The New Neighbour 4

Disclaimer: There's a lot going on in this story and I wasn't sure what category to submit it under. There's BDSM and a cheating wife(and some cuckolding) and a woman calling her older lover "Daddy". Still, the central theme is a mature one so I stuck it here. Be warned though, this might just have something to offend anyone and everyone.

If you are offended, keep two things in mind. One, none of this is real. These are characters, all of whom are of age. Nobody is actually getting hurt or degraded.

Secondly, it's meant to entertain so lighten up.

"Are you feeling well honey?"

Startled, I turned around, clutching my bathrobe around me. I'd foolishly been distracted and not heard him get up. I cursed my daydreaming. If I hadn't have been careful he could have walked in on something very different.

"Sorry?" I asked, looking at Mark, my husband, doing up his cuffs.

"The bathrobe," he said, pointing. I clutched it tighter around myself.

"No, yeah, I'm feeling a bit under the weather." I said, hoping my lie would be convincing.

He smiled sympathetically at me as he walked through the kitchen to pour himself a cup of coffee. It was hard to look at him now, a feeling of shame, guilt and, selfishly, some resentment. Now that he was awake the burning pit in my stomach was hoping he'd get ready for work fairly quickly and leave. Like I said, looking at him was hard. He was tall and handsome and, despite a bit distant, a good man. So every time I looked at him I couldn't help but feel ashamed of what I felt inside.

"Well, I'd offer to stay home but I am going to be absolutely swamped this morning. You know tax season." he said with a chuckle.

I smiled sympathetically.

"And I hope you don't mind..." he started.

"What?" I asked, still largely disinterested in what he was saying.

"I was going to go out for drinks with some of the guys after work. Is that OK?" he said with a hopeful look in his eye. For a second I felt a bit of righteous indignation. He thought I was sick and wanted to spend a night on the town with his friends? That indignation quickly faded however as I remembered I wasn't sick and was, in fact, the worst wife in the world.

"Of course," I said quickly, "You have fun."

"Great," he said, his blue eyes twinkling as he leaned in to kiss me on the cheek, "So home at around 10? Maybe 11?"

"Sounds fine," I said, kissing him back. He deserved to enjoy himself and, selfishly, it would give me as much time as I want. I watched as Mark grabbed one of his jackets and stood in front of the large window in our living room facing the street. Our elderly neighbour was raking the leaves in his front yard across the street from us and I could tell Mark was looking at him.

"Honey, has Mr. Miller from across the street ever said anything, you know, inappropriate to you?"

Part of me wanted to stifle a laugh. I held it back though. I knew it would raise more questions than answers.

"Why do you ask?" I managed.

"Well, remember when we had Brendan and Melanie over?" he went on, "Apparently when they were leaving Brendan came back inside for a bit and while Melanie waited by the car he said something a little crude."

I bet he did, I thought to myself. Still, all I did was shake my head no.

"Well, if he ever does be sure to let me know. If he's a pervert I don't like the idea of you being alone here when he's there."

"You're being silly." I said, a lump in my throat "He's married and just a harmless old man. He probably just said something flirty and Melanie got upset. You know what she's like."

"You're probably right." he said, smiling, "I mean the guy is pushing seventy? Seventy-five?"

"Exactly," I nodded. As Mark turned his back to me I shot a look over at the microwave to check the time. It was close.

"Alright hon, well, I should be off." Mark said with a wave. "Give me a call if you want me to pick something up for you on my way home."

"I will" I replied, "Bye"

"Bye" he said, shutting the door behind him. I walked towards the front of the house to watch him walk to the car. He gave me a wave as he did before I breathed a sigh of relief as the engine roared to life. If he'd forgotten something or needed to come back in I would have run out of time. I watched silver Toyota drive off down the street before rushing to the bathroom.

I threw off my bathrobe as soon as I got there. Underneath was a short red plaid skirt and a tight white blouse tied above the stomach. It was the sort of thing that was sold as a "Catholic School Girl" in porn movies but, as someone who actually went to a catholic school I knew it bared no real resemblance to the thick skirts and formal shirts we wore. The skirt was so short as to barely cover the cheeks of my butt and the shirt so thin that my lacy black bra was clearly visible through it even if it hadn't had enough buttons open to leave a clear view of my ample cleavage.

I hurriedly applied make-up, cursing Mark for having taken so long to leave. I'd had to leave this job until the end. There would be no way to explain wearing make-up when I was supposedly sick and yet my instructions were clear. As slutty as my outfit was to be my face was to be innocent and youthful. A natural look that I managed fairly quickly given the circumstances. I grabbed an elastic from nearby and pulled my long brown hair behind my head in a quick ponytail.

Finished, I took a step back and examined myself in the mirror. The outfit definitely said stripper(and the body, if I were being honest) but from the neck up I swear that despite being almost 23 years old I maybe could have passed for a 18 year old high school senior. I smiled at the thought for a second before I heard the doorbell and my thoughts turned to something else.

I walked cautiously from the bathroom, only peeking my head out of entry into the front room. A look in the drive-way told me that the doorbell hadn't been Mark having returned which eased my fears. I opened a drawer in the kitchen to find a pair of black heels I'd stashed earlier and slipped them on as quickly as I could. Then I heard a pounding on the door and I felt that knot in the pit of my stomach return. Only know it was joined by something else. The unmistakable feel of wetness between my thighs. I couldn't believe how turned on I was just by the knock on the door.

How did I get here? I wondered for only a second before rushing towards the door. He was right on time. I practiced looking innocent, he'd said he wanted me to look innocent and I took a deep breath even as my fingers trembled as I reached for the doorknob.

I opened the door. Standing on my front porch was my elderly neighbour. George Miller. In his early 70's, his head was mainly bald except for some shocks of white on the side. Half a foot taller than my 5'4 frame he was thin except for a bit of a beer gut that had developed over the years. His brown eyes behind thick glasses that immediately set upon me with approval.

"Took you a long time to open the door, slut" he said, angrily.

"I'm sorry Master," I said obediently, thrusting my chest out. Hoping the sight of my large, D-cup breasts in the outfit he'd wanted would make him happy.

"It's Daddy today, slut" he said, immediately walking past me, and heading towards the small cabinet where we kept our booze. I wanted to say something about drinking in the morning but I knew that even if it would have been well received, it was pretty ridiculous for me to criticize anyone's impulse control.

"I watched that dumb-fuck husband of yours leave" he said as he poured a large scotch into a tumbler. "Cut it pretty close, didn't you".

"Yes daddy," I replied, "I tried to get him to leave sooner but..."

"Doesn't matter, does it?" he said, his somewhat wheezing voice full of satisfaction. "If he'd been here you'd still have done whatever I wanted, wouldn't you?"

"Yes Daddy," I said again. Would I have really? I don't know. I'd thought about it before, it was hard not to as it was something that Mr. Miller liked talking about. The idea of fucking me in front of Mark. The idea turned him on and, I'm ashamed to admit it, me too.

"Now," he said, looking at his watch, "You're late for school, aren't you Bethany?"

"Yes daddy," I said again.

"Do you want to go school?" he said as he turned back toward me. Now I could see that familiar lust in his eyes. The one that set my insides on fire. The look that got me into all of this trouble in the first place. The look that turned me on like nothing in my life ever had. I couldn't help but feel good about what I'd done. Getting the outfit together had been a bit of work and it all had to be done in secret. Now that I saw the effect, both in his eyes and the tenting of his trousers, I couldn't help but be happy with myself.

"No Daddy," I said, trying to sound innocent still, even as my thoughts were as wicked as could be.

"What do you want then?" he said, his hands unbuckling his belt.

"I want you to fuck me, Daddy," I said honestly, my hands replacing his and finishing the job of removing his belt. "I want to stay home all day so you can fuck your dirty little slut however you want."

"Good girl," he grunted as his now unoccupied hands took hold of my breasts and crudely, roughly cupped them.

As I dropped to my knees, preparing to take the cock of a man old enough to be my grandfather in my mouth, ready to suck on him ferociously and enthusiastically I couldn't help but ask myself the question again.

How did I get here?

Six weeks earlier...

It had always been there. Undeniable. I forget when it started, probably some stupid movie or TV show. It would have been one of those stupid jokes about some old man lusting after some young girl. Most people who were watching it would have laughed or averted their eyes. Repulsed by the idea of some senior citizen coming on to a nubile young girl. But not me. I felt it burning inside of me. After a few times of seeing something similar and having that reaction I knew it was a kink I had and had bad.

It wasn't a standard, fairly common interest in older men either. It wasn't like I was interested in a sugar daddy or wanted some handsome guy with salt and pepper hair either. It wasn't daddy issues, I had and have a great relationship with my father. No, this was different.

It didn't rule my life or anything. I did all of the things a girl is supposed to do. I had boyfriends, who were both attractive and age appropriate. I went to college and had normal friends and a normal life. I met a handsome young man and fell in love and accepted a marriage proposal.

But it was always there. I tried to fight it. Tried to do what my girlfriends did and pleasure themselves to thoughts of well-built athletes or handsome singers and while that worked for me at times whenever I felt the need to get there quickly or with frightening intensity it returned. The fantasy was always the same. A girl just out of her teens and a man past retirement age. The man didn't have to be attractive, in fact at times it was better if he wasn't, but the girl was. I would go online and look at pictures of it. Transfixed by the sight of some beautiful tanned young thing with perky tits sucking on the cock of a pale, wrinkled old man. What power did he have over her, I would wonder. Was it blackmail? Rape? Sympathy? And what about the old men? How lucky did they feel? I knew that while they might need a pill to get hard to fuck their wrinkled old wives but the young girls always seemed to have them rock hard.

I never knew but the thought of it always led my fingers inside my panties stroking at my sex before rubbing at my clit. I couldn't count the number of orgasms I'd had thinking about it and, usually, imagining myself in that position.

It rarely bled into my personal life. The truth was I didn't hang around men old enough to really set off my fantasy. I'd had a college professor or two who'd been in their sixties and had set off some bells and I'd occasionally sat next to a man on the bus old enough to really get my mind wandering but those encounters always ended quickly, with the old men never doing much more than give me a kindly smile and leaving me short of breath, my pussy soaked with the idea that if he'd wanted more I might have given it to him.

I'd married Mark only a year after graduation and, thanks to a good job at his father's business and help from said father with a down payment, we'd been able to afford a small starter home in a nice urban neighbourhood. We'd moved in happily and found that unlike a lot of places in the city, the prices hadn't been driven up by young folk looking for the next neighbourhood to get hot. It was just a regular middle class neighbourhood. Some families, some young people and some older folk.

Of course it was the latter that plays a role in my story. Our next door neighbours were a couple of about 50 who'd stopped by the first day we moved in and while my husband talked sports with an older, although not old enough to interest me, guy his wife talked to me in the kitchen. Chit chat mainly but the conversation took a turn when I asked about the other neighbours.

"Oh well, everyone's alright for the most part except..."

"Except?" I asked, not sure of what could be wrong.

"Well, Mr. Miller across the street." she said, "I'm sure I shouldn't say anything and his wife is nice enough but you know how I was telling you about my daughter away at college?"

I nodded. I didn't remember but wanted to hear the story.

"Well, he was always fine. A bit crotchety maybe but Sara said that once she developed a more womanly figure in the last year or so she would feel a bit uncomfortable around him. Like if she was taking a walk and ran into him he would stop her to talk and ask her personal questions, about her boyfriends and such."

"Ah," I said, getting the picture. I wasn't a stranger to horndogs, I was a busty, slender and, if I can say without sounding conceited, attractive woman.. I'd had more than my share of unwanted attention and as I said despite my unusual proclivities I usually reacted to it the way any woman would.

"And I mean it's just ridiculous," My neighbour continued, "I mean he has to be at least almost seventy years old."

I paused. Those old feelings stirring up again.

"Coming onto a young girl like that." she continued, oblivious to any reaction I had "I wanted to have Carl say something to him but it probably would be more trouble than it was worth. Anyways we're putting our home on the market soon with the kids gone but I figured that for a beautiful young girl like yourself it might be something to watch out for."

I nodded and smiled. Inside though it was like fireworks going off. I didn't even know the neighbour or the college student in question but inside my head they were fucking like rabbits. Vague images without any real physical knowledge of them. I could feel my body temperature rising and my heart beating faster.

I couldn't help but wonder. If the warning were legit and this older man did have a thing for women around my age, would he say something to me? And if he did, what would I do? I loved Mark, I did, but years of this fantasy had created this burning need in me that was making me unsure of anything.

As it turned out, I didn't have to wait very long to find out. I'd spent a few days lurking by my window, hoping I could catch a glimpse of this "Mr. Miller". Not that I was going to do anything but just for information. In my head the imagined encounter between him and the young neighbour had gotten hotter and hotter, I'd masturbated nearly every day that Mark was at work about it, and I felt powerless in my need for more details.

Still, I hadn't seen anything. I'd been busy with unpacking and I knew that he'd had plenty of opportunities to leave his front door without me seeing it but I swear I felt like he'd spent a few days solidly inside. Finally I'd had enough. I decided I needed a walk to clear my head. I took a quick look in the mirror to make sure I was presentable, a tight but not indecently so grey t-shirt and jeans seemed more than alright to me, and I took a few steps out the door. I needed to get to know the neighbourhood anyhow and getting my mind off of my distractions would do me good.

As I took my first step outside I thought I saw someone out of the corner of my eye but something quickly flashed through my mind. Our new front door locked automatically and I hadn't put the new key on my key ring yet. I turned to catch the door before it shut but was too late, the door locked firmly. I swore, loudly. The safety of the neighbourhood had been a bit of a concern when we'd been looking and I knew that there was no easy way to get into the house other than the front door.

"Fuck!" I yelled as I pulled on the door handle uselessly. I groaned to myself as I rested my forehead against the door and thought of my options. The real estate agent didn't have the key and we hadn't become friendly enough with any of the neighbours to have given them a spare. Our old neighbours Jim and Chris had a spare key to our old place but that was of no help. I grumbled in frustration as I pulled out my phone. I'd have to text Mark what I'd done and, well, just wait the six hours until he was done with work. We'd had a fight the night before about, not surprisingly, my absent mindedness as I'd lost track of some of his important boxes during the move and didn't want to give him another reason to point out how distracted I'd been.

"Fuck!" I yelled again. This time I heard a gruff male voice respond.

"Not very ladylike."

I turned around, looking to give the person who'd responded a piece of my mind about where he could stick his notions of "ladylike" but stopped in my tracks. It was, I knew instantly, the man I'd been hoping to catch a glimpse of. There he was at the foot of my front path. His hands on his hips and looking more annoyed than I was. A scowl stretched across his weathered face.

"I...sorry," I said, my righteous anger instantly replaced with some of the feelings I'd been trying to avoid. There was something about him that just hit all of the right buttons. Like I said, it was sometimes hotter in my fantasies if the man was unattractive. Almost because it meant he'd probably never had a hot young girl, not even when he was younger. Well, Mr. Miller definitely was not a dashing older Paul Newman type. Not that he was monstrously ugly, just that he looked a bit unpleasant.

"So why all the language?" he asked.

"I just locked myself out of the house," I said, feeling my throat suddenly go dry.

"That was stupid of you," he said gruffly. Ordinarily I'd have shot back, said something vicious back to him but those damn fantasies of mine were taking hold. The fact that his eyes were hungrily roaming up and down my body, clearly lingering on the bulge of my breasts in my t-shirt, didn't help matters much. I felt stupid and him saying so didn't really register.

"Yeah, I'm sorry." I said, dumbly. Why was I apologizing to him?

"Have a spare key or something?" he asked.

"No, we just moved in and..."

"I know you just moved in. I thought you might have hidden a key under the mat."

I wanted to say that if I'd done that I wouldn't have been swearing in frustration but held my tongue.

"No, sorry."

"So what are you going to do?" he asked. I felt like a young girl in school being humiliated in front of a class of students.

"I don't know," I sheepishly admitted even though I did more or less know.

"Well, hold on here a second." he said wearily, sighing as he turned back towards his house. I watched him move with some surprising agility and speed as he disappeared into the small bungalow across from ours. I had no idea what he was up to but I was glad to be no longer face to face with him. I was acting idiotic. I knew that this encounter wasn't going to be anything other than the inspiration to some future Jill-off session but I was still tongue-tied and apparently not in control of my higher motor functions.