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Blue Balls 2: The Cure
By
dback

Blue Balls 2: The Cure

In a follow-up to Blue Balls, Mr.B’s IOU is paid up in full by his gorgeous, slutty neighbor.
For over a week since she gave me her IOU for some unspecified sexual favor, I hadn’t seen anything of my neighbor, Suzanne; nor Angelo - her boyfriend with the small penis but the powerful sports car. I wasn’t ballsy enough to remind her of her promise, but I thought about it a lot.

Then, suddenly one afternoon, I heard her running across her lawn towards my garage. I looked up from my work bench, and there she was, dressed - if you could call it that - in her regular next-to-nothing bikini. Its tiny cloth triangles miraculously managed to cover her nipples even though her tits were leaping up and down as if she were starring on TV in Baywatch, running along the beach in slo-mo.

“Mr. B!” she called out. “How’s this for an idea?”

Her tits stopped jiggling for a moment and I was able to look her in the face.

“What are you talking about, Suzanne?”

“My IOU! I’ve figured out how to pay you back for helping me out last week.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” I responded automatically, kicking myself as I said it. I meant the exact opposite.

“No, I owe you one, Mr. B,” she insisted, “and I’ve worked it all out. Being a voyeur, you’ll love it.”

I started to explain to her that I wasn’t simply a voyeur, that I actually liked all kinds of sex, but she wouldn’t hear any of it, and went on telling me her plan.

“I’m going to sunbathe out by the pool, and you can go up to your back bedroom with your binoculars and watch me from there!”

Oh no! I couldn’t believe it. She knew where I always went to spy on her! I thought I’d been so careful not to be seen.

But the amazing thing was that she seemed so comfortable with the idea of being watched. And then I realized - of course - she was a big time exhibitionist! We were a perfect pair, just like Jack Sprat and his wife.

“Then,” she went on excitedly, “at 5 o’clock, Angelo is coming over, and we’re going to have sex by my pool and you can watch!”

“But what about Angelo? What if he doesn’t want to?”

“He will! I’ll make him. Plus which, I’ve told him the plan and he’s already agreed to it. Not about you, of course. Just about us fucking by the pool. See you later!”

She turned and pranced off towards her pool, leaving me with a delicious tingling in my balls as I stared at her undulating, bare ass which was clad in nothing more than the skinniest of thongs. In fact, the strap was made of clear plastic and was virtually invisible.

Then she abruptly stopped, turned back to me and called out, “No, it’s the other way around. I won’t see you later - you’ll see me! And by the way, stay away from the window. I told Angelo no one could overlook us while we fuck.”

The invitation could not be plainer. Permission to ogle! I wondered briefly if that might remove some of the voyeur’s thrill of being caught, but it turned out I had already been caught! So I dismissed the idea, closed up my garage, went inside my house, found my binoculars, climbed the stairs and went into the bedroom at the back. I opened the window a little at the bottom, closed the blinds everywhere else and sat down to enjoy the view.

Suzanne was lying in the sun, face down on a towel. She had already undone her little bra strap, and I had a lovely side view of her practically naked body. I’d only been watching for a few seconds when she lifted her chest and her left tit swung into view.

I wasn’t looking at her face, so I was surprised when I heard her calling out to me, the sound coming clearly through my open window.

“Mr. B! Can you see me OK, Mr. B?”

I leaned forward and answered her. “Thanks, Suzanne, I can see you just fine; no problem.”

“I can’t see you; you’re really good at this!”

I wasn’t quite sure if being a good voyeur was a good thing or a bad thing, so I just called back, “Thanks! I’ll come back at 5.”

The truth was, I didn’t leave. I sat there drinking in the close up view of her luscious, curvaceous body. My binoculars were strong, 7 X 35, and every time Suzanne turned over or sat up, I focused on her nipples, specially her right one which I had fondled only a few days before. My balls started to vibrate of their own accord, but I was determined to save myself for later when I could enjoy watching her getting fucked by Angelo, this time in full daylight.

Her cell phone rang. Its ring tone was some pop song I’d never even heard. She got up and walked away from me towards where she’d left her purse on the ground. Bending over at the waist, she reached down and picked it up. But she didn’t stand up again right away, and I realized that she held this position for my sake, showing off her wonderful ass to me.

“Thank you, Suzanne,” I said to myself as I listened to her side of the conversation.

“Angelo! How soon will you be here? I can’t wait - I’m wet already! ... What? ... Why not? ... That’s a stupid, fucking excuse, you little fart-face. You promised you’d be here at 5, I had it all planned... No, I told you, it’s totally private, you fucking douche-bag. Jesus! What kind of a fuckwit do you think I am... I’m a what? How dare you call me that?

As she yelled at him on the phone, I saw her other hand slip down inside the front of her tiny thong and start urgently rubbing her muff. I remembered how she’d told me she got really turned on when she got angry. She was angry, okay, and letting him have it.

“You know what you are? You’re a suckass and a cockass, you mini cocked wanker!”

Her repertoire of swearwords was quite amazing, but after a while she started to repeat many of the same words. I could see that she was trying her best to keep up the intensity of her anger so she could get off, but he must have hung up on her because she slowed down and then stopped the yelling altogether.

Not wanting to embarrass her in this state, I felt it was time I stopped watching. So I went downstairs, grabbed a beer from the fridge and had just settled down in front of the TV, when my phone rang. It was Suzanne.

“Oh, hi Suzanne! Are you OK?”

“No, I’m not, Mr. B.” Her voice was sobbing. “Could you come over for a moment?”

“Sure. I’ll be right there.”

My cock reacted faster than my brain. It was already trying to break through my zipper while my brain was struggling to figure out what she wanted me for. Perhaps she needed to hug me again and I’d get to hold her tit. Even if she’d put her little bikini bra back on, it wouldn’t take much to push the tiny triangle of cloth to one side and roll her nipple between my fingers.

I stumbled out the side door of my house, my mind blazing, managed to clear the picket fence and headed towards Suzanne’s pool, trying to adjust the bulge in my pants as I went. There she was, leaning way back in a wicker chair with her legs spread wide, whacking away at her snatch. She wasn’t sobbing now; she was panting.

“Mr. B. Are you still young enough to get it up? I’ve got to have a stiff one!”

Young enough, indeed! What a rude question! I didn’t answer. Instead, I unzipped and brazenly dropped my pants right in front of her. My rapidly rising boner leapt forwards. She gave an excited shriek, jumped up, bent over the back of the chair, spread her legs and pointed her wet and swollen pussy at me.

“Fuck me, Mr. B. Fuck me now, hard! Doggy style!” she said, growling through clenched teeth.

With my pants around my ankles, I hopped forwards, and steadying myself on her beautiful ass, plunged my one-eyed snake into her sopping hole as the memories of years of erotic lovemaking with my sensuous, late wife flooded back into every part of my body.

What a feeling! Oh, how I’d missed that feeling that was now spreading outwards from my groin. And what a sight! This over-sexed vixen, naked on the end of my blue-veined sausage, pushing back at me, twisting her torso to look round at me, encouraging me with deep, guttural grunts as my cahonies slapped loudly on her skin.

“Oh my god,” she cried. “You’re not just a voyeur! I had no idea, Mr. B! You’re a fucking pneumatic drill---”

Her song of praise for my sexual prowess was interrupted by the squealing brakes from what we both realized was Angelo’s Lamborghini pulling up in the street.

“Oh my god, it’s Angelo,” gasped Suzanne. “Run, Mr. B.”

But this time, I was too far gone to retreat to the safety of the hiding place in my garage. I was staying. No more cases of blue balls for me! I was going to get my just rewards from my slutty neighbor. Angelo could just wait his turn.

I heard him gingerly tiptoeing along the gravel pathway, calling out softly to Suzanne as he rounded the side of the house.

“Suzanne, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean what I said. You’re not a slut. You’re a very nice girl. I’m sorry I called you a slut.”

I looked over as he came into view. At the same moment, he spotted the two of us and saw what we were up to. He stopped short with his mouth wide open.

“Oh my god, Suzanne. You are a slut!”

“Shut up, Angelo! Get over here,” she commanded.

Angelo dumbly obeyed orders and inched forwards, his face a picture of shock.

“Drop your pants! I need to suck on your little prick!”

Robotically he did what she wanted, exposing his paltry package. She reached for it and dragging him closer, popped his mini member into her mouth. Even that didn’t wake him from his stupor. He stared vacantly at my busy piston as I continued without pause, ramming into his girlfriend.

At last he began to come to his senses.

“Suzanne!” he blustered. “Who is this man?”

“It’s Mr. B.” she volunteered, taking his sorry thin penis out of her mouth for a second. “Shake hands! Say hello!”

He didn’t shake my hand, and I didn’t offer him mine. I was too involved in alternately squeezing Suzanne’s ass, pulling her hips towards me, or leaning forward to cup both of her tits. Frankly, I was in heaven and didn’t want a moment’s interruption.

“But...” he stuttered, “but he’s not wearing a condom! I thought you said that was your rule.”

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right,” she replied. “Mr. B. Would you mind? Do you have a condom?”

Me? A condom? Not likely. I hadn’t even had sex with anyone for well over two years.

“Sorry,” I answered, “no, I don’t.”

Suzanne looked up at Angelo. “Give him one of yours!”

Again Angelo had a hard time talking. “But... but mine...”

Suzanne saved him from having to say it.

“Yeah, I know! Yours are ‘Snug Fit.’ Mr. B. needs ‘Extra Large.’ Sorry, Mr. B.... but a rule is a rule. I don’t want to get knocked up.”

I heard what she said, but I was way past the point of no return. I wasn’t about to pull out for a stupid little rule like that. Luckily, an alternative was at hand. I had always wanted to try anal, but my late wife would never allow it. Suzanne, on the other hand, reacted happily when I re-aimed and pressed against her bunghole. Lubrication was flowing everywhere, and I slipped in easily.

Suzanne sucked hard on Angelo, and grunting louder and louder as she matched my every thrust, she came with a whoop that the whole neighborhood must have recognized as a triumphant climax. The tightness and the excitement of doing anal for the first time were too much for me. Far too soon, I followed Suzanne’s lead, and a total body euphoric vibration swept through me that must have loosened all the fillings in my teeth.

Jism flew everywhere. Angelo jumped back out of range as a long strand flew up Suzanne’s spine, leaving a track from the crack of her gorgeous rump up to the back of her neck. The next few strings were not as accurately aimed as my knees started to buckle.

I was pretty proud. Not a bad load for an old man!

“Thanks, Suzanne, sorry about the mess,” I whispered to her as I slowly recovered.

“Don’t worry,” she whispered back. “Angelo knows how to clean up.”

Ignoring Angelo’s whimpering protestations, I reached down and pulled up my pants and sauntered off towards the picket fence, stepped unsteadily over it and went in through the side door of my house. There, in my living room, was my tepid beer. I raised it high and made a toast.

“To the best cure for blue balls!”

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