“Oh Phil,” I said, looking at the bulge in his groin. “This is something that neighbours should not do.”

But I knew that I would; I knew that I had to help him. I reached over and pressed my hand on his bulge, and Phil groaned, not in pain but in delight. He said no words; he just looked at me with longing. I undid the buttons on my blouse, pulling it open. My boobs stood proud in their pastel blue lace.

I leaned toward Phil and gripped the waist of his trousers, my fingers seeking his button. As I eased the button out, his trousers began to gape. I took hold of his zip and pulled it down; his underpants filled with a hard dick pushing out, greeting me.

I eased my blouse off over my shoulders and dropped it on the floor beside us. I reached behind my back and undid the catch on my bra, using my left hand to hold the cups in place. I looked at Phil, his eyes shining, his tongue easing along the purse of his lips. I pulled the cups of my bra away, revealing my girls to his gaze.

His underpants jerked. I took hold of the waistband of his trousers and his underpants and tugged down. Phil raised his buttocks, and his clothing moved, revealing his dick and balls in all their glory.

I stood before Phil and put my hands up my skirt, gripped my knickers and pulled them down. I was now only wearing my skirt. My boobs were free and in front of Phil’s eyes, and my fanny was in fresh air but hidden by my skirt. I moved to the sofa and knelt on it, my legs either side of Phil. I lowered myself down.

Phil’s eyes widened and his mouth opened as my fanny contacted his dick. I shimmied a little, and his dick hit the spot. I lowered more; Phil’s dick penetrated. I could feel his foreskin move; I felt his rim free itself and start scraping my fanny walls. I sank further until I was resting on his thighs, his dick buried inside me.

“Oh, God, Jesus, Becca," he gasped.

“Not them, Phil, just me,” I said, and I started to move up and then back down, Phil’s dick sliding in my fanny. I squeezed my fanny muscles as much as I could and then relaxed them again. Squeeze, rise, relax, lower, squeeze, rise and repeat. I managed to get a little faster, and soon I had a good rhythm going, and I realised that I was gasping.

My pleasures were flowing, my pressures were building, my fanny was tightening, and Phil’s eyes were beginning to glaze over. I stopped moving and relaxed my fanny. This was nice, but not good enough, not for Phil; he deserved better.

“Let’s go up to the bedroom,” I said, slowly rising, Phil’s dick falling from my fanny with a faint gurgle. I could feel the air from the room flood into my gaping fanny, knowing it would take a moment to close back up. I looked down at Phil’s dick; it was pointing up, glistening, his foreskin slightly pulled back. He pushed on the sofa with his hands and stood up.

Phil shuffled his feet, stepped out of the puddle of trousers and underpants and pulled his shirt off. He was naked. I undid the button and then the zip on my skirt and let it fall to the floor; I too was naked. Phil stepped past me, and I followed him up the stairs, a few steps behind, watching his balls swing between his legs.

His arse was smooth, not hairy like my husband's. Phil’s dick and balls were bigger than my husband's too, but that didn’t matter. In his bedroom he swept the quilt back, revealing a white bottom sheet. I wonder if that had been his wife Greta’s choice or his. It didn’t matter; she was at work, she wasn’t here.

He turned to me and gripped my shoulders, pushing me softly to the bed. My legs hit the edge of the bed, and they bent, causing me to sit. Phil pushed me, and I lay back, my feet still on the floor. I watched as Phil sank to his knees, easing my legs apart, and then I felt his breath on my fanny.

It had been me, all me, downstairs; now it was all Phil. His lips pressed against my fanny, sucking my folds in, his tongue delving into my opening. I felt his nose pressing into my valley, pressing my urethra and then my nubbin. I gasped, I tensed, and I gasped again. My pleasures were in free flow.

Phil moved up my valley, his tongue slipping between my folds, and then a nip and a bite; he had my nubbin between his teeth. I gulped in air, and my fingers screwed tightly into his sheet.

He kept moving up; his tongue delved into my navel, a weird sensation, and then he sucked my right nipple and then my mouth. His lips were full of my flavour; his eyes were full of sparkle. He flexed his hips, and his dick pressed into my hot and wet fanny; I silently screamed.

I could feel his dick slide inside me, his rim slipping over my bumps and ridges, and then he was pressing at my depth, his stomach pushing against mine, my breasts squashed on my chest. He raised up onto his arms, and he pulled back.

My fanny felt empty; my fourchette fluttered, trying to keep him in place. With a smile on his face, he slammed into me with such force that a crack echoed throughout the room as our bodies collided. I gasped as he filled me; my heels dug in as if to maintain a purchase on the bedroom floor. He pulled back and then thrust again.

The cracks echoed, my gasps followed them, and my grunts shadowed his. The sounds of fast, hard sex, of taking and giving pleasure, dominated the silence. I looked over his shoulder and saw his arse reflected in the mirror. His buttocks danced, his crinkle appearing, almost like a target, a bullseye.

I shrieked; I don’t know why. I screamed, and I clung on, his thrusts getting harder and deeper. His buttocks were dancing, my breasts were heaving, and his mouth drooled.

“Oh, fuck,” he gasped and thrust in harder than ever; he held his position, and I felt his coolness fill me.

I screamed out loud, my pressures released, my orgasm exploded through me, my nipples tightened and my heels lost their grip. My hands beat at his bed and then reached up and gripped his shoulders, my fingernails digging deep, and then it was over. He eased back, and his dick slipped from my fanny. I was empty.

Phil stood, his dick dripping small globules of sperm onto the bedroom carpet. I could feel his spunk draining from me, flowing out. It had been a good one.

“She’s at work tomorrow morning,” Phil said.

“See you tomorrow morning,” I replied as I got to my feet.

I hope that you found that short story pleasurable and fun. Please scroll down and leave me a comment and a like when you have finished, i do read and reply to all comments, and your comments help my story gain a wider audience. Thank you, love Mica xx