old man to fuck me, asked for his cock to be put inside me. The joke was that he had refused – and I had felt insulted and aggrieved.