$name1 fucks her married neighbour over the kitchen counter and takes his load while his wife is at yoga.
The fence between the gardens was only five feet high. $name1 had been leaning on it in a thin sundress for twenty minutes, watching Tom mow the lawn with his shirt off, sweat gleaming on a chest that belonged on a man ten years younger than forty-two.
She was thirty-nine, married, bored out of her skull, and soaking wet. Her husband was in Manchester until Thursday. Tom’s wife did yoga every Tuesday at eleven. It was eleven-twenty. Perfect.
“You look thirsty,” $name1 called over the fence.
Tom killed the mower. His eyes dropped to the outline of her nipples through the cotton. “Do I?”
“Come over for a drink.” She didn’t wait for an answer. She left the back door open and walked inside, already peeling the straps of her dress down her shoulders.
He arrived smelling of cut grass and heat. $name1 poured him iced water, then took the glass out of his hand and set it on the counter with a soft click. “I’m not offering you water, Tom. I’m offering you my cunt.”
“Claire’sā”
“At yoga for another forty minutes. I know her schedule better than you do.” She peeled the sundress over her head. No bra. No knickers. Just bare tits, a trimmed cunt already glistening, and the look of a woman who had decided to stop pretending. “Fuck me before she gets home. I’ve been touching myself watching you mow for weeks.”
Tom made a broken sound and crossed the kitchen in three strides. He hiked her onto the counter, spread her thighs wide, and shoved two thick fingers into her without preamble. She was dripping. He groaned like a man punched, dropped to his knees on the tile, and buried his face in her cunt.
$name1 gripped the edge of the granite and rolled her hips against his mouth. His tongue was rough and eager, licking her open, sucking her clit, fucking into her like he’d been starving for the neighbour’s wife for months. Maybe he had. She’d seen the way he watched her peg washing on the line, the way his eyes lingered when she sunbathed.
“Yes ā right there ā fucking eat me,” she hissed. “Make the cheating wife come on your tongue.”
He made her come in under two minutes, thighs shaking around his head, cunt pulsing against his mouth. Then he stood, shoved his shorts down, and the thick cock that sprang free made her mouth water. Veined, hard, leaking at the tip. Bigger than her husband’s by a clear inch.
She hopped off the counter, turned, and bent over it, presenting her arse and her soaked slit. “Put it in. Hard. I don’t want gentle. I want to feel you for days.”
Tom gripped her hips and slammed home in one thrust. $name1 cried out ā loud, filthy, uncaring who might hear over the fence. He fucked her like a man who’d been denied, pounding deep, balls slapping her clit, hands mauling her hanging tits. The counter creaked. A mug rattled into the sink and cracked.
“Your wife’s mat is still warm,” $name1 gasped over her shoulder. “And you’re balls-deep in the neighbour. How does that feel, Tom?”
“Like I should have done this years ago.” He spanked her arse hard enough to sting and fucked her harder, the wet slap of skin echoing through the kitchen.
She came again with her cheek pressed to the cool stone, cunt clenching around him, moaning his name like a prayer and a curse. Tom pulled out, spun her, lifted her easily, and carried her to the sofa. He sat and had her straddle him. $name1 sank down onto his cock with a shuddering sigh and rode him hard, tits bouncing in his face. He sucked a nipple, bit the other, thumbs spreading her open so he could watch his cock disappear into her married cunt over and over.
“I’m going to fill you,” he warned, voice rough. “Claire will be home soon.”
“Do it. Cream me. I want to drip while I hang the washing later. I want to feel you leaking out of me when I wave at her over the fence.”
Tom grabbed her hips and thrust up, burying himself to the root as he came with a groan that shook through both of them. Hot pulses flooded her. $name1 ground down, milking every drop, then kept rocking until she came a third time around his softening cock, leaking onto his thighs in sticky ropes.
They stayed locked together, breathing hard. Tom’s phone buzzed on the floor ā Claire texting she was leaving the studio.
$name1 lifted off him slowly. Cum slid down her inner thigh in a thick trail. She scooped some with two fingers and painted it across her lips, then kissed him messy and deep so he could taste what he’d left inside her.
“Same time next Tuesday?” she asked, already knowing the answer.
Tom looked wrecked and already half-hard again. “I’ll leave the gate unlocked. Wear that dress.”
$name1 pulled her sundress back on with nothing underneath, kissed him once more, and walked him to the fence. She waved cheerfully as Claire’s car turned into the drive three houses down. Tom vaulted back into his own garden looking like a man who’d just fucked his neighbour’s wife over a kitchen counter.
Which, of course, he had. $name1 smiled, closed the door, and went to shower ā slowly, fingers in her cum-slick cunt, already counting the days until next Tuesday, already planning how she’d bend over the washing line and let him take her outside where anyone might see.
