To my loyal readers: Several of you have asked me to do a story about the young couple whom I have mentioned in passing in more than one story. There are certain elements of this story that are absolutely true, and others that are the result of reasonable guesses on my part. In any case, I hope you enjoy!
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She heard the pop of her ankle a scant second before feeling the pain. And just like that, her day hike with her husband Mark was over. He helped her limp back to their Subaru, and packed ice around her delicate right foot. By the evening, her ankle was swollen three times its normal size. A trip to the orthopedic clinic the next day, and the verdict was rendered -- she would be off her feet for three weeks minimum.
That was how Laura came to be stuck at home in their two-story colonial across the street from Jack and Maggie Lambeau. She was bored out of her skull two days into the convalescence. Her leg was propped up and as she couldn't easily get up and down the stairs, she spent a good deal of time looking out the window. After another day or so, she began to notice the black guy coming regularly to Maggie's. He had a confident swagger and a familiarity with the house, which she found curious. Every time she had seen him now at their place, he let himself in without knocking.
Once during the second week, she looked up mid day from her web surfing and saw him leaving, As he stood in the doorway, he kissed Maggie deeply and ran his big dark hands inside her lacy transparent white negligee, then cupped her breasts and belly. Laura's face reddened and her jaw dropped as she noticed two things. First, that Maggie had nothing at all on under the negligee, and secondly that she was very obviously pregnant, maybe 3 or 4 months along. She could clearly see Maggie's pale skin outlined through the sheer covering and it was easy to see the tummy bulge, and her obviously swollen breasts and nipples, now taut and long from the black man's continued caress.
As the large muscular man backed away, Maggie made no effort to cover her near nakedness. Instead she leaned wistfully back against the doorframe, and blew the man a kiss as he walked toward his black Escalade. Even from across the street, Laura could see something glistening on Maggie's right leg, like a clear liquid. As she continued to stare, more of the liquid seemed to leak from between Maggie's legs, turning from thick white to translucent as it ran down her leg. Maggie waved happily as the car backed out of their drive.
Laura was so shocked and transfixed that she dropped her iPad to the floor and leaned forward to the window to get a better view. Forgetting her injury and confused at what she was seeing, she stepped forward to the window.
The pain of putting weight on her ankle was so sharp that she slammed hard against the window to brace herself and let out a shrill cry. It must have been that, she thought later, that drew Maggie's attention to her. Maggie looked up from her front porch, casually gathered the folds of her negligee together and waved cheerily up at her. Laura was so dumbfounded that she backed away from the window, and slumped back into her reading chair, just shaking her head in disbelief. She squeezed her eyes together, willing the whole incident away.
She and Mark were new in the neighborhood, having just moved in a few months previous, and she didn't want to become entangled with any weirdness with the neighbors. She and Mark were both just 27 - her birthday was just a month earlier and she felt lucky to have the big house in the quiet suburban neighborhood after only 7 years of marriage. Laura was a perky natural redhead, short and slender at 5 feet 4 inches and 120 pounds. Her husband Mark was nerdy but she described him as being "cute in a 'Woodie Allen' way," and at 5 feet 6, was a perfect match for her in size. They were so well matched in so many ways, that she even dismissed his nerdy personality and his lack of sexual skills -- she had never had an orgasm with him -- as being part of the price she paid for having a good husband with a generous income.
She had put both her degree in Sociology and her healthy looks to good use in the public relations job she had at the University. She invariably wore short skirts or dresses with hemlines a good four to six inches above her knees these days, and heels tall enough to elongate her stature and accentuate her healthy calves and thighs. Although she was an awkward, nerdy teen who attended a Catholic girl's school, and Mark was the first and only man she had ever been with sexually, she was at long last beginning to feel she was in her sexual prime.
If she had thought to consider when and where the transformation from nerd to 'hottie' had begun, it was probably at the same time as her being hired in her current job. At her initial interview with Dr. Raymond Jackson, the Dean of Humanities at a Historically Black College a few minutes from their home, she had dressed provocatively, with an extra short skirt, and sheer panties. She thought that as a white girl, she might need to give herself an edge over other candidates, so she made sure he got a few peeks at her pink slit, freshly waxed for the occasion. She noticed he had gotten a few good looks, whenever she crossed and uncrossed her legs, and that he stared quietly but intently for several seconds each time.
She was unsure why she did this, but the interview left her feeling excited, and incredibly sexy. That night, she practically attacked Mark in bed, and was the hottest sex they had ever had, before or since.
She was in the new job 4 months now, and well liked by everyone, especially the Dean, a 50'ish black man, and he seemed genuinely interested in her as a person, which flattered her. He would stop in her office at least a few times a day with an encouraging word, a little shoulder massage, a gentle touch here or there, or even a personal one-to-one session. Often, when they were sitting close in an intense discussion, he would often put a hand on her knee or lightly massage her thigh to emphasize a point. Once last week, while he patted her thigh encouraging her work, his hand seemed to slide accidentally up under her skirt and linger there, but flustered, and self-conscious, she pushed his hand away and clenched her thighs tightly together.
Dr. Jackson was becoming more flirtatious, and although it made her feel funny inside and lately perhaps even a little turned on, she was still basically a good Catholic girl, too naive to make anything of it. Anyway, she told herself, she loved Mark, and black men were certainly not interesting in a sexual way; she had always been taught this growing up, and that became sort of an unwritten rule for her.
Now, as she stripped to take a bath before hobbling downstairs to start some dinner for herself and Mark, she looked at her body appraisingly in the bathroom mirror on the back of the door. Although she was outwardly reserved, she was not unhappy with what she saw reflected back at her from the full length mirror and was often excited by her own nakedness, pressing her palms against her breasts or brushing against the light ginger bush covering her mons as the wax job had grow out in the three months she had been in the new job.
Her petite frame was well proportioned, with size 34A breasts, perky up-tilted pink nipples running down to a slender waist, a nicely padded ass, and healthy legs. She had pale, almost porcelain white, freckled skin so typical of a redhead, and her hair framed her heart shaped face. Her deep blue eyes spoke of mystery and depth, and twinkled with a hint of mischief. Turning her back to the mirror, she slapped her ass saucily, winked at reflection and thought to herself, "You got it going on, girl!"
She climbed into the tub, careful to keep her ankle which was encased in a soft cast, propped on the side of the tub, and she sank into the sudsy water. Her legs were apart, and she thought back on what she saw earlier that day. Her hand unconsciously slipped between her legs and with her eyes closed, she began, with her middle and forefinger to run her hand dreamily up and down the lips of her vulva, and around her now-aroused clit. She started out thinking of Mark and his cute, pale white body, but as her thoughts drifted, her imagination turned unbidden to Dr. Jackson, and that made her inexplicably aroused. Her nipples pushed out and grew in size reflecting her arousal. She moved her hands from her mons to her breasts, and tugged on her nipples, twisting them lightly. Then, without any understanding of why, she began to think of that man she saw repeatedly across the street with her neighbor.
As she replayed the encounter between Maggie and the black guy in her mind, she became even more aroused. With her eyes closed, she could still see his dark skin against Maggie's, possessively running his hands all over her body as though she was his woman. Interwoven with this was the sudden memory of Dr. Jackson's hand sliding under her short skirt and the funny feeling it gave her.
She closed her eyes, and recalled how lovingly Maggie ran her hand over the guy's crotch, and down his leg. Clearly, Laura thought, Maggie must have been touching his penis. Judging by the distance her hand travelled down his leg, it must have been a pretty huge penis, she thought. Involuntarily, her mouth began to water as the thought rattled around in her brain.
She liked thinking about the things that men had between their legs and she had even kissed and sucked her husband once, but his was sure small compared to Maggie's friend. Imagining how big the black guy's thing must have been excited her and she began to breathe faster as she massaged her pussy in the warm bath. In the back of her brain, she remembered another cheerleader on her high school squad talking about having sex with one the guys on the football team, a huge black boy, and how her friend had raved about how big he was and how many times she came. She thought that was sinful, and certainly never explored that herself, but kept the knowledge filed away in the back of her memory in case it should ever be useful.
Running her fingers faster and faster over her clit, she remembered the look of passion on Maggie's face and what she now knew had to be the man's cum leaking out of her pussy. Again the image of Dr. Jackson's dark hand on the white skin of her thigh came unbidden to her and suddenly, with a sharp gasp, her body stiffened and her pussy and thighs shook with deep orgasm. Her back contracted lifting her into a sitting position as the aftershock of her climax continued to wrack her body.
Exhausted by the intensity of her climax, she fell back heavily making a splash that sloshed around the tub, and her foot, soft cast and all plopped into the tub. "Oh damn it," she thought, knowing that she would have to dry the cast with a hair dryer.
That night in bed, she told her husband what she had seen across the street in a short, breathless narrative. She had her leg slightly elevated and only had on panties and a tee top instead of the modest long flannel PJs she normally wore. Mark told her this did not surprise him and that Jack had explained to him a couple weeks earlier that Maggie and he had an open marriage. He explained that the black guy, whose name was Marcus was actually Maggie's lover. Laura's eyes widened as she looked across at Mark, smacked him on the chest and said, "What the heck! When were you going to tell me about this?"
