Just something different: a short series of three stories about a young guy and a neighbor's hotwife. While they are related, they can be read in any order. I will post them on consecutive days, but it's not up to me when they appear.
Ronnie Barkley was my best friend, and had been for the last 13 years. It wasn't uncommon for me to be knocking on his front door, "calling for him," at about 10:30 on a summer morning.
It also wasn't uncommon for Ronnie's mother, Mrs. Barkley, to answer the door.
"He won't be back until tonight, Travis," she responded. "Andy got four tickets to the Mets game and he took Ronnie, Vivian and Derek with him."
Andy--Mr. Barkley--worked for one of the airlines and would occasionally get perks like sports tickets. He had taken his youngest three children with him. I was guessing the couple's oldest child, Darlene, was out somewhere with her longtime boyfriend, Davie.
"Okay, thanks Mrs. Barkley," I answered and started to turn away to leave when she stopped me.
"You know, it's kind of lonely right now. You could come in and hang around with me for a bit while I do some chores. I would really like that," Mrs. Barkley said.
I looked up into Mrs. Barkley's big brown eyes and saw a hint of a smile. I had known her as long as I knew Ronnie, so I knew she was sincere in her request.
"Okay, I said, as she pushed open the storm door and I started to walk into the house. It was then that I actually looked completely at Mrs. Barkley and saw what she was--and wasn't--wearing.
At 42, Mrs. Barkley wasn't a bad-looking woman for her age, but I hadn't really looked at her before as I was right then, particularly the way she was dressed. It looked like she was wearing a pair of Darlene's tight, short jean shorts, and was doing a great job of that, and it looked like she was wearing one of Vivian's T-shirts -- braless. Darlene was 19 and just a little smaller than her mother, but Viv was only 12, and it looked like Mrs. B had been stuffed into that shirt. I'd guess that Mrs. Barkley was only an A cup, but I could see that her nipples were sticking out at least a half-inch through the thin material.
I was transfixed. I know my dick got rock hard and jumped.
She smiled shyly and blushed.
"So the first thing I'm doing--obviously--is the laundry. Come on. You can carry the basket for me," she said with a big smile.
The first thing she did was grab the big laundry basket on the main floor and hand it to me. She then went into Derek's and Viv's bedrooms and picked up clothes off the floor, keeping me entranced by bending over in front of me in those oh-so-tight, short shorts. Then she would straighten up in front of me with those nipples sticking out like bullets.
I think I might have drooled.
We went downstairs next, and Mrs. Barkley repeated the scene in Darlene's and Ronnie's rooms. I'm not sure I could have been harder.
"Well, somebody sure likes doing the laundry!" she enthused.
She loaded the washing machine and I stood there staring. I caught her watching me from the corners of her eyes.
We walked up the stairs to the kitchen and she directed me to a seat. She then straddled me facing forward, her crotch perched atop my hard-on. She looked directly into my eyes.
"Uh... Mrs. Barkley..."
"Shh. It's okay, Travis," she whispered. "Andy's a bit of a goofball. You know that. Well, he's also a willing cuckold..."
There's a word I'd never heard before. I know I gave her a quizzical look.
"You've never heard of a hotwife before, have you?" she asked.
"Uh, no," I said.
Mrs. Barkley then proceeded to give me a crash course on the hotwife lifestyle. At 18, I never realized that some people are kinky beyond belief.
"And you and Mr. Barkley do this?" I asked weakly.
"Well, sort of, and only away from the house and never with anybody we know."
"Don't I count as someone you know, Mrs. Barkley?"
She smiled brightly again and ground her pussy against my crotch. I took a look down at the camel toe she had going on. Those shorts were pulled up as high as they could be and still be covering her pussy.
"It's Traci, Travis, at least while we're alone. And yeah, you count, but today's a special day... for both of us."
She leaned in and kissed me. I kissed her back hard. We played tonsil hockey while I ran my hands up and down her sides.
I wasn't a virgin, but none of my three previous sex partners were anywhere near the woman Traci was. I was excited beyond belief and intimidated beyond reason.
Traci stood up, sat her ass on the edge of the kitchen table and spread her legs wide. I unbuttoned her shorts and pulled both them and her tight white panties down and off her toned legs. I could see the moisture running out of her pussy and could definitely smell her arousal. I pulled her T-shirt over her head and looked at her small boobs and erect nipples. I ran my index fingers over both of her nipples one after the other. She moaned and I leaned in again and stuck my tongue back into her mouth.
She pulled my shirt over my head before I pulled my shorts and briefs down and kicked off my sneakers. I moved in closer. She reached for my hard cock and rubbed it quickly up and down her wet inner lips. I watched as she did that. Our eyes locked, and I moved forward a little closer and pushed my hard-as-steel dick slowly inside her pussy, noticing her small dark brown bush was the same color as the hair on her head.
I was surprised it took me several strokes to get fully inside her, despite how wet she was and the fact that she had four children. Her insides were absolutely burning hot. She wrapped her legs around my ass and pulled me even further inside. I tweaked her nipples and she moaned into my mouth.
I soon had what I considered a nice pace going, but Traci apparently had other plans and urged me to go harder and faster. I followed along because, after all, she was the one with the experience. I picked up the pace as directed and within minutes, Traci was moaning and cooing. That quickly turned into screaming and shaking as she was overcome with a huge orgasm.
