The source for this story is a tweet by Claudia Jones on X.
"Neighbour just popped round to pinch some rice, I was in middle of a fag, clearly he was enjoying it, so as hubby was out I gave him a sly handjob, he was big and clearly very turned on!!"
I asked her to make it a 2000 word story - she told me that was too much effort, that I should go for it.
So I did. (Well it's actually closer to 1500)
I have got their permission to write and publish this story.
Claudia's Neighbourly Smokey Service
His cock was hard and big. I'm almost ashamed to say it's slightly bigger than my husbands. It looked good with my fingers firmly wrapped around it. Stroking up and down as quickly as I could. All the time I kept my eyes on him as I slowly and purposefully dragged on my cigarette. The large shaft throbbed with every stroke of my right hand, it and my fingers were now glistening with pre cum dribbling the tip. He was responding nicely to me. Before my smoke filled lips locked again around my filter and heaved in once again.
The husband was out for the evening and this one was here. It had been all erect bulging against his shorts. Beggars can't be choosers. It would have been a waste if I had ignored it. I was just helping him by relieving some unwanted pressure. I was just a helping hand shall we say.
It was when he honestly chose to cum, splattering over my hand and the linoleum on my kitchen floor. In all honesty other than me stroking his bouncing hard cock for a few minutes whilst really focusing on smoking a couple of cigarettes. I really had very little to do with it. Honestly.
Me standing in front of him slyly pleasuring him as I smoked. Was exciting fun, but not what I expected for a rainy Wednesday evening. I had eaten dinner then taken a shower and had been snuggled in my pyjamas and pink fluffy dressing gown. All comfortable on the sofa, with my feet up watching EastEnders. Contemplating watching the Grand Designs repeat later, it's always interesting to see if the house gets built before the wife gives birth. Another interesting proposition was wondering when the husband might get home. He promised in his last text, "soon" which could mean anything. His food was now in the fridge and would be microwaved when he came in. I had nothing else planned. The idea of giving a neighbour a hand job is far more exciting.
Tom had chosen to come around to ours. He had an important need.
He had a small problem. He had been cooking dinner for himself, apparently a nice chicken jalfrezi. He was going to take the leftovers into work the next day. When he was letting it reduce a little he had gone to his cupboard and discovered that he hadn't got any rice left. Having drunk a glass or two of wine since getting home from work and training. He couldn't dare drive anywhere. He was good like that.
Our doorbell doesn't get used often this late in the evening. As he wasn't there I couldn't even order the husband to open it as I was sitting there mid cigarette. It was a genuine shock to hear the bell. With the elections due I was half expecting to build up the energy to tell the politicians to fuck off. That's always good fun.
But no it was Tom looking like a drowned rat, it was pouring heavily with rain. He had not come far, he only lived next door wearing a raincoat and what looked like rugby shorts. He was looking very apologetic whilst standing there holding a large empty lidded tupperware box. I was expecting him to say "please ma'am can I have some more?" His face was so pitiful.
I had only just lit my latest fag, it was dangling in the corner of my mouth. His eyes were fixated on my lips as the smoke twisted from my cigarette. His mouth started stuttering about rice. I could have said "spit it out boy."
But I invited him into the kitchen, smiling. Did he want basmati or long grain? I had both.
He stayed silent, almost transfixed as I removed the filter from my lips and exhaled a cloud of smoke, his eyes again followed my hand as I brought it back to my lips. It was as if I had them on a piece of string pulling them around dancing to my tune. I exhaled my latest drag, then put my hand with the cigarette on the counter as I bent over to rummage in the cupboard. Eventually finding what I was looking for. Standing up and turning around with a swirl of smoke with the two bags in my hand. I couldn't help but chuckle as I looked down and watched his crotch very noticeably bulge in his shorts twitching. I have seen my husband have the same reaction hundreds of times.
It seemed at that moment he was no longer interested in the rice. His eyes darted up from where he had been looking at my panty-less ass wiggling through my dressing gown as I hunted in the under counter cupboard.
To be fair to him, at that moment the two bags of rice sitting on the kitchen table was the last thing I was thinking about.
"I take it you enjoy my smoking?" I grin. Making a point of dragging once again. I may have exaggerated a little. Tilting my head back and sucking hard.
There was a fake denial. He shakes his head. "No, never, why would you think that?"
