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STORY 1: COVETING MY NEIGHBOR'S WIFE
CHAPTER 1
The first time I saw my new neighbor's wife, I
thought, "that's as good as it gets." You know the feeling --
after seeing a Victoria's Secret commercial, browsing
Maxim.com, or gracing the cover of a magazine. You just
think, for that make and model, it just doesn't get any better.
That's how I felt upon seeing Maria. If anyone was a 10, for
me, it was her. I'm not saying she was perfect, because I
don't believe anyone is perfect, but her combination was the
perfect combination for me. I've been stunned before --
Catherine Zeta-Jones in Zorro, Salma Hayek in Desperado --
but never in person. I've never seen a woman so awesome
that she left me rock hard at first sight. After twenty years of
examining female beauty, this was a first.
As she drove up in the U-Haul van, I immediately
wanted to know who she was fucking. Because every
beautiful woman in the world is fucking someone. Else.
Whenever I see a supermodel, knowing that some lucky
bastard is doing her is both humbling and excruciating. I
will never get over the crush I had on the head cheerleader in
high school, or forget how the entire defensive line banged
her at a party I was not invited to. Like angels, hotties have
always orbited just out of my reach -- I could always look,
but never touch. All my life I wanted a Saturn V just so I
could intercept one of those beauties.
I just never dreamed that a priceless meteorite would
land next door. Now what am I gonna do? If I was diabetic,
I wouldn't work at See's Candy. If I had high blood pressure,
I wouldn't work in high-stress sales. I know I'm a horn dog,
so I stay away from temptation. That's how a guy like me
stays faithful. I know my weaknesses and have adopted
strategies to protect myself. I stay out of the candy store.
But it never crossed my mind that the candy store
would move next to me. Literally, right next door. I am
fucked. Totally fucked. It would be like my fat wife
inheriting a donut shop. It's just bad news. She pulled up in
the driveway next to mine, long black hair blowing in the
wind, her tits threatening to honk the horn if she exhaled too
much.
Oh, please let her be a total bitch. Please let me hate
her fucking guts.
"Hi, neighbor!" she yelled through the window,
greeting me like an old friend. She radiated awesomeness.
Her smile lit up her face like a flashlight. I've known many
bitches. This was the first time I met an anti-bitch. "I like
your flowers."
Only then did I remember I was watering my wife's
flower garden. She often works late, while I do
programming from home, so I'm the house-dad. I cook, I
clean, I garden. It's why I work out so much -- so I don't feel
like a total fag. Yes, yes, I know gays work out a lot -- I'm
referring to fags, not gays.
"Nice to meet you," I said, drawn to her like a moth
to a bonfire. "I'm Abe. Welcome to the neighborhood."
She climbed down and her booty made me swoon.
Honestly, it put those jean ads to shame. Her black hair
flowed down to her butt and shined like a mountain lake at
sunset. I thought I heard that guy from Twilight Zone start
talking, but the pain from my cock, straining against my
kakis, zoned him out.
She turned around and realized all my fears. She
looked like she fell out of Playboy. The beautiful face came
with a killer body that any ninja would die for. I almost fell
over like a corpse. A gentle breeze almost made me shoot
my load. She only wore blue jeans and a tight t-shirt, but
they explained everything that I needed to know.
"I'm Maria," she said, holding out her hand, the
complete opposite of the bitch I hoped for. Her jet black
hair, olive skin, and dark eyes pulled me in like a black hole.
My knee-jerk reaction was to water her shirt with my garden
hose to see it cling to her artificially enlarged breasts.
Instead I had the good sense to just shake her fucking hand,
knowing I would never forget our first -- and probably last --
physical contact. "I hear good things about theneighborhood."
"Not from me," I quipped, smiling. "Nah, it's a great
place to live. Everyone within easy walking distance must
have money to afford this area, so it's pretty quiet. Even the
criminals wear suits." Her carefree laugh melted me. I've
never made anyone that beautiful laugh before -- even babies
look at me puzzled. The greatest aphrodisiac ever invented
was someone laughing at your lame jokes. "I love your
accent. Where are you from?"
"Medellin, Colombia, and I'm mad I still have an
accent after so many years here."
"Accents are sexy," I said, too quickly. She gave me
that look -- you know the one that women give -- and I
backtracked like Michael Jackson doing the moon walk.
"Not yours, unfortunately, but mine is so sexy," I said doing
my best Schwarzenegger impression. Her easy chuckle
somehow tickled my toes. I immediately thanked my lucky
stars that I didn't ask if she was from Mexico. Central
Americans, in particular, hate being called Mexicans. I don't
know why I thought she was Mexican. She was beautiful,
and not even beautiful Mexicans look Mexican. Just take
Selma Hayek. "And how long is that?"
"Since Sheldon married me almost ten years ago."
Stupid me, I whistled. "Sorry, but you don't look like
you've endured ten years of marriage. Unless they were dog
years. You smile too much, for one thing." Indeed, I put her
at 23 at most. Time to change the subject. "No kids?" I
asked, hoping she had a dozen rotten brats.
"Nope. I had an injury long ago that made it
dangerous for me to have kids, so the doctor tied my tubes.
How about you?"
"A fourteen-year-old boy, Alex, and a sixteen-year-
old girl, Justine."
"Ah, you'll be a grandpa in no time." She just met
me and already she was fucking with me. Fun, funny, hot,
friendly, cheerful -- she even seemed super nice. God was
tempting me like Job. No wonder God named "work" after
the bastard.
"I told my kids I'll disinherit them if they make me a grandfather before I'm 40. I'm still trying to convince them
to not make me a grandfather before they're 40. What do
you do for a living?"
"Make my husband happy." There. She said it. I
like that she made no bones about her role in his life. Now,
maybe I could put my temptations to bed. So to speak.
"He's a heart surgeon at UCLA Medical. He also teaches at
the university there. Me? I make hand-crafted dolls that I
sell on EBay, but it's more like a hobby that funds my
shopping sprees. I don't need expensive clothes or jewelry,
but I'm a sucker for shoes. This whole van is just for my
shoes."
I looked in astonishment at the U-Haul. Then her
smile gave her away, and I realized I probably looked like
Forrest Gump examining shrimp. I must have matured over
the years because, instead of getting defensive, I laughed and
held up my palm. She completed the High-Five with a
satisfying slap as I lost myself in her dark eyes. I never
knew eyes could have such depth or warmth. I didn't
appreciate until much later just how long she met my gaze.
An eternity seemed to pass in comfortable silence.
The moment finally passed when she whispered,
almost sadly, "I'm guessing you're not gay."
I laughed, then laughed at her ability to make me
laugh. "Were you aware that a gay man can look a woman
right in the face and, no matter how beautiful she is, still
speak coherently?" Her laughter let me push the envelope.
"What the hell, man? How is that even legal? Do you
realize what I could have done in high school with such a
superpower?"
She smiled all the way to the back of the van.
Theatrically she opened the doors. I saw a lot of boxes, but
not one fucking shoe.
"I saw some moving guys here yesterday," I said.
"Yeah, they brought the heavy stuff like furniture and
my emotional baggage."
Despite myself, I couldn't help but like her. Maria
was unbearably attractive. "Yes, I saw the forklifts."
Even her laugh was wonderful. Oh, this is not happening. I'm a married man. Not a happy one, but one,
nevertheless. Just because my wife was fat didn't give me
the right to hurt her. Not that I loved her now like I did
twenty years ago, but she was a good person who worked
hard, took care of my kids, and meant well.
Even if fucking her was like tackling a sea lion.
I grabbed something heavy and thanked my lucky
stars that I still worked out. "Where is your husband?"
"Oh, probably fooling around." I swear I almost
dropped her dishes on the sidewalk. "Nah! He's gassing up
the Lexus. He wouldn't fool around on me. I don't leave
him enough juice to fool around on me." She saw the look
on my face as we carried stuff inside. "He saved my life ten
years ago. Anything but a world-class surgeon and I would
have died. So I take care of him in every way possible."
"I can imagine." Crap. Did I say that out loud?
Maria just laughed, completely comfortable. "I bet
you already have."
It's like she could see through me. Maria saw all my
many flaws, and liked me anyways. "You're no gambler."
She unlocked the front door and I placed the box on
the kitchen counter. When I turned around, I found her
studying me. Again. But this time, she had a hand on her
hip like a teacher about to school the class slacker.
"You're not gonna be a problem, are you?"
Fuck! I blinked. How could I blink? I realized that
she knew I understood exactly what she meant. Crap. All
that left me was honestly. "I don't want to be a problem."
And, truly, I didn't. "And just how would I become a
problem?"
"By staring at my tits too long, or fucking up my
marriage."
Too long? Did that mean I could stare in short
bursts? Several flippant remarks crossed my mind before I
settled on talking to her like an adult.
"It looks like you got a great thing going, you seem
like a good person, and I don't want to fuck up your shit.
And if I stare at your fantastic tits too long, just smack me
across the head. That almost always works."
"I'm gonna have to wear sweats around you, aren't I?"
"I promise not to break out the binoculars, as long as
you realize that I'm only human and you're totally hot."
"So you're one of the honest, blunt guys. I hate the
passive-aggressive lying asshole types. I hope we can still
be good neighbors, even though you are attracted to me and I
am in no way, shape, or form attracted to you."
"Don't beat around the bush. Give it to me straight.
You wouldn't have sex with me even for a million dollars."
Her laughter broke her hard expression on her face.
Her lips curled up involuntarily. "I don't know. That's a lot
of money for two minutes work."
This reminded me of an old joke: a guy asks the
hottest chick at the party if she'll have sex with him for a
million bucks. She jumps up and down and screams yes.
Then he asks if she'll fuck him for just one hundred.
Insulted, she demands, "just what kind of girl do you think I
am?" He replies, "we've already established that. Now
we're just negotiating the price."
"How about a thousand?" I joke.
Her expression changes. "Sorry, Abe. My marriage
is worth more than that."
"How about a month of unlimited sex on demand for
$10,000?"
Now she took a step back to gauge my seriousness.
"A few things come to mind. 1, I'm not a prostitute. 2,
you're an idiot to pay $10,000 for a month of sex. And, 3,
my marriage is worth a hell of a lot more than $10,000. Do
you realize how much my husband makes as a world-class
heart surgeon? Sorry, Abe. You're just gonna have to beat
off while holding binoculars. Especially if I take up skinny
dipping again."
"Sorry for pushing this, but how about $100,000 for a
year?"
I totally held my breath as she studied me. I was
fucking serious, and I think she could see that.
"Hypothetically, just out of curiosity, what exactly
would you be paying me for?"
"We both work from home, and both of our spouses work long hours. You don't have kids while mine go to high
school. And it's easy to climb over our fence. So for
$100,000, I get to have as much sex with you as I want,
whenever I want, as long as your husband isn't here. I'd get
tested to prove I'm clean so we wouldn't need condoms."
"My husband gives me all that I need."
"Oh, I can tell he keeps you satisfied. It's one of the
many things about you that I find attractive. But this isn't
about you or him. It's about me. You'll understand why I
have so little sex when you meet my wife -- and I don't say
that cruelly. Please don't answer now. Sleep on it. You may
not need the money, but maybe it'll help him retire sooner, or
vacation with you longer, or help your family back home."
"Maybe you'll come to your senses after you beat off.
A guy can't think straight with his balls full. That's why I
blow my husband every morning he has surgery. Still, I can't
believe you propositioned me."
"Not counting my hand, I haven't had sex this year, or
great sex in almost twenty years. I tried a prostitute ten
years ago and it was worse than masturbating with my left
hand. I know I'm not George Clooney, but I'm in reasonable
shape, I'm not a pervert, and my offer is sincere. Although I
feel like a total putz for even bringing it up to such a class
act."
She peered into my face again to make sure I wasn't
fucking with her. "Promise me you won't fall in love with
me, or any crap like that, because I can't tolerate that shit.
It's why I only work from home. My last three jobs I got hit
on all day, twice by supervisors. Sure, I got fake boobs, but I
don't flaunt them. I'm not looking for a fling. I don't flirt or
tease, yet men won't leave me alone."
"Yeah, it must totally suck to be so hot," I said with a
straight face.
Maria's smile melted the tension in the kitchen
"Smart ass. You just wait until my husband gets home.
You're gonna feel like shit that you propositioned his wife."
"I feel like shit already, and you haven't even shot me
down yet."
"Smart ass."
CHAPTER 2
The lucky husband showed up right as I carried the
last box to his gorgeous house. Maria ran to give him a long
kiss. He took one look at me, then cupped her right ass
cheek like a bear marking a tree.
"Hey, neighbor!" I called, so he wouldn't wonder why
I held a box of his stuff.
"A guy at the gas station couldn't stop coughing, so I
bought him some Mucinex to clear up his chest congestion.
Within minutes he felt better."
"You are so wonderful," Maria told him, giving him
another kiss, and for a weird moment I imagined her saying
that to me while giving me a fucking kiss.
"This neighborhood is heavily Republican, so
providing free medical is illegal," I sort-of joked. "Don't be
surprised if someone from the country club gives you a
citation."
"Are you the one flooding the roses?" he asked.
"No, I'm the one watering the curb." I ran to my
house to turn off the hose. When I looked back, they were
totally making out. "Hey, you kids, get a room." I didn't see
any more cards to play, so I went inside and Googled
"Colombian models" until I found one that looked close
enough to her and beat off until my hand cramped.
The next morning, once my family and her husband
left, I kicked my newspaper into her driveway, then flooded
the roses again until she finally came out.
"Not even Dick Cheney waterboards that much," she
said, picking up the newspaper.
"I feel terrible. If you've got a minute, I'll meet you
by our backyard wall."
In my backyard I stepped on three concrete blocks to
pop my head over her wall. She sat on the diving board,
reading my newspaper. "Come here, Maria. I've something
to show you." She navigated through bushes in her
backyard, then saw the top few layers of our wall removed.
"This house sat vacant for a year, so my kids loosened a fewblocks last summer to swim in your pool. Getting over is
pretty easy."
"I guess I won't be skinny dipping after all."
I detected something in her voice that gave me hope.
"Oh come on. I'll pay you to skinny dip." I had no idea how
much I had in my pocket, but I threw a wad of bills towards
her and hoped for the best. Then I realized that I couldn't get
them back without invading her property.
She scanned the treasure. "$87, really? You'll pay
me $87 to swim naked in my pool?"
"I'd pay you $87 just to see you naked for a minute."
She looked me in the eye. Although she didn't move
a muscle, I think I saw her mentally shrug. "I hope you don't
make me regret this," she said, taking off her clothes.
I couldn't believe it. On several levels. That she
would undress. That she would undress for me. That she
would undress for me for $87. And that her body was
freakin' amazing. Her flawless face came with gravity-
defying tits and a flat stomach that only comes from hours of
ab exercises. She even turned around and I saw the best
booty in my life. By the expression of her face and the glint
in her eyes, she was enjoying me drooling over her.
"I stay in shape for my husband."
"I can see." Indeed. She must love him very much.
After at least two minutes of me gawking, she
scooped up her money but, tellingly, didn't get dressed.
Somewhere in the back of my mind a bullhorn blared.
"Best $87 that I ever spent." She laughed, but I was
totally serious. "Please don't take this wrong, but I'd pay you
$1000 cash for a blowjob."
"You met my husband. He's a great guy whose skill
saves lives."
"He's also smarter, handsomer, and a better man than
I am. No question. Ask the neighbors and I doubt anyone
will disagree. However, I was surprised that he looks sixty
years old."
"He's not sixty!" she shot back. "Not yet. But he has
some health problems that have aged him."
"I'm not throwing stones, here. Catherine Zeta-Jones
was in her mid-twenties and at the peak of her career when
she married Michael Douglas, who was twenty-six years
older. I'm just curious how he won the lottery."
It took her longer to decide to tell me than it took her
to decide to undress for 87 fucking bucks. "The guy who
took my virginity in Colombia also got me pregnant by lying
about putting on a condom. Once he learned of the baby, he
spread rumors that I was a whore and that the baby was not
his. I did not want to stay poor forever like my parents, and
single motherhood practically guarantees that, so I went to a
place that does abortions. Except abortion is not legal, so the
quack fucked it up. Next thing I know a taxi dumped me at
the emergency room. All I remember is the blood and
screaming. The nurses said I should have died, but Sheldon
worked eighteen hours straight to save my life. He didn't
even get paid for it -- he was there to teach the surgeons.
"When I recovered, I begged him to let me repay
him. My parents just adored him, so I wormed my way into
his hotel room on the pretense of shopping, cleaning, and
cooking for him. I took care of his every need. He was the
total opposite of the liar who basically raped me, so I sucked
and fucked Sheldon dry. Every few weeks he went to a
different city, so I made myself indispensable. By the time
he had to move on to Ecuador, he couldn't live without me.
But I was underage, and traveling as lovers could get him
arrested, so I convinced him to marry me. He had already
gone through a brutal divorce, but I was the total opposite of
the bitch who bled him dry.
"I couldn't have kids, which is my punishment for
letting that bastard take advantage of me, and his children
were already grown, so we met each other's needs. Most
guys marry specifically to have kids, while my looks would
attract players like the idiot who got me pregnant. An older
guy who already had kids was perfect for me. Plus, he knew
how to treat a lady, unlike macho Latino men, and made a
good living. He preferred to teach, even though he could
make several times more in private practice, but I didn't need
riches. I just needed a good man. And anyone who threatens
my marriage deserves everything terrible that happens to him."
"Don't look at me! I just want to get laid. I promise I
will not do anything to endanger your marriage. Except
having tons of sex with you. And I'm serious about the
$100,000. My wife and I already decided to divorce once
the kids graduate, so I won't even be cheating."
"This makes me feel like a prostitute."
"No!" I objected. "Prostitutes only have a
transactional relationship. You and me? We're neighbors
with benefits. Paying for each and every sex act would be
prostitution, but having a long term relationship where the
guy provides economic assistance to the woman is how the
world works. In every marriage, the wife wants financial
stability, and often trades sex for favors. But most wives
aren't prostitutes! Not legally. Husbands pay their wives for
sex. Just not every time. Or even with cash. Sometimes just
paying her a compliment gets him laid."
"Oh I see," Maria said. "I would be a mistress, not a
prostitute."
"Who is morally superior: the person paying for sex,
or the person receiving?" I paused before trying something
different. "You're right. If you're just gonna fuck me for
money, then you're prostituting yourself. However, if you
are fucking me because you want to fuck me, then you're not
a prostitute, even if you benefit financially."
"Well, you are pretty cute."
I jumped on that like a trampoline. "You see? You
not a prostitute! You're just an unfaithful wife, which is so
much better."
Maria shook her head to keep from smiling. "I have
a few concerns. First, no recordings of any kind. Only cash
or its equivalent. You can't spend the day here, sleep over, or
waste my time. If something comes up, where I'm not
available, you just have to deal with it. If you get a crush on
me or endanger my marriage, I'll hurt you as much as I can.
I'd have to see proof that you're clean and I'd feel really
stupid if I cheated on my husband, only for you to stop
paying me, so I'd need a month pre-paid at all times. Finally,
I need to know if you have anything unusual in mind."My mouth was so dry I could not swallow. I could
not believe she had thought about my offer. Later she'd
confess that she thought of nothing else all night. "Blowjobs
in the morning would be nice. Not hand jobs with a little
tongue, but completing the task."
"You want to come in my mouth every morning," she
stated unsurprised and, if anything, rather chipper. "What
else?"
"You'll really suck me off every morning for a year?"
"I've only sucked off my husband, so it would
depend on how you taste."
Okay, now I gulped. My wife never took it in the
mouth. She only sucked to get me hard so she could get off.
Maria's nude body made it hard to think.
"Now you're just stalling to get your $87 worth," she
joked, suddenly dancing to keep me focused.
"Can I kiss you?" I asked like a virgin.
"Mi amor, for $100,000, you can kiss me wherever
you want."
I hugged the wall before my knees buckled. She
called me, mi amor! "I meant right now. Would you kiss
me?"
I have never felt so flattered than that moment, the
way her face lit up. She hopped over like a kid on
Halloween. She fucking wants to kiss me, I realized. Maria
walked through the bushes, gazed into my eyes, and caressed
my check. Maria suddenly grabbed the back of my hair and
pulled me forward. Shit, I nearly peed myself. She kissed
me hard and, to my surprise, passionately. I felt her tongue
against my teeth and I let her in. We exchanged saliva, then I
felt her hand lead mine to her breasts. I felt her up and
pitched a tent in my pants. I had heard of five minute kisses;
I just never had one. Hell, my wife stopped kissing me years
ago. In contrast, Maria seemed in no hurry to stop. An
eternity passed and yet she still seemed like she was just
warming up. When we finally paused, I worried about
shooting myself.
"Please blow me for $1000. I have cash in the house
and I swear it won't take a minute." And I meant it.
"Let me see it."
An instant later my blue jeans and boxers fell to
expose my totally hard cock.
"How big is it?" she asked, very interested.
"Seven and a half inches." I only slightly
exaggerated.
"Really?" she replied, as if I said a foot long. Indeed,
you'd think I opened a pizza box, the way she practically
drooled. Not since I beat the crap out of a surprised bully in
high school have I felt more manly. "Okay."
She backed up and I hopped the wall like a burglar.
She knelt, right there in the bushes, dirtying her knees, and
logged my petrified wood. Her mouth engulfed me with
more enthusiasm than a teenager. With each bob of her head,
she went deeper and faster, first getting her rhythm, then
stepping it up.
She's hornier than I am, I realized. If she just wanted
to get it over with, she would have jacked me hard while
mouthing the head. Instead, her hands never touched my
cock. One hand cupped my balls and the other stuck a finger
up my ass with the other. I even spread my legs to give her
greater access, and she rewarded me by finger-fucking my
anus hard and fast. She took the whole damn penis, too --
something my lying wife claims isn't possible.
Her moans grew louder, more passionate, as she let
herself go. She was loving it! I felt like high-five-ing
myself. I wish I could finger her pussy because this lady
clearly needed to cum bad. She had a fever and couldn't
wait to swallow her medicine.
Maria looked so beautiful, naked, on her dirty knees,
devouring my throbbing cock, as if it were the world's last
porterhouse. I loved how her hair danced on her back. She
looked closer to coming than I did.
I yelped in surprise when I hit the point of no return.
Maria must have a turbo button on her because her engine
suddenly revved up. Still using only her mouth, she gobbled
me with the enthusiasm of a fag. I grabbed her wonderful
hair with both hands and exploded in her mouth so hard my
knees shook. My first wad hit her like a shotgun blast, theway her head snapped back like whiplash. Well, that only
seemed to provoke her more. I saw her swallow, then
continue to pump my dick dry, moaning like a bitch in heat.
I felt my second load coat her tongue and a third bounce off
the roof of her mouth. Still, she fed the beast, not hesitating
for a moment, eager for every drop. This wasn't a prostitute
-- this was a miracle worker! I never knew a total hottie was
capable of such things. It was like she crossed the Sahara
and now needed to drink until she exploded.
Her hand flew from between my legs to between
hers. A moment later her whole body shuddered. Her lips
still locked on my cock, her eyes looked up at me, scared at
the intensity. Her eyes glazed over like she took a premium
hit of some new super drug.
The bowels of my soul coughed up my sixth and last
squirt of cum. She pulled out to rest her lips on the head of
my cock. It looked like she was putting lipstick on, the way
she moved her lips over the tip of my penis. Her tongue
flicked out and cleaned the sperm around her mouth like a
puppy fed too much peanut butter. I watched her eyes
unglazed and her face settle into an expression of deep
satisfaction. Her happy smile barely fit on her face.
"You taste so good!" she told my penis, looking him
in the eye. "And I get to suck you every day for the next
year?"
She said it like she won the lottery, but I knew I was
the true winner. I found a swallower in a world of spitters.
And not just some diseased crack whore. Every man wants a
virgin nympho supermodel. I just scored two out of three.
She looked up at me and moaned. No lie, my cock
twitched against her tongue
