1 comments/ 126362 views/ 7 favorites Rites of Spring Ch. 1 By: Bob Peale Author's Note: This story may not be reproduced in any form for profit without the written permission of the author. This story may be freely distributed with this notice attached, as long as no charge is made for it and it isn't changed in any way. If it is archived or displayed, it is done so with the understanding that the author will have unrestricted access to the archive or posting. Additional stories can be found at www.literotica.com. Just go to the Stories section, select Indexed By Author, and look for Bob Peale. While you're at it, check out some of the other great stories posted by other authors! Please address all feedback, inquiries, marriage proposals, etc. to the author at mischief1@bigfoot.com. Disclaimer: This story is a work fiction. None of the characters or events herein are based on real people, either living or dead. It was produced for the entertainment of ADULTS ONLY, and contains descriptions of explicit sex. If you are not an adult, or if reading stories of a sexual nature upsets you, do not read any further! By reading further, you certify that you have accessed/requested access to this material willfully, and that you are an adult 21 years of age or older. You also certify that you are NOT a city, county, state, or federal law enforcement officer, official of the United States Postal Service, acting in the capacity of a representative of a telecommunications firm, and that, to your knowledge, this material does not offend the standards in your area, nor is it in violation of any of local, state, or federal law. No animals were harmed in the manufacture of this product. ******* Karen stretched lazily, arching her back to work out the sleep-induced stiffness, while she listened to Charles putter around downstairs. From the sound of things, he was washing dishes, which was as much a part of the ritual as everything else. She couldn't remember when it had started, only that he'd done it at the other house, and was pretty sure he'd done it at the townhouse as well. If nothing else, Charles was a creature of habit. It was a trait that served him well in his position at the bank, but made him an absolute bore at home. Take the ritual. Each April, on the third Saturday, Charles rose at exactly 6:00am, pulled on his college sweatshirt (the one he'd gotten his sophomore year), along with the same faded pair of jeans and beat up sneakers, went downstairs and made a breakfast of pancakes and sausage. While he ate, her read the paper, and stared out at the grass in the backyard, confirming that it was healthy and that, in fact, it was finally time for the first cut of the season. Several years ago, Karen had risen and joined him at breakfast; this deviated from the ritual, and Charles made no secret of the fact that he felt she was intruding. Outside, Charles would spend a few minutes testing his equipment and doing any last minute fine-tuning, although he'd already had each piece serviced and/or replaced two weeks ago. He had a collection of garden tools that would make a professional jealous, always the best and most innovative that they could afford. Karen rolled over and looked at the bedside clock: it read 8:17 am. At precisely 8:30 am, Charles would fire up lawnmower. When she heard the roar of the engine she hopped out of bed and shucked off her nightgown. Standing in front of the mirror she gave her body the once over and was pleased by what she saw. No supermodel, she still thought she looked good for a 42 year-old woman. Never one for fad diets or crazy exercise plans, she did watch what she ate and tried to get to the gym at least twice a week. Her skin was still smooth and relatively wrinkle free, the color of caramel, with a rich, healthy glow. Her legs were thin (but not skinny) and joined by a dusty brown patch of pubic hair that she kept closely cropped, so that if you looked hard enough you could see the pout of her labia underneath. Her belly was firm (not the artificial tightness reserved for world class athletes and those that prayed at the alter of liposuction), above which sat full curvy breasts, the size of baseballs, sagging slightly against her ribcage and capped by dark almost black nipples that grabbed your attention, especially from below sheer light colored material or peeking out of a blouse or bikini top. Her mouth was full and generous, and the creases in the corners of her eyes gave her the ability to switch from jovial to severe in a twinkle depending on what the occasion called for. She quickly brushed her hair back into a tight bun (her preferred hairstyle), and ran a hand over her body, enjoying the smoothness of her skin and the warm touch of her fingers. The lawnmower stopped and she snapped her head around to look at the clock, fearful that she'd wasted valuable time. It was too early for Charles to be done; he must be adjusting something. Not wanting to miss her opportunity, she pushed the easy chair over to the picture window that overlooked the backyard, went into her closet and pulled out the locked file box that had her toys (she'd told Charles it was client materials). Inside was: several egg shaped vibrators, ranging in size from 3" long and 1" in diameter to 7" long and 2" in diameter; a flesh colored vibrator, six inches long and lifelike; a tube of water based lubricant; and a cordless speakerphone. She walked over to the nightstand and swapped out the speakerphone for the regular, corded extension that normally sat there, punched the button to engage the speaker, dialed a series of numbers, and walked back over to the chair facing the window. "Hello?" a male voice answered tentatively. "Michael, it's Karen." Her tone was conversational. The telephone was a good one, and had no trouble picking up her voice, even from this distance. "Hello, Mrs. Thompson," Michael said. He sounded anxious, and Karen smiled at the fact that he still addressed her so formally. She took two deep breaths. "Where are you?" "I'm right here!" "No dear, where are you physically." She'd long since accepted the fact that he wasn't the sharpest tool in the kit. "Oh. I'm in my parents' bedroom. It has the best line of sight." He sounded proud of himself, as if he'd accomplished some awe-inspiring goal. Michael Gibson lived with his parents in a townhouse community adjacent to the Thompsons' subdivision. The Gibsons' townhouse was part of a set that actually bordered the back of the Thompsons' property. The way they were configured, the back of the Gibsons' home faced the back of the Thompsons' home, with a four foot high fence marking the boundary between the Thompsons' property and a large grassy common area shared by the townhomes. Michael was infamous in the Thompsons' community, the local "problem child". When the Thompsons first moved in eight years ago, he was only fifteen and had already been a guest at Juvenile Hall for a variety of offenses ranging from mailbox polo to sugar in the gas tank of people who had "done him wrong". His parents were older (now in their mid fifties), and Michael was an only child, a combination that greatly contributed to his disposition. Despite their difference in ages, the Thompsons grew to be close friends with the Gibsons, and consequently spent a good deal of time around Michael. Karen discovered that Michael had a crush on her his senior year of high school. She was exotic to him; there were not a lot of black people in their neighborhood, and almost none in the section that she and Charles lived in, where homes started at $450,000 and continued into the seven figures. Also, she was 37 at the time; older and wiser than the girls he fooled around with but younger than his parents. She had a nice body, drove a fast sports car, and always tried to be nice to him despite his reputation, placing a hand on his arm when she talked to him and speaking to him like the adult he thought he was. He was lucky enough to get accepted to a small private college in Oregon, nowhere near Ivy League caliber, but far better than either he or his parents had expected. Still, it had taken him a full five years to earn his degree. The fact that he even graduated at all was due in no small part to the fact that he discovered football during his second year. In high school he'd never displayed any focus or talent for anything more organized than mayhem, and a lot of that had carried through to the beginning of his college career. In the gym one day a coach noticed three things: he was very agile, very competitive, and most importantly, he was a shitload stronger than most people around him. Playing to his ego, the coach convinced him to come to tryouts, and Michael soon found himself a member of the varsity football team. He excelled; not enough to go pro, but enough to distinguish himself in the conference and get all the pussy he wanted on campus. Karen hadn't even known he was home until she bumped into him three weeks ago in the lobby of her building. She was in charge of the consumer products division of a marketing research firm downtown, anything from fabric softener to film developing. Unlike a telemarketing firm, her company paid people to attend focus groups in its offices so that people could collect feedback. She'd been on her way to lunch when she collided with him getting off the elevator. "Mrs. Thompson!" Michael called excitedly as she brushed past him without recognizing him. Karen turned around annoyed, then smiled when she registered who it was. "Hello Michael. What are you doing here?" "Apparently getting rejected for a job," he grumbled good-naturedly. "I had an interview with a consulting firm down here and barely said two words before they let me know that they didn't think there was a 'fit'. Hardly time to tell, if you ask me." "I'm sorry, Michael," she said sincerely. "Look, I'm not having so hot a day myself. I was just on my way to lunch; why don't you join me?" You would have thought she'd just told him she was giving him a million dollars. A grin broke out on his face from ear to ear as he ran to catch up with her. At the restaurant, it was clear that both of them were uncomfortable with Michael's elevation to "adult" status. To cut the tension, Karen ordered a glass of white wine and insisted that Michael order a beer. By the time the waiter took their lunch orders, they'd each had two drinks and were considerably more relaxed. While they ate she studied him, impressed with how much he'd changed. His red hair was cut in the casual tousled style of the unemployed, but he'd been smart enough not to grow the sideburns or goatee that were popular among the college set these days. His pale blue eyes were wide and a little too close together, but they were alert and unguarded, as only someone just starting out in life can manage. Freckles dotted a nose that had been broken a few times, and his cheekbones were almost too prominent for a man. His lips were thin, barely visible unless he smiled, and his jaw line was model perfect. His suit was cut well, and Karen found herself wondering what he looked like under it. That had to be the wine talking. After lunch Karen paid the check, waving off Michael's protests, then slipped her arm through his and led him out of the restaurant. She felt his well muscled arm tremble slightly and was pleased that she could have that effect on him. During the walk back to her office building she "accidentally" stumbled a few times, falling against him and pressing her body against him. Each time he inhaled sharply, especially when her breasts rubbed against him. To Be Continued... Rites of Spring Ch. 2 Author's Note: This story may not be reproduced in any form for profit without the written permission of the author. This story may be freely distributed with this notice attached, as long as no charge is made for it and it isn't changed in any way. If it is archived or displayed, it is done so with the understanding that the author will have unrestricted access to the archive or posting. Additional stories can be found at www.literotica.com. Just go to the Stories section, select Indexed By Author, and look for Bob Peale. While you're at it, check out some of the other great stories posted by other authors! Please address all feedback, inquiries, marriage proposals, etc. to the author at mischief1@bigfoot.com. Disclaimer: This story is a work fiction. None of the characters or events herein are based on real people, either living or dead. It was produced for the entertainment of ADULTS ONLY, and contains descriptions of explicit sex. If you are not an adult, or if reading stories of a sexual nature upsets you, do not read any further! By reading further, you certify that you have accessed/requested access to this material willfully, and that you are an adult 21 years of age or older. You also certify that you are NOT a city, county, state, or federal law enforcement officer, official of the United States Postal Service, acting in the capacity of a representative of a telecommunications firm, and that, to your knowledge, this material does not offend the standards in your area, nor is it in violation of any of local, state, or federal law. No animals were harmed in the manufacture of this product. ******* "Do you have an extra resume?" she asked when they were back in the lobby of her building. He nodded. "I brought extras for the interview. Why?" he asked, handing her one. "I thought maybe I could pass it around my firm, if you'd like." She tried to sound casual, even as his eyes widened so much she thought they would pop right out of his head. "Tell you what," she added. "Let's go to my office and look it over." Upstairs, Karen took it as a sign that her assistant was still out to lunch. She ushered Michael in, closed the door behind them, kicked off her shoes and took a seat behind her desk. Feigning intense interest in his resume, she propped both stockinged feet up on her desk, which allowed her skirt to ride all the way up to the crotch of her panties. She heard him gulp loudly but said nothing, choosing instead to spread her legs and bend one knee, rubbing her foot along the edge of her desk as she read. When she felt that she'd teased him enough she looked up. He was standing in front of her, sweating noticeably. "Come here," was all she said to him. Obediently he moved in front of her, shaking. He had a good idea what was about to happen, but he was still having trouble believing it. She reached out and tugged down his straining zipper, artfully slipping her hand inside. She was startled to feel the warm satiny touch of his naked, hardening member. "Still the college boy," she chuckled, making his face redden with self-consciousness despite his arousal. Carefully, Karen freed his cock and slid her hand up and down its length several times until he was hard. His tremble was more pronounced as the realization washed over him that his oldest fantasy was about to come true. She unbuckled his belt and slid his pants down around his ankles, motioning for him to step free of them. His enflamed cock jutted out invitingly from between the shirttails of his starched white interview shirt, his tie and jacket still on. "Your turn," Karen coaxed, leaning back in her chair and spreading her legs. Michael stood frozen in place for a few moments, catatonic, until his reflexes took over from his cognitive brain. She purred encouragement as he dropped to his knees and slid her hose down to her knees. The smoothness of her skin, or at least coming in contact with it, restored a semblance of reason to him. "What if someone catches us?" he asked huskily. "I doubt we'll be bothered this time of day," she answered, guiding his hands back to her hips. He stole a furtive glance at the door and the plate glass window on one wall even as his hands made contact with the silky material of her panties. The cool material banished any reservation that might have been festering, and several tugs later he was staring close up at the pussy that had been in his thoughts and dreams for the past 5 years. The tight curly hair that covered it was already wet with excitement, the edges of her labia puffy and darker than the rest of her sex. "Switch places with me," she commanded. No sooner had he settled into her chair than she was on him, legs straddling his hips, her pussy easily swallowing his shaft. She rocked back and forth slowly, pressing her chest into his face as she delighted in the feel of him in her. Far too quickly she felt him stiffen under her, followed by a disappointed groan as he shot his wad inside her. She gripped him tight, excited by the feel of the young cock inside her. "I'm so sorry Mrs. Thompson," Michael whined dejectedly. "I couldn't help it; I got so excited." "Not a problem," she laughed, kissing him. "We're not even close to done yet." Ignoring the surprised look on his face, Karen slid back and dropped to her knees, taking Michael's softening cock in her mouth. She licked the head several times before swallowing it deep. She'd never sucked Charles' cock after sex, so the taste of herself on Michael was both strange and exciting. Actually, this was the first time she'd ever tasted pussy (albeit mixed with cum and cock), and was surprised to find that it wasn't so bad. It was salty and tangy, but it also had a sweetness to it. The fact that she now had his cock in her mouth after he'd just been inside her had the desired affect on Michael. She could already feel him starting to swell again. As she continued to work on him with her mouth she reached down and began fingering herself. "Oh Fuck!" he growled when Karen took his semi-hard member all the way in her throat, mashing her face into his pelvis where his pubic hair should have been if he hadn't gotten drunk graduation morning and passed out while his fraternity brothers shaved his cock and balls. He was only now starting to sprout reddish stubble, hence the reason for the lack of underwear; it had proven to be incredibly uncomfortable. Once he was hard again she climbed back on him, this time with her back to him and her palms on the desk. Using just the muscles in her legs she slowly raised and lowered her hips, pulling almost all the way off and jamming him as deep in her as he would go. He reached up and grabbed her hips so that he could control her speed. The sloppy wet sounds of their lovemaking were replaced by the insistent buzzing of the telephone on her desk. Karen reached out and depressed a flashing button on the console. "Hello," she breathed heavily. "Karen?" a female voice asked, concern in her voice. "Are you okay?" "Oh, hi Maria. I was just exercising," Karen said breathlessly. "I lost track of the time." Michael wasn't sure why she'd even bothered to answer the phone, but he was determined to get her to end the call. Quietly, he reached around and fingered her clit feverishly, causing her legs to buckle slightly. "We could reschedule if you like," Maria offered. "No!" Karen gasped, and Michael wasn't sure who she'd been directing the outburst at, since it coincided with him working a finger between her legs. "We can go ahead if you don't mind me finishing up," she panted. While Maria droned on about a market study, Karen and Michael continued to fuck in long, slow strokes for almost thirty minutes. Like sucking him after sex, the thrill of fucking a man almost twenty years her junior and being this close to discovery was making her so excited that she was surprised she hadn't cum yet. Suddenly, the sound of voices filled the office and they both froze. Michael was terrified to see that several people were standing at the plate glass wall to Karen's office and looking at them. "What's all that noise?" Maria asked. "Nothing," Karen sighed, relaxing. "There's a focus group starting, and the microphone speakers in my office are locked in the "On" position. The sound is a little invasive, especially when people stand too close to the mirror. I never get used to that; if I didn't know better, I'd swear they could see in." She'd added that last bit for Michael, sensing his discomfort. Maria on the phone and a room full of people in plain view proved to be too much for Karen. She increased the speed of her thrusts, slamming up and down on him, using the voices coming from the other room to mask the sounds of their sexplay. Realizing that he was way out of his league, Michael just held on, letting Karen control the motion and intensity. Her orgasm near, Karen grabbed one of his hands and put it back on her clit. He grabbed the hard little nub and squeezed. Karen bucked violently, throwing her body back onto him hard and causing the chair to crash into the wall. "Karen!" Maria shouted. "I-I'm still here," she muttered shakily. "I just lost my balance. Give me a sec, will you?" Michael continued squeezing her clit as he rammed upwards, making Karen's teeth chatter. He maneuvered so that they were facing the two-way mirror full on, and Karen began thrashing her head from side to side as her orgasm finally started. She jammed a hand in her mouth, trying to keep from letting loose a groan that she could never explain to Maria. He kept pounding into her until she fell limp against him, spent, his rigid cock still in deep. When her strength finally returned she rose reluctantly and wobbled over to her desk. "Sounds great, Maria," she cut in. " Look, let me call you back tomorrow after they fix these damn speakers. I'm having a devil of a time concentrating." She disconnected without waiting for a response. She turned back to face him. "Oh, look at that," she said, gesturing toward his cock standing up red and swollen from his lap. "I seem to have left you hanging." She walked over to him and straddled his lap again, facing him. His cock slid in all the way up to the base and she leaned forward and kissed him, sliding her tongue between his lips as she ground her pussy on him. She clenched the walls of her cunt tightly, massaging his cock with them, until he let out a small whimper and she felt the warm sticky wetness of his cum inside her. She stood up before he could stop spurting and a small dollop of cum landed on her skirt. She scooped it up with one finger and sucked it clean. "Mmmm, mmmm. Now get dressed dear; I really do have to get back to work." He did so hurriedly, arranging his cock so that it didn't poke out so much while he waited for it to soften. The second hard on had been so much stronger than the first, yet she'd still been able to make him cum with almost no effort. His ears were still ringing, but that didn't take away the fact that he'd finally lived out his fantasy. "I have an idea," Karen said once he'd gotten himself together. She'd taken her chair back over to her desk and was seated in it. "You're looking for work; we need scribes for our focus groups. You could come work here, at least until you found something more to your liking." Michael swallowed hard. He was already regretting what had happened, couldn't imagine looking Mr. Thompson or his parents in the eye again. "How much does it pay?" he heard himself ask. Karen smiled. "Ten dollars an hour, forty hours a week, some night work." She spread her legs and ran a finger along her still dripping slit. "Plus benefits." He stared at her, feeling the crotch of his pants grow tight again. Jesus! He'd never been hard this many times this quickly before. He looked up and she caught his eye. "And I think there might be a lot of benefits. Now get out of here, otherwise I'm going to blow this whole day. I'll see you on Monday, bright and early at 8:30am." Michael collected his things and slipped out the door. When he was gone, Karen sat back in her chair, satisfied. This had definitely turned into a wonderful day. The next three weeks proved to be some of the most exhausting weeks in his young life. Every chance Karen got she had him between her legs, sucking and fucking in between meetings, after focus groups, during focus groups, with people waiting to see her. Karen was more active sexually than she'd been in ten years. To Be Continued... Rites of Spring Ch. 3 Author's Note: This story may not be reproduced in any form for profit without the written permission of the author. This story may be freely distributed with this notice attached, as long as no charge is made for it and it isn't changed in any way. If it is archived or displayed, it is done so with the understanding that the author will have unrestricted access to the archive or posting. Additional stories can be found at www.literotica.com. Just go to the Stories section, select Indexed By Author, and look for Bob Peale. While you're at it, check out some of the other great stories posted by other authors! Please address all feedback, inquiries, marriage proposals, etc. to the author at mischief1@bigfoot.com. Disclaimer: This story is a work fiction. None of the characters or events herein are based on real people, either living or dead. It was produced for the entertainment of ADULTS ONLY, and contains descriptions of explicit sex. If you are not an adult, or if reading stories of a sexual nature upsets you, do not read any further! By reading further, you certify that you have accessed/requested access to this material willfully, and that you are an adult 21 years of age or older. You also certify that you are NOT a city, county, state, or federal law enforcement officer, official of the United States Postal Service, acting in the capacity of a representative of a telecommunications firm, and that, to your knowledge, this material does not offend the standards in your area, nor is it in violation of any of local, state, or federal law. No animals were harmed in the manufacture of this product. ******* "Are you on their bed?" Karen asked playfully. "No, I couldn't see you well enough," he answered honestly. "I ended up pulling a chair up to the window and grabbing Dad's binoculars. Now it's like I'm there with you." "Really?" Karen was intrigued. "How many fingers am I holding?" she asked, sliding two into her rapidly dampening pussy. "Two," came the quiet response. She was also aware of the sound of flesh rubbing against flesh coming through the line. "Michael," Karen chided. "Are you beating off?" "Oh God, I can't help it Mrs. Thompson. I can see the pink inside you!" he moaned. "I'll make a deal with you; you can cum once if you promise to let me hear everything." She could almost hear him nod enthusiastically. "I'll even help out." Picking up the flesh colored vibrator and turning it on, Karen began tracing slow, deliberate spirals on her breasts, starting at the edge of her areola and corkscrewing toward the pouting nipple. "Can you see alright Michael?" she called. The only answer she got was an increased sound of him jerking. Outside, she could see Charles approaching the back corner of the yard. In about five minutes, he would be directly across from where she lay sprawled out, and just under where Michael sat in his parents' bedroom. Nipples throbbing pleasingly, Karen put the surrogate cock aside and picked up the smallest egg shaped vibrator. She licked and sucked on it to get it wet, then switched it on and slid it into her ass until only the cord dangled free. She collapsed on the lounge, legs spread wide and the heels of her feet pressed against her ass cheeks. She was new to anal play, having only convinced Charles to give it a try two weeks ago. She still required a slight adjustment period after anything was inserted in her ass, but Michael's moans encouraged her to move faster than she normally would have. She was close to cumming, and with any luck would do so in full view of both Michael AND Charles. She picked up the largest egg shaped vibrator, switched it on, and rammed it between her, not bothering to lubricate it, enjoying the roughness of the act. She tugged on her nipples as the vibrators buzzed deep inside her, thrashing about as she started to cum. On the other end of the phone Michael shouted, his own orgasm starting, and Karen imagined Charles looking up and into their bedroom to see her splayed this way. Over the hum of the vibrators and the staccato of Michael's ragged breathing Karen heard the sound of the mower receding. She looked out in time to see Charles move out of view, no sign that he'd seen any of the show she'd put on. "Michael, how fast can you be here?" Charles was now working in the front yard, so Michael entered through the unlocked back patio door. He raced up the stairs two at a time and into the bedroom, stripping off his t-shirt, gym shorts and sneakers before he'd even reached the bed. He still had a college football player's body: broad shoulders, barrel chest, undefined (but not flabby) mid section. Both his arms and his legs were well muscled from years of weights and physical exertion, and being a red head, his body hair was almost non-existent. Karen had demanded that Michael continue shaving his cock and balls because she liked the sensation of fucking him with stubble. He fell on her and began kissing her passionately, his flaccid cock sliding between her legs. When she felt him harden she pushed him away and pulled the vibrator out of her pussy. "Make me cum with your mouth," she teased, spreading herself wide. He moved down, licking hungrily, and worked his rigid tongue between the folds of her outer lips. He could feel the vibrator in her ass as he lapped feverishly, trying to catch as much of the juice that spilled from between her legs. The sound of the front door downstairs opening and closing stopped them cold, their hearts banging in their chests. "Honey," Charles called, his voice moving toward the bottom of the stairs. "Are my sunglasses up there? The dark ones?" Still focused on the task at hand, Michael pried Karen's legs apart and scooted further between them, until he was able to grasp her clit between his teeth. "No!" she gasped as bolts of pleasure rocketed through her groin. "I-I think they're on the table," she groaned, half out of her mind. They heard him walk away from the stairs, followed by the sounds of rummaging. Son of a bitch, Karen thought; this kid WAS going to make her cum. She clawed at the bed, trying to pull her pussy closer to his mouth, until Charles' voice halfway up the stairs sent a different jolt running through her. "I don't see them. Are you sure they're not up there?" he asked "Oh God, Charles, they're not here; look in your car," she begged. Michael was merciless, nibbling, covering her outer lips and clit with small, sharp bites, while licking hard, forcing his tongue inside her. Together with the vibrator going to town in her ass, she was on the edge. At this point, she was having trouble thinking straight. Charles was only a few yards away; if he caught them, what would she do? At this point, did she care? "The car? You think so?" he asked, even closer now. "Jesus yes!" she nearly screamed, her hips bucking violently. "Okay, okay, I'll check the car," Charles muttered, retreating back down the stairs. It took all of Michael's strength to keep his face buried between Karen's legs, continuing to tongue her pussy. The sound of the lawnmower starting outside gave her renewed strength and she slid from under him, taking care to hold the vibrator tight in her ass. She moved over to the windowsill where she could see Charles mowing in his damnable pattern. She bent over and reached under, parting her labia. "Come here, sweetie," she cooed. "Show me again how good you use that cock of yours." Michael jumped up behind her, filling the window frame. They were plainly visible to anyone who cared to look up, especially Charles. This was also the kind of neighborhood that people loved to drive through on Saturday mornings, imagining that one day they too would own a house here. Today they would definitely get more than they bargained for. Just the thought made his already swollen cock seem to double in size. In the short time he'd been fucking Karen Thompson (even he wasn't naïve enough to call this dating), they'd both discovered that the possibility of being caught increased their level of arousal one hundredfold. However, when she'd first suggested this stunt, he'd flat out refused; fun was fun, but this bordered on suicidal. Yet here they were, fucking in her bedroom window in plain sight with her husband roaming around under them. Every time the lawnmower came into view he felt Karen's pussy tighten around his cock. Alternately, any time a car drove by he slammed into her hard enough to make the frame rattle. He could feel the vibrator buried in her ass faintly against the shaft of his cock as he fucked her. Every once in a while, if everything lined up just right, he would wince with pleasure when the ridge of his cock head brushed the vibrator through the common inner wall between her ass and her pussy. When Michael suddenly pulled his cock all of the way out, it had the same effect as splashing her with ice-cold water. "What the fuck are you doing?" she screamed so loud he was surprised that Charles hadn't heard her. Ignoring her question, he spun her around and sat her on the sill, forcing the vibrator even deeper into her ass. Karen blinked rapidly, conflicting sensations of emptiness and stimulation short-circuiting her brain. Next, Michael placed a hand flat against her pussy, taking care not to insert any fingers but providing a hard surface for her to rub her clit against. He then bent down and sucked one of her rock hard nipples into her mouth, coaxing a contented sigh out of her. He could hear her breathing pick up, knew her orgasm was only moments away, and somehow found the strength to stand up and move back, breaking all contact. The abruptness of the act once again stunned her, causing her to lose her balance and slide off the sill onto the hardwood floor with a squishy plop. She cursed at him so vehemently that she would have made a dockworker proud, but trailed off when she realized that his cock looked harder and thicker than she'd ever seen it before. "Michael, what's going on?" He smiled, stroking his cock. "Just thought you'd like to see how I feel most times. Pretty intense, huh?" In response she stood up, grabbed him by the cock, and led him out into the hall. Downstairs, they tumbled into Charles' study, a small, book lined room in the front of the house just off the main hallway. There was one small window in here, set high in the wall, which would allow them to hear when he was done but wouldn't provide him with a view of their activities. She perched herself on the desk and urgently guided Michael into her, wrapping her legs around his waist. He lowered his head and bit down on her nipple as he entered her, tasting the salt and the musk of her arousal. As slow as he could he pistoned in and out of her, her pussy molding to every swell and curve of his cock and gripping it tightly. They were both panting now, his breath hot on her breasts, her legs viselike. As the sound of the lawnmower grew closer he rammed her harder, faster, racing to deliver an orgasm before her husband finished the lawn and discovered them. Their thighs slapped wetly as he drilled home, the vibrator in her ass helping her reach new heights. With the lawnmower at its loudest, just on the other side of the wall from the sound of it, Michael rose up to his full height, grabbed Karen by her hips and pulled her onto his cock as hard as he could. She buried her head in his chest and bit down to keep from shouting as she felt him finally shoot, and then she too began to cum. He pounded harder, and it felt like the vibrator buzzed stronger, and Karen started to hyperventilate as the orgasm roared over her, suffocating her. Michael held her close, his cock twitching inside her, while he waited for her to finish. "The mower stopped," he whispered, suddenly panicked. "You have to get out of here!" she hissed, wide eyed. "It only takes him a few seconds to get everything put away, and he always comes through the kitchen door!" "But what about my clothes?" She shook her head frantically as she pushed him away. "There's no time. Quick, out the patio door." She jumped off the desk, pausing just long enough to pull the vibrator out of her ass and toss it under the desk. "You've got to be kidding," he protested as she hustled him through the kitchen and into the family room, his dangling cock spraying flecks of cum and pussy juice. "I can't go out there naked!" "Please!" she pleaded. "Your house is just over the other side of the fence. You'll be home before anyone sees you." By "anyone" he knew she meant Charles. The odds that one of his neighbors would see him streaking home were high, but didn't have nearly the same repercussions as getting caught in here like this. Karen yanked open the patio door and shoved Michael out, giving him a quick kiss as he passed through. He stood on the deck, naked and dumbfounded, until he saw the door between the garage and the kitchen swing inward, prompting him to turn and flee toward the back of the Thompson's property. Charles stopped just inside, puzzled by the sight of his wife leaning seductively against the patio doors without a stitch of clothing on. "Karen, what do you think you're doing?" She put a leg up on a nearby end table and inserted a finger deep inside her pussy, withdrew them and licked them erotically. The taste of herself mixed with Michael made her tingle. "I thought maybe we could start another springtime tradition," she answered wickedly.