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Bad Walls Make for Good Neighbours

By: g00db0i



A tale of seduction, cuckqueanery and generalized evil in the style of wannabeboytoy, SeducedHylas, TheTalkMan and others. My first submission to Literotica, be please be kind!

*****

"Is *this* shirt okay?" I asked, coming out of the bedroom. It was the third I'd tried on, the second I'd ironed, and about the last I had time for before the taxi showed up to take us to dinner.

Lacie, my fiancee, was kneeling on the couch, one ear pressed to the wall. Her little black dress was rucked up over her knees and pulled tight across her adorable little behind, so I wasn't about to complain.

"Sh!" She said, waving a hand. "I think I can hear somebody."

"Probably," I said, shrugging. There had been a moving truck in front of the house half the day, and a couple of thick-necked beerbellies toting stuff back and forth into the apartment on the other side of the duplex for hours.

"Aren't you even a little curious?" Lacey said.

"Well," I began shoving the tails of my shirt into my pants, keeping a weather eye on the clock. "It's not like we're going anywhere. I'm sure we'll see whoever it is in a day or two."

"Oh!" Childish excitement crept into her voice. "I can definitely hear somebody. It's a man, I think?"

"A man?" Pushing the last of the fabric under the waistband, I buckled my belt. "I thought the landlord said it was a woman going in there?"

"No, it's definitely a man." She put one hand on the wall, fascinated. I walked up behind her and put my hands on her hips, admiring her slim form. My mother had called her a "tiny slip of a thing," when they'd been introduced, and it was hard to argue with that assessment. The fabric of the dress was silky to the touch, and I wondered what she was wearing underneath. Last anniversary, it'd been nothing. Lacie swatted my hand away. "Stop, Derek."

Rolling my eyes, I said. "the taxi'll be here any minute."

"He's talking to somebody, I think," Lacie pursed her lips. Tired of being ignored, I knelt on the cushion next to hers, and planted my own ear on the wall. There was a low, masculine murmur coming from next door, but I couldn't make out a word.

"Yeah he's definitely talking," I said. "Now can we just-"

"Listen!" She hissed, hitting me playfully. A woman's laugh, low but clear, passed through the drywall.

"There she is," I said quietly. If the sound could pass one way, it could go both ways.

"Think it's her boyfriend?" Lacie asked. Something thudded against the wall.

"Oh fuck!" That time, the man's voice came through clear as a bell. The wall thudded again, and we could hear our neighbour's low chuckle. "What are you doing?" Then there was a shuddering moan of male pleasure. Lacie and I looked at each other, wide-eyed; the wall thudded a third time, then became a steady rhythm. The painting above the couch started tapping the wall in time. We sprang back and stood up unison.

"Oookay," Lacie said. "I hope that's not-"

"Fuck! Baby how are you doing that?" The woman's reply was a low murmur, indistinct.

"-something we have to listen to every day." Lacie finished, raising her voice slightly.

"Yeah I hope we don't have to hear people having sex all the time!" I said, nodding, hoping the thinness of the walls would work in our favour. The thudding continued unabated. Lacie screwed up her face. I shrugged. Outside, a car horn blew. "Taxi's here," I said. "We gotta go." My fiancee made a disgusted face, and strode into the porch to find her heels. I followed, leaving the landscape on the wall to its own devices, gently keeping the beat.

- - -

"HelloOoo," I called into the darkened apartment, poking my head through the door. Behind me, Lacie giggled, but there was otherwise no answer. "Coast is clear," I said, and we entered, unsteadily. I reached for the switch, and she slapped my hand away.

"No. I've got other plans," she slurred. "C'mere." Lacie took a half-step towards me, then tripped in her shoes. I caught her easily, and scooped her lithe form up into my arms; she wrapped hers around my neck. "My hero," she said, and laughed as one of her heels *clonked* to the floor.

"I didn't like those shoes anyway." Lacie scissored her legs and sent the other flying across the room. "They hurt," she pouted. I grinned and kissed her hard, on the mouth.

"Come on, princess." I said. "Let's get you into the bedroom so you can rest those feet. I can think of a thing or two to help you feel better."

"Just one or two?" She said with a giggle as I carried her through the apartment. "Let's see - there's your penish, your tongue," Lacie stuck hers out, "your...fingers! That's got to be, like twelve at least!" We laughed as I carried her into the bedroom, and laid her gently down on the bed. The hem of her dress rucked up around the tops of her pale, slim thighs, and I could see no hint of panties hidden between them.

"Well, let's start with one, and work our way up to twelve," I said with a chuckle. Spreading her legs, I knelt on the bed and leaned forward, feeling the smooth flesh of her legs brushing past my cheeks as I did. In the dim light of the bedroom, I couldn't make out the prize that lay between them, but I could feel the heat as I brought my opened mouth closer-

THUD. The bedroom wall shook as something on the other side slammed into it. Lacie's legs clamped shut around my ears.

"You've got to be kidding," she said with a sigh. We waited for a moment, and there seemed to be no more noise forthcoming.

"Come on, honey." I said, pushing forward. Lacie's thighs relaxed, slightly. I began pushing her skirt up over her hips, and-

THUD. THUDthud. She insinuated a hand between her legs and began pushing my face away. Taking the hint, I sat back on my haunches as my fiancee scissored her legs together, sitting up.

"Maybe we can just ignore them?" I said, hopefully. There was a moment's silence, then the banging against the wall continued, quieter now but more rhythmic.

"You're joking." Lacie said, stone sober now. I could feel the glow of the drinks quickly fading. The woman on the other side moaned.

"God have these walls always been so thin?" She said, wondering. "Do you think that old man who used to live over there could hear us-" She gestured with one hand. "Y'know."

"I don't know," I said, unnaturally loudly. "It sure seems like it'd be real easy for someone next door to hear what was going on!" If they heard me, there was no sign, as there was no let-up in the rhythm. There was a long, guttural groan from the man. With a disgusted look on her face, Lacie swung her legs off the bed and padded into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

Still kneeling on the bed, I let out a long, slow, breath through pursed lips. There was a wet, feminine moan from the other side of the wall, and my penis stirred. "Quiet, you." I murmured as I stood, yanking the tails of my shirt out of my pants. I left the bedroom and headed into the kitchen, followed by the pounding beat of our neighbors. "At least somebody's enjoying themselves."

I glanced around furtively, ensuring that the coast was clear, then opened the freezer door and plucked out a pack of cigarettes; it was tucked away in the back, behind an old tub of stew. I gently closed the freezer again, and slid open the patio door.

Out on the deck, the summer air was cool and sweet. I eased patio door shut, and lit up with the barbeque lighter, and took a long drag. The cigarette was stale - they'd been hiding in the freezer for a month or more - but as soon as the smoke hit my lungs, I could feel the tension melting away from my muscles. I took another drag and looked up, where a few lonely stars winkled, the rest hidden in the light pollution from the city. Eventually, somewhere behind me a door opened and I heard bare feet padding lightly against wood.

"Sorry, babe. This is the last one, I promise," I said, surreptitiously trying to jam the half-empty pack into my pants pocket.

There was a languid, feminine chuckle. "Don't worry, tiger. I won't tell anybody." Wheeling around on my heel, I saw a tall woman in a shimmery white dressing gown approaching on the other side of the half-wall that separated our side of the deck from that of the apartment next door. Long, loose curls of black hair were piled atop her head in a lazy arrangement.

"Oh shit, I thought you were my girlfriend, sorry."

The woman laughed again; she had a voice like slowly-poured whiskey over ice that set the base of my spine a-tingle. She walked over with a slow, deliberate stride, body moving with catlike grace toward the end of the deck, and leaned on the railing.

"I haven't been anybody's *girlfriend* in a very long time." In the dim light, I watched her as she produced her own cigarette from the depths of her robe. She looked older than Lacie and I, possibly as old as the two of us put together, but her mouth was still plush and full and shimmery with the remains of that evening's lip gloss, and her eyes were a vivid, shocking blue against the carefully-maintained deep brown of her skin. She placed the cigarette between her full lips and began patting herself. "Oh damn," she said. "Can I get a light?"

"Sure," I laughed. "Here." I handed over the barbeque lighter. The strong, handsome features of her face lit up in the brief flare from the Bic as she clicked the trigger. "So, that's not your boyfriend in there?" I asked, as delicately as I could.

"You heard us?" She took a long pull from the cigarette. "Damn cheap walls. I knew I shouldn't have trusted that greasy fuck of a landlord when I couldn't get him to stop staring at my tits." Unbidden, my eyes dropped to the thin fabric of her robe; it was voluminous but the folds were incapable of hiding the swelling bounty of her breasts, or the nipples as they thickened up in the night air. Was she wearing anything under there? Suddenly aware of what I was doing, my eyes flicked up to meet hers, crinkled in a mischievous grin. "No, he's not my boyfriend." As she handed the lighter back, I noticed her nails, well-kept but sharp, and painted a glittery pink to match her lipgloss.

"Tell you the truth, I don't even remember his name. John? Jerry? Jimmy? Something with a J." She shrugged, and a few coils of silky black hair came tumbling down over her shoulder. Giving me the once-over, she said, "what's your name, anyway? So long as we're sharing the house, there's no reason not to be neighbourly."

"I'm Derek," I offered her my hand to shake, and she did, with a warm, firm, long-fingered grip. "Derek Smythe. My girlf- *fiancee* is Lacie."

"Fiancee?" She said, exhaling a cloud of fragrant smoke and arching a carefully-plucked eyebrow. "Aren't you a little young to be getting married?"

"I'm 24!" I said, defensive. "My parents were, like, 19 or something when they got married. I'm out of school, making good money, no debt. I think it's about time."

That got another appraising look from my neighbor. "Just seems like a waste to me; a young man like you should be out sowing his oats, honing his sexual prowess, not settling down." She turned back towards the yard and took another long drag. "At least tell me you're with someone who can really appreciate what you've got to offer, and not some silly child with more romantic notions than experience."

My brow furrowed as I tried to parse what she was saying. "Well. I mean, Lacie and I have been together since high school, if that's what you mean. I'd never be with someone who was young-"

She laughed in a short bark that cut me off before I could complete my thought. "No no no, honey. I meant someone with *more* experience, not *less*. High school sweethearts are lovely, but you're just setting that girl up for disappointment. She won't be able to hang on to you."

"Excuse me?" I felt my face flushing. "Who the hell do you think you are?"

"Oh I'm sorry, hon." She extended one long-nailed hand. "I'm Roxanne." Despite myself, I took her hand and shook it. Her skin was smooth and warm and dry and her fingers lingered in my palm just a few seconds longer than they had to. "I've seen it a thousand times - some young stud like yourself finds a girl his own age to marry, settle down, breed a few kids with, all the while not realizing he's making himself into a perfect target for a sexually-aware older woman on the prowl, just aching for the next conquest. And they're such *easy* conquests."

Roxanne stubbed her cigarette out on the rail of the deck and threw it into the yard. "You all think you want some pretty little wifey, some docile pretty doll who'll come running when you snap your fingers." She snapped hers. "But what every young stud like yourself needs, deep down, is a woman, a *real* woman to take the reins and show him what real pleasure is. An older woman, a woman with a mature body, a fully-flowered sexuality, and not a single fuck to give about what you want. To a woman like that, a young man like yourself is like prey to a predator - just waiting to be snapped up. And once you've been snapped up just *once* you'll never be able to give it up, you'll never be able to go back to your safe, boring bed you share with wifey." She grinned wolfishly. "A mature woman knows every inch of her body in a way that no girl ever could, and knows how to *use* it, knows how to make a dumb young stud addicted to it." I don't even think she was talking to me, caught up in the rhythm of her own words, carried away by the arousal in her voice, by the sexuality that dripped from her plush lips.

"Um, okay." I said, not quite sure how to follow up her tirade, and a little dazed by the flood of words. "Ow, fuck!" I yelped as the cherry of my own cigarette, having burned down to the filter, scorched my knuckles. I dropped the smoke and kicked it over the side of the deck, into the grass. "I'll, uh, I'll see you around I guess." I began backing away, towards the patio door.

"I'm sure you will." Roxanne gave me a wink, and turned away towards the yard again. I slammed the patio door closed harder than I thought, and in the silence of our darkened kitchen, discovered that I was panting hard, and carrying a significant swelling in my pants.

"That was intense," I said to nobody in particular. After stashing the remaining cigarettes back in the freezer, I crept slowly back into the bedroom, where I found Lacie in bed, wrapped up in a thick terrycloth robe. She stirred as I crawled up into bed with her.

"Smoking?" She mumbled, half-asleep.

"Last one babe, I swear," we both said in unison.

"I've heard that before," Lacie said. "Did I hear you talking to somebody out there?"

"Yeah, just the neighbour."

"Oh?" My fiancee rolled over. "What are they like?"

"She." I corrected. "It's just her over there."

"Well what's she like, then?"

I tried to curl into her while keeping my still-deflating cock away from Lacie's body.

"She's uh- nice, I guess. We weren't talking long. But I let her know we could hear her. Them."

"Thank *god*. I couldn't put up with much more of *that*."

"No I took care of it." I slid a hand inside her robe. "Do you wanna pick up where we left off?"

She pushed my fingers away and pulled the robe tighter. "Tomorrow. It's late and I'm starting to feel hungover and I just want to go to sleep, 'kay?"

"Yeah, yeah of course." I rolled over onto my back, and adjusted my cock. "Tomorrow." She'd be too sick to move tomorrow, I knew. As Lacie began to snore gently, I wondered if I could rub one out real quick without her noticing, thought better of it, cuddled into my fiancee and went to sleep.

- - -

The next day found us huddled together on the couch, recovering and watching a Property Brothers marathon on HGTV.

"I don't understand why they just don't get married and get it over with." I said, idly toying with Lacie's hair as it lay in my lap.

"Uh, they're brothers?" She said quietly, trying not to let her skull explode.

"Really? I don't see it."

She punched me lightly on the leg, laughing. "You dope. What's on after this?"

"House Hunters International, i.e., Ridiculously Rich People Agonizing Over Terrible Houses we could nev-"

The doorbell rang before I could finish. Lacie and I shared a look. "Were you expecting anybody?" I said. She shook her head. The bell rang again, and Lacie winced.

"Get rid of them, will you? I'm not in the mood to see anybody." She gestured at herself, wrapped up in flannel pjs and a dingy robe.

"I'm not exactly dressed to receive company myself," I said with a laugh, gingerly laying her head on a couch cushion as I stood, so as not to shatter it.

"Good morning!" Roxanne said brightly as I opened the door. Her dark hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail that feathered out into those long, loose curls; her eyes, an icy-blue in the daylight, twinkled mischievously and a half-smile played across her plush, glossy-pink lips as she brushed past me and into the apartment, and I noted how tall she was, her eyes were level with my own. Our neighbor was dressed casually, as though headed to the gym: an unzipped navy hoodie showed off the close-fitted blue tanktop whose neckline skimmed low over the tightly bound flesh of her sizeable breasts and lay flat across the toned stretch of her abdomen before ending an inch or two above the adorable divot of her navel; charcoal-grey leggings showed off every ripple and curve of her legs, clearly well-muscled and thicker than Lacie's lean stems, ending halfway down the light-brown plates of her shapely calves, leaving those well-turned ankles bare; the hem of her hoodie skirted well-above the perfectly rounded curves of her buttocks, lovingly cupped by the thin lycra; her feet were bare in a pair of black flipflops, toenails painted a bright peach.

"Huh," she said, striding into the hall. "They really are exactly the same, aren't they? Only mirror images of each other."

I dragged my eyes away from her twitching buttocks. "Uh, now's not really a great time, Rox-"

"Hon, I'm not staying for long I just thought I'd poke my head in on the way to work and officially- oh hello!" She turned the corner into our living room, where Lacie lay sprawled on the couch, trying not to expire. I came in behind her in time to catch a venomous look from my fiancee, which I could only answer with a helpless gesture. "You must be Lacie! Derek was telling me all about you last night."

Slowly, painfully, Lacie gathered herself up and sat up on the couch. "Hi." She said with a tired wave. "Sorry, I'm not really feeling the greatest right now. Maybe you should come back sometime lat-"

"Aw, sweetie," Roxanne said sympathetically, and cast a critical eye over Lacie. "Hungover?"

"Yeah, I had a bit too much last night. Do you mind? I'm not really up for visitors."

"I know just the thing!" Roxanne snapped her fingers. "Old family cure - it works every time! Kitchen's in here, right?" She stalked off into the kitchen and soon we could hear the sound of glasses clinking, cupboards slamming, and the fridge door opening.

*What the hell is she doing here* Lacie mouthed, gesticulating.

*I have nooo idea* I responded.

*Well get rid of her.* Lacie's eyes were wide with anger.

*I'm trying.*

*Try harder!* She made a "go, go!" gesture; as I turned to head into the kitchen, I almost ran full-bore into Roxanne, who was returning with a tall glass filled to the brim with a thick, milky-white liquid. She nimbly dodged around me without missing a step or spilling a drop, and walked over to the couch.

"Here sugar," she said, proffering the glass. "Daddy Swift's Patented Hangover Cure. Guaranteed to immediately relieve your symptoms or your money back!"

Lacie took the glass and eyed it suspiciously. "Thanks?" She said.

"Go on," Roxanne gestured at her. "A little drop will do you, but the more you drink the faster it'll work. There you go - a little more than that, honey. Plug your nose if you have to. Take a big ol' gulp and try not to think about the taste too much."


Bad Walls Make for Good Neighbours



Lacie's throat worked as she loudly swallowed. Putting the glass on the table she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

"How do you feel?" I asked.

"I'm alright. It wasn't that bad. What did you say was in that?"

"That's a closely-guarded family secret," the brunette winked down at her. "It'll kick in in just a sec. Daddy's cure got me through a lotta mornings when I was fit to kill myself."

"Lord knows I've tried worse cures," Lacie said. "What did you say your name was?"

"I didn't," Roxanne offered her a hand to shake, which my fiancee limply took. "I'm Roxanne. Roxanne Swift. I thought I'd just come over before I went to work and make nice after disturbing you folks last night."

Lacie waved her hand. "Don't worry about it. We didn't know the walls were that thin either." She looked over at the older woman, taking in her outfit. "You're going to work like that?"

"I teach dance, honey. This is business casual where I work." Roxanne leaned closer, peering Lacie's face with a concerned look. "You alright? You're starting to look a little green."

"Yeah, no-" we could all hear her stomach gurgle. "Ohmigod what did you give me?" She bent over double for a moment, and belched loudly. "What was in that? I've got to-"

"Lace? What's going on?" I took a half-step towards my fiancee, but could take no more before she jumped to her feet and dashed past me down the hall towards the bathroom; the door slammed shut. Roxanne slowly stood. "What the hell? What did you give her."

"Family secret, sugar." The older woman began walking towards me. "It'll cure what ails her, promise. Cross my heart." She drew an X over one breast, and I could see a nipple beginning to poke through the fabric of her shirt.

"What are you even doing here?"

"I thought it would be useful to come over and scope out the competition," she kept coming closer and I started taking steps back.

"Competition?"

"After our little talk last night, I realized - here was this adorable little fuckpuppy living right next door, just *ripe* for the taking, and if I didn't get in there first, why, I was only leaving the door open for some other cougar to step in and take what's rightfully mine." I backed right into the wall.

"Jesus are you crazy? There's no competition. Lacie's my fiancee and I love her and nothing is *ever* going to happen between you and me." Disgusting noises began emanating from the bathroom. Could she hear us?

"Are you seriously trying to tell me you didn't think about what I said all night long? That you didn't for a moment wonder what it would be like? To have some older woman take you away from your fiancee and make you sink that big young cock into plush mature pussy?" She was only a few feet away now, her eyes locked with mine like a snake hypnotizing a bird.

Not quite sure what to say to that, I hesitated for a moment, which was all the time she needed to finish crossing the hall and press her body into mine. Her face was inches away as her gaze drilled into my eyes, and my senses were suddenly overwhelmed by the sensation of so much warm, firm flesh pushing me up against the wall.

"Fuck, stop this," I insisted in a hiss. "What if Lacie comes out, what if she sees-" I raised a hand to push her away, but I wasn't sure where to put it. Roxanne grabbed my wrist and pulled it down, placing my hand on one firm buttcheek. Reflexively, I flexed my fingers, feeling the muscular flesh yield just a little. Here was an ass that just begged for a smack; I could easily palm each of Lacie's little cheeks, but Roxanne's thick, muscular booty was so much bigger, firmer, rounder.

"What if she sees you playing grabass with your older, hotter neighbor?" Roxanne ground her hips into mine. "I'll tell you what, hon. I'll give you one chance to escape." She grinned and bit her lip. "Kiss me."

"What? I'm not gonna-"

"Kiss me. Just once. Once kiss." Her face inched closer to mine. "Kiss me once and if you don't like it, if you don't want more, I'll leave you alone forever. I'll be the perfect neighbor." I could feel her breath on my lips.

"No! No, I can't, I won't!" I could hear the toilet flush.

"Then I guess your little fiancee is going to find us like this and she'll just have to think whatever she thinks." Roxanne grabbed my free hand, and guided it to the other globe of her ass. Despite myself, I squeezed them both. She took the opportunity to dart in, kissing me hard; I'd only ever kissed Lacie before, and I was shocked to discover how much more *luscious* Roxanne's lips were, when pressed against mine. There was a whole new world of firm softness in her pillow-lipped mouth that I could easily get lost in as slippery gloss bled into my mouth and filled it with the taste of peaches. With a nudge, she easily forced my lips open and suddenly her tongue invaded, flickering across mine and teasing the tip with slippery warm flesh. And as soon as she'd begun, Roxanne stopped, dancing back three steps, leaving my head leaning forward and hands full of the lingering warmth of her ass. Grinning at me, she wiped her mouth.

"Wha-" I began, then the bathroom door opened, and I could feel all the blood drain from my face. Lacie stepped out, looking pale as a ghost and coated in a sheen of sweat.

"How do you feel now, sugar?" Roxanne asked, walking over to take my fiancee by the hand, coming between us.

"Actually, I feel a hell of a lot better." Lacie said in wonderment. "Empty, pretty much, but way better than I did before. I don't know what you did, but thank you!"

"Nothin' to it," Roxanne said with a wink. "Daddy's cure works every time. Anyway, I should go, I've kept you two too long and I've got to get to work."

"Right," Lacie brushed her hair, stringy and unwashed, out of her face. "Where do you work again?"

"Oh I rent time in a little studio downtown; I mostly teach little girls with mommas who didn't become ballerinas, but sometimes jazz and modern dance too. Every now and again I get to put some couples through their paces with ballroom."

"Oh, really?" My fiancee said, wheels turning in her head. "You know, I was thinking of enrolling us in a dance class before the wedding. Derek's got two left feet and..." They walked past me, towards the door, and I stopped paying attention to what was being said, eyes locked instead on the mesmerizing syncopation of Roxanne's hips and ass. At the door, I watched in a daze as the two women hugged and our neighbor took her leave.

"I like her," Lacie said, crossing her arms. "I think she'll be good for us." Roxanne waved from the sidewalk and blew a kiss in our general direction. My mouth tingled.

- - -

We didn't see Roxanne again all weekend. Well, we didn't see her in person, but I could not get our neighbor out of my head, no matter what I did. It was hours before I stopped licking my mouth, for example, trying to find the last traces of peach-flavored lip gloss, stopping only when Lacie asked me what the hell I was doing.

In my defense, it was Lacie who insisted we social media creep on Roxanne's dance studio.

"Maybe she's not any good; who knows?" She said, and I found myself agreeing with her as she started Googling. The studio itself was easy enough to find - a pretty bland Wordpress template with links to a Facebook page, class schedules and galleries from various events - and the reviews seemed pretty positive, if a little focused on kids' classes.

After scrolling down through a couple of galleries full of little girls in Swan Lake costumes, I said "jeez, does she even teach adults?"

"She said she did," Lacie replied as the mouse wheel clicked along. "There's some teenagers doing modern stuff, hip-hop."

"What about here?" I pointed. "'Instructor Profiles?'"

The studio played host to a dozen or more instructors, and the page listed off their particular histories, what dance schools they attended, styles of dance they were proficient in, classes they led, etc. etc.

"Aha!" Lacie crowed. "See? She is legit." There at the bottom of the list was Roxanne's headshot. "Royal Dance Academy, yadda yadda, played at blah blah blah, teaches modern dance, jazz, tap, ballet and adult ballroom." Each class name had a link to a calendar; below that was another link to Roxanne's Instagram. My fiancee handed the laptop over, and stood up. "You have a look around," she said. "I'll go start dinner. Find us a good class."

I opened up the calendar in a new tab, and browsed around a bit. There were two or three adult classes, one night a week. Monday looked pretty promising, late enough for us to get back from work not too late that we'd be wiped out. Glancing momentarily at the living room entrance, I tabbed back over and opened up Roxanne's instagram account.

The first couple of rows were pretty dull stuff - there'd been a recital lately I guess - and so her feed was dominated by pics of bouquets and blurry videos of dancers on stage and a full theatre. At the bottom, hovering just above the "load more" button was an image of a few shopping bags on a bed; I recognized some of the brands, Victoria's Secret and Lululemon stood out, and a few I didn't - like "Hard Tail" - or simply generic shopping bags. With a naughty little thrill, I clicked it.

*one of the perks of the job,* read the caption, *is that *my* 'business casual' is everybody else's 'sloppy saturday' #fashionhaul #victoriasecret #vsx #hardtailforever #lovemylulus.*

Shrugging, I clicked back. I don't know if I hit something by accident or the site was set to auto-load if you scrolled down far enough, or what, but once I was back in Roxanne's instagram feed other pics began to pop up.

What followed was obviously a series of pics from her shopping trip, taken from inside a wide spectrum of changerooms. Again, at first, they were pretty staid pics; she'd tried on a number of full-length skirts and maxi-dresses at Hard Tail - each pic was tagged #hardtailforever - but the flowing jersey utterly failed to conceal the sinuous curves of Roxanne's fit, mature body. A below-the-knee shirred skirt made her hips and thighs look as though they'd been dipped in black spandex. The next pic showed off the prodigious, hard globes of her ass, the fabric stretched tight across it. The hems of the skirts gradually began to rise, revealing yards of taut, tawny skin and lean, muscled legs until at last a shot that seemed to be just legs, barring the narrow blue band of spandex that across her hips. The waistband itself arced over her hipbones, revealing a tantalizing darkness. Beyond that - legs, nothing but the most spectacular legs I'd ever seen, and Roxanne's squatty little toes at the end of them, nails painted peachy-pink.

I licked my lips, and glanced out the doorway, cock surging up in my pants.

"How's it going out there, Lace?" I called out.

"Good," she said. "You want noodles or rice?"

"R-rice," I replied; that would tack on at least an extra fifteen minutes.

*luv luv luv my booty shorts!* the caption read, *tho maybe a little 2 much booty for work. don't wanna distract all the dads. home use only I guess lol.*

Next came a whirlwind trip through lululemon, where each pair of yoga leggings seemed tighter than the last, and they all needed a shot from the front and the back. Stunned, I goggled my way through an endless parade of ass-shots of our next door neighbour. Her muscular buttocks dominated each picture, especially when she stood on her tiptoes to accentuate it.

*who needs squats when you got dance? Thx, royal academy. #glutes #dancebooty*

One photo was simply a shot of the vast black globes of her buttocks, poured into glove-fitted leggings. The omega logo at the top of her tailbone winked in the camera's flash.

*nope not see thru!*

By now I had gone from occasionally adjusting my hard-on to actively (and sneakily) squeezing it in my lap, remembering the way Roxanne's body had felt pressed against mine, the way her ass filled up my hands like Lacie's had never done, firm and springy and muscular and aching to be grabbed and-

"Are you alright in here?" Lacie asked from the doorway. "I've been calling you for five minutes. Dinner's ready."

In a panic, I glanced down. The next trip appeared to involve Victoria's Secret and a *lot* of swimwear, in which bikinis featured heavily. Hastily making note of her username (@r0xxyrawx), I closed the tab and closed the laptop.

"Yeah, no worries." I said, standing and hoping my deflating hardon wasn't too obvious. "I'm coming."

"Good." We walked into the kitchen, where dinner sat steaming. "Did you find us a class?"

"Monday okay?"

"Great! I'll call and set it up."

"Great," I repeated, feeling the shame welling up inside me. It wouldn't be that bad, right?

It wasn't as if anything was going to happen.

- - -

"I can't believe she's *late*." Lacie moaned as we sat around on a hard wooden bench.

"Only five minutes," I said, checking my watch. We scanned the empty dance studio, all hardwood and floor-to-ceiling mirrors. A ballet barre spanned one wall. A stereo stood in one corner but otherwise there was nothing else in the room. We were both wearing our after-work casual kit - sweats and sneakers - which had sucked up a great deal of whatever energy we'd had that day.

Sunday night Roxanne had invited over another "suitor" and consequently nobody in the house had gotten much sleep. Lacie had gotten more than I, mostly because she'd jammed her head under the pillows to muffle our neighbour's wet moans; meanwhile, I surreptitiously slid my phone out and spent the intervening time scrolling through Roxanne's instagram, subtly grinding my cock into the mattress and trying not to alert my fiancee as to what I was doing. Each time I neared orgasm, guilt would sweep over me, and I'd back off and turn off the phone and swear not to do it again; five minutes later, my hand would creep back over to the smartphone and flick it on again, and the cycle would begin anew.

It was deep, deep into the morning before I managed to get to sleep.

The upshot was we were both exhausted and a bit stroppy. Lacie crossed her arms and harrumphed. "I don't care. If she's not here in five minutes, we're out of here. I can't believe we paid two hund-"

"Hello, lovelies!" Roxanne bound into the room. "I didn't keep you waiting too long, did I?" She was wearing a long grey hoodie draped over the twin mounds of her breasts, a pair of black leggings with VSX printed down one long, muscular thigh in pink block letters, and a pair of flipflops. A gym bag was slung over one shoulder.

"Long enough," Lacie muttered. "Can we start now?"

Our neighbour gave us the once-over and her plush lips split in a grin. "Well don't you guys look, um, comfy. I'm going to get ready real quick, then we can start, 'kay?" She snapped her hair back into a tight ponytail, and reached down to lift up the hem of her hoodie. She yanked her top off, revealing yards of taut, muscular abdomen the likes of which I'd certainly never seen in person. A pink gem twinkled in her bellybutton. A light white t-shirt quickly fell down over it, skimming just above the waistband of her leggings. In the mirror behind her, I could see an enormous keyhole opening from the nape of her neck to her tailbone, revealing the thick band of her sports bra.

"Sneakers, eh?" Roxanne said, unzipping her gym bag and pulling out a pair of mirror-black heels at least four inches in height. She slid out of her flipflops and stepped into them.

"What's wrong with sneakers?" Lacie asked. "I wear heels all day at work and I really don't want to-"

"Are you getting married in sneakers, hon? Are you gonna have your first dance in sneakers?"

"Well," Lacie stumbled. "I mean, I've got heels for the ceremony but-"

"Oh sweetie, nothing looks as dowdy as a bride in sneakers." Roxanne straightened up and tugged at the waistband of her leggings, briefly drawing them into the deep crevasse of her ass. In her heels, our neighbour was a mature vision, the muscles in her legs and behind standing out and clearly visible in the 360 degrees' worth of mirrors that bounded the walls. "You want to look your most fuckable on your wedding night, don't you?"

"Uh-" Lacie stumbled over her words, not really sure what to say.

"Next time, bring heels. You're not practicing in *those*." She gestured at Lacie's dingy kicks.

"Ok sure, whatever." My fiancee jammed her hands in the pockets of her sweats and slumped over, too tired to argue.

"Good girl," Roxanne said, tapping her toe on the floor. Then she clapped her hands. "Now get up, lovelies! I want to see what you guys can do."

Lacie shot me a look and we stood up, walking to the middle of the floor while our neighbour *tik-toked* over to the stereo in the corner. She queued up a classical waltz while my fiancee and I clasped each other. I gave her a hopeful smile.

"Awww," Roxanne said. "I do so love seeing such attractive young people so deeply in love. Now keep it real simple guys, just a box step okay?"

We stepped in unison. Or tried to. Over and over again. Neither one of us was particularly good at keeping the beat, and so we'd step at different times, pick different directions, jam each other's toes.

"No no no stop! What is this, guys?" Our neighbour strode over, and separated us physically. "Who's leading here?"

"Me?" I said, a little uncertainly. Lacie shrugged.

"Well that's your first mistake," Roxanne said, hands on hips. "May I cut in?" Without waiting for Lacie to respond, she insinuated herself in front of me, and slid her arm around my shoulder.

"Hand on my hip, honey." I complied. "No, around back, press close." Palm suddenly sweaty, I slid my hand around the curve of her hip, resting just above her waistband. Her skin was warm and smooth to the touch. "Press close, I said." She leaned into my ear and whispered. "This is a dance for lovers, after all." Her lips were sticky as they brushed my earlobe. I blushed hotly.

"Lacie, honey, go and turn the music back on and I'll show you how it's done." Again, Roxanne's warm body pressed itself into mine, and my fingers reflexively dug a little deeper into her silken skin. "You can let your hand wander down a little, you know," she whispered. "I know how much you like my ass." A shiver ran down my spine.

"Stop!" I hissed. "I'm not going to grab your ass in front of my fiancee."

"We'll see," Roxanne purred. The music started. "Okay, Lacie, honey." She spoke over my shoulder while she subtly ground her hips into mine. "Now everybody tells you that the man is supposed to lead, but," shocking blue eyes drilled right into mine. "Men - especially young men like your Derek - just aren't equipped to know what they're doing on the dance floor. You see, we've got *hips*." At that, she made an exaggerated motion with her hips, grinding her pubic bone into my rapidly inflating cock. "And boys need to be shown what to do with their *hips*." She ground into me again. I watched, hypnotized, in the mirror bank behind us as her sinuous hips rotated and those magnificent buttocks swiveled likewise. "Now watch."

Lacie didn't say a word as our older neighbour swept me around the dance floor, one hand draped casually across my shoulders, pressed so tightly to my body that not an inch of space existed between us. With each beat, she ground her hips into mine, and I quickly learned to step to follow the pleasure she gave me; each step I followed was rewarded with a thrill of pleasure rocking through my body as Roxanne teased my rampant cock through my sweatpants.

"See?" said Roxanne. "He just needs someone to show him what to do."

Dizzy with arousal I leaned into her of my own accord, my left hand relaxing as she lead us around the room. My fingers played across the thinly-stretched spandex, worming of their own accord down towards her magnificent ass while I pressed my cock into her welcoming body.




Bad Walls Make for Good Neighbours



"I don't know if I can do that," Lacie said, unsure. "I'm not a trained danc-"

"Oh honey, don't worry." Roxanne said brightly over my shoulder as her pubic bone ground hard into mine. I bit back a low moan. "You'll learn in time, I'm sure. That's why you're here, after all." She undulated, slowly, pressing down on the swollen needy head of my cock. I could feel the wetness oozing out from my dick, sloshing around inside my pants; there was probably a wet spot down there, but I really didn't care at the moment. "What about you, Derek honey? Are you learning anything?"

I managed a strangled "y-yes!" as she teased my swollen dick with just her hips. A single wrong move one way or another, and I'd be creaming myself.

"After all," Roxanne said. "If Lacie could do this for you, you wouldn't have come to me would you?" She was making almost imperceptibly tiny circles with her ass, and I stared at those thick black globes gyrating in the mirror. "Would you?" She said, pointedly, suddenly stopping her motions.

"What? No, no I guess not."

"What a good boy," she hissed in my ear, rolling her hips back and forth, sending my hot shaft rolling with it, the head bleeding precum all over myself.

"And you guys will cum again next Monday, right?" Roxanne asked over my shoulder, hunching sharply down on my cockhead as she said 'cum'. My knees trembled. "You'll cum back to me again and again and again," each 'again' brought another sharp hunch down on my cock, and I could feel myself rapidly approaching the point of no return.

"Well, yeah." Lacie called out. "That's what we're paying you for, after all."

"Derek? What about you?" Our neighbour stopped again, expecting an answer. "This doesn't work unless everybody agrees. You'll cum to me next Monday?"

"Nggghh," I growled. "Yes. Yes! We're paying you, aren't we?"

"Oh my god that's so great!" She enthused, suddenly bouncing on her tiptoes; my fingers dug deep into the springy meat of her mature behind as I started to cum, thick cream spilling out into my pants as Roxanne bounced up and down, rubbing and dry humping each wave of cum out of me. I gasped and grunted and bit back every fucknoise that swelled up in my throat as I felt my knees threaten to give way. "The bathroom is on the other side, lover," Roxanne hissed in my ear. Suddenly, she let go of me, and strode past to talk to Lacie.

It took me a moment to find my footing. Looking down, I could see a huge stain, creeping down my left thigh; one last pulse of cum oozed out through the thick cotton.

"Fuck," I mumbled. "Fuck, I gotta go to the bathroom. I'll be right back!" Without turning around, I dashed for the door, face aflame.

"Don't worry hon," I could hear Roxanne counselling my fiancee as I bounced out of the studio, heading to the washroom. "He's got a lot to learn, but I'll show him the ropes."

- - -

"You're never going to live that down, you know." Lacie giggled as we peeled back the bedspread.

"I am well-aware, yes."

"At least they had a spare pair of pants?" She said, hopefully.

"Oh yes, how wonderful." I picked up the XXL track pants that had been on hand at the studio and held them up to my waist, where you could have fit two or three of me.

"Beats being naked." She said. "I don't understand how a pipe could just explode, anyway."

"What am I, a plumber?" I said, throwing the track pants into a corner.

"If you were we'd probably be able to buy a house of our own," Lacie said, laughing. She slid into the bed. "Jeez are you alright? You've been in a rotten mood since we got back."

"Just embarrassed, I guess. I'm alright."

"Well come to bed, and I'll see if I can't relax you," Lacie waggled her eyebrows suggestively. My cock, still sore and spent from the dance studio, didn't respond.

"I'm just going to go grab a drink and I'll be right in, okay?" I said, heading for the kitchen.

"Don't be long!" Lacie called out after me.

Quietly fuming I tore open the freezer and took out my cigarettes. How *dare* she embarrass me like that? I slid the patio door aside and stepped out into the night air. I hadn't cum in my pants since I was 15! Angrily mumbling to myself, I slid a smoke between my lips and started looking around for the BBQ lighter. And *right* there, in front of Lacie! I shuddered to think what the consequences would have been if she'd noticed. And where the hell was that goddamn lighter?

"Looking for something, lover?" Roxanne's voice purred from the other side of the patio. She was reclining in a deck chair on her side of the patio, bare feet propped up on the half wall separating us. She wiggled her toes at me in greeting as she took a drag from a lit cigarette. Yards of smooth, muscular leg were visible in the moonlight.

"Don't call me that." I said, as sternly as I could. "Did you take my BBQ lighter?"

"Now now," she admonished. "You had fun, don't deny it." Languorously, she lifted one long leg and crossed it over the other at the ankle.

"Look, that was just an- an accident is all." I said, gesturing with the cigarette in my fingers.

"Poor baby," Roxanne pouted. "Did your little Lacie get you all worked up before you came to see me? Did she tease that thick young cock until you were fit to burst, then leave you wanting and needy and just *aching* to explode?" Before I could answer, she said, "mmm, no. I don't think so. I would have heard something through our wonderfully paper thin walls, wouldn't I? Besides, we both know that pretty little fiancée isn't *nearly* interesting enough to do that to you, now is she? So it *must* have been something or some*body* else that got you all worked up before you two kids came to see me."

As she spoke, Roxanne coiled her legs back, then slowly stood; she was wearing the blue booty shorts she'd been showing off online, a gauzy white tank-top that fluttered around her navel, and very little else. Her nipples, erect in the cool night air, were clearly visible through the filmy fabric; they appeared to be pink, and about the size of the tip of my pinky. She raised the cigarette to her mouth and took a long drag.

"Hmm," she said, exhaling a thick cloud of smoke from glossy lips. "Let's see - I *did* have one of my young men over last night. Oh my," Roxanne raised one hand to her mouth in an expression of mock surprise. "You weren't...listening to us, were you, Derek?" She strode over to the half wall that separated us, unfettered breasts bobbing gently under her shirt. "You weren't lying there in bed next to your frigid little fiancée, touching yourself while some hard young stud pounded my cunt not ten feet from you? Did you squeeze that big young cock, desperate not to wake her up, while I shrieked and screamed and came over and over again? Did you get yourself so worked up, get those sweet young balls so fucking full of cum that all it took was a little dry hump today to get you to go all the-"

"Stop!" I said, taking a step back. "Jesus, stop, please. Did you take my damn barbecue lighter or not?"

"Oh, that." Roxanne rolled those laser-bright blue eyes, and stepped back again, sitting down in her deck chair and putting her feet back up on the rail. Reaching underneath her chair, she pulled out the lighter, and spun it on her index finger like a gunslinger. "You mean this?"

"Yes," I said, getting frustrated.

"Come and get it," she said, and laid the lighter on her chest, handle gently nestled between her tits. I watched as our neighbour took another long drag.

Setting my jaw, I stepped over the wall between us and strode over, reaching out for the lighter. Suddenly, her hand snapped over mine and pressed it down onto one of her sizeable tits. Her skin was warm through the gauzy fabric of her tank top, and I could feel the thick nipple drilling into my palm. Reflexively, my fingers sank into the plush flesh; every inch of this woman seemed to invite grabbing, and I obliged despite myself.

"Mmmmm," she purred. "Do you know why I never made it as a ballerina?" Her fingers pressed mine deeper into her breast. "No matter how tightly I bound these, no matter how much I tried to keep them hidden, they kept getting in the way. Ballerinas must be slim, svelte *girls*," Roxanne spat the word out, "and definitely not fat-breasted women with *hips* and *tits*. The boys didn't know how to lift me once they had these in their faces."

"Let go of me, please." I said, though I made no move to slide my hand out from underneath hers.

"Ah ah ah," Roxanne waved her cigarette in the air, making smoky circles. "I think you owe me a little something, don't you?"

"Excuse me?" I asked, fingers kneading her firm titflesh as the tips sank ever deeper.

"Ohhh," my neighbour pouted. "Tit for tat, honey. I let you cum allll over me earlier; it's time for you to return the favour." She gestured at her shorts.

"Uh, n-"

"You don't have to fuck me, loverboy," she said with a chuckle. "Just get down on your knees and use that pretty mouth of yours to make me cum."

"You're fucking crazy if you think I'm going to ch-"

"Awww," Roxanne pouted again, and slid her hand from mine. Raising her arms above her head, she stretched, catlike, pushing her breast into my hand. "I guess I'll just have to tell your fiancée all about what happened in class today. I'm sure she'll be oh-so-happy to hear about her hubby-to-be dry humping all over his sexy older dance teacher until he creamed himself." She uncrossed her legs, and spread them wide on the railing, smirking up at me. "I can only imagine what'll happen to that whitebread future you two have been planning."

I huffed, impotently. Then I glanced back at the patio door leading into our apartment; then down at Roxanne's stretched out, mature form.

"It's okay loverboy," she raised her hips off of her chair. "It probably won't take long. Though, if you like it, you can take as long as you want. It's been a while since I had a good, thorough tongue fuck from an eager young stud like yourself. All the boys your age want to do is pump and dump their cum. Now be a good boy, hurry up and get down on your knees, or I'll ruin your fucking life." Defeated, I let my hand slide off her tit (though it lingered there longer than I'd have liked), and Roxanne bent one long stem to let me in between them. "Don't scowl, sweetie. You're so much cuter when you smile."

She replaced her foot on the rail, trapping me between her firm thighs. Slowly, I sank to my knees between them.

"Pull down my shorts, hon," she instructed, taking another drag from her cigarette while her other hand toyed with one thick pink nipple through her shirt. My neighbour raised her thick milf behind off the deck chair and I slid my hands underneath, briefly filling them up with her meaty ass cheeks before I took hold of her waistband and yanked her shorts down in one hard pull. "Mmmm, that's it," Roxanne said. "Get a little aggressive, loverboy. That's the way I like it." She pulled a leg up and out of her shorts, letting them dangle from one muscular thigh.

I stared between her legs. Roxanne's pussy could not have been any different from Lacie's. My fiancée didn't shave herself bare, so she was covered with a thin golden fleece that framed her peachy little vulva; her delicate pink inner lips were completely hidden within that adorable little pouch, and had to be prised out with a tongue or fingers. Our neighbour, on the other hand, had shaved herself baby-smooth bare, aside from a coal-black triangle at the very apex of her thighs, which pointed downwards into her plush crack; Roxanne's plush labia hung clear and free of her vulva, thick and meaty and dripping wet with pussy cream. Her clit stood out like an angry thumb at the very top, unlike Lacie's tiny nubbin. Everything was so much bigger than Lacie's it was almost obscene; I couldn't help but stare nonetheless, as a thick dollop of juice sluiced between those pendant pussy lips, spalling down to the surface of the deck. And the smell! Lacie's aroma was barely noticeable, even when I was down there, but Roxanne's cunt had a heady, musky perfume that filled up the air between us and made me dizzy.

"Do you like it?" Roxanne asked in a husky voice. I made a strangled noise that I hoped sounded like a "no." She laughed that throaty laugh, and said "get to it. It's not going to lick itself."

I hardly knew where to start. Leaning in, I gingerly slurped one of Roxanne's thick labia into my mouth; I was rewarded with a warm moan as I swallowed her sweet, tangy cream. Head full of her thick perfume, I tried to get both of her lips into my mouth at once, flickering them with my tongue and swallowing noisily. She squirmed a little, and I crowed silently, knowing I was having an effect on her. I let her labia fall out of my mouth and reached in to spread them before diving back in again. The sensation was incredible as Roxanne's mature pussy lips enveloped my face, drowning me in a luxurious, decadent warmth and wetness that made it hard to think. She clamped her thighs down hard around my head and suddenly my entire world was reduced to the smell, the taste, the heat of her cunt as it sealed around my own lips.

On instinct, I drove my tongue deep inside her, seeking more of that thick pussy cream, and that pulsing hole clamped down hard on it, tighter even than Lacie ever had. I tongue-fucked her furiously, grinding my face into her clasping cunt until the lack of oxygen forced me to pry myself away from her an inch or two, only to have her legs scissor behind my neck and pull it back in again. I slurped that thick, angry clit of hers into my mouth, sucking and flicking it against my palate with my tongue; Roxanne's body jolted with each flick, and somewhere in the outside world, she cooed.

I drank of her like a man dying of thirst, hungrily and noisily slurping down all the sweet cream I could get, alternating between her clit and her vagina in long, slow, swipes of my tongue, those long labia caressing my cheeks as I did.

"Oh, what a good little cuntsucker you are, loverboy," she moaned wetly. "I knew, as soon as I saw you, that I needed that pretty face down between my legs. I just *knew* you'd be the best little cuntboy I'd ever had! Oooh YES, lover! Right there! Harder! Just like that, ooohhhh, HARDER! HARDER!"

Suddenly there was a flood of thick cream as Roxanne's hips lifted off her chair; she clamped those thick, muscular thighs around my head again as she forcibly ground her spasming cunt against my face, her hands in my hair, yanking hard.

And as suddenly as it began, it was over. Roxanne let go, and dropped her hips back down, falling back to the deck chair, leaving me panting and dripping with her juices as I knelt between her legs. With a lazy, satisfied smile, she looked down at me. "Now tell me you didn't like that."

"I-" the lie hadn't even formed on my lips before her leg shot out like a piston, slamming me into the half wall between our decks, pinning me there with her foot. Her toes wiggled as they wormed their way into my chest.

"Don't lie to me," she said, darkly. "The truth is written all over your face, your fucking crotch." With her other foot, she nudged the rampant erection in my pants. "Now tell me the truth. Tell me everything I want to know and I'll leave your engaged ass alone, I promise. You liked it, didn't you?"

"Yes," I said, between gritted teeth. "Yes, goddamn you. I liked it, alright. I like eating pussy. I liked eating your pussy."

"Mmmmm," her foot relented a little. "Good boy. That's the truth. Tell me, my mature cunt is so much better than your fiancée's prissy little cunt, isn't it?"

"I-" her foot slammed back into my chest as she exerted those steel coils in her legs. "Yes, okay? Yes. Your pussy tastes better than Lacie's pussy." Roxanne bit her lip and let one hand slide between her thighs. "I've never eaten a cunt as delicious as yours, you bitch." Her foot relaxed and slid down into my lap, her darkly-painted toes curling around the thick head of my cock.

"There's nothing as good as a well-maintained mature pussy, boy." She purred. "Just wait until I have you kissing my a-"

The patio door on the other side of the deck slid open. We froze.

"Derek? Are you out here?" Lacie called from within. I rocketed to my feet, hastily wiping Roxanne's fragrant cream from my chin and face with my shirt. She padded out in her nightgown, and spotted me. "There you are! I thought you fell down the drain or something. You've been gone forever. What's going on? Why are you over there?"

"I, uh, I was just-"

"Having a smoke with me," Roxanne supplied from the far side of her end of the deck. She waved a lit cigarette around. "I'm sorry Lacie, hon. I'm a terrible influence."

"Ugh," Lacie wrinkled up her nose. "Derek! I thought you quit?"

"I am! I did! I just kept some around for, uh, emergencies." I pulled the half-empty pack from the freezer out of my pocket.

"Well hurry up and finish whatever it is you're doing." She turned back to the house. "And make damn sure you wash your face when you come back in; I don't want to smell any of that smoke on you. Yuck. And you," Lacie pointed accusingly at our neighbour. "Don't you go tempting Derek again."

Roxanne raised her hands in a gesture of surrender. "I swear hon. I won't tempt your fiancé again. You have my word on that." She gave me a significant look. I nodded at her.

"Good." Lacie said, walking through the door. Shooting Roxanne a final, warning look, I grabbed our BBQ lighter, and followed her inside the house, where I wasn't particularly looking forward to getting an earful about the health hazards of tobacco.

- - -

As it turned out, Roxanne was as good as her word. I didn't lay eyes on her again for weeks, with the exception of Monday evenings at six, when we saw her at the dance school. There, she was nothing but a consummate professional; she and I never danced together again at the school, and Lacie and I slowly improved under her tutelage. She even dressed down for class, sometimes showing up in sweats or a flowy cotton dress that ended well below the knees. Our neighbour even slowed down her personal life; either she ceased bringing her boyfriends home, or she took her activities outside the house, as in the weeks that followed, the noisy sex on the other side of our bedroom wall came to an end.

For my part, I put some real effort into quitting the cigarettes, for whatever that was worth, and tried my best to forget the taste of our neighbour's lush, mature cunt. In the second, I wasn't quite as successful as I might have hoped. At first, Lacie was pleasantly surprised by how aggressively and single-mindedly I dove face-first into her pussy in the days that followed. But no matter how far I pushed my face into my fiancee's sweet little peach, or how hard I sucked at her petite clitoris or those shy, delicate labia, there was no drawing out the kind of wonderfully thick cream that Roxanne had dripped with. And the harder I worked at her, the more frustrated I got, and the more frustrated I got, the more aggressive I became.

Lacie was not a fan of aggressive sex, and she told me again and again to stop getting "so crazy" while I was going down on her, and eventually she shut down my oral advances altogether. 

By the time our wedding rolled around, I hadn't tasted her in six weeks. I told her as much at the reception while we had our first dance.

"I need to taste you," I hissed in her ear as we waltzed. "I need your pussy, honey. I need it so bad."

"I *have* been a bad girl," Lacie slurred. She'd had a fair amount of champagne during the speeches, and was slightly unsteady on her heels. "Maybe if you play your cards right, you can have some dessert up in our honeymoon suite." She giggled and ground her hips into mine. "But you gotta promise to take it easy, mmkay?"




Bad Walls Make for Good Neighbours



"Baby, I swear I won't-" I saw a flash of white in the crowd. "I mean, it won't be too rough and-" I saw it again, a familiar face among our friends and family, a tall woman with black hair and bright blue eyes in an abbreviated white dress. "Is that Roxanne? What's she doing here?"

"She helped so much," Lacie explained. "She gave us a break on the dance lessons, I figured she earned an invite to the party. I can't believe she wore *white* though." My eyes met our neighbour's and she gave me a long, slow wink, then vanished into the crowd. Our dance soon came to an end, followed by the wedding party's dance, the father/daughter dance, and a hundred others determined by societal convention, enough that I almost forgot what I'd seen; a steady flow of champagne into my flute helped, too. Of course, as my glass was refilled, so too my bladder slowly topped up.

"Hon," I leaned into Lacie's ear as she chatted with her mother at the head table. "I gotta go to the washroom. I'll be back in a minute." I kissed her on the cheek, and crossed the hotel ballroom and exited into the lobby.

The nearest men's room was across the hall, a big one staffed by an attendant and full of drunk reception guests with less-than-stellar aim. On a whim, I went around the side, closer to the elevator bank, where I knew there was a smaller bathroom - just a stall and a urinal and probably not yet awash in piss.

It was empty as I pushed the door open. I crowed quietly to myself as I walked over to the urinal and unzipped.

"Ahhhhhh," I sighed as the piss splashed against the bright pink urinal puck. Behind me, the door swung open; as it shut, I thought I heard a metallic noise, like something sliding closed. Footsteps sounded behind me.

"Just a sec man," I said, shaking my dick. "I'm just about done." Suddenly, warm, soft flesh pressed into my back and slim arms slid around my waist. Slim, strong fingers wrapped around my shaft, fingernails glittering gold in the dim light of the washroom.

"Want me to do that for you, loverboy?" Roxanne's voice purred in my ear.

"Roxanne, what the fu-" her hand snaked down and grabbed my balls, and squeezed lightly.

"Now now," she admonished lightly. "Don't curse at me, honey. It's impolite to use four letter words with your elders." Those long fingernails scratched my balls gently, and I could feel a stirring down there.

"Roxanne, you've got to stop!" I insisted as I put one of my hands over hers to peel her clasping, tickling fingers away from me. "It's my fucking wedding night, and you promis-"

"I did promise, didn't I, loverboy?" One of those fingers began teasing around my piss slit, and my cock began swelling up. "What was it I said?" Fingernails brushed up and down my rapidly growing shaft. "I remember! I said I'd leave your engaged ass alone, didn't I?" I stifled a groan as her thumb and index finger circled my cock. "Well your ass isn't engaged anymore now, is it?" They slowly corkscrewed around the flared head of my engorged prick. "Now that you're married, I figure you're fair game." Her tongue flickered at my earlobe.

"I *just* got married!" I braced one hand against the wall and pushed against it, trying to push her back. Her steely thighs pressed against mine, locking me in place.

"Mmmmm, I know." She said. "It's just so nasty, isn't it? You probably haven't even gotten up inside Lacie's poor little married cunt yet, have you? She's out there, laughing and drinking with her family and friends, and here you are with your fat young cock throbbing in the fist of the older slut from next door." Roxanne's fingers folded themselves around my dick and she cooed. "Oohh honey, I can barely get my fingers around this thing! How did that skinny little bitch of yours ever get it up inside her?" 

"Please," I pleaded. "Please just leave us alone. I don't want this!"

"Oh, poor baby," Roxanne said. "Is the mean old lady torturing you?" Her hand relinquished its hold on my balls, though she carried on slowly stroking me. "I'll tell you what, loverboy: tell me you haven't been thinking about my pussy every day since that night on the deck, and I'll let you go."

"I hav-"

"Ah ah ah," she cautioned as her fist tightened threateningly around me. "Remember, no lies." Roxanne's long fingers appeared in front of my face, dripping wet; the perfume of her cunt filled my nostrils. "Tell me you haven't missed this, and I'll let you go and disappear forever, loverboy."

I stared at the thick, gooey cream dripping from her index finger, and despite myself, I licked my lips. She laughed, throatily.

"Here, honey. Let me help you." Roxanne roughly smeared her mature pussy juices across my lips.

"Stop, please," I said, weakly. The thick cream on my mouth seeped inside my lips and flooded my tongue with the taste of her. My knees trembled and my cock surged in her fist. Filled with a sudden hunger, I smacked and licked my lips clean.

"You missed it didn't you, honey? You missed my sweet pussy, didn't you?" She waved her fingers, dripping anew under my nose. "Just tell me the truth, and you can have another taste."

"God damn you," I grunted, a moan welling up deep in the pit of my stomach. "Yes, yes alright? I can't stop thinking about your fucking cunt."

"Mmmmmmmm," Roxanne purred. "That's my good boy," her fingers pressed themselves against my lips and I eagerly sucked them inside, tongue laving them as I slurped and sucked every particle of her cream away. "And good boys get rewards." She pulled her fingers out of my mouth with a 'pop!' and wrapped her spit-slick hand around my shaft as she let go with her other hand. "Does my good boy want a taste right from the source?"

"Yessss," I hissed, her slippery fingers sliding over my greasy cockhead. "I want to taste your cunt." 

"Now, is that how you ask? Didn't your mother teach you any manners?" Her sopping wet index finger appeared in front of my nose.

"Please," I said, nose and brain full of her scent. "Please let me taste you from the source, Roxanne."

"That's better," she said, letting go of my shaft, and stepping back. I turned around, cock bouncing obscenely through my tuxedo pants. Roxanne was leaning back against the sink on the opposite wall. She was wearing a skintight white bandage dress that simply glowed in the dim fluorescent lighting in the bathroom, cut low over her sizeable breasts, their deeply-tanned flesh a stark contrast to the fabric of her dress. The hem fell just below those thick, muscular asscheeks, exposing virtually every inch of her toned, browned legs. Her platform slingbacks glittered gold in the light, and I could see her darkly-painted toenails wiggling through the peeptoe. I glanced at the door, momentarily considering escape, but then I saw it - a silvery trail of moisture oozing down Roxanne's taut thigh, running over her knee and shin to her finely-turned ankle. I licked my lips.

"Tell me," she said in a husky voice. "Tell me how much you want it."

"Please," I said, sinking to my knees. "Please let me taste your cunt, Roxanne. I need your pussy. I can't stop fucking thinking of your cunt."

"Even when you're eating your little Lacie?"

"Yessss," I hissed. "Her pussy only makes it *worse*. It's nothing like yours. I need your cunt, Roxanne. I'm so fucking desperate to eat your cunt, I'll do *anything*."

She laughed, throatily. "You're so cute when you beg, hon. What if I told you that you couldn't kiss your wife's prissy little pussy anymore if I let you eat me? What if I told you my fat mature cunt was the only one you'd ever eat again?"

I groaned through gritted teeth. "Yessss, whatever you want!"

"Oh hon, you've got it bad." She recrossed her legs, and from my vantage point on the ground, I could see a hint of her bare genitals. "Luckily for you, I'm not possessive. But I don't think wifey's little pussy is going to be enough for you anymore."

"What?" I asked, staring intently at the bead of pussy cream rolling down her leg, then glancing back up at her smirking face.

"I've seen it a thousand times, loverboy." Slowly, Roxanne spread her legs, revealing the thick hanging lips of her luxurious cunt. "Once a young stud like yourself gets a taste for mature pussy," her hand sank between her thighs, and splayed her lips apart. I licked mine as her pulsating pink hole came into view, the thick knob of her clit staring down at me. "He'll never be satisfied with anything else; he becomes a slave to it, an addict."

"That's not- that's not true," I insisted as the perfume of Roxanne's cunt filled the tiny bathroom.

"It'll get even worse once I let you inside it, loverboy," she slid a finger inside herself, gasping and stifling a little moan. "I'm going to make you a slave to cougar cunt." She began pistoning her index finger in and out of her pussy, pushing a steady flow of cunt cream down her thigh and into her shoe. "You'll never be able to look at an older woman ever again without wondering what her pussy tastes like, what she'd feel like to fuck, what you'd give up to get access to her." She began pumping her fingers faster. "Once I'm done with you, sweetie, you probably won't even be able to get it up for wifey without thinking about some mature woman, without fantasizing about fucking some milfy neighbour, or woman at work, or..." Roxanne grinned wickedly. "Your mother's a pretty lady." Lacie's mom, Monica, was a tall, willowy blonde with mile-long legs and a domineering personality; she was out there tonight, dressed in a floor-length ballgown with a thigh-high slit, and now I wondered if she was wearing panties, if she shaved her pussy, if she and I could sneak into some dark corner where she'd let me kneel and-

Roxanne laughed. "There'll be time enough for that later, loverboy," she said, reading my mind. "First, I've got to ruin your wedding night for your pretty little wife. But before you get that cute mouth of yours on my superior pussy, you've got to earn it. Why don't you clean up this mess I made?" She extended one long leg towards me, and I stared intently at the long slime trail running from thigh to toe. She waggled her foot, and I scooted forward, taking her ankle in one hand while I held her heel. Gently easing her shoe off, I saw that the thick pussy cream had run right down to her toes, and without a second thought, I plunged her big toe into my mouth, only to eager to clean off the well-aged pussy juice I'd been craving.

"It feels so natural, doesn't it?" She asked as I lapped at her toes, sucking and slurping my way up to her ankle. "On your knees in front of an older woman, doing what she tells you to do?" My tongue bathed her calf in tiny, kittenish laps as I sucked her juices down. "You've never wanted anything in your life more than this, have you?" I shook my head as I cleaned off her knee, my hands wrapped around the steel coils of her thigh as her foot rested in my lap, pressing into my steely cock. "You've never wanted Lacie as much as you want to suck the cunt cream off my leg, have you?" Again, I could only shake my head as my lips worked up the velvety flesh of her thighs, towards the wet heat of the meaty pussy above me. It was as if her words were writing themselves in searing hot lettering across my libido, and if they hadn't been true before, they were certainly true now.

"Once I'm done draining you, Derek," Roxanne spread her legs wider as my mouth lapped its way across the crease between her thigh and her vulva. "Lacie won't be able to raise your cock with a syringe of Viagra." I slid one thick lip into my mouth and sucked hard as she shuddered and moaned above me. "There'll be nothing left for wifey unless I say so," she moaned and stroked her clit above my face as I plunged my tongue deep inside her leaking hole. "Ooohhh honey yessss! Fuck my cunt with that talented young tongue," I drove my tongue in and out of her, drawing out gouts of thick cream, which I eagerly swallowed as her toes worked my cock. One of Roxanne's hand grabbed hold of my hair as she ground her clit into my forehead, cutting off my air as her plush pussy lips vacuum-sealed around my face. Everything was reduced to the deliciousness sliding down my throat as I tried to push my face deeper into her cunt, and the sensations of her toes gripping and stroking my cockhead. Somewhere in the world beyond, Roxanne grunted and moaned incoherently while she ground herself against my face.

Pussy cream flowed freely down my chin while I fed from her, turning my shirt and bowtie into a sodden mess; meanwhile, precum oozed out of my throbbing cockhead all over her clever toes. I fucked my face into her clasping pussy, feeling her lips pulling at my cheeks as I pulled back a fraction of an inch only to drive it deeper. My own groans were muffled by the wet gag of her cunt. Lights began to flash in my vision as my air started running out, I grew dizzy but no less hungry for her.

Suddenly, light and air flooded my senses as she yanked my face out of her pussy. I desperately lapped at the air for a moment, gasping and confused.

"Suck my clit you fucker," Roxanne said, using her fingers to peel back the hood so it stood out like a tiny cock. It glistened, pink and wet and angry and my head shot forward like a snake's as I slurped it into my mouth, tongue flapping over the surface while I humped my cock into her clasping foot. "You FUCKER," she grunted. "You wonderful FUCKBOY! Suck it like that! Yes! YES!" She pumped her angry little clit in and out of my mouth as I tried to flutter it with my tongue, rapidly losing what little control was left to me. "You fucking FUCK. Suck me! YES! YESS!" Roxanne arched her body, pressing her clit into my sucking mouth as she passed the point of no return, bringing a sudden flood of pussy cream out of her clasping, spasming hole. Her big toe pressed down on my cockhead, HARD, and suddenly I was cumming with her, thick spurts of my own cream flooding out to coat my tuxedo pants and the sole of her foot. We stayed like that for a minute, frozen in ecstasy until she shoved me away with her hand, gasping and grinning and holding up a foot that was dripping in my cum. I watched as a big slug of it oozed down over her toes and splashed onto the floor.

"Now," she said. "Do you have a key to the honeymoon suite in those ruined fucking pants?"

- - -

The electronic lock beeped, and we stumbled in through the door in a tangle of arms and legs; hands roamed over each other's bodies as our tongues danced. I filled one palm with a thick, meaty asscheek while the other scooped a tit out of the bodice of her dress.

Roxanne laughed, a lusty triumphant chuckle, as she pulled away from my mouth. She looked around the suite.

"Where's the bedroom, loverboy? I want to fuck you on your marital bed before wifey gets the chance."

"Stop talking about her," I growled as we stumbled in the direction of the king-size bed in the room on the other side of the suite.

"You don't get to make the rules here, fuckboy," she said with a wolfish grin as her hand dropped to my crotch and squeezed. I gasped and my knees buckled as the world swam around me. Laughing again, Roxanne shoved me onto the bed. "Oooh, what do we have here? Luggage?"

"Whoa, wait-" I began; Roxanne bent at the waist, legs ramrod straight, and I stared helplessly at those toned, bronzed stems and the slice of thick ass that became exposed as the hem of her dress slid up. The keyhole at the top of her thighs was filled by the dripping mouth of her pussy. Suddenly the room was filled with the sound of a long zipper being undone. "No seriously, leave that shit alone. She'll find out."

Roxanne looked back at me over her shoulder, smirking. "If you really wanted me to stop, lover, you wouldn't be so hard right now." She turned back towards Lacie's suitcase. "Oooh, honey. I think someone was planning to get *frisky* tonight.

"I *told* you," I said, sitting up a little. "Stop. Talking. About. Her."

"And I told you," Roxanne turned around, clutching a bundle of white fabric. Her talon-like fingernails gripped my sac, and the world swam around me. "You don't get to make the rules here, Derek. This is *my* night, and I'll do whatever I goddamn please." I fell back onto the bed, and she whirled around again. "Now, be a good boy and don't peek." Reaching behind her, I watched as my neighbour unzipped her dress, and as it peeled apart to reveal her naked back, all tanned, smoothly-muscled skin, right down to the twin dimples that bracketed her tailbone. She wiggled out of her dress, ass jiggling in time with her motions, and kicked it away; I stared, agog, at the magnificence of her bare behind, that thick bubble butt standing out proud and perfect and utterly dominant and I wanted nothing more in that moment than to kiss it, bite it, slap it. I almost didn't even notice the bare half-moons of her tits as they rounded her abdomen. Suddenly, a gauzy white veil dropped between us, falling halfway down her prodigious behind, as she slid a filmy babydoll over her head. She bent over again and, with a snap, pulled a pair of white panties up her legs, snapping it in place across her ass. They were barely able to stretch across all that perfectly rounded flesh and retreated deep within her crack; they were probably fullback panties for Lacie, but on Roxanne's cougar ass, they were practically a thong.

"What do you think, baby? Does it look good on me?" She twirled on one stiletto for me; the flimsy fabric could only just restrain the flesh of her breasts as they poured out of the transparent cups, her thick pink nipples clearly visible as they were smashed against the mesh. The spaghetti straps dug deep into the skin of her shoulders under the strain of her tits, so much fatter than my wife's. Between her thighs, the gusset of those panties appeared to bulge with her creamy, dripping cuntlips, while rhinestones twinkled across her mons, spelling out the word "BRIDE." "I'm not a big fan of lingerie, myself," she said, putting one knee up on the bed. "It gets in the way while I'm trying to get to the good part of the evening, but I just couldn't resist." Roxanne crawled between my splayed-out legs. "It's too bad her wedding dress isn't here." Her tits hung down, heavy and pendant and swaying gently.

"Maybe we can do that after the honeymoon, loverboy." She took my cock in one hand, and gently rubbed the thick head against her cheek, where it left a slimy trail of precum. "Would you like that?" She licked the underside of the head. "Would you like to fuck me in your wifey's wedding dress?"

"You- you fucking evil," I started to say, but the words fell from my lips as her tongue worked my thick head.

"Not evil, honey." Roxanne sucked the tip into her mouth for a moment, then pulled off with a 'POP!' "Just superior. In every fucking way. Aren't I?" She swallowed the head again while her fingers tickled my balls. She pulled off. "Admit it! My ripe fucking body is better than hers in every goddamn way, isn't it?" I could feel those glittery gold fingernails drift down below my balls as her tongue gently washed the shaft of my erection, which had swollen to a size I'd never seen before, despite the fact that I'd already cum once that night.

"Nghhh," I grunted, eyes rolling back in my head as her tongue swirled around my glans.

"She's half my fucking age," Roxanne slurped gently at my pisshole, "but I'm sooo much fucking better than she is. My legs are more muscular, longer," she kissed the glans again. "My ass is a showstopper, hers barely fills out her jeans." Her tongue circled around the flare. "My *waist* is even smaller than hers, loverboy." My balls felt cool as they were bathed in her saliva. "But these big fucking tits sure aren't," she smacked her lips around one of my testicles, and I quivered and humped the air. "My mouth," *kiss* "my eyes," *kiss* "my hair." *kiss* "Every fucking inch of me is better than Lacie, isn't it?"




Bad Walls Make for Good Neighbours



I groaned incoherently in response. "Not a good enough answer, loverboy." Without warning, one of those long fingers speared my asshole and I yelped, jumping my hips off the bed as her glittery golden nail scratched against my prostate. "Say it!"

"Yes!" I shouted at the top of my lungs. "You're fucking better than my fucking wife!" Each word brought a rewarding scratch and I could see fireworks bursting in my vision. "I knew it the first fucking moment I saw you!" I felt that finger curl in my asshole and my legs jumped.

"Good boy," she said in a low voice. "Since I'm superior to her, that means I deserve this cock more than she does, don't I?" Her finger stopped moving, and I desperately wiggled my hips, trying to scratch the itch she'd awoken down there.

"Yes!" I agreed. "It's yours, oh god yes it's yours, okay?" I whimpered as she did something with her fingertip that made my toes curl.

"Good boy," Roxanne purred. "And since it's my cock, I get to say who you get to cum in, don't I?" Her finger rotated while she fisted my cock in her other hand. "And if I say you don't get to cum in wifey until I give you my permission, you'll do as I say, won't you?" Her tongue flickered all over my rampant cockhead.

"Yes! Yes! Anything!"

"You can cum in any other cougar cunt you like," she said with a laugh. "But not a drop of it for Lacie until I give you the green light. Maybe you'll knock up some older slut before you manage to get wifey pregnant. How does that sound, honey?" Suddenly, she drove her open mouth onto my cock, swallowing half the fat shaft in one swift move.

"Oh fuckkkk!" My back arched off the bed as Roxanne expertly fucked my cock down deep into her throat. "Oh fucking god yes! That sounds so fucking sexy. Yes! Whatever you say!" Roxanne crowed triumphantly as she pulled my cock out of her throat. It slapped against my stomach, dripping with saliva and pulsating with need. "Wha- what are you doing?"

"I've got lots of time to drink your cum, loverboy," Roxanne said, crawling up my body. "Right now, I want this fat fucking cock inside of me." Straddling my hips, she yanked the gusset of those panties to the side, letting her thick pussylips fall free; cunt cream began dripping against my cock, hot and slick. "Now you see it," she raised her hips high above my erection, grabbing it by the base. "Now you don't." I gasped as she dropped herself down onto my cock, that thicklipped hole eagerly swallowing every inch of it in velvety heat. It always took Lacie four or five minutes of good hard work to get it all up inside of her, sometimes with the assistance of considerable lube. As she slammed her hips down into mine, those fat tits jumped and threatened to burst forth. Roxanne rolled those hips around, grinding my cockhead against her cervix. "Ooohhh loverboy you filled me right up. This is why I love young cock - always so *full*."

Mesmerized by her mature body as she ground herself on my cock, that trained cunt clasping and unclasping like the tightest hottest fist. She raised her hips an inch and slammed them back down again. One of her tits slipped out of it cup, strawberry pink nipple flicking past the spaghetti strap as it did. On instinct, I reached up and grabbed it, squeezing that suckably fat nipple tight.

"Finally, some initiative," Roxanne laughed. I frowned, and reached up to grab her other tit while I shoved my cock up into her. Her hips jumped off the bed an inch. "Now fuck me you stud; fill me up with that thick young cock and make me fucking scream." She raised her ass up off of my cock and I followed her upwards, slamming it into her, making her gasp while I mauled both of those fat tits at once, savouring the luxurious wealth of flesh on offer. We quickly achieved a hard, fast rhythm, clapping and slamming together; folding one arm around her back, I sat up and latched onto one of those bouncing nipples, sucking and biting it.

"HARDER," she enthused. "You don't need to be gentle with me, hon. Suck that fucking tit." Roxanne's experienced pussy rippled around my cock. My other hand fell to her hip, sinking into the plush flesh of her ass cheek as she fucked herself onto my cock. Suddenly filled with the frustration and need that had been building for weeks now, I forgot myself and began forcefully fucking her thicklipped cunt as she rode me.

"That's right you young fucker, give it to me!" She fell forward onto her hands and knees, and that tit was suddenly drowning me as she pistoned her hips onto my cock while I pumped upwards to meet her. "This is why mature pussy is soo much better, loverboy," she hissed. "I can take everything you have to give and still ask for more; pleasing mature pussy is what you thick young studs were designed for." Roxanne ground her hips around the head of my cock, polishing the knob with her cunt. "Wifey's prissy little pussy will *never* do it for you again, loverboy. From now on, you'll *crave* cougar cunt, MILFy pussy, mature tits, ripened asses." Short, sharp, rabbit strokes as our hips met in loud wet slaps. "She'll never be able to fuck you like her mother can." I tried not to think of Monica, spreading her legs, and beckoning me to satisfy her.

I grunted, nostrils flaring, and grabbed Roxanne's hips in both hands, fucking her as hard as my hips could manage.

"Ohhhh, yes!" She laughed and gasped at the same time. "That sparked something, didn't it, loverboy? Fu-fcuking your mother's cun- CUNT. Oh yessss! Harder, honey, harder!" Roxanne's voice became ragged. "Maybe she'll let Lacie watch while she fucks you, baby. Show her little girl how a real woman fu- FUCKS. YES! YES! YES!" Roxanne's words were lost in a high-pitched shriek as she lifted herself upright, yanking her nipple out of my mouth as her body became rigid and her pussy clamped down tighter than ever. Her heavy tits, shimmering with sweat, jumped and jiggled and I felt my own orgasm begin to overtake me; my voice joined with her as my balls began to pump their load deep inside her clasping wet hole, a searing hot electricity shooting through me from root to tip. She looked like an erotic statue, some Greek sex goddess, all divinely sculpted curves arched in ecstasy, with my wife's honeymoon lingerie a shredded band of nylon around her taut tummy. She began laughing and gasping in triumph as her body slowly relaxed, falling on top of me and rolling to the side onto her back as my sopping wet cock slid out of her.

"Fuck yessss," she sighed. "That was so good, loverboy," Roxanne said in a ragged voice, then looked down at herself. "I guess Lacie's not going to get a chance to wear this," she said, fingering a snapped strap. "Oh well." There was a sharp tearing noise as the filmy nylon gave way, and she tore the fabric from her body. "You made a hell of a mess, hon." Wet noises filled the room as she fingered her sloppy hole. Scissoring one leg off the bed, she stood, still wearing those gold-encrusted heels, and pulled those 'BRIDE' panties off her hips. "Oh well, one cumrag is as good as another, isn't it?" With a satisfied moan, she drew them between her legs, gently fingering herself with my wife's underwear.

"Here, sweetie, toss these in the trash or something. It's all they're good for now." Roxanne tossed them onto my heaving chest, dripping with our obscene juices, and chuckled. In the quiet of the room, there was a sudden *blup*, and a thick roll of cream went sliding down the inside of her thigh. "God, even her panties are worthless," she said, derisively. Turning around, she placed both hands on the dresser and bent slightly at the waist. I stared at her clasping, still spasming hole as it oozed with our pearlescent cream, and the pink star above it.

"Now, Derek," Roxanne said, looking of her shoulder at me and curling a finger. "Why don't you get that adorable mouth where it belongs, and clean me up?"

Without a second thought, I rolled off the bed and put my face where it belonged, deep inside Roxanne's goddess flesh.

-

The wedding night was a disappointment for Lacie. Hardly a surprise, given that our room had been broken into, and some of her luggage stolen. Which was just as well, since I was too tired from the day, and too drunk on champagne for anything more strenuous than going straight to bed.

So much champagne had been drunk that night, in fact, that the hangover lasted until I got food poisoning on our honeymoon in the Caribbean. All of Lacie's new bikinis and panties were wasted on me as I spent the whole time too nauseous to show any interest in her slim little body. I somehow managed to avoid fucking my new wife for two straight weeks, until we returned to our apartment.

"Home sweet home," she enthused, dropping her bags in the bedroom. Lacie turned to embrace me, her mouth seeking mine. As her little tongue flickered against my lips, I gently tried to pull away.

"Baby," I said, softly. "It was a long flight and-" On the other side of the wall, we could hear Roxanne chuckling, followed by a long, soft moan.

"Goddamit," Lacie said, frowning. She tried to pull away as Roxanne gasped wetly. I held her fast.

"No, wait." I took her hand, and guided it down to my rapidly-swelling member. Our neighbour's voice rose in a crescendo, and my cock rose with it. "It's been so long, honey. I don't care."

Lacie chewed her lip, glancing at the wall, thinking about it. "YES!" Came Roxanne's muffled voice.

"Just this once, baby," I insisted, squeezing her fingers over my cock. Lacie made up her mind, and began pulling my belt open.

As instructed, I made sure to dump my load on the bed.

It was nearly impossible thereafter to fuck my wife unless Roxanne provided accompaniment from her apartment. This was complicated by regular drainings from our neighbour as she dropped by "for tea" or "sugar" or "to see the wedding pictures." Lacie never did figure out why the pages of our photo album seemed to be stuck together.

Until, one day, a moving truck appeared in front of our duplex. Thick-necked beerbellies poured out of it and began toting things out of Roxanne's apartment.

"What the hell's going on?" I asked, watching from the window. "Where's she going?"

"She's gone," Lacie said, behind me. "Roxanne didn't tell you? She's setting up a new studio on the East Coast to-" she kept nattering on, but I couldn't hear her over my own crushing disappointment. How was I supposed to cum how? How would I live without having Roxanne's mature cunt to drink from? How was I supposed to get my cock hard without her silky voice in my ear? What was I supposed to do now that I was... free?

Free! A grin crawled across my face. Maybe there was still time to repair things, to get clean, to forget those delicious, meaty, dripping cuntlips that had brought me so much pleasure.

"-for a week."

"What?" I said, coming back to reality.

"Jesus, don't you listen to me at all Derek? I said, my mom's driving down tomorrow. She's going to be staying with us for a week or so, I guess. Okay?" The thought of Monica's legs, long and lean, flashing through the thigh slit of her ballgown, raced through my head. "I hope you guys get along."

"I'm sure we'll get on like a house on fire," I said in a distant voice.

"I hope so; she can be kind of pushy. She always has to have everything her way." Lacie patted me on the shoulder and walked into the kitchen, leaving me to my own thoughts, and swelling cock.

FIN