My New Neighbour 4

You remember the old jokes, 'we have some good news and some bad news?' The good news is an attractive bloke has moved in, right across the landing from me; the bad news is that he is not only very attractive but about half my age. I'll go over later and introduce myself, it's only three o'clock now, well a girl has to try: my God I'm so wet just thinking about him. He is tall, dark, and hansom and, at least in my day-dreams, a lean mean fucking machine. I'm divorced with three teenage kids, at least they'll be out tonight, thank God it's Friday. I have gone to seed a bit, but I do have lovely big soft white tits and broad sexy hips, at least that's what I tell myself; OK, if you insist I'm a bit on the fat side.

Oh well, got to start the kid's meal; eggs, chips, sausage and beans with grilled tomatoes, mushrooms, lots of bread and butter, gallons of tea. Peel the spuds, chip them and leave them to soak. I'll have a bath now, before the kids get home and use up all the hot water: it is so hard not to touch myself as I soak, but if I have a wank now I'll be less determined later. It's six months since I had a man, and two years since I had a man make me come: then the guy turned out to be a one night stand, selfish bastards, all of them. In the bath I shave my pubes off; after I towel myself dry with my big fluffy white towel and don a white blouse, buttoned low over a skimpy bra, a short, navy, pleated skirt, red suspenders and black stockings; I wear a long apron over this lot so, hopefully, the kids won't notice too much.

By the time the kids are fed, watered and ready for the off it's eight. "Hey Mum you look, well like your trying to be, like, I dun'no, anyway bye: like don't wait up for us, we'll care for little sis', keep her hymen intact 'n' all that stuff." 'Huh,' I think, 'if that girl's still a virgin then so am I.'

As I cross to his door there's a flicker in his hall; Jesus he's rebuilt the door in a day, or at the very least fixed it: the window has a net curtain over it, the locks have been changed and the door dull with undercoat, I just know tomorrow it will be glossed. The flicker is candle light, same as me when I moved in, he has no electric yet. I tap on the door and get no response. I rap louder and he opens the door, dripping, just a towel round his middle. "Uh, high."

"I live across the landing, in the flat opposite. I saw you had no electric," I improvise, "so if you want to come over and watch telly, or something, to pass the evening, then feel free. Once you're ready that is; sorry to have disturbed you like this."

"Thanks: that's kind of you. I'll be twenty, thirty minutes. I'll look forward to it."

His big boyish grin melted my heart and caused other regions to become even more soggy than they were previously: thank God I had no panties on because, if I had, I would have had to change them.

I jumped when he knocked on the door, I opened it "high, I'm Judy Hesmondhalgh, I'm your neighbour."

"James, James Wilkinson, delighted to meet you. I slipped out first and bought a bottle, it's muck I'm afraid, the off-licence is dreadful; beer, plonk, cooking sherry and over priced spirits."

Doubtless the same off-licence I'd bought my bottle of plonk from, 'oh well,' I decided, 'alcohol is, after all, alcohol; let's hope it frees up his inhibitions'. As we shook hands I noticed his eyes slither, albeit discretely, over my prominent boobs, 'that's a good sign,' I thought; 'better flash my suspenders later'.

"Have you eaten?" I enquired.

"Not really, but it's OK, I had a good breakfast and a solid lunch."

"Eggs, chips, beans, sausage sound good?"

"Yes, but that's far too much trouble, don't worry, I'll be fine."

"No problem, it'll be ready in no time, just got to warm the chip pan up."

"I'll do the chips," he volunteered.

Thick brown chips to die for; broad fingers of potato, sensuously soft in the middle, crisp on the out-side: I, well we, gorged ourselves on chips. An attractive man with hidden, culinary, talents. We drank tea with the chips, wine and chips simply don't go; tea and chips, on the other hand, is a marriage made in heaven. Oddly, I was so relaxed with my new neighbour that, for a while, I forgot how randy I had been and failed to flash my suspenders at him: as I went to fetch the second bottle of wine I recalled my mission, to be screwed silly, and bent down to fix my mules right where I could watch James in the big mirror. His response indicated that I had grabbed his attention alright, time for the crossing and uncrossing legs routine I thought.

Over the course of next couple of hours I learnt that James, was new in town, working in the new university, had recently split with his girl friend, as both had moved to different parts of the country, hated television, loved books and had difficulties not staring at the bottom of my skirt. "I only have four books," I joked, "oh and my ex left a stack of magazines but a nice boy like you would not want to look at those, would you now?" I enquired, coquettishly.

"Probably not," he stuttered.

"Only probably," I teased, this was suddenly going really well, "would you like to see if you want to borrow one or two, a little bed time relaxation, come and pick out your favourites?" Poor James, he actually blushed, "or pick out your favourites and come," I giggled. It was the late and porn was not as common then as it is now, it was much harder to get hold of and I could sense his nervous intrigue.

"Gosh, how many magazines did your ex leave, sounds like hundreds?"

"Dozens actually, come on, come and see for yourself; he was great till he started drinking, then he got violent too. Well that was the end." I grabbed James's wrist and dragged him to my bedroom, I was delighted to find that his resistance was, essentially, symbolic; recall we were on the second bottle of wine by this time. I unlocked the small corner cabinet - it would not do to let the kids find my secret hoard - and pulled out the battered cardboard box from the bottom. "Here take a look." I shoved him onto the bed and dumped the box in his lap, picked up the top magazine and opened it at random, "well look at those two," a slim woman with huge tits and come dribbling from her anus was impaling herself on a giant cock. James blushed again and tried to stand.

"Perhaps I should be going," he stammered.

"Oh but there's lots more in here for you to see," I replied as I shifted my weight onto the box, forcing him to return to a sitting position. "Look at this," I cooed; a small busted blond was squatting over a mirror watching herself pee onto to it."

He grabbed the magazine, then flicked through it. That was one of the tamer pics, there were men peeing on women, women peeing on men. "My god, people actually do this to one another?"

"And enjoy it," I replied, "but it's not my thing: some people like to be humiliated, it turns them on." James, apparently not noticing my sudden wisdom, began to sift through the box. You can tell a lot about a man as he looks through a collection of graphic porn: a gay magazine went straight back on the pile, after an initial bout of staring, anal was also returned swiftly to the pile, plain sex lasted a little longer but lesbian magazines really had him hooked - he is a man after all, they're fascinated by it - then the surprise, spanking and such like barely merited a glance but bondage had him riveted, especially helpless naked men being tormented by voluptuous sirens. 'Well, well, well,' I thought, 'I'm voluptuous alright.' Finally, James found a loose photograph, me starkers on the bed, with my legs up in the air spread akimbo.

"It's, it's you," he squawked, rather pathetically.

"Look I can still do that," and I rolled over on the bed and struck the pose, revealing to James not only my suspenders but my bald, panty-less, sopping wet pussy. "Now don't just sit there like a dummy, take advantage of me, use me, abuse me, do what ever you like."

"What do you like?" he asked, in a matter-of-fact tone.

This was not in my master plan, men don't care, men don't ask, "what do I like? I like, no I love having my pussy sucked and licked."

"Well strip off and I'll do just that."

This was all too easy, but I peeled off my blouse, shrugged off my bra and sloughed my skirt. Before he could begin, however, I insisted, "now it's your turn to strip, buster."

James wrestled his clothes off, his rush so urgent that mere garments fought back. He was lean, with well muscled legs, a tight botty but a tiny paunch and, well an average, but very stiff, penis: who was I to question a slight paunch, me dumpy Judy. He dived on top of me and I anticipated a short, sharp, highly unsatisfactory, shag; but no. He kissed me, long and slow, he rolled my nipples, he ground his rigid pole against my sex: he was an oral fiend, first my mouth, then my ears and neck, next my nipples, a mixture of sensuous sucking and licking, interspersed with an occasional very sharp nip with his teeth. I ground my clitty against his member, I wanted to come, I wanted to be fucked, swift and hard. But no, that tongue snaked down my belly and slithered into my aching slot, dancing over my clit. Three times he took me to the very edge, tongue circling clit, fingers buried inside me, exploring. When, finally, he levered up my hips and shafted me I came immediately; which was just as well because three strokes later he was gasping and moaning as he pumped his load deep inside me.

We cuddled, kissed and messed about. He toyed with my tits and my slit and I gently massaged his tool. Twenty minutes later he was rigid, once more, and I was ready, actually the way his fingers had been frigging my clit, I was desperate. This time he shafted me long and slow, sliding his pole in and out of my hole, pushing it up firmly each time he entered me, hitting that sensitive spot just inside of me, with each and with every thrust. Then as he withdrew he slid his shaft up my sex and over my clitty. I was putty: I came, and I came, and I came, orgasm after orgasm, climax building over climax, no break between them. I moaned, I sighed, I cried, I screamed, all with an abandon that was simply wanton, pure lust. When I was finally spent he grabbed my hair, dragged me over the side of the bed and took me doggy style, pistoning away until he sated his lust for the second time. I was drained, draped inert over the bed when he whispered, "fuck you again, soon, slut" and, before I could even think of recovering, let alone replying, he was gone.