Bob Kuzneski, the man next door, was the man of her dreams.

Over the days that came, Misha's whole perspective of her life changed. Sure, she was still the same person, but her outlook and priorities had changed. She found herself a lot more upbeat, giggly and excitable. She again felt like the silly teenage girl living next door to the hot guy.

She was spending her days laughing at his jokes, dressing revealingly for him, hoping to catch him alone while trying not to get caught by her husband, who just as well could be just a roommate, now. She had lost all interest in her husband.

Misha's audit report for work hadn't gone to plan. It had been handed in late and was below her usual standards; her boss had been reprimanded and passed the flack onto her. She simply accepted it was under par, explaining that she had been unwell, and she promised to step up her game after a few days off.

It became habit then second nature and effortless to tell her husband she was going in to work later. This meant she was able to slip over to Bob's and present herself as best she could. She knew he enjoyed watching her as she carried out all sorts of what she had seen as menial tasks before she realized how important they were for the right man. But, he still hadn't touched her or given any indication that he would.

The last few days had been the same: Ken would kiss his wife goodbye before getting in his BMW and reversing down the drive as she watched from behind the curtain; she would wait ten minutes before moving her own car, either further up the drive or reversing it down. She proudly thought this would lead to less suspicion, as her husband would see that the car had been moved and would assume she'd had been at work.

Hastily she would walk to Bob's front door, always aware of how nervous she felt every time she knocked and before he would crack the old door open and peer around its edge. He always seemed just a little surprised to see her there, and then their nervousness would be gone as he would invite her in.

Her first task each morning was to prepare his breakfast, usually bacon and a cup of tea. She'd then sit and watch as he sat flicking through the stations of his old TV and devouring his morning snack.

She would then check the house from top to bottom. Having sorted, cleaned and organized over the last couple of days, she now found the house more manageable and easier to keep on top of, which meant more time to study Bob.

Today she planned to reorganize his drawers and the cupboards with his clothes, putting everything into order. She also desperately wanted to see if he owned something besides the three outfits she had seen him in. (Not that she was complaining, she actually wanted to see him in less.)

After starting the washing machine and cleaning the morning's breakfast away, she took note of where Bob was and went back into the sitting room. On his big chair with his legs up on the stool, he sat snoozing with the remote in his hand. Realizing that he wasn't watching her or requiring anything, she could continue on.

She smiled broadly as she slipped away towards the bedroom. Excitement overwhelmed her as she pushed the door open slightly and scanned the room. This was her first visit here but she desperately found herself hoping it wouldn't be the last.

She approached the unmade bed, and her hand reached down to touch the sheets, firstly with her fingertips before her palm checked for warmth across a larger area beneath the covers. She found herself wishing she had lain beside him the night before. She closed her eyes as an image of them appeared, both asleep and comfortable wrapped in each other's arms. She took a deep breath at the image of their loving embrace before opening her eyes and looking further around the room.

Her eyes rested on the chest-of-drawers before reluctantly pulling her hand from the cotton bed spread and nervously approaching them. Opening the drawers she carefully took out all the items, re-sorting them neatly back in a more organised fashion. She kept the underwear for last and with more love and attention than she dared to admit, she placed them in the top drawer; she was excited about touching it and found herself highly aroused.

As she struggled on through her arousal she opened the cupboard next to the drawers and found it full of women's clothes. Checking the contents, she would randomly pull items from the rail; she found them unstylish and dated, clearly from an older lady's collection. The clothes had surely belonged to Bob's wife.

Closing the door, she then left the room and went back about the rest of the house and soon found herself on her knees eagerly scrubbing the kitchen floor. She became aware he was at the door behind her, watching her in silence. She wanted him to rush over and pull her up, up and into his arms. She wanted to press her chest against his, for him to pull at her. She would have let him take her right there in the small, dated kitchen. Sure, she would have preferred a more romantic setting, but after all these days performing for him, auditioning as the perfect woman, she was no further forward other than seeing how he liked to watch her.

She looked around seductively to make eye contact with him. Her own heart jumped as he looked sheepish and went red before turning away.

'For God's sake!' She screamed in her head.

She was in her tightest jeans, bent over, scrubbing away. She knew herself how good her ass looked in these jeans, but still he was no closer to making a move on her.

"You okay, Bob?" she called after him.

"Err, yeah, fine. Yer doing a good job," he mumbled.

"I do aim to please," she teased.

He stole another glance at her, his eyes betraying his bashfulness; she smiled as she caught his lingering stare, which seemed to take him aback.

"You are, it's looking good. Very pleasing."

She found it adorable he was nervous and it suddenly struck her she might need to change tactics a bit.

"Do you see anything else that's pleasing?" She looked directly at him, tilting her head down to look up at him through the tops of her eyes.

Looking dumbfounded, he slowly began to scan the rest of the room and the work she had done. She was suddenly apprehensive she had pushed him too far before deciding to try and claw her way back.

"Do you like my jeans?"

"I'm more of a dress man myself. I like a lady in a nice elegant dress. Jeans were for boys in my day. Give me a woman in a nice plain dress all day long."

It was a light bulb moment. It was so obvious now. Here was a guy in his seventies; he didn't want to see her in stuff a man in his thirties or younger wanted to see her in. She had been thinking about this all wrong; he might be hot and looked way younger but the reality was he had older tastes. She had been dressing for a man of the wrong age.

She finished the floor and made him a fresh cup of tea; when she handed it to him, he was sitting in his usual seat in front of the TV again. He grunted a small thanks and she offered him a smile before turning and leaving the room. She walked down the hall with purpose and into the bedroom again. Opening the cupboard, she slid the clothes along the hanger while looking from a new perspective.

Settling on a peach-coloured dress, she removed it from its long resting place. Holding the hanger she gave it another look over. It had a little jacket with it; slipping the jacket off the hanger, she hung it on the door of the cupboard by the collar and dropped the dress to the bed. She then pulled the boxes from the bottom of the cupboard and found worn-in peach heels and a leather peach handbag amongst similar items of all different colours.

Quickly kicking off her sandals and unbuttoning herself in unison she raced to peel her tight jeans off before stepping out of them. She reached down to the bottom of her top and pulled her vest clear off over her head; unclipping her bra she let it slide down her arms as her thumbs slid into her thong and pulled them down also. She looked at her underwear on the worn-patterned carpet and she felt a euphoria pulse contort her. She caught a glimpse of her naked self in the old, tarnished mirror on the inside of the cupboard door. Bare in this old, worn bedroom of a man more than double her age gave her tingles. The dated, dingy bedroom melted away to a glorious place of worship for her.

Lifting the dress from the bed she unzipped the back and removed the hanger. Stepping into the garment, a rush of hope swelled in her as she wondered if this would work.

Reaching around the back zipping herself into the dress, which was made easier as the dress was easily two sizes too large for her, her naked flesh touching the fabric, she was all too aware of her hard nipples rubbing on the material as she smoothed it over herself. She slipped on the shoes, finding she would have to curl her toes to keep them from sliding off as she stepped over to the small dressing table. Rummaging in the small drawers she pulled out a pair of peach disk earrings that had undoubtedly gone with the dress maybe before she had even been born; removing her own diamond earrings, she slipped the cheap ones on, giving not a thought to hygiene or comparison.

After another rummage she pulled a well-used light peach lipstick from the drawer and applied it plentifully; surely he had kissed lips coved in this very shade before. She allowed herself another moment of hopefulness before standing as graciously as she could, making her way to the mirror.

She patted and slid her hand down the dress, noticing how it touched her skin and how free her boobs were in the oversized dress. She wondered how his wife had filled it. Surprisingly she found it was turning her on more, thinking how this woman who had managed to marry Bob had previously worn this outfit. She had attracted a stud like this man and she would need to always be on her game to compete.

Suddenly though her confidence began to go as she realised she might not be able to compete; this woman must have been god-like. She began to feel ridiculous in the dress and the choices she had made. With the petite frame she had worked so hard to keep in shape and how other guys had ogled it, she might not be woman enough for Bob.

The door creaked open; her heart skipped a beat. Spinning around seeing him at the door, her heart now thumped. Suddenly she regretted being in this woman's dress. She wished she hadn't allowed herself to be compared to this woman Bob had chosen to be his wife.

Flushed with embarrassment, she brought her arms to her chest and hugged herself, head hung low with her eyes finding the same worn carpet where her clothes sat in a heaped pile.

Then he was next to her with arms pulling hers from her chest. She was unbelievably scared. She worried about his reaction; was he angry? Then her eyes found his and she knew it wasn't anger; it was lust. His hands found her breasts; he pulled and squeezed at them and she was now on fire.

Her pussy was sodden and wanting; her leg rose and wrapped around his as her heel brushed over his sock then onto his calf, and her hands moved as quickly as they could to the knot on his housecoat. She pulled it apart to reveal the most magnificent cock she had ever seen; sure, her husband and boyfriends had been bigger and harder, but this was just magnificent.

She wanted to drop to her knees to take him in her mouth but he pulled her to the bed. He swung her and she fell back onto the bed. Trying to wriggle up onto the bed, she found her movement was hampered with the material of the dress getting trapped between her back and the bed. She needn't have bothered though as he was pulling at her arm and she was willingly following his unspoken guidance.

She knelt on the bed, facing away from him towards the open door. He flung the knee-length dress over her pert rear, allowing excessive material to hang low from her stomach and chest. She was frantic! She had never been more excited or ready, and she knew what was coming and he wasn't wasting any time, but it still wasn't fast enough for her.

His cock probed her lips, then he entered her. His moan sent another tingle through her. She slid her knees further apart to bring her height down and allow him further penetration. His hands held her hips. She wanted him to move those hands around and inside the baggy dress to feel her perky tits, to twist her nipples. Probably that kind of attention would have made her collapse with too much pleasure.

She was just delighted with him pulling her hips into himself as he thrust his cock deeper and faster.

His breath became deeper and he began to shudder. She knew full well what was happening and although protection had been important to her before, now she didn't care; she wanted it. She wanted it all, every bit, every drop of his cum. She was hungrily waiting for it, and she knew she didn't have long to wait.

His grunt and sudden final thrust and a burst of pleasure told her she had gotten what she wanted.

She let him collapse onto her. She never moved or spoke. She just savoured the sensation of him shrinking inside of her. She had never been more satisfied or felt more fulfilled in her life.

He was the first to speak.

"I wish I had got that old radio transmitter in the shed working years ago, to get you here sooner."

She realized what had brought her here. It was Bob's voice she had heard over and over on her radio. He had been taking over her radio somehow, but she really didn't care and never thought of any details regarding it, just that he had been so clever to bring them together.

"Me too. We have quite a few more dresses to go, though."

He laughed, then pulled himself up from the bed. She watched him with the biggest grin on her face as he walked around the bed, fastening the housecoat back up.

"Make that bed before you fix lunch."

"Sure, Sweetheart!"

Giggling, she fell back onto the bed, enjoying his load deep inside her.

To be continued