The Young Man Next Door

One Last, Farewell

They never managed to get together again, and the end of his time at home came. Things just didn't work out. He went on a long, family vacation, then, when he finally got back, she had to go out of town herself. That was early August, and then it became mid-August and then he was off to college.

It looked as if the little affair was just over, and she told herself that was really alright. She did know all along that it could not last. She really didn't want it to last. She had no intention of maintaining a long-term relationship with him, though she may have harbored a vague expectation that they would have at least a little more time together. But, it didn't happen.

Typically, for a Saturday night, she and her husband were ready for bed, more or less, by 10:00 p.m. She was just putting on her pajamas. He was already between the sheets, and his eyelids were trying to go shut and stay shut, though he feebly resisted, trying to wait for her, contemplating a little marital bliss.

The knock on the front door came at 10:02. She was just starting to button her pajama top. He was startled awake and went to investigate, pulling on a pair of shorts along the way. Dressed in those shorts and an undershirt, he opened the door cautiously, flipping on the porch light and peering out to see who was there.

It was her young lover. "Oh, hi," he said to the guest. "Come on in," he continued, swinging the door widely and gesturing somewhat exaggeratedly with his arm. "So, what's up?"

"Uh...," the young man replied, completely unsure what to say. He had a melancholy look on his face and dropped his eyes to the floor, searching haplessly for a good way to explain himself.

His host understood well enough. "Honey?" he called up the stairs. "You have a visitor."

She had been waiting up in the bedroom, expectant, thinking—hoping—that it might be him. She was anxious, but a little relieved as well. She had hidden from herself the disappointment she felt over not ever seeing him again. "Seeing," that is, in a meaningful way. The mere thought that he had come to see her raised expectations dramatically, and had already aroused her. She had been thinking about having sex with her husband, but this happy news aroused her far beyond that. It wasn't a matter of preference, just the excitement of something different and, of course, somewhat illicit. No doubt, the fact that the sex was illicit, her husband's sanction notwithstanding, made fucking this guy all the more exciting.

Plus, he could perform for hours! He could wear her out, thoroughly satisfy her, satiate her lust, and leave her sexually fulfilled beyond anything she had ever known.

She came down the stairs in her pajamas, not being shy with either of the men in the place. Her husband passed her on the way, gave her a kiss on the cheek and said, "I guess you two have some things to talk about. I'm going to bed. Take your time. I'll leave your reading light on."

She went on down knowing she had her husband's blessing, though, somehow, that did not diminish the excitement of "sneaking around."

"Well, hello," she said, extending her hand, awkwardly, to shake his, as if they hardly knew each other. Of course, that was the case, and it seemed pretty evident at the moment. Yet, they also knew each other with exquisite intimacy, and both were keenly aware of that fact.

"Hi," he said, rather sheepishly. She responded with an affectionate smile that put him more at ease.

She took his hand and led him into the living room, then turned back briefly to close the pocket door behind her, shutting off the room from the front hall and, honestly, from the stairway and from her husband. She told herself it was so her husband would not be disturbed by their talking. She did sense that the young man wanted to talk, to say goodbye, and that was why he was here. Truly, though, she expected that he wanted more than talk. She was not ready to admit it to herself, but she knew deep down that she too wanted more than talk.

She sat down on the couch leaving a respectable distance between them, for the moment at least, not wanting to be pushy or to seem needy. "I thought maybe I'd not see you again. Everything alright?"

"Yes," he replied uncertainly. "I'm sorry ... I was so sorry I never got to see you again and now I have to leave tomorrow, and I just wanted to—had to—come over and tell you how much you ... how much it has meant to me to know you and ... you know." He glanced toward the pocket door and continued, "Is it alright for me to be here?"

"Sure. It's fine. I am glad to see you. I am glad we can say goodbye properly."

He looked toward the door again. "Is it really alright?" he asked.

"It's fine. Really. He is, I think, glad you came to say goodbye. I guess I've been a little mopey and he doesn't want me to be sad. He's okay with you and me, though I think he does get a little jealous sometimes. Our marriage is very strong, though, and I love him more than anything—anyone," she added somewhat pointedly. "We've been married a long time and will be a long time more, God willing. Of course, he knows, as well as you do, that you and I can't keep seeing each other much longer. I am committed to my marriage and you are too damned young for me anyway! You need to get on with your life and find a girlfriend—someday a wife you can grow old and share a full life with. I think your leaving for college, while it is sad and I will miss you, is a good thing for all of us."

He nodded in agreement. He knew she was right, even if he didn't want to accept it. He thought she was the most beautiful woman he knew. She made him very happy, and he did not want to let go, not yet, anyway.

The sad look in his eyes made her sadder still and she wanted to comfort him. She reached out her hands and took his. She looked into his eyes and smiled fondly, encouragingly. She wanted him to know that she was open to any advances he might be contemplating.

By this time her husband, who knew he would never get to sleep so long as the visitor stayed, had ventured quietly back down the stairs and stood in the hall trying to hear them through the thick, wooden, pocket door. He wasn't really trying to spy on their conversation. He was listening for sounds of love making. He had been disappointed by the fact that he had missed his opportunity to catch them—and perhaps watch them—fucking the last time the young man had visited, when they did it wantonly in the basement right under his nose. He did not intend to miss any chance that might present itself this time. He could hear their voices, their soft conversation, but could not make out their words. He wondered whether they would ever do anything but talk! He hoped they would. He wanted them to fuck and do it loudly. He wanted to hear her moan with pleasure, to hear him grunt as he spent himself into her lustful, unfaithful bottom. He did not know why he wanted that, but he knew that he did and that was all that mattered to him just then.

The conversation resumed. "I am sorry you are so sad," she told him. "You should not be. We have had some great fun together, and I consider you a very dear friend. I would prefer if you would embrace the memories we share and stay friends with me."

"Friends," he repeated vaguely. "Yes, I will be your friend," he declared, sincerely. "But," he continued, as he pulled her closer to him, determined to take his shot, "I will always want to do this," and he kissed her softly on the lips.

She kissed him back, equally softly. It was hard to remain even a little reserved, but she did not want to rush things. She wanted him to show his need for her affections, her intimate attention. He pulled back a little and looked into her eyes which told him that he should kiss her more, and so he did. "And this," he said, leaning back toward her, kissing her again, then pressing his tongue between her lips.

She would not deny him—or herself. She simply gave way to what she now deemed inevitable. She opened her lips and took his tongue into her mouth, touched it receptively with her own, and then sucked on it awhile before she plunged her own tongue into his mouth, letting him suck in turn. They were rapidly sliding into an uncontrollable passion.

Her husband noted the stilled voices, and then was sure he could hear them kissing. He pressed his ear against the door, cupped his hand around it, and confirmed his suspicion. They were definitely making out. He had to see! He tiptoed quickly into the kitchen and carefully peered around the doorway that emptied into the dining room, which opened, through a large archway, into the living room in turn. He had a pretty good view from there, though it was rather dark. They were on the couch, not thirty feet away. He could see his wife fairly well, a distinct and familiar silhouette in the darkness. She was facing his direction, her arms wrapped tightly around her lover's neck, kissing him passionately. He watched, fascinated, not making a sound. His penis was hard and started to ooze fluids. His body wanted to join the fun. His mind wanted to play the voyeur, though, and to let them have their fun uninterrupted, to see what they would do, how far they would go. He had never seen her with anyone else except on video, and though he could not see everything clearly by the dim light coming through the picture window from the street, it was better than the recordings she'd made for him. This was the real thing! This is what he'd imagined so many times now coming true. He touched his erection absently, then deliberately forced his hand to his side, not wanting to ruin the thrills he was experiencing. He savored the sexual tension, his own, and what he could sense coming from them also. Their movements and the little sounds they made conveyed a rapidly rising tension in the living room. It was getting hot. Their passions were flaming.

Their kisses became longer and deeper and more urgent with every passing minute. They made sucking and grunting sounds and, whenever they broke apart for a few seconds, breathless, panting sounds and deep, happy sighs.

They began to grope each other, clearly verging on outright sex. He could see his wife drop her hands to her lover's sides and grasp the bottom hem of his tee shirt, then work it up and over his head. She ran her hand over his chest, feeling his muscles. It appeared then that he was unbuttoning her pajama top, which soon came open and he bent down to suck on her naked breasts. The spy in the kitchen was getting so excited now he feared he might cum in his pants while he watched!

She allowed her young lover to suckle at her breasts for a few minutes. He alternated from breast to breast, sensitive nipple to sensitive nipple. Her head lolled back, and her eyes scrunched closed as she savored her pleasure, then she looked down toward his lap and her right arm moved in the same direction. Her husband could not actually see it, but it was evident that she had now slipped a hand into his pants and was jacking him off while he sucked her nipples. Soon he stopped sucking and threw his head back. It looked like he could not control himself much longer. She then stopped stroking his cock and whispered urgently, "Stand up." He complied readily, and she pulled his shorts and underwear down to his ankles. As he stepped out of them, he turned a little to the side and his erection was visible to the watcher, long and hard, and ready to take his wife. She grasped his erection and plunged it into her mouth and her head started bobbing back and forth as she sucked and pleasured him. She was making slutty little guttural noises, clearly enjoying giving him pleasure, clearly wanting him to cum in her mouth. He started to rock his hips back and forth and she pulled away and put her hand on his stomach to stop him. "Easy, baby. Go easy. Not too far and not too fast, alright?"

"Um hum," he replied, and she put her mouth around his cock again and took him in as far as she could, then pulled back to the tip. She licked the juices that were coming out of it, then she spoke again with the head of his dick still pressed against her lips: "That is as far as I can take you, okay? Now, go slow," she commanded, firmly but gently, as she took his penis into her mouth again and bobbed her head some more, using her lips and tongue to satisfy him. She pulled her face away briefly to say, "I want you to cum, baby. Cum in my mouth!" She began to suck on him again, and he started rocking himself back and forth again, but slowly, and gently now. She let him pump his penis in and out and just held herself still for him, though she did work her tongue vigorously on his shaft to maximize his pleasure. She could taste his salty juices and her desire to swallow his cum again was irresistible. She cupped his testicles in her hand and fingered his perineum lightly, causing him to gasp. He was clearly getting close to satisfying her lewd desire. He was literally fucking her mouth, feeling exquisite pleasure from her soft lips and hot tongue. She grasped his naked ass and pulled him toward her, to take more of him into her mouth. She wanted all she could handle, and he gave it to her, patiently, gently. Then, abruptly, he grasped the back of her head and started to shake, obviously cumming into her throat. She did not pull away, but kept her hands on his ass and her mouth around his cock and her husband thought he could hear her swallowing her young lover's load, gulping it down, one spurt at a time until he was completely spent. He came for nearly a full minute, it seemed, just standing there on wobbly legs, his dick in her eager, lustful, altogether willing mouth, until his orgasm fully subsided and he sighed heavily. Then he gently pulled himself out of her mouth, still erect, but going limp, satisfied for the moment. He started to sit back down on the couch.

"Wait," she commanded, rising to her feet, her breasts swaying with her movements. She grabbed the blanket that rested on the back of the couch and spread it on the cushions. "We don't want to stain the couch!" she exclaimed, clearly signaling that she intended to fuck him next, when he was ready to go again. She knew from experience that it would not be long. She enjoyed the anticipation, the wait for that intense pleasure of receiving him between her legs, being filled by him, stretched and stuffed and, finally, sated.

He sat on the couch, somewhat dazed for several minutes. She waited patiently, but her mind began to wander, as did her eyes, which had been fixed on her lover all along. And then she noticed her husband's face peeking around the doorframe. At first it startled her, but quickly she realized who it was, and she simply decided that, so long as he remained quiet and did not bother them, she'd let him enjoy the show. In fact, as she thought about him watching them, it excited her, titillated the exhibitionist in her and heightened the pure naughtiness of her actions in her own mind. If he wants to see me fuck, let him watch, she thought. I'll give him a show. I'll fuck this guy good and hard right in front of him! She smiled shamelessly through the darkness in her husband's direction, then returned her attention to her lover. She was ready for the show.

Still, she waited patiently until the young man had recovered enough from his orgasm to talk. "That was so cool," he said, taking her hands into his again, gazing fondly into her eyes. "I really like it when you do that to me. It just feels so good!" He paused briefly, considering his words, then went on bluntly, "Would you like me to go down on you now?"

She was startled at his offer and even at his choice of words. She had not expected such a proposal and did not expect that he'd actually know what to do.

He surprised her again. "I have wanted to do that to you for a while, so I looked it up on-line and read about how to do it right. Please let me. I want to make you happy, to feel the way you make me feel!"

She considered his proposition, and her vagina now ached for attention. She just asked "Are you ready now?"

"Yes," he replied eagerly.

"OK." She leaned back against the arm of the couch, raised her hips, and shoved her pajama pants and briefs down to her knees, then allowed him to pull them the rest of the way off her. Once liberated from her clothing, she spread her legs apart and offered her wet, needy bottom to him. He leaned down between her open legs and began to lick her sensitive, expectant pussy. At the first touch of his tongue to her swollen clit she gasped and pushed herself up into his face, and he plunged his tongue up inside her and then went to work with remarkable expertise, alternating between her clit and her g spot and just plain fucking her with his tongue. "Oh, God!" she exclaimed hoarsely. "Oh, God, baby, you make me feel so good! Mmmmmmmm," and she ground her vagina into his face, holding his head with her hands and then she began to make little whining sounds that her husband knew signaled her impending orgasm. After a few more licks she squealed aloud, "Ohhhhhhh, oh God, baby, ohhhhhhhh," and she clutched his head and pulled him hard against her as her vagina contracted powerfully. His tongue stayed buried deeply inside her, squeezed by the powerful spasms of her carnal pleasure.

Eventually, she finished cumming, and then she did what her husband knew she would do. "Come on," she said, grasping the young man by the shoulders and pulling him atop her. She was ready to fuck. She spread her legs wide apart, and bent her knees upward, opening herself to him. He moved into position, looming over her, then he entered her slowly and gently, just as he knew she wanted. She sighed happily and his shaft filled her vagina, a now familiar and cherished sensation for her. He then began to pump himself in and out, his bare ass bobbing up and down before the watcher's gaze, and she thrust herself up against him to take him as fully as she could. They fucked each other hard now, wantonly, making a show for her husband, and soon she was almost yelling with joy. "Yes, baby, fuck me! Fuck me, baby, fuck me! Oh, yes! Cum in me baby! Fill me with your cum! Yes!" Her lewd talk excited her all them more, and then she started to orgasm again. Knowing that he'd satisfied her completely, the young man let himself go, moaning and grunting loudly, completely heedless of her husband, not the least concerned about disturbing him, only about possessing his wife, taking her and filling her and meeting her deepest sexual needs.

For his own part, it was all her husband could do not to masturbate at the sight of them fucking there on his couch, cumming and making those lewd and joyful noises. Were he merely to have touched himself, he would have cum too, but he wanted to wait. He wanted to have his turn with her. He held out for that, for his turn, the chance to slide himself into the sloppy mess they had made between her legs and let himself go, add his own seed to the mix.

When they finished their orgasms, they held each other tightly. She ran her fingers through his hair and kissed him on the mouth and said, "Thank you, baby. I am so glad you came by. God I am going to miss you!"

Then they lay together awhile and just held each other. He did not pull himself out of her and neither of them stirred for several minutes while they savored what might well be their last intimate moments together.

Soon, though, they sat up and pulled their clothes back on. They were done. Her husband quietly made his way back upstairs, still hard and filled with desire and hoping she would come up soon, her vagina loose and slick, and give it to him, give him have his turn.

They lingered on the couch awhile longer. She asked about his preparations for school and when he might come home for a visit. Clearly, they were not ready to call it quits with any real finality. They both still harbored hope for future trysts. But those might never come, they knew.