Writing for Lit

The names, characters, places and events in this story are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. All characters are over the age of 18. Any similarities to real persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

Thanks for reading and I hope you like this tale. Please do leave a comment as I read all of them and take them all onboard.

WRITING FOR LIT

I was working on my laptop at the kitchen table, a mug of coffee steaming at my side, when I heard a knock on the door. Surprised, I saved my document, stood and opened it. My neighbor's wife, Stella, stood there. She looked equally surprised to see me. I was astonished as all she was wearing was her shortie bathrobe. Stella was a gorgeous woman of 38 or so, a true milf with shapely legs, big tits and ass and a mouth made for kissing. She was carrying several extra pounds, having never lost all her baby weight, but it was in all the right places. She ran a hand through her curly auburn hair and held out a mug.

"I was hoping to borrow a cup of sugar. For a cake," she said. Her voice was low and huskier than usual.

I stepped back and she followed me into the kitchen.

"Where's Angie?"

I coughed. "Visiting with her sister. She'll be out all day."

Stella pulled out a chair and sat. She gulped. "Actually, I'm glad. I wanted the chance to speak with you."

I noticed that her robe had slipped down a bit and her ample cleavage was showing. I dragged my eyes away from that deep V. Crossing to the counter; I poured her a cup from the cafetiere and filled the creamer, setting them on the beech wood table in front of her.

"I don't think my husband loves me any more and I don't know what to do." She wiped away a tear smearing her mascara which made her look even sexier to my eyes, if that was even possible. "I need a man's advice."

She blushed, the pink flush making her pleasantly rounded face even more attractive and going so well with her hazel eyes.

"We haven't done it for weeks now," she whispered her eyes downcast.

"Done it?" I said, being deliberately stupid.

"Y'know. Had sex," she muttered almost inaudibly. "And women have needs just as much as men." She looked up at me, almost defiantly.

Automatically I moved across from the counter and held her in my arms to comfort her. Her robe slipped further and one pale boob almost fell free. I know, I should have remembered my marital vows but when a beautiful woman you've always secretly fancied is sitting half-dressed at your kitchen table and obviously in need of some TLC, well things like that tend to recede to the back of your mind. I've been a good husband to Angie and hardly ever strayed in our fifteen years together. Apart from my secretary, Joselle, and the waitress at Dinah's Diner (yes, I know, terrible name but as the owner was actually called Bertha, Dinah was probably an improvement), I've been pretty faithful. Apart from that time a couple of years ago I had to fly to Myrtle Beach on business, of course, but that was hundreds of miles away and we didn't swap numbers so that doesn't really count.

Anyway, I felt sorry for Stella who seemed so upset about her marriage and the lack of love and romance she was getting. I walked over and stood over her, taking in her sweet perfume. Looking down I noticed her large, pink nipple was erect and on a wayward impulse my hand strayed down and caressed her soft orb. She raised her face to mine, smiled and our lips met. I tasted her gloss even as our tongues entwined. She pushed her chair back and stood.

Now her robe had fallen to her waist and her warm arms encircled me. I felt myself grow hot and hard as steel. I have an active love life with my wife but it had been several days since we'd made love as it was her 'difficult' time of the month so I was more than ready for some good fucking.

Stella undid the robe's belt and pushed it off and stood completely bare. She had a voluptuous, statuesque build and I admired the fullness of her breasts, the swell of her belly centered on her navel and neatly trimmed pubic mound and plump thighs. She slowly turned around letting me take it all in. Yes, I admired even her love handles and dimpled ass.

My cock was painful constrained in my pants but Stella took care of that. She unzippered me and took it in hand. A few strokes and it turned from steel to tungsten.

"Wow! Angie doesn't appreciate what she's getting," purred Stella as she ran her hand up and down my thick shaft.

My mind fell to my groin and I groaned. I knelt and kissed her pussy, inhaling her womanly scent. From her natural juices she was so aroused. I kissed again and again, my tongue pushing in between the warming folds of her labia. I tasted her oils and they were heavenly. I knew it was wrong but I was in the grip of a passion I couldn't control. My tongue sought her clit and as I licked her sensitive nub I heard Stella panting and gasping even as it swelled against my probing tongue.

I broke away from that heavenly slit and grasped Stella around her waist, my hands sinking into her soft flesh. I lifted her up, hoping that my back would be okay in the morning, and threw her onto the table. She lifted her legs, her heels on the table's edge and spread them wide fully exposing her soaking pussy. Stepping forward I pushed my cock against the welcoming dark pink folds of her labia and with one push thrust myself into her warm sweet embrace.

Stella cried out with pleasure and her big boobs wobbled delightfully as I rammed in and out of her, each thrust making her cry out with ecstasy as she built up to her climax.

"Oh, yes! Oh, yes! Oh, yes!" she yelled out, all inhibitions lost. She teased her sensitive nipples unmercifully.

I felt my own urges building higher and higher like floodwater and then my personal Hoover Dam burst and with a bellow of pleasure I deluged her love tunnel with a flood of semen. Exhausted I collapsed over her, mingling our sweat and our love juices in one blissful whole.

Our living room door opened and my wife stood there in her bathrobe and her hair in curlers taking in the scene. I looked up expecting furious anger but instead she merely yawned dragging me out of my literary imaginings.

"You still writing smut for that site?" she said with a grin, looking over what I had written. "Put the trash out and lock up when you're done."

Back to reality...

THE END.