It was Thursday. Again. Marty watched the kitchen clock tick past the half hour mark, it was getting on towards midnight and insomnia plagued Marty for the second Thursday in a row. This wasn't normal insomnia, mind you. No, this was brought on by the lust of a nineteen year old, who in twenty two and a half hours would be in a park, with his new mistress, Catherine.
His thoughts drifted to last Friday, the adrenaline pumping through him, as he approached her. The thoughts of her skilled hands coaxing stream after stream of cum onto her pristinely trimmed muff. The weakness in his knees as he exploded, and the awkward walk back to his car, his body trying to recover from all the new sensations that only a late night, public handjob from a strange woman met on the internet can bring.
Marty drained the last gulp of milk from his glass and set it next to the sink. He flipped the light off, resigned to try his hand at sleep once more, but as he strode past the kitchen window, another familiar sight caught his attention. The faint reflective glimmer of the neighbor's hot tub. Marty decided that some fresh air would do him some good, and if not, than a second chance to see his neighbor's wife, Allison naked would.
Last week, Marty was stranded in his yard. Star gazing to calm his nerves before his first meeting with Catherine, he hadn't noticed that his neighbor Roger had joined him, well not him, but had decided to get in his hot tub. Something Marty cared very little about, until Allison sauntered out and disrobed in front of her husband and more importantly, the undetected Marty one yard over.
Darting through the gloom of the living room, Marty made his way to the garage. His plan of attack was to use the door on the side of the garage to quietly exit the house. He'd be perfectly positioned between the yards where he could see if Allison would make a second nude appearance or not. With any luck, the new angle would reveal more of the show this week, and since he wouldn't be out in the open, Marty might get to have a little fun of his own this week.
The garage gave him little trouble as beams of moon light pierced the room, allowing Marty to spot any ill conceived booby traps, like the weed eater he gingerly hopped over. The outside door gave way with nary a squeak and Marty pushed it shut after him, leaving it ajar, just enough to beat a quick retreat if he had to.
Marty made the transition from the warm side path, and into the lawn. His bare feet sank into the soft grass, making it easy for him to creep along the side of the house and soon, Roger's hot tub was in view. There was Roger, tossing a spent beer can towards an open bin not too far away. The aluminum pinged off the bin and landed beside the bin with a clink.
"Fucking hell." Roger muttered before a belch. Marty had only seen Roger drink once or twice and knew he was no alcoholic, but tonight he was definitely blitzed. He mumbled to himself incoherently and seemed to be struggling to stay awake even. While it was not the nymph like form of Allison, Marty found himself curiously interested in what was bothering his neighbor. Sure Roger was noted for being the neighborhood dick, but he seemed genuinely miserable.
Last time, Marty had stayed after Roger's quickie with his wife to see him exit the hot tub and be greeted by a male acquaintance who, as Marty briefly saw, was more than happy to suck the remaining juice and chlorinated water from Roger's dick for him. Perhaps he had been found out. Marty began to speculate.
Maybe, he thought, Allison hadn't been in bed yet, maybe she saw him getting man head from the house and is gonna leave him! Marty had mixed emotions about that. As sad as it is to see a couple fall apart, Marty had been pining for Allison since his penis could become erect. If she were free, he could swoop in and take her away. Marty's cock started to ache in his gym shorts. He was hesitant to touch it, in the off chance that he should be happened upon in the yard, with just a half naked drunkard in view, Marty would probably fail at explaining away his hardened member as a product of mental fantasizing, that shit can be done inside. As if to ease his pain, Allison arrived.
She, a vision as ever, walked towards her husband, her body clad only in a towel, much as it was last week. Unable to resist the straining anymore, Marty slid his dick from his shorts and rubbed the head with his finger tips. Meanwhile, Allison was curling her fingers into the soft terrycloth of the towel, unraveling the top and opening it to him. Marty could only see her from behind, the rectangle of fabric blocking the good bits like a giant censor bar. Everything under her shoulder blades and above mid thigh was shielded from view.
Marty was unbothered by this, he was a teenager, he had to be resourceful in his masterbatorial undertakings. Sometimes he didn't have the internet and so late night television, fashion ads, or other materials had to cut it. So a real life, mostly hidden from view, woman of his dreams was more than enough for Marty to hack it. Slow, deliberate pumps were administered to Marty's cock. He watched with mounting arousal, anticipating what would happen next.
What did happen, was heart breaking. Roger waved Allison away, and although Marty was rewarded with the briefest of views as she spun back towards the house, she was all to quickly covered by that damnable towel. Her face was clearly troubled, her pretty eyes cast down, hidden from sight. Marty tucked himself back in his shorts and made his way up to bed. Some how sleep managed to wrestle Marty into submission for the night, and finally with the chirping of birds to signify it, Friday had arrived again.
Marty sprang from bed with the excitement of a child on Christmas morning. Gone were the bacon, eggs, and toast that awaited him on the kitchen table, inhaled in a matter of seconds by Marty. His parents took note of his mood, and his Mom asked the question on their minds.
