“I haven’t seen you at church much,” I said to the neighbor. She was getting ready to leave somewhere, gracefully sliding down her long driveway. From over the fence, I had watched her lock the front door behind her, and fumble in her handbag. Starting to walk, she had run a lazy hand through her wavy hair.
She stopped now, where our two driveways met, her face crinkling into a smile. I read mischief in every contour of her face as she stood there, in a dark blue maxi dress, a long split up the side. Perhaps it was slightly scandalously cut, exposing that much thigh, however, she had received the attention she was after, as it was one of the first things the eye was drawn to. She had gotten her desired effect.
She stared at me now, her green eyes intense. She had a way of looking at people that made them feel like they were the only ones that mattered, and a way of engaging with people that made you feel like you two were the only ones in the world. I was unsure if she was naturally that engaging, or if it was a learned behavior. A ploy. If it was a learned behavior, then she certainly made it seem entirely natural.
She let out a soft, throaty laugh. “I prefer being a sinner.” Her gaze held mine as the corners of her lips widened further in a teasing, knowing grin. Not even the sound of her Uber driver honking the horn broke the moment. Slowly, her gaze shifted and she looked me up and down, before flouncing off and getting into the car, a billow of rich perfume the only sign she had ever been in front of me in the first place.
------------------
I had met Chloe the day we moved in. I was upstairs with my brother-in-law, sorting through boxes and unpacking. I don’t know why I had enlisted the help of Michael; he was self-admittedly very lazy and detested manual labor of any sort, however, he had offered his services, and we had accepted.
When I heard the word, “Damn,” from behind me, I knew that Michael had stopped what he was doing. He had splayed himself over the window seat, feet up on the cushions, making himself a comfortable little nest. “You have got to check this out,” he then said, which I had ignored. I was too far gone in my own world, elbows deep in boxes, trying to sort out stuff for the bedrooms. “Hey!” I heard Michael say.
Sighing, I stood up and took the few paces to where he was. “Jesus Christ!” I involuntarily uttered. I cursed myself, wondering why I had said that, and in front of Michael of all people.
Looking down into the yard next door, I saw the pair of legs that was going to be my new neighbor. She was standing in front of the washing line, wearing nothing but a white towel. She pulled a few items of clothing off the line, one of them a pair of denim short shorts that looked about a size too small.
Plucking a pair of red, lacy panties off the line, she quickly stepped into them and pulled them underneath her towel, revealing to us the merest flash of a smooth thigh.
“Nice,” I heard Michael whisper.
We watched as she disappeared back into her house, both of us taking a long, hard look at the rest of her intimates that were still hanging outside.
“Well, that settles it,” Michael said, standing up. “I’m going over there.” I couldn’t tell if he was joking or not.
“To tell her what?” I questioned, taking up my space on the ground once more and trying to sort through an entire life that had been packed away into cardboard boxes. “That you noticed her when you were perving from the upstairs of your brother-in-law’s house?”
Michael was silent, just staring at me blankly, but I continued. “That you watched her when she was fresh out of the shower and wrapped in a towel? That you salivated while she stood there with her underwear? She’s at least twenty years younger than you. Now please would you help me unpack?”
Michael slumped down on the floor opposite me, looking through the boxes. Like a petty teenager, he mumbled, “You were perving too, and you’re worse because you’re married to my sister.”
I sighed. “And you’re supposed to be in a committed relationship with her best friend. C’mon, man.”
Though neither of us had ever spoken about the incident again, it weighed heavily on our relationship, and every time Michael had come back to the house for a visit, he always had one eye on the neighbor’s house.
-----------------------
Sixteen months earlier, my wife, going through her latest ‘journey of self-discovery' had quit her job on a whim to pursue her passion. Despite the fact that she had dropped out of art school nearly twenty years ago, and knew nothing about interior design, she decided to become a decorator, no doubt having visions of herself in a small, eccentric office, draped in fabric samples and expensive cloth. But that fancy had also passed, and she had quit that job three months ago. To make ends meet, she took an office job, which she hated.
It hit me all of a sudden, on a night that was hot, sticky, and sleepless, that my wife had never really completed anything. It occurred to me that she quit nearly everything she did. I had very much been drawn to that when we first met; it was exciting and spontaneous in its own way. She was always doing something new and thinking about her latest adventure, but now that we were in our forties, I realized it was sad. Once something lost its shine, or the reality set in, and she grew bored, she ditched it. I came to the conclusion that if people were able to easily give up children once the novelty wore off, she probably would’ve done that too before the kids turned ten.
This latest journey of hers had been different though. She’d changed the spelling of her name, replacing the S with a Z, to honor her heritage on discovering that she was one-eighth Jewish.
She had also cheated with the pool boy. She didn’t exactly hide it well either. I came home from work early one day and found them attempting to go at it on the outdoor table. I say attempting because it didn’t actually look like much was going on. It was the most boring affair I’d ever seen. Mitzi was doing her usual starfish routine and just lying there, and the kid, who looked no more than twenty-one, wasn’t exactly a pro either. All in all, I think they were both relieved more than anything when I caught them.
Mitzi had cried and hollered and put on a show, trying to convince me that it only happened once. She didn’t need to tell me twice, I knew from what I saw that it was the first, and no doubt only time that it would happen. She had asked me repeatedly if I would divorce her and leave her. I told her no. Part of me didn’t want to put myself through a divorce and the legal bullshit. The other part of me wanted to give Mitzi something, anything to see through and not quit when the going got tough. There was always that small, nagging part of me that wished I had left, though.
-----------------------
It was while my wife and I were engaged in a bickering match on the front lawn of our new house that the enchantress next door made her second appearance. I had to imagine that we weren’t making a very good impression on our new neighbors, as we caused a scene out by the mailbox for all the street to see.
She was wearing a dress that looked as if it were lighter than air, the fabric clinging to her figure in all the right places, and then flaring out slightly and floating around her. Even if she had walked out her door naked, it wouldn’t have compared to how good she looked in that little dress.
Our eyes connected for the briefest of seconds, and then before I knew it, her car door was opened and she slid in elegantly, treating me to another glance of her long legs.
“Kevin!” Mitzi snapped, bringing me back to reality and back to our bickering. As she drove away in her light blue car, my wife continued to bawl me out for everyone to see.
--------------------------
I had been shooting hoops with my son when I first made contact with Chloe. I had been showing off, bouncing the basketball in and out through my legs, my son Caleb rolling his eyes at my showmanship. With a flick of the wrist, I jumped up and attempted to make a shot, but the ball bounced off the backboard and into the neighbor’s yard. I heard two sad bounces and then nothing as it no doubt rolled away.
“Whoever throws it over the fence has to go get it,” my son reminded me. I was holding my breath, thinking that I really didn’t want to go, trying to think up some excuse to get me out of it, but the boy was a stickler for the rules. He had always been what the kids referred to as a ‘goody-goody,’ and at seventeen, the boy had never even had detention. He had always been a rather serious fellow, old before his time in his own way.
I looked from the basketball hoop to the fence, pondering whether I just go inside and wait for her to throw it back over. “Dad,” Caleb said. “C’mon, I wanna play.”
A million thoughts ran through my head as I made the short journey next door, yet not one of them was helpful in the slightest. It occurred to me that I was a forty-four fucking year old man who had been married for what seemed like forever, and I felt like a dumb high schooler who was all sweaty, nervous, and tongue-tied around the new girl.
I don’t know how long I stood at her front door, trying to build up the nerve to knock. It felt like I stood there for an eternity when in reality no more than thirty seconds would’ve passed. It didn’t take her long to answer, and I hoped like hell that she hadn’t noticed me creeping on her doorstep.
“Hello,” she answered, smiling. Her voice was sweet and round, pure sounding. She looked me up and down and then stared at me, her gaze intent. To look at her was almost unnerving, and her gaze threw me off slightly. Her eyes had an almost silky luster; light green, with golden bands running through them. It was as if I were staring directly into two tiger’s eye gems.
I managed to collect myself and pull my gaze away from the Venus standing in front of me to utter a greeting in response, thanking whichever Gods were up there that I didn’t sound like a doofy idiot, even though I felt like one.
“You’re the new neighbors?” she asked. “I’m Chloe, nice to meet you.”
“Kevin,” I answered, extending a sweaty palm for her to shake.
‘Chloe. Of course, she has a name like Chloe. Look at her, she’s not boring in the slightest. No plain Jane or Mildred here. Chloe,’ I thought to myself as I mentally appraised her. She bore the distinction of being someone that possessed a classically beautiful face. A face that would not be out of place in a Medieval drama or historical romantic romp. A face that would be right at home in a period piece. And yet, she was very trendy and fashionable, with several different piercings in each ear, and a ring through her left nostril. It was a juxtaposition that I found stunning, to say the least.
Chloe cleared her throat and looked at me expectantly. ‘Fuck!’ I thought. I’d been rumbled. She had caught me staring. She smiled at me, two small dimples appearing by the corners of her mouth. ‘Focus, man. Focus.’
“Do you mind if I go get the basketball?” I asked, finally managing to utter some words. “It bounced over onto this side.”
“Sure,” she said.
“It went down the side of your house, won’t be a moment.”
She stood in the doorstep and watched me as I grabbed the ball, my palms feeling thick with sweat. I had never felt so self-conscious in all my life.
“Thanks,” I said, starting to walk back to my side.
“It was nice to meet you,” she replied, her eyes lingering on me before she abruptly disappeared behind the door.
Safe back on my side of the fence, we continued our game, though my mind was still next door with Chloe.
It had been Mitzi’s idea to start attending Church. She found a small, progressive Baptist Church in a well-to-do area of town, that had the distinction of referring to itself as ‘the village’ just in case anyone got the plebs muddled up with the folk who lived half an hour away.
I had felt out of place immediately, not because we weren’t the villagers with oodles of daddy’s cash to flash, but I felt as if everyone could read my mind as if they knew my innermost thoughts and they knew I wasn’t genuine. I had been dragged along with my wife, who was so enthusiastic about the new Church that it was almost sickening. When the Pastor introduced himself to me, I felt as if he could see into my soul, and he knew I wasn’t a believer.
Several things surprised me about our new Church, but the biggest was Chloe’s attendance. She had spied us first, not long after we had walked in. She was on the other side of the Church, speaking with an elderly couple. She gave a smile that was small, but warm and welcoming. Like a fool, I had stared at her for too long, still not over my initial shock at seeing her in a Church, of all places. That wasn’t to say that she shouldn’t have been there, she just didn’t look like the Church-going type. As progressive as the Church was, she still stood out.
But that was one of the differences between me and Chloe; she stood out in a way that was almost trendy and cool, whereas I felt like the non-believer at the feast. One foul move and I’d be picked apart for everyone to see.
---------------------
Spring flew by, mostly uneventfully. Mitzi threw herself into Church life, joining several different committees and community boards, getting swept up in the organizing of different events that had been planned for the summer.
She was like a woman reborn; there was nothing she couldn’t take on, and I had to wonder if I had misjudged her, or been too cynical in my earlier thoughts that she had never finished anything in her life. Our relationship too had improved, with Mitzi having a new pep in her step from all her community event planning she’d been busy with. The newfound confidence suited her, and we were having sex every night, sometimes twice, which we hadn’t done since we first got together.
But by May, after a bout of ill-health and unexpected terrible weather, Mitzi had stopped going to her Church meetings, and life, once more, moved on as normal.
A new source of bickering between us had been born, when Mitzi still insisted that the family go along to Church with her. If she wanted to go to Church then that was fine with me, I didn’t really care, but the fact that she was dragging me and the kids along, did not bode well.
It was like my life was on repeat. I would sit in the car every Sunday morning, having the same conversations with Mitzi over and over again. I was desperate for whoever was in control of my life, to fast-forward past this part, instead of rewinding the tape over and over.
In truth, I didn’t actually mind going to Church. It was nice to do something as a family, even if we were sitting in silence for two hours. My annoyance stemmed from Mitzi never actually having an explanation as to why we had to go. She couldn’t explain why we had to go, she didn’t have anything to say when I asked. I just wanted to know why she wanted us to go. It really was that simple, but every time I would bring it up, she would come back with the same statement.
“I can’t go by myself, what would that look like?”
And so it was that all four of us went along to Church every Sunday, three of us growing more and more bitter every time while Mitzi sat in the front of the car humming along to the radio. I could never tell whether she was oblivious to the tension, or if she fed off it.
Our Saviour came in the form of Chloe, who had sort of taken us under her wing, pointing out people and explaining who they were, or how important they thought themselves to be. She had started sitting with us too, making the time in Church go by a lot faster, which caused me to be both happy and slightly disappointed at the same time.
I had to wonder if she knew the effect she was having on me as her legs leaned against my own, or our knees touched, or an errant hand of hers brushed against me. We were like two naughty school children at the back of the bus. She would whisper cutting or sarcastic comments in my ear, and I’d have to stop myself from bursting out laughing. A few times, Mitzi gave me a look that was completely unimpressed, and I’d cop it in the car on the way home sometimes, but those moments with Chloe were the only reason I looked forward to it being Sunday.
She was seducing me, I knew it. She was clever about it too: everything she did, hidden behind plausible deniability. She could say that she was just being polite, or she was just being nice, but I could see the truth. She would stare at me, looking me up and down, biting her lip. Her eyes would light up, and a teasing grin would appear on her face.
She seemed to be everywhere I looked, but she was elusive as well, only appearing for a second, before going away again. I lost count of the times I saw her parading around her backyard, wearing nothing but a t-shirt and panties. She consumed my thoughts and took over my dreams, and for a while, I was certain that she was controlling my dreams, making herself appear to me nude, or servicing my cock in unbelievable ways. It was almost as if she knew as well, that I was dreaming of her. Chloe was like a ghost that haunted me.
I was very much aware that I was like a stupid schoolboy having his first crush, and as much I tried to stop myself from feeling these things, I was lusting after Chloe big time.
I wasn’t the only one who had fallen under her spell, though. Mitzi may have been frosty towards her in the beginning, but now they seemed to have a sort of friendship going, even if it was mostly uneasy at times. Begrudgingly, Mitzi had asked her for opinions on some clothes she purchased, and they swapped recipes a few times. Matters weren’t always helped, though, when our eleven-year-old tried to emulate Chloe, finding the sharpies and drawing colorful dots up and down her ears to look like piercings.
The summer was progressing nicely, though, when Mitzi decided that we would throw a BBQ, inviting nearly everyone we had ever met. I always enjoyed it when Mitzi decided to be social. I loved having people over, sharing good food and company.
This particular summer BBQ was important for two reasons; it broke some of the marital tension between Mitzi and me, even if only for a day or two, and it was where Chloe and I shared our first kiss.
My wife had sent me upstairs to look for some booze; the bottles of which were all on a shelf in the walk-in closet. As I came out of the walk-in empty-handed, unable to find what Mitzi had sent me upstairs for, Chloe came out of the ensuite.
“Sorry,” she said. “The downstairs toilet is blocked, so I was told I could use the one upstairs.”
She smelled of sweet Jasmine, and she was wearing a blouse of pale primrose that showed off ample cleavage.
“It’s okay,” I said. She looked me up and down slowly, her gaze lingering on my crotch. As if snapping herself out of a daydream, her eyes returned to my face, and she smiled mischievously, before turning to leave the room. I walked the few short paces and caught up with her, my hand only just catching her fingers. “I’m a married man, Chloe,” I said, sounding feeble.
“I know,” she said, in a voice that was almost a whisper. Her fingertips, light as air, traced themselves over mine. I shivered from the touch, my body erupting in goosebumps, her touch so faint it was almost tickling.
I moved closer to her, her scent stronger in my nostrils. Our fingers were laced together, but with my other hand, I played with the hem of her blouse. Chloe made the first move. She was holding her breath as she kissed me softly. When I kissed her back, offering no resistance, she kissed me harder, our fingers falling away from each other.
We were standing in the doorway, on the threshold. One move backward, and we could’ve gone to bed, one move forward, and we’d go back to the party. Chloe broke away from the kiss, breathless. “I have to go,” she said, quickly moving away.
“Wait,” I called out. I followed along behind her and went back downstairs, but it was too late. Other people were around again, the moment was gone. Chloe had disappeared.
Walking back outside, into the hot-shouldered sun, Michael looked at me oddly as he stood there, beer in hand. His brow creased, as he watched me try to look around outside. But then Chloe was next to me again, still breathing funny. I turned to talk to her, but she moved away, calling out to someone else. Michael looked from me to Chloe and then back again, the cogs no doubt turning in his head.
--------------------------
I had never been good at keeping secrets, and I was worried that this one would just burst out of me. I had the habit of not thinking before I spoke. It just happened, I couldn’t control the urge. Once I found out something, it would lay dormant on my tongue just waiting for the right time before it erupted out of my mouth.
I was worried that Mitzi would find out. Usually, she could just look at me and she’d know that I had something to tell. “Spill it,” she’d say, getting comfy in the nearest available chair, waiting for the gossip that I had. But it surprised me how easily I was able to act like normal. Act as if nothing had happened.
I was almost able to convince myself that nothing had happened. That it was all just a figment of my imagination. But then one afternoon, when Mitzi and the kids were out, I saw Chloe outside, her lounger moved so it could face the upstairs window. She had a hand in her bikini bottoms, and even from where I stood, I could see that her nipples were rock hard, pressing against the thin fabric of her top.
I was on that threshold again, and I didn’t much care for the feeling. I was once again in a doorway, having to decide what to do. If I stood back and moved one way, then I could ignore her, and try to continue on with my marriage, and life as usual. If I moved the other way, then I would be heading down a path that was sure to end badly.
My legs moved as if independent of my body. As I got closer to Chloe’s house, the music she was playing grew louder, and I could hear her soft moans. I walked down the side of her house, wondering what in the hell I was actually supposed to do. I was unfamiliar with the proper etiquette of sleeping with someone that wasn’t your spouse.
I opened the side gate and came through into the backyard, and there she was, in all her glory. Her nipples were taut, rubbing against the black bikini top, and her hand moved deliciously inside her swimsuit bottoms. The music, I didn’t know what the fuck it was, it was unfamiliar to me, but what was familiar to me, was the sound of moaning, of a woman on the verge of orgasm.
I cleared my throat just as she was about to cum. Slowly, Chloe peeled her eyes open, her left hand still in her bikini bottoms, but no longer moving.
“I don’t want to play games,” I told her.
Chloe smiled mischievously. “Games?” she asked, cheekily.
“Yes,” I said, seriously. “No more games. No more teasing.”
“Now where’s the fun in that?” she asked. She stood and moved off the lounger, slinking her way towards me. She stood right in front of me, placing a hand on my cheek and staring into my eyes. I kissed her hungrily, crushing her lips against mine.
Her body was heady with its usual light, Jasmine scent that I had grown to love, but now, every time I smelled Jasmine, I thought of her, and my cock would react. Pavlov’s cock. A less successful experiment, no doubt.
Mixed in with that, though, was sun cream and pussy. The smell filled my nostrils and fueled my lust, my cock hardening and pressing up against my trousers. Her nipples were hard, and I could feel them against my chest with every movement she made.
It was too much. The smell of pussy, the unfamiliar music, the hot sun beating down on us, her soft lips. I pulled her away from me and stared at her. She looked confused, silent question clouding her pretty features.
I sat down on the outdoor lounger and picked up Chloe’s wine glass that was on the table, and drank deeply, polishing off the sav blanc.
“Jesus Christ,” I mumbled.
Chloe was silent, still looking me up and down and questioning me, before saying, “That’s not very Christian of you.”
I laughed. “Don’t even get me started,” I said. “You don’t seem like the Church-going type. I was surprised to see you there.”
Chloe shrugged. “I like the reactions I get from people when they see me show up. I can feel their judgment.”
Precariously, Chloe sat down next to me. In the silence, I could concentrate on the music. It was unlike anything I heard before. It was rich-sounding, though I had no idea what instruments were being played. “Who is this?” I asked.
“Kayhan Kahlor. He’s an Iranian classical musician.”
“You don’t say,” I mumbled. “Do you know what they're playing or what they're singing about?”
“No,” she said. “And I don’t think I need to. I can feel the emotion without knowing the words. Its beauty is in the music, and the way they’re playing. I don’t need to know exactly what they’re saying.”
I gave a small smile, feeling the heat from her body next to mine. “Besides,” she continued. “It can be fun to speculate on what I think it’s about. I prefer the mystery.”
I kissed her again, thinking that she was the most interesting person I had ever met. My palm found one of her breasts, and I felt the nipple come back to life under the thin fabric of the swimsuit. Blindly, she untied it from behind her neck, fumbling while she kissed me.
The two small black triangles of material fell away, and I was presented with a pair of gorgeous tits in front of me, the skin warm from the sun, two slight tan marks from where the bikini top had covered her.
I was still so surprised, while my face was buried in her breasts, that a woman of no more than twenty-eight would be interested in a middle-aged guy like me. I had the constant urge to ask her, but I didn’t want to ruin the moment. Finally, it was here, this beautiful Venus was lain out before me, reclining on the lounger while I kissed down her body and removed her swimsuit bottoms, and the only thing I could think to do was ask her why she liked me.
Her pussy tasted sweet as I awkwardly positioned myself on the ground, while she lay back and closed her eyes. Her clit was a swollen, hard nub as I licked it, and her pussy was impossibly wet.
The sun was hot on my shoulders as I feasted on her pussy, the back of my neck starting to sweat. Chloe may have been close to cumming, but I wagered that I would be the one in a wet, sweaty heap before our time was out.
Chloe’s fingers started massaging my scalp as she held my head in place, her thighs trembling. Her moans were growing louder, and I had to wonder if the other neighbors could hear her, and what they may have been thinking. I flicked her clit with my tongue and sucked on it, and her fingers stiffened on my head, pulling my hair.
She gushed as she came, my tongue lapping at her cunt, savoring the taste of her. I could just see her face from in between her tits. Her body was rolling, and her face was a mask of pleasured concentration.
I heard the familiar sound of the car brakes squeak as it swung into the driveway, both my heart and my stomach dropping.
“Fuck,” I mumbled.
“What?” Chloe asked.
“My wife is home.” I sat back on the grass, admiring my handy work. Her pussy was slick with her wetness, the dark pubic hair glistening. Her clit was still swollen and I could still see the small aftershocks of her orgasm as her cunt spasmed.
We both stood, Chloe, slipping her bikini back on. I thought it a damn shame that she was covering herself up again. “I’m not finished with you,” I told her. “I’ll be back. I don’t know when, but I’ll be back.”
My heart was still racing by the time I was safely back on my side of the fence. Mitzi was unpacking the car, sorting through brown paper bags of groceries, mumbling to herself.
“Why were you next door?” she asked.
“Chloe needed my help with something,” I said, not at all surprised that a lie had found its way into my mouth so easily.
“You should go back over there and tell her to turn her music down,” Mitzi complained. “What even is this?” she asked distastefully.
“It’s Kayhan Kalhor,” I replied.
Mitzi looked at me oddly but didn’t say anything. I went over and picked up a brown paper bag that was heavy with produce and went into the house.
I replayed the scene over and over in my head, except this time my wife didn’t interrupt us, and we went all the way. Chloe came to me that night, in a dream, but even then she was elusive, disappearing into thin air before I could touch her. I woke up in a sweat, and when I checked the clock next to the bed, the garishly bright numbers burning my eyes, I saw that it was only three am.
I became more and more frustrated as the week grew longer, and no decent opportunity presented itself for me to go next door. I could see Chloe, she seemed to be everywhere I turned, tempting me, but when I turned in the other direction, my wife was right there too. From upstairs, I could see her in her yard. I saw her come and go when she left to go on her long walks. I’d see her at the mailbox, but those moments were always fleeting, and they left me bitter and dissatisfied.
The moment finally came on a day that was wet and windy, but still hot and sticky. She had only just answered the door when I pulled her to me and kissed her deeply, faintly tasting coffee in her mouth.
“We don’t have long,” I said. My cock was hard and throbbing, just aching to be released. We undressed as Chloe led me through into her bedroom, our clothes thrown impatiently to the floor.
“Do it,” she whispered as she stroked me. “Put your cock in me.”
I groaned.
“I want your cock inside my pussy.”
Her legs were up on my shoulders as I entered her roughly, her pussy tight on my cock. I looked down and watched as I fucked her, my cock buried to the hilt inside her. With each thrust, my cock grew shinier as her pussy furiously lubricated.
I shifted my head to the left and softly kissed her ankle, where it was resting on my shoulder. She was staring at me with her tiger’s eyes, her gaze alight as I fucked her. Two fingers were on her clit, rubbing, and every now and then, if my movements matched hers, I felt the soft pads of her fingers on my shaft.
It was breezy in her room, the light drapes flapping when the wind picked up. Outside, the rain hit the window and slid down the glass noisily. My balls were heavy and achy with the need to cum, my cock becoming more and more sensitive the closer I got.
“Oh God,” I mumbled, looking back down at our now conjoined genitals, my cock pistoning back and forth.
“Fuck me,” she said, between heavy breaths. “Fuck my pussy.”
Her cunt looked oddly beautiful as she took my full length. The dark brown patch of pubic hair was soft, and slicked down with her wetness, stuck to her pale skin. Her bikini had left tan lines on her body, her limbs a warm golden brown from the sun. Her hair seemed lighter too, and I wasn’t sure if the highlights were from the sun, or from the artistry of a paid professional.
Her fingers twirled her clitoris in small circles as I pumped away, the feeling of cumming growing stronger yet again. “Fuck my pussy,” I heard Chloe say again, breathlessly. “Go on,” she said.
The rain pelted against the glass again, the wind sending a light chill over my skin. I threw my head back and closed my eyes, fearing that I was at risk of losing my concentration. My orgasm was approaching faster now, and it was at risk of ripping through me violently. I heard Chloe's taunting voice again, but I didn’t catch what she had said. I was too far gone now. I was going to explode.
When I felt her pussy contract and pulse on my shaft, it was all over. Chloe moaned loudly, her fingers frantic. My balls emptied themselves, feeling that sweet, long-awaited relief.
For a split second, I forgot who and where I was. I was not aware of anything. Time had come to a standstill. The earth had ceased to rotate. I was nothing and everything at the same time. When Chloe lifted her legs off my shoulders, I was bought back to reality.
I beat my wife home by only a few minutes. In a good mood from seeing her girlfriends, Mitzi asked after Chloe, wanting to know if she was well. Smugly, I thought to myself that now she was surely very well, but when I opened my mouth, all I told her was that yes, Chloe was doing fine.
Making a face of disgust as she walked past me, Mitzi then said, “God, you reek of her perfume. She must spray the entire house with that stuff.”
