The first time I met Chuck, my neighbor’s husband, I thought he was an asshole. He was so rude and crude that it seemed as though he hated women or something. Donna didn’t seem to mind his crudeness at all, and when I asked her about his shit attitude she explained that it was because he didn’t want other women to think they had a chance at him, since he was so in love with her. When I told her I thought he was really full of himself, she just laughed and said, “You wouldn’t say that if you knew how good in bed he is.” Then she looked at me almost balefully and added, “So hands off!”
I told her not to worry, since her husband wasn’t my type anyway. But something else she said stuck in my mind: “He’s so in love with me that he wouldn’t even look at you.” That got me a little pissed off. She shouldn’t have said that.
A few days later I found out where her husband worked, and around five o’clock I parked my car outside his workplace, put up the hood and pulled out a plug wire. When Chuck came out I told him I was having trouble with the car. Surprisingly, he was very nice. He found the loose wire immediately, and to thank him I offered him a ride home.
After a week of nonstop flirting with my next-door neighbor Melissa, which included some covert feels of her big tits and soft ass, I felt that I was getting close to scoring with her. And sure enough, one day, only 20 minutes after her husband pulled away in his truck on his way to work, she called me on the phone and asked me to come over to her house.
Melissa, tanned and redheaded and sexy as hell, met me at her front door. “This is our chance,” she said to me. “But we have to hurry. Teddy is only working a half day today.” I felt my cock throb, and I leaned in to kiss her.
“Do you have a rubber?” she asked when the kiss ended. I told her I didn’t. It had been a long time since I’d needed one, as my wife had had her tubes tied six years ago.
“Well,” Melissa said thoughtfully, “there’s one other option.” She went into the bathroom and returned with a jar of K-Y jelly. I instantly knew what she intended, and I was all for it. She took me into the bedroom, and my clothes came off in a flash.
I’m a 33-year-old housewife with one child. I’m five feet three, weight 140 pounds and have a 42D-29-40 figure. And every night, with my husband’s blessing, I put on a show for the neighborhood.
All the back yards that face the rear of our house have only low shrubs and plants growing in them, and have low fences or none at all, which affords excellent visibility. The patio doors that lead to our own yard are of floor-to-ceiling length. Every night at around 10:30 I pull the curtains back, and the show begins.
I start by peeling off my outer clothing and dancing for a while in stockings, garters, panties and bra. I dance, wiggle and bounce to the music playing on our stereo, and after a while I remove my bra, letting my tits swing and flop around. My tits are big, with big dark nipples, and each night I let the neighbors have a good look as I shake them and bounce them up and down, even bending over to swing them back and forth.
Curt and I have been best friends as long as I can remember. He was my best man when I got married, and I was his. We often work construction and contracting jobs together, and a few months ago we were hired by a local contractor to help him renovate a house.
Soon after we started, our boss hired a new person to help out—a young female named Harriet. Harriet was sort of a tomboy. She wore her hair in a ponytail and generally dressed in worn work clothes, casual jeans and heavy work shoes, like the rest of us. All this, combined with her rather down-to-earth speech and mannerisms, allowed her to blend in as basically just one of the guys, which is probably why I never found myself thinking of her in a sexual way.
One day as we broke for lunch, Harriet mentioned that she lived nearby, and that maybe we could eat lunch at her place for a change, as it would be more comfortable than our usual rough accommodations. Once we got there she got us each a beer, and we shot the shit for a while as we ate from our lunchboxes.
My lifestyle is not what most people would consider conventional. For some time now I have been living with two men, both of whom I love dearly.
I married Bud when I was just 18, but I soon realized that I was unable to keep my panties on whenever an appealing man put the make on me. My husband was no dummy; he confronted me after the first time I cheated on him. But for some reason he was turned on rather than angered by my infidelity, and he gave me his blessing to continue screwing my lover, as well as to take on others if I wanted to.
Earl was one of Bud’s oldest friends, and had been happily married until his wife’s untimely death. He had been mourning her for over a year when he came to stay with us one summer. I had the idea that I would like to reintroduce Earl to the joys of sex, which I was sure would cheer him up considerably. Bud had no objection to this, and when Earl arrived I made sure to dress in short shorts and brief halter tops in order to catch his attention.
I am a 25-year-old married woman, five feet two and 110 pounds, with shoulder-length brown hair. My husband Kris and I live in an apartment complex, and our next-door neighbors, Helen and Teddy, are nice people and good friends. A few weeks ago they were going out one night, and Helen asked me to sit with their babies. I was glad to help, while my husband stayed home to watch TV. The night went fairly well, and the babies were in bed and sound asleep by eight o’clock.
Helen and Teddy got home around one in the morning, and I was laughingly surprised to see Teddy carrying Helen in the door. She’d evidently had too much to drink. I helped him get her to bed, and as we tucked her in she mumbled drunkenly, “No pussy tonight, hon, I’m out of it.” I smiled at Teddy, and then Helen added before passing out, “Maybe you could fuck Jennifer here. What do you say to that, Jenny?”
“Yeah, sure, Helen,” I said, trying to humor her. “Just get some sleep.”
It’s hard to believe that a married woman in her mid-60s would ever have an experience that your readers might be interested in, but I have to tell you what happened to me while attending my old class reunion last month—and afterwards.
Even though my husband becomes aroused hearing about my past sexual experiences, I was reluctant to tell him that I’d cheated on him at this reunion. Returning home after it was over, I felt guilt-ridden and irritable. Aaron, my husband, noticed this and asked me what was wrong, but I just told him I was tired and would be fine.
This went on for several days, until I woke up in the middle of the night, after having an incredibly erotic dream, to find Aaron fucking my ass off. My husband is almost 16 years older than I am, but I am still often amazed at his sex drive and stamina. I now realized that he must have been screwing me for quite a while, as the sheet beneath me was soaked, as was my crotch and groin. I began to moan, and when Aaron saw that I was awake he paused for a moment, then thrust as deep as he could as he whispered, “I’ve waited forty-eight years to fuck you, Carol, and your pussy is everything I thought it would be.”
It was a Friday morning, and I was eagerly anticipating my husband’s return that evening from a week-long business trip. But just after lunch I got a call from him telling me there had been some complications, and he wouldn’t be home for another three or four days.
I went home depressed, facing a long weekend alone without any plans, and an itch in my pants that I had intended to have scratched that night. I fixed myself a light dinner, then took a bottle of my favorite wine upstairs to my bedroom, along with the latest issue of Penthouse Letters. When my man is away, Letters is one of my two best friends, the other one being a large, thick, 10-inch black dildo that I call Victor. I call it that because it reminds me of a tall black man of that name who I met a few years ago at a wedding reception.
After years of working dead end, low-paying waitress jobs, I felt I had to do something better. One day when I was home sick I watched a daytime talk show featuring some housewives who also worked as hookers. I couldn’t believe the money they made, and I decided to give it a try.
I started by losing a few pounds to accentuate my womanly charms. Next I bought some revealing, but not too trashy, clothes. I waited until my husband was away on business for a week or so before putting my experiment in motion.
We live in a lower-middle-class neighborhood, and I figured it wouldn’t be too difficult to drum up business once guys began talking about me and word got around. But I had to make a start. I was looking mostly for married men who wanted to get some on the side, or maybe college boys who still lived at home.
It happened at our daughter’s wedding. Rachel was a senior in college when she decided to marry her sweetheart, Carl. Naturally my wife Jessica and I went all out, putting in weeks of effort to make sure things went off without a hitch. And they did. The wedding was almost as beautiful as our daughter.
The reception was held in the hotel where we were staying. With the ceremony over, Jessica and I finally cut loose and relaxed. I spent most of my time drinking, while she celebrated by dancing up a storm. As she went from partner to partner, I noticed that she had drawn the attention of not just the best man, Doug, but four of the groomsmen as well. Their names were Ralph, Tom, Phil and Kip, all of them fraternity brothers of Carl.
While my wife, at 45, is still a very attractive woman, with ample breasts that are still firm, and long legs that she works hard to keep toned, I was still surprised that such young men would focus so much of their interest on her, when there were so many girls closer to their age floating around. Jessica certainly didn’t complain, though; she seemed to be reveling in the attention. I noticed that some of the guys were dancing very close to her, and I could have sworn that some hands strayed to a few of her more intimate areas; but since she seemed to take no notice, I figured I was mistaken.
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