Note: A reference is made to "Smelling Lou," written by the same author & is one of the stories on this site.
I had known Peggy since I was 12 years old. I met her at church, in a youth group, and we developed a mutual unattraction for each other. She was two years older than I was, and I think she felt that somehow that gave her say-so in my life. She was quite assertive and the natural leader of the youth group. However, I was not a natural follower. To make matters worse her nature dictated that she should be in control, and I often disagreed with her in front of the youth group on many things. These were important decisions, such as what we ought to do for Halloween, where we should go for Christmas or what concert we should attend. In high school and beyond, such control escalated into issues of the heart, what couples should make a great match, what boys and girls should not go together, etc. She desired fervently to be the arbitrator of these matters, matching up this one to that one, manipulating break-ups, insuring relationships of which she approved. She was a strong person, but I have no idea why the kids let her push them around.
Once, I started seeing a girl from a neighboring church. I knew she had a rather wild reputation, in fact that's what attracted me. I was rather a conventional teen, a church-goer, dating girls with high ideals who intended to save their virginity for the one they would marry and who would only let you feel around their knees, or at the sides of their breasts, never on the fronts. However, Diane had not only permitted front-feels, she had once gone all the way with a guy. She wore very thick glasses, but they were quite stylish and had those "bend-any-way" frames. I imagined she wore them when she had sex. With those frames, there was no fear they would get warped or out of adjustment if she happened to upon them. When Diane and I kissed and petted, she never took her glasses off, so it was reasonable to me that she should wear them during sex.
Peggy was not idle. She had asked around, made some calls and got the low-down on Diane. The word was that Diane was trying to reform, but Peggy's mother had told her that once a girl has "done it," there was no going back, she'd do it again. Peggy told me this when she had a "big-sister-talk" with me, and warned me about my unwise choice of friends. I responded by quitting the youth group and going my own way.
Alas, Diane never took off her glasses, nor anything else for me. We had a few more dates; then we drifted apart when I went away to Ohio University. I saw her again twenty years later at a funeral. She was still wearing thick glasses and was a little heavier. She spoke to me and wondered if I would ever come back to church or not. Ironically, Diane stayed in the church but Peggy quit.
Back then, Peggy was quite tall, small boned, and somewhat slender. I say "somewhat" because there was a slight prophetic swelling around the hips and backside that has now come to be something of a phenomenon. Her breasts were quite nice for a teen-age girl, but she never emphasized them by tight sweaters, or dresses. She had, and still has bright, blonde hair. She may color the gray now; still, it is exactly the same color it was when she was sixteen years old.
One might conclude that I actually grew to hate this intrusive manipulator. Actually, I love her very much, especially in these middle-aged-years. Peggy has been like a meddling sister to me, hard to endure, but a part of my life. I have no idea why my best friend, Lewis, married her, and he has often groused about her big mouth, her stupid blunders, and her big-footed intrusion into the lives of others. He is a policeman for a suburb just outside of Toledo. Lewis has been in life and death situations many times, and has proven his heroism under fire. He is a man's man, but he jumps when Peggy says "frog."
I will give her this, Peggy has mellowed through the years. She still is keen on knowing every detail about all of her friends, past and present, but her sharp self-righteous attitude has lost its edge. Now she is pleased just to know about things, fret over them, and then let them go. These days, she is quite charitable to the foibles and peccadilloes of others. Maybe this is the reason I don't mind that she and Lewis live across the street from us.
Besides, Peggy has some peccadilloes of her own. One of them being an extraordinary interest in the sexual lives of others. She has quizzed my wife Barb incessantly about the size of my penis, about how often we "do it," about how we do it, about oral activity, about clitoral sensitivity, and so on, and so forth. This information, to my delight, has been denied her.
It is not unusual for Peggy or Lewis to cross the street to my house, and visit with both, or either of us, likewise in our neighborliness toward them. What I am saying is this, Peggy and I spend time alone together. Knowing her as I have for so many years, the company is as natural as my own family.
"Jonny," she asked me, "what do you and Barb do to keep the spark in your marriage?" Her faced was serious.
"Who said there was a spark?" I asked, laughing.
"I mean, do you watch any sexy movies together, or anything like that?"
"Yes, we have," I said.
She sat up, her eyes widening. "X-Rated?"
"Oh, Barb doesn't like that, but sometimes she gets turned on by reading one of my stories." I replied.
I knew when I said it, I should not have, but vanity has to out, I suppose. Anyway, Peggy already knew I did a bit of writing. It was no secret that I entered writing contests from time to time and she had read some autobiographical young-fiction of mine and thought it was "sweet."
"Your stories turn her on?" she asked doubtfully.
"Well, I guess there are some stories I've written that you haven't read."
"Really? What sort of stories?"
"Sort of erotic stories."
"Really?" Peggy exclaimed, a look of wonder coming over her face.
"I'll have to ask Barb for one," she said.
I knew she was asking me. "You think she'll let you read it?" I asked her.
"I want to see one!" she said, almost salivating. She did lick her lips.
"They're posted on the Internet," I said.
"Really?" She was using that word every five seconds.
"Yes, I'll give you the web address, but you'll have to swear you won't say a thing to anyone."
"Oh, I wouldn't!" she said.
"You wouldn't swear?" asked.
"Oh Jonny, I will swear! I swear I won't tell Barb." She lifted her right hand into the air.
"Peggy, you're not listening. I said `You have to swear you won't tell anybody, ever!"
"OK, OK, OK!" She was actually squirming around on her large bottom, practically filling the chair.
I wrote the web address and my pen name down on a note pad, handed it to her. As she reached to take it, I snatched it back.
"I swear! I swear!"
I gave her the paper.
"`Smelling Lou'?" she read the title. "How sexy can that be?"
I shrugged. "It may not do a thing for you Peggy."
I slept in on Thursday morning. Summertime for a high school teacher does have its advantages. Barb had gone off to her job at the sewing shop, and so I moped about in my summer robe, finally coming awake about 10:30. I was sitting in the living room in my large recliner with a cup of coffee.
"You devil you!" It was Peggy at the front screen door.
"Oh! Morning Peggy. Come in, I guess you read the story."
Peg opened the outer door and came in. She sat in the upholstered chair near the front door. "Ah Jonny, you are a devil!" she repeated. "I knew Diane would corrupt you!" she said smiling, her head cocked to the side."
I laughed at that, "That was a long time ago, Peg. Besides, Diane had nothing to do with it. So you were not turned off?"
"Turned off? Jonny, it turned me on, really loud!" Then Peggy did something I had never seen her do. She blushed. A bright pink mottled her cheeks, then filled them, making her eyes seem doubly blue and her hair a shade lighter. "Jonny, it seemed so real!"
"That's the whole idea," I smiled.
"Jonny, would you.would you do.?" What Peggy was asking me was about the man in my story that sniffed the panties of the wife of his best friend. Peg was trying to ask me, would I do such a thing.
"I don't know whether I should answer that or not, Peggy," a bit embarrassed myself. "I should have given you another story."
"Whew!" she said, fanning herself with her long fingers, smiling. Her smile was at this moment very peculiar. It was what I call her "Bugs Bunny Smile." Peggy had a younger sister and younger brother, and they all three had buckteeth, not extremely so, but enough to notice. And they all possessed that peculiarity since childhood. She looked like a mischievous little girl, but Peg was not little, and she was not a girl.
"Jonny, you know what your story reminds me of?"
"Lewis has a buddy, another copper. He told me once that he had developed an unexplainable crush on a friend's wife. He said she was a few pounds overweight and not especially attractive, but she always dressed nicely. She wore high heels more often than not, and thought maybe the high heels were what first turned him on." Peggy was on the edge of her seat. Her long hands were between her knees and she continued to blush as she spoke.
"He said he began fantasize about her, all the time! One night he and his own wife, and the other couple went out together for dinner and dancing. They ended up back at the other couple's home for a nightcap. All four were tipsy, but his friend's wife had accidentally mixed alcohol with some prescription medication. She was so woozy that and her husband had to help her to bed. Then they went back to the living room and sat there drinking, chatting and listening to soft music. All the while, the copper kept thinking about the other woman passed out in the bedroom. He said he excused himself to use the bathroom, but looked in on the wife. She was still fully dressed and out cold on the bed. He told me he could hear voices and laughter from down the hall so he thought the coast was clear. So, so he went into her room. He checked her and he was sure she was still completely unconscious. He knew he could `pull it off,' but he panicked and chickened out, or so he told me." She winked at me. She smiled and again, looking just like Bugs Bunny. She took a breath, "Anyway, for some reason `Smelling Lou' reminded me of that."
I could see that Peggy was excited just to visualize the scene she described. Her cheeks were rosy still, and she said, "You know, I'll bet that would make a good story."
"Humm." I said, rubbing my chin.
"I mean, in the story you don't have to chicken out," she said.
"You're free to push the envelope in erotic fiction, aren't you?"
"Yeah, I guess, as long as there is free speech, you're free to push."
"I mean," she said, "I'm not a guy, so I don't really know what would run through a guy's mind at a moment like that," she said folding her arms, hugging them, "not to mention what's running through his loins." Peg shivered a little. "Heck," she said, "I never would've understood why a man would be turned on by the scent of a woman's panties or even why a woman would become sexually aroused by the scent of another woman's panties, if I hadn't read "Smelling Lou." She cocked her head and gave me a closed- mouthed smile.
"You know, if your friend had copped a feel, no pun intended, he would have been liable for rape or attempted rape," I said.
"Yeah," she said, a disappointed look on her face, "no wonder he chickened out."
"But did he?" I asked, "Did he really chicken out?"
Peggy giggled and shivered again.
That night, I did a bit of clustering on paper to find my starting point. I wrote the word "Policeman" in the middle of a blank page. Then I let my mind run free with whatever images "policeman" precipitated: responsible; in control; judgmental; harsh; vindictive; honorable; torn; ambivalent; human. Then, using these words, I clustered them around the word "Policeman."
Below the first cluster, I built another one around the word, "HUMAN." I let my mind roam free again, and came up with: testosterone; temptation; control; lust; infatuation; fetish; fixation; danger; shame; love." Since "honor" was almost an antonym of "shame" I connected them with a line. I saw a connection between "shame" and "lust," and I drew a line between them. Suddenly my mind began to gallop, and away I went on the story.
Of course, Peggy had already provided the core scene. I had written it down as soon as she left. As nearly as I could I retained Peggy's words. I read over it, and realized that she had the makings of a good storyteller. Not many people could remember the detail and depict the scene the way she did. Just reading her description aroused a narrow dither of excitement in me. Moreover, it cracked the door on a new and hitherto unknown room in Peggy's persona. She was not only curious about sex in the lives of other people; she also fed off it. She felt not only the tickle of stimulation, but I now believed she experienced a kind of fulfillment through hearing and reading of others' escapades. Of course, Peggy would have pointed her long, soft finger with it's red nail at me, and said, "Jonny, so do you."
Three days later, the story was finished.
It was still bubbling on top when I took it out of the oven and I knew it was not ready for the public to taste. Before it was right, it had to cool down. Then I could see the errors and inconsistencies and make corrections. Yet, even then, I could never get it quite like I wanted it.
However, now that I had a coconspirator, a collaborator of sorts, I was anxious to share my handiwork with her. So I called Peggy, and said, "Well, Peg, it's done. I should really give a few more days, but I think you should look at it."
"I can't come right now, Jonny, I'm exhausted. I did some work at my old office this morning. Give me a little time to rest." Peggy had been a secretary to a very successful industrialist in downtown Toledo. She knew the business better than he did, but when the old boss died, the son took over. He interviewed a cute twenty- something "to help her out" and they commissioned Peg to train her. After the training, Peggy was laid off. Unabashed, her old boss called back to part-time duty whenever the cutesy-pie couldn't handle it. "To tell you the truth, I just came in and jumped in the tub for a soak," she said.
"I'm coming right over!" I kidded, a dare in my voice.
I heard her give a low pleased squeal at the flirtation, "Oooo! That story must be a real turn-on to make you want to see a big butt like mine!"
"Ahh Peg, you're too hard on yourself. When you feel up to it, give me a call and I'll bring the story over, or I can just send it on by e-mail."
"Naw, just read it to me now" she said.
"I fanned through the pages I had printed up for her. "Are you sure Peg?"
"If you don't mind doing it, its fine for me."
"Well, actually, I usually do an oral anyway. It helps me to find the errors."
"Baby, you can do an oral on me anytime!" she said.
The flirtation was getting a bit out of hand. Peggy and I hardly ever flirted, but something about her connection to the story, and now my connection, must have triggered these little sexy skirmishes of one- upmanship. "Now, let's behave, Peggy. Remember what you taught me in Sunday school."
She giggled, "OK, let's hear your story."
"OK, but Peg, you have to keep in mind the principal characters in the story. There are: Ray and Toni, husband and wife, and the other married couple, Phil and Jennifer. Got it?"
I began to read the first part. I introduced the characters, Toni, Ray, Jennifer and Phil. We got through the parts about the dancing, the close contact with each other's wives, the quick hands on the ass, the backing off, the flirting, the teasing, the drinking, and then Jennifer's foolish decision to take the pills she had forgotten to take earlier in the day. Then there was the walk through the parking lot to the car, the ride home, and the surreptitious masturbation that Toni performed on her husband, Ray, on the way to Jennifer and Phil's home.
As I read to her over the phone Peggy would punctuate the particularly sexy passages with an "Oh! Wow!" or an "Ummm!" I ignored it and read on. Then I came to the scene that Peggy had described to me.
"Now, Peg, don't get confused here. You've got to remember that I've written this in the first person, so when I say, `I' did this, or `I' said, that, I'm talking about Ray. He's the one who's telling us the story. Got it?"
"I've got it, baby!" she said, I heard the water sluice about a little as she evidently changed positions. "Ummm, his hot water feels nice, and I like it when you to read to me. Maybe we could make a habit of this!" she gushed.
"Right! OK Peg, are you ready?"
"Now, Ray says (Quote) Toni and I stood by the car as Phil struggled with Jennifer's semi-limp body. Dressed as she was in her low cut black dress with the spaghetti straps, it was a challenge for Phil to keep her decent. The fact was, that he couldn't handle her. Besides, Jennifer was not a small girl.
"I'm sorry Ray, can you give me a hand with her? Otherwise, she'll have to spend the night in your car!" Phil said.
"Toni giggled at the prospect. She said, "Give me the keys, Phil, and I'll open the front door for you."
Phil fished in his pocket for his front door key and tossed them to Toni. She went off to the front door, about thirty feet away.
By now, Jennifer was lying on her back, her lower legs trailing out the open rear door. Her upper torso was totally relaxed and the cleavage between her breasts had flattened like a shallow valley from which the mountains had fallen away. Her left arm lay draped off the seat and into the floor. Her right arm lay relaxed across her body, her hand on her crotch, at which she scratched with utter oblivion. (Unquote)
Peggy interrupted with a soft groan. I waited a moment, and hearing no more, except her breath, I continued to read:
(Quote) Jennifer's short skirt was riding up about mid-thigh and its hem bobbed up and down as she scratched. Her knees were parted about ten inches, and the porch light caught the sheen of her dark stockings. One foot was drawn up close to the car, the other, lay straight with the toe pointed. Her high heels and sexy dress combined with her unconscious open pose to paint the whole drunken tableau in a dim light of obscenity. As I waited for Phil to run around to the other side of the car, I drank in the luscious scene. (Unquote)
Peggy sighed, "Ummm," as if she had lain back and had discovered a wonderfully relaxed position. Again I heard the movement of bath water.
(Quote) "Phil," I said, "I really have to be careful here, I don't have the best back in the world."
"It's OK Ray, take your time. Just lift her the best way you can." He was now inside the left rear door, his knees at her shoulders, and gripping her under the arms. Get under her knees, you pull her and I'll follow."
I first went to the left of her legs and reached down, and pulling the knees together, tried to hold and pull her out that way. I felt the muscle in my back protest. "Ouch!" I cried.
"Don't lift off-balance Ray! Get in the middle, get in the middle!" he yelled. He remembered that I had lost a month of work last year with a troubled back.
I shifted around directly in front of Jennifer and crowded my knees between her legs, then came under her knees with my hands, pulling them into my hips. I lifted, stepped backward, and Phil walked clumsily on his knees over the car seat, carry his wife's upper body. Finally he put a foot down on the driveway and said, "OK, let me swing around toward the front door."
We pivoted her drunken body till his back was to the door of the house and I was facing him. His burden took all of his concentration. Phil's teeth were gnashed together and he frequently looked to the side and back at the door as he carried his wife under her arms.
I, on the other hand, was looking at Jennifer's beautiful full thighs, shining in the light, the flesh insinuating itself through the black stockings. The little skirt slid up to reveal, to my limited disappointment, panty hose. They must have somehow slipped because their crotch was at least two inches below her own. I could see the dark of her panties through the filmy stretch garment, cladding her most intimate self. She was heavy, but I was wishing this little trip would take twice the time it did. Toni had propped open the storm door with the catch on the closer and the heavy front door was standing open.
As we entered the house, I caught sight of her at the sink, running some water. Phil and I trooped on in with our precious cargo and maneuvered down the hallway, around its corner and into the bedroom where we laid her on the bed. Then we stood, or tried to. We were bent with our hands on our knees, trying to catch our breath, and laughing at the same time. We had laid Jennifer on her left side at the very edge of the bed and her skirt had ridden above her plump buttocks so that we could see the lower line of her butt cheek below her panty line, right through the sheer pantyhose. We both caught sight of this exposure and at the same time Ray pointed at it, broke into raucous laughter again, and I joined him in the fun.
Phil caught his breath, "Ray, I hate to ask this of you, but she'll piss the bed if we don't get her on the toilet. You've already seen Thanksgiving, you might as well see Christmas," He shook his head, grinning. "Seeing Christmas" was Phil's hillbilly euphemism for seeing up a woman's crotch. (Unquote)
Peggy, a southern-born girl, giggled wickedly.
(Quote) So, again, we assumed the same position and carried her over to the bathroom, which fortunately was inside the bedroom. We sat her on the toilet seat. I was commissioned to lift her by the underarms so Phil could pull down her panties and pantyhose together. He did this in one swift action. Hardly had the panties cleared her butt and she was peeing, bubbling the water beneath her. I was now standing to her side, but with one arm draped around her neck and both hands, actually the backs of my hands, under her arms. It was an awkward position but braced myself against the wall, and concentrated on the feel that the sides of her breasts were giving my palms. I had gotten closer to this lady than I ever thought I would. (Unquote)
Peggy was exhaling sharp gusts of air through her nose into the receiver. The water was splashing about. I knew what Peggy was doing and I felt myself giving way to an erection. I wondered about this development. Was this because of what Peggy was doing, or because of the images in the story I was putting into audible words? Probably both, I concluded.
(Quote) Phil removed Jennifer's panty hose and tossed them into the corner. When she was finished, he wiped her, and used a warm moist washcloth to cleanse her. I couldn't help but wish our roles were reversed at that moment. I lifted Jennifer again and Phil pulled her panties back up. If I saw anything sexy, it was only a flash and not enough to register a clear picture, except for those fabulous legs. That image was distinct.
We arranged her in the middle of the bed, and Phil pulled her skirt down as far as it would go. She lay on her back, her head thrown back, snoring very softly, lips parted slightly. Her left hand was up, as if she were a child, raising it at school. Her underarm, of course, was open, and I reminded myself not to wash my hands, that her scent must be on them from lifting her there. Her right hand was again at her crotch, but very demurely, only resting there. I grinned to my self as I recalled her digging at herself out in the driveway. Phil was in the bathroom for a few moments and then came out. "Your turn," he said.
In the bathroom, I turned the water on, but did not wash. I lifted my hands to my nose and sniffed the palms and backs of them. I smelled the clean sweat of my neighbor's wife. It was mingled with a spicy fragrance, which was pleasant, but I wished the added spice were absent. (Unquote)
"Ahhhh, Jon," Peggy whispered, brokenly.
"Peg, are you OK with this? Shall I read on?"
"Oh God, yes! Read on Jonny," she pled.
"OK," I said doubtfully.
(Quote) I turned the water off, and left the bathroom, walking close to the bed, and looking down once more. Leaving Jennifer reluctantly, I walked back to the living room where my wife was pouring drinks and Phil was putting on a CD. We kicked off our shoes propping our feet on the coffee table, and were enjoying the slow paced conversation. It seemed to match the music. We rehashed the happenings of this evening of fun, but my mind kept returning to the unconscious woman on the bed.
When my mind finally came back to the conscious people before me, I realized that Phil had launched a lengthy story, which he had already rehearsed to us guys at work. So before he got too far, I said, "Phil, I'm sorry, I didn't take care of all my business a while ago, I need to go to the bathroom."
"You know where it is," he said, then turned back to my wife.
I went down the hallway, made the turn and went into the first bathroom. I unzipped and tried to relax as I urinated. I zipped up and washed my hands, deciding very definitely that I was going back for a fresh supply of fragrance. I went to the door, opened it and looked down the hallway. Of course, I couldn't see around the right angle of the hall, but I could hear Phil's voice droning on. Toni was laughing in all the right spots.
I looked in at the form on the bed. She was still on her back, but her left knee was now flexed and that foot was flat on the bed. Her right leg, now quite white with no pantyhose, was straight along the bed. I took a deep breath and walked over to her. Her right hand was still on her pubic mound, fingers gently parted, guarding it chastely with her hand. Because her leg was bent, her skirt had ridden up again, but not high enough to allow her hand to touch her panties.
I listened closely to my wife and friend in the front. At the same time I reached and touched Jennifer on the upper arm. I stroked it. I gripped it, not painfully, but tightly. Jennifer slept on. I put my hand on her shoulder and I rubbed there, slipping down the spaghetti strap with my fingers, still no change in breathing. "Jennifer?" I said softly, giving her a little shake. Nothing.
I sat down on the side of the bed and put my right hand on her upper chest. I began to rub her there lightly, no alteration in her breathing, no extra movement anywhere. My right hand traveled along her bare skin directly to her breast, slipping below the low cut of her dress a few inches. Her full, lovely breast was now in my hand. I pulled down the front and exposed her nipple and took it between my fingers, rolling it." (Unquote)
"Oh shit, Jon, I love it," Peggy whispered.
My eyebrows raised. I had never heard Peggy say "shit" or "damn" in my life. Again, water splashed in the tub. I heard the intake of a deep breath.
"You like this Peg?"
"Mmmm, Jon, please."
(Quote) After several firm, but not hurtful squeezes, Jennifer was still unresponsive. I bent my head over her breast, and took her into my mouth, pushing her large nipple around with my tongue, cupping the other breast with my hand. (Unquote)
"Uh, Uh, Uh!" Peggy grunted.
"God, don't talk Jon, just read!" her voice was very hoarse and deep in her chest.
I returned to my reading:
(Quote) After tasting of this wonderful fruit, I came up from her breast and looked at her again, one breast bare, the other loosely covered, her hand lightly on her pubis. I reached over Jennifer's body and pulled her other leg down flat. She complied with no resistance. I scooted down toward the foot of the bed and took her short black skirt in my hands and pushed it upward, keeping the material taut under her hand. The skirt easily slid under her hand, and it was now resting on her panty crotch. A few light- colored hairs had escaped from their encasement, and curled on either side. I grasped the waistline of her panties just below her navel and pulled. I anticipated a struggle, with her ass tight against the bed, but it never came. Unbelievably, at the pulling sensation, Jennifer raised her hips slightly, and they came sliding under her buttocks easily. I halted after this action, wondering if she was awakening, cooperating perhaps? But her jaw was still slack and the deep breathing of slumber had not shortened.
Only then did I let my eyes focus directly on her hand. It rested in the midst of a hairy pampas of curls, and it was at this point that Jennifer began a light movement with her fingers, dragging them through the hair. I looked at her face, which was not registering consciousness, but a definite purposeful frown was forming there. I watched a moment, seeing her thighs strain outwardly against the black panties. I ventured to move them down, pulling them down to her ankles. Her knees immediately fell apart and her hand continued its pleasure as I watched. (Unquote)
"Uh, Uh, Uh, yes, yes," said Peg.
This time I reached down to my erection and squeezed it through my pants.
"Baby, are you liking this?" This woman was a big sister to me, why was I calling her "Baby?"
"Fuck, Jon, read some more. Mmmm."
(Quote) I supposed it was possible for a woman to become aroused in sleep. Once, one of the dispatchers at headquarters greeted me with a smile when I checked in at 7:00 AM. "Morning Ray!" she said, "I had a dream about you last night!"
I said, "Really, what about?"
She rolled her eyes and leered at me, and said, "No, don't ask me that Ray, I'll never tell!" She and one of the other dispatchers clattered into a storm of giggles. So, maybe it's possible for female arousal in sleep. I had to believe I was witnessing it. I know absolutely that I have sexual dreams, frequently. I awake every morning with proof of it in my fist. Maybe that was what Jennifer was experiencing.
As I watched this lazy masturbation, I listened for sounds down the hallway. Toni was laughing with Phil about something, and there was no want for conversation in the living room. Not much time had past anyway, so I concluded I was safe for a few more minutes.
I unzipped my pants, and exposed my hard erection. I lay down on my left side beside my friend's wife. I could just perch there on "my" slice of the bed. I placed my hand over Jennifer's moving fingers, following each one of them in their alternate action, just over-pressing them slightly, enough to encourage deeper probing, I hoped. I felt her coarse curls tickling my fingers as I rode her hand with mine. Of course, my erection had been full since I first touched Jennifer, but now it was pressed against her naked hip, and I could feel the movement of my foreskin slightly against her. (Unquote)
"God in heaven, Jon! I'm coming!" Peggy sobbed.
The water thrashed about in the tub, and the phone fell, I suppose, onto the floor making a banging noise. The connection didn't break and I heard my neighbor groaning aloud as she reached her self-induced climax. Well, maybe it was not totally self-induced. I myself had not bared my penis. While I had never tried it before, I was not sure I could really perform under Ameritech's possible scrutiny. Once I had picked up a sexy phone conversation over my scanner, and all of these thoughts conspired against me fully enjoying this moment of ecstasy with Peggy. Frankly, I was tempted to cross the street, but that would be passing a milestone I was not sure I wanted to go by.
"Jon? Are you there, sweetheart?"
"I'm here Peg."
"Are you hard, Jonny?"
"Yes, Peggy, I am."
"Did I do it to you, honey?"
"Something did, Peg."
"You're not finished with the story are you?"
"Come over here and finish up reading the story to me."
I squeezed the phone in silence.
"I'm not pretty like Barb, but."
"You're just fine, Peg."
"Just this once, Jon, come over to me."
I hung up the phone.
I stood up, and shook my head, looking at my pants, which formed a tent that Peg had inspired. A middle-aged woman, whom I loved like a meddling sister, wanted my middle- aged body. I laughed. Well, I thought, I can at least go over.
I crossed over, and as I knew it would be, the door was unlocked. I let myself in, but locked it behind me. "Peggy?" I shouted.
I walked through her living room and into the hallway that led to her bedroom. The house, with some exceptions, was a mirror image of my own. I called her name again, "Peg?"
When I entered the bedroom she was on the bed. Covers had been pulled down, but she had pulled the sheet back up to cover her body. She was smiling oddly at me, but not like Bugs on this day.
"Bring your story and come lie beside me," she said.
"God, Peggy, are you sure?"
"Jon, keep your pants on if you need to, but come here. Please?"
I walked to the bed with the rolled up sheaf of papers in my hand. I kicked off my shoes, and she pulled down the sheet for me. Peggy's breasts were quite large, though her shoulders were narrow. I remembered when I had first seen her in the Sunday school classroom, how tall and delicate-boned she had looked. All this middle-aged heaviness now hung on these small bones. The exception was her hips. There was plenty of wide heavy bone-mass there, and her figure was truly hourglass, except not so tightly pinched in the middle. Her blonde pubic hair was still wet with the bath and was of darker hue than the hair of her head.
I sat on the bed and pivoted my stocking feet up and into the cover of the sheet.
"Take your cock out, please, Jon. Let me hold you while you read me the story."
I unzipped my pants and released my hardness, which she immediately took into her hand. Peggy had peculiar hands. They were big, and long, but so limber, narrow and soft, it was as if there were only cartilage under the milk-white skin. I had held these hands before in friendship, and had noticed their strange touch. To feel them and see them wrapped around my sex was almost alien, almost incestuous. Yet, it was not. This full-bodied woman was not of my blood. Nevertheless, she was an old friend, and my neighbor's wife. I can't begin to describe the mingled feelings of tingling guilt and wild excitement that filled me as she began to gently stroke me, and said, "Read it Jon, read the rest."
(Quote) Jennifer's hand led mine down into her warm folds, and her moisture was beginning to seep onto our fingers. I felt her take a deep breath, and press into herself with her hand. She experienced no wild orgasm, nothing spectacular, just a sweet kind of surrender to utter relaxation. Suddenly, she squeezed her thighs together, trapping my hand, and released a long sigh. Then she turned her back, showing her sweet ass to me, and I painfully dragged my hand away.
I realized now that the clock must be moving, and I had to get out of this room. It seemed to take forever for me to work the panties back up her legs and over her ample bottom. The side against the mattress never fully returned to her waistline, but it was all I could manage. The rest of her regalia were easy to put back to normal. When I finished, I stood looking down at her, realizing that I had not yet stroked her beautiful legs. I walked over and ran my hand down the length of one of them, sighed and turned toward the door. I pressed down my erection as best I could and walked out and down the hall. I looked at the hall clock. The anxious affair had taken a little over fifteen minutes. I rounded the corner and saw my wife and Phil dancing slowly and closely with each other. Phil's hand was on Toni's ass. I cleared my throat as I drew near, and they parted slowly, Toni still keeping one of her arms intertwined with Phil's. They both smiled at me. Toni said, "Did you enjoy yourself?" (Unquote)
"The End!" I said, looking back at Peggy's soft grip on my penis.
"Oh baby, he didn't even get to come, did he?" Peggy whined.
Her large leg swung over my pelvis, very quickly for a woman of her stature. With her long soft hands manipulating my penis, she fed me to her sex. She swallowed me up with one long liquid enclosure. I reached around for those marvelous hips. They were the exaggerated hips of the ancient pagan fertility goddess. I ground them against me. With each wonderful rotation, Peggy groaned. Then she tensed tightly, and sighed audibly. I increased my movement and then I emptied myself into her. As the pleasure flushed over me, I remembered her big-sister talk so many years before. "Jon, I just don't think you want to become involved with a girl like Diane. She's already gone all the way, and once you have, you can't stop doing it."
(What a great story! That was written by One Gallus, send him your views at email@example.com . So, when your loved one gets home later, print off a story from this site & read it to them. Let us all know what happens please... - Jayne xx)