OK, let's see how this goes. I hope you enjoy it. Briana sees her hot neighbour, who's also her boss, sunbathing nude. She masturbates and imagines making love to the woman twenty years her senior. Briana reveals to the woman that she saw her naked in the garden, which leads to an invitation ...
Please, as usual, forgive any errors in the text. Send feedback!
GA -- Burford, Oxfordshire 29th July 2012.
Clandestine and furtive, yet excited and aroused, I watched from the upstairs window. My neighbour, ripe and voluptuous, already tanned by the summer sun stretched on the lounger, arms above her head, fingers locked as, with her bare breasts upthrust to towards the sun, she lay basking in the afternoon warmth.
Her name floated from my lips. "Marina," I sighed, a hand wedged into the waist of my jeans, while keeping the object of my as yet unvoiced desire in sight. My fingers flicked the jeans fastening open and I wriggled to slide them over my hips; and thus, with fingers parting labia already slick and oily with desire, I began to masturbate.
The woman moved, leaning to reach for a thin-stemmed glass from which she then sipped. Her breasts, heavy and full, swung and swayed as she moved. In my head I wondered at the texture of those big tits as if they were cupped in my palms and, while my forefinger tickled my clitoris and elicited a long groan of pleasure from my throat, I saw Marina hovering above me as I lay on my bed, her eyes on mine, a smile twitching the corners of her mouth when, after a long and tender kiss, she offered those breasts to my mouth.
Desperation itched between my legs while I continued to stare down on my unsuspecting neighbour. I needed something inside me, something firm and thick to stretch and fill me while I rubbed myself.
Cursing in frustration I tore my gaze away from her and, with my jeans bunched around my calves, stumbled to the bed. Lying on my front my fingers scrabbled inside the bedside drawer as I searched, frantically cursing at my thwarted attempts to find it -- Why do inanimate objects have the ability to frustrate us in a moment of dire need?
I cursed again when I felt that orgasm ebbing. "Fuck," I spat. I'd been so close. "Damn and bugger it."
Finally I found it, inevitably wedged at the back of the drawer, hibernating between layers of underwear. I pulled the dildo from within and, ignoring the confetti scattering of delicate underwear, managed to negotiate the steps to the window despite still being hobbled by the jeans.
Marina still reclined there occasionally sipping rose, causing my stomach to flip with excitement and lust to sipe from my sex.
Heat swelled my vulva and coloured my cheeks as I whispered, "Beautiful." I squeezed my breasts with one hand while, after laying the rubbery faux penis on the chair, I fingered my pussy again. "Kiss me," I breathed as, imagining Marina's hot body against mine, my tongue flicked in a fantasy kiss, dancing and sliding with Marina's, writhing over and over, our hands and mouths exploring. "Lick my cunt," I muttered, and face growing hot at the obscenity. "Oh, Marina, lick me and kiss me so I can taste myself on your tongue ..."
The surge began, the heat of it coming from somewhere deep and visceral, pooling at my core, threatening to burst and overwhelm me with wave after wave of pleasure. Sobbing, I grabbed the dildo and staggered to the bed. I fell upon the rumpled quilt, rolling onto my back and spreading my knees as wide as I could in the restriction of my clothing.
I fucked that spongy cock into my opening, my body accepting it hungrily, my pussy clenching and oiling while I sobbed for release and fingered the taut, pink nub of my clitoris.
"Oh fuck," I grunted, eyes closed, knees snapping together as, with the dildo wedged inside me I heaved onto my side and came. I heard the mewls and whimpers coming from me as I lay there, tense and shuddering, teeth gritted, my body jerking.
When, eventually, the hammering of my heart in my ribcage slackened and my breathing slowed, I turned onto my back, loose-limbed and sated. I lay there for a few seconds and contemplated how uncomfortable it was with my tee-shirt hem rolled up to my shoulder-blades. To ease the discomfort of my bunched clothing I sat up catching sight of myself in the mirror. In that reflection I saw a scarecrow-haired fright of dishevelled clothing, a dazed mannequin with eyes like an accident victim, wide and confused. A quarter length of dildo hung out of me like an obscene tongue, and I reached between my legs to ease the thing free. It slid out of me with a slurp, my labia clinging to the shaft as though reluctant to relinquish control.
I wobbled about the room on jelly legs as I slowly undressed. Next, leaving my clothes in an untidy heap, with the rubber cock lounging on the bedsheets in languid, post-coital torpor, I padded barefoot to the bathroom.
I drew a deep bath and then sat upon the porcelain toilet and held my labia splayed with my fingertips to piss a long stream into the bowl. Then I bathed, feeling the warm water sooth my inflamed pudendum. I day-dreamed about my neighbour, Marina, who at twenty years my senior, forty-two years old, was unmarried and also my boss. There were rumours that she was lesbian, a snippet that fired my imagination and caused me to grow slightly infatuated over her.
Catching her sunbathing had been such a shock. As I'd glanced out of the upstairs window and chanced to look across her garden I'd seen her there, in her garden without a stitch of clothing. Arousal came swift and savage in its intensity, triggering such a response that I decided, recklessly, that I had to let Marina know how I felt.
The problem was how to do it without compromising my career.
As it happened, circumstances overtook me when Marina passed me in the corridor at work the following day.
"Hello, Briana," she smiled. My body reacted as soon as I heard her voice. The scent of her made my pussy swell with warmth while my eyes moved to her lips and I thought about kissing them. "Lovely weather," she added.
My voice, when it came, sounded strange to my own ears. It was as if it were a stranger speaking. The words came from nowhere; I certainly didn't mean to reveal that I'd seen her naked in her garden, not intentionally. Despite my resolve that I'd reveal my deep feelings, when it came to it, us face-to-face, my nerve failed me. So it was a shock even to me to hear myself blurt, "Nice enough to sunbathe and drink wine," I said.
Marina didn't respond for a long time. She stared at me, her eyes clouding as the smile melted from her face like ice cream on a hot afternoon. Finally she cleared her throat, glanced around to see if we'd been observed, bid me a curt goodbye, and walked quickly away.
All the rest of the week, from Monday morning to Friday afternoon Marina avoided me -- or perhaps it was I who kept out of
her
way?
It was pure chance that we both stepped out of our neighbouring front doors early on Saturday.
"Lovely day again," Marina said, her face turned up to the blue sky above. A few cotton wool clouds drifted high and insignificant, lazy and no threat to the scorching summer afternoon that the morning promised.
The blush rose in my face, and I could feel the heat in my cheeks as I avoided my neighbour's eye when she turned her attention to me.
