by Dom Savage
"There goes the neighborhood"
Dom savage
I dedicate this book to all of the amazing and resilient women I have come to know throughout my life. You inspire my imagination, feed my curiosity, and have emotionally evolved me. Whether you lay in a bed, keeping it warm for me, or lay atop me helping me reach new plateaus. I am forever in your debt and couldn't pursue my passions without you.
-Dom
Chapter 1
I had loved the city life and spent my early twenties in flats above bars and restaurants. It made the transition from hello to sex a lot easier. Let's step outside and have a smoke, oh, and by the way, and I live just upstairs worked all too well. It didn't hurt that I was reasonably good looking and charming.
As the years passed, my tastes matured, and the once every night party became a nuisance. As I exited my twenties, I found myself seeking more quiet moments and better digs, so I found a lovely house and moved to the suburbs. A few weeks later, I had settled in, and gone were the boxes of belongings full of memories.
My neighborhood featured rows of houses across which I did my daily runs, past expensive cars, the occasional neighbor would wave, and the soccer moms who grouped for group fast walking to keep their figures. I politely met those I could and partook in neighborhood hosted events to get a better grasp of my new surroundings. One day, during my two-mile run, I was flagged down by a shout and a well-manicured hand beckoning me from an expensive German automobile. The lady sitting in the passenger seat smiled behind her sunglasses and introduced herself as Rose McIntyre.
I recognized the surname, as it also belonged to the president of the homeowners association. I tried to gauge her age but was too distracted by the abundance of cleavage visible from the V-neck of her sweater.
I introduced myself and told her all about how welcome my new neighbors had made me feel. We chatted for a bit about basic banalities, who does the best gardening service, and who does handy work on the fly. Eventually, we got around to talking about exercise and the challenge of staying fit. This eventually evolved into her tales of how her husband had let himself go and joined the rest of the neighborhood husbands who preferred golfing to minutes per day on the treadmill.
I smiled and took it all in, and she was charming and engaging. I found myself wondering what her full lips would feel like wrapped around my cock. She handed me her business card and told me if I ever needed an exercise buddy to ring her up anytime, emphasis on "anytime."
Over the next few weeks, I ran into Rose from time to time, and she would introduce me to whichever friend she had along that day. I met Julia Robertson, a widow in her forties who had an hourglass figure, hip reaching long black hair, and the bluest eyes I had ever seen. I met Melissa Garner, the wife of the town megabucks. A woman short in stature but bulging in all the right places, her strawberry blonde hair set in bangs teasingly danced over her emerald eyes. Her slender neck led to a petite body with surgically enhanced breasts and a flat stomach. These women were part of the soccer mom club I mentioned, which led me to additional information about other women who will play no role in this story.
Each woman had given me enough once overs to last a lifetime. My jogs started to take longer due to all of these thoughtful social pauses. I had been seeing someone from the city who took the occasional drive to the burbs to visit, but those visits had become more infrequent, and things had started to fizzle out.
One sunny Sunday afternoon, a knock on my front door nudged me out of my television induced lull. The game played on the tube and a half sipped beer sat on my coffee table, I hadn't been expecting the company, so I was dressed in sweats and a tank top. I grabbed the remote and lowered the volume, and headed towards the door to answer it.
I looked through the peephole and saw a smiling Rose standing on my porch, holding some dish. I opened the door quickly and smiling and welcomed her in. As she crossed the threshold, the scent of her expensive perfume wafted in, intoxicating me. I had familiarity with the smell, it was one I had come across many times at fundraisers when being introduced to this or that wife. She wore a skirt that came just to her knees, her strong legs and calves led to three-inch black heels. Up top, she wore another of her famous V-necks that showcases her full breasts. She stopped and turned and said, "Don't close the door. Melissa and Julia should be right behind me."
A few hours later, we'd finished off three bottles of wine. The ladies were all giddy and into the music that played in the background. I was still in my sweats and tank top, and they'd all told me, "Don't be silly; it's your home, be comfortable." I knew the tank top left little to the imagination regarding my toned torso, and if they enjoyed the view, who was I to deny them? The other ladies were dressed a bit more conservatively when they arrived, but as the wine flowed, the buttons on their blouses became a bit more undone. The sun finally started to settle, and first, Melissa, followed by Julia, started hinting they'd be leaving soon.
Rose, on the other hand, dropped no hints of joining them. Another half an hour and a glass of wine apiece and they were on their way. Now it was just Rose and me on the couch as a jazz set the backdrop. Rose started asking me personal questions, whether I was single? Had I ever been married? Did I miss the city and all of its fun? I answered every question openly, telling her of my fizzled romance. She hurried over when I told her about my city friend, she looked into my eyes deeply and said, "her loss" as she leaned into and planted her ruby red lips on mine.
At this point the dam burst and my arms pulled her closer, her hands went around the back of my neck, and she held on like she never wanted to let go. Her scent, her warmth, and her kiss was having the expected effect on me. I always go as natural under my clothing, except when I run (for obvious reasons,) and the fact I had nothing controlling my cock things became quite evident. One of her hands slid down my neck across my chest and directly into my lap, it rested flatly across my erection, she wanted to touch, but she couldn't wrap her hand around it.
I grabbed hold of her hand and closed it around the bulbous head of my cock. She removed her lips from mine, and her eyes shot wide open as her fingers kneaded me. "Your head is so big," she commented as she kept gripping it. I was too caught up in the enjoyment of having my cock played with that all I could do was moan. I had closed my blinds earlier, so the risk of being seen was significantly reduced. I lifted my hips and slid off my sweats so she could have full and direct access to my engorged fun toy.
She stared at it for several seconds hungrily, and she then looked up into my eyes again as if asking for permission. A smile from me was all she needed before she ripped the sweater over her head. She stood and let her skirt fall to the ground, and she stepped out of it without removing her heels. She had on sheer panties and bra, which left nothing at all to the imagination. Her already transparent undergarments were even more so due to her excited state. Her nipples pierced through her bra like bullets, and her panties were almost nonexistent due to the moistness of her pussy.
She walked over to me on the couch and sat in my lap facing me, her tits in my face, and looked down at me smiling. "I wanted you the moment I saw you," she said between gasps of air. Her sex rubbed on mine, only separated by the sheer fabric of her panties. I reached behind her and unsnapped her bra, finding the first one nipple and then the other. She moaned and ground into me even harder. It was becoming too much for me; I reached down and realized to remove her panties; it would require her to get up.
I didn't want her to move, so I ripped them off at the hips, she sat up a bit so I could slide them off. The fabric dragging across my cock sent chills up my body, and she wasted no time settling back down unencumbered by clothing. The length of my cock nestled between her lips,
and she kept grinding her clit across it, bringing herself to orgasm while I feasted on her breasts. Her breaths came in short gasps as she approached her first climax. She moaned whispers of "oh," and "I need this," eventually pitching higher into repetitive cries of "oh my god I'm cumming." She collapsed into my chest, her ass now sticking out away from my lap and my cock reset running the different length towards her ass.
I held her for a few minutes as she gathered herself, she responded to my embrace by kissing my ears and neck and whispering into my ear "this is better than I had imagined." I knew better than to push, my years in the city had taught me to let a woman work at her speed and offer herself to you. It removes a lot of the guilt they'd feel from carnal acts the day after. So I let her enjoy the next ten minutes with kissing and groping, the expected "I want you in me" came seductively between a gasp for air. I would let her have control in initiating what was to come, she reached behind her and caressed the excess of cock that extended from behind her ass.
She gently kneaded its head and wrapped her slender fingers around it. She grasped it and led it towards her pussy with the expertise and confidence of a woman her age. As the head penetrated her labia, she stopped and said, "it's so big," just before she pushed back and buried half of my cock in one stroke.
Now I was to take control, so I grabbed her hips and pushed her down the rest of the way. She gasped and came, she moaned and tightly grabbed on my neck, planting her luscious lips on mine once again. We became one with the rhythm of the music in the background, her tight juicy pussy sucking my hard cock, for it was worth it.
Gone were the pleasantries after another three orgasms, in came the "fuck me" and "break me with your hard Latin cock." I was nearing the point of no return; she sensed this and let me thrust up into her. Without words, we both knew pulling out was not an option; it had been far too long for her and me. With my headbanging away near her cervix, my cum erupted and splashed her walls. The act sent her over the edge again, and she cried out, "fucking shit, I'm cumming, fill my hot pussy with your cum."
She shrieked and writhed on top of me; I did not stop thrusting before her orgasm had fully ended. She collapsed once again into my torso and laid there for a few minutes before my still half-hard cock slid from her. She reached down and cupped her sex, my seed leaking from it and into the palm of her hand. I expected her to run for the nearest bathroom, but instead, she rubbed it into her pussy before bringing that hand up to her mouth for a taste. She smiled and got up, bent down to pick up her skirt, flashing me her fantastic ass.
She slid her clothes back into place and grabbed her purse before she walked over to me. She bent down and kissed me once again before saying, "You and I must do this again soon." She swayed her hips as she walked to my front door, she stopped looked over her shoulder and said "Julia wants you to come around for lunch sometime," just before she closed the door behind her.
I sat there in silence, reveling in the fantastic fuck I'd just had thinking to myself, "I am going to enjoy the suburbs."
Chapter 2
My time with Rose was exactly what I had needed. My want for the taste and scent of a real woman grew even more. That night as I lay on my new bed, her perfume still fresh on my skin reminded me of her and led me to replay the night's events over in my head. From her parting words and her reaction to what took place, I knew this was only the beginning. With those thoughts, I drifted off into the best sleep I had experienced in quite some time.
The following morning I awoke feeling like a million bucks. I prepared breakfast, showered, and shaved.
I went through my closet and found some casual articles of clothing to make a proper appearance. I was due to have lunch with Julia Robertson, the forty-year-old widow to whom Rose had introduced me. Julia had been flirty the previous night but gave no indication it would or could be more than that. After all, she had to know that Rose had stayed behind for something more intimate than had been on the menu.
So, I locked my front door around 11:45 that morning and made my way down the street, curious as to what lay ahead. Four minutes later, I knocked on her front door and waited for an answered. I looked around her front lawn and realized she had possibly the most beautiful lawn I had ever seen, covered in flowers and perfectly manicured all across. Even the house was recently painted, so I knew this was a woman who liked things in order.
The door opened, and I was greeted by Julia's dazzling smile. She welcomed me in and pulled me in for a hug. She pressed herself tightly against my chest and wrapped her arms around my back. We stood there holding each other for what felt like an hour, but in reality, it was around a minute. The sound of classical music played in the background, and the smell of her efforts in the kitchen filled the front of the house. When she pulled away, she held my hands and gave me an opportunity to check her out fully.
She wore a white sundress that hugged her tightly, leaving less to the imagination than her previous night's attire. She seemed comfortable and relaxed; the excitement in her eyes pronounced. She led me by the hand towards her living room, a cushy room decorated with what I imagined to be expensive artwork. The room was immaculate as if it had barely seen any company. We sat on the couch, casually stealing glances at each other while I took it all in.
I finally broke the ice, asking her about the fantastic artwork around me. I knew someone who had this many paintings would certainly be passionate about it. I was right, and she launched into tales of winning auctions and attending charity events, creating this collection. She told me about how sensual she found painting, how it must take a passionate person to paint so much detailed scenery. I watched her enthusiasm grow, and her body relax.
After some time, we made our way to the dining room, where she served us up to her culinary efforts. The meal was excellent, and the wine she served complimented the spread. We talked about the usual things, such as careers and our interests. I learned that Julia had married young, the trophy wife for a law firm partner who had lost his life in a tragic accident some four years back. Her eyes welled with tears, and I got up from my side of the table and walked over to her, grabbed her hand, and helped her rise to her feet. I wrapped my arms around her while she broke into tears, we just stood there until she finally settled down.
She looked up at me and smiled. "You must think horribly of me," she said. "Not at all," was my simple reply. She had heard my story the night before; we both shared a lack of intimacy. I knew I had to be careful here, and this wasn't a woman of Rose's pedigree. She was considerably more fragile. I decided, then and there, to not push the issue but let things progress in an organic fashion.
To distract her, I started swaying my hips in a rhythmic dancing style along to the music in the background, and she soon followed suit. I am not the most graceful dancer, especially with classical music, but it did the trick.
We danced from room to room until we were back in her living room. She giggled and twirled, enjoying herself. Once the song ended, we found ourselves back on her couch toasting to the musicians who provided us with such great music. The wine was affecting me now, as I could tell, it was affecting her. We were both looser with our touching and our joking. She joked about how I was the talk amongst the ladies of the neighborhood. "It's not every day we get some eye candy around here," she joked, as her hand playfully slapped my thigh.
I pulled her in close and embraced her, whispering my appreciation of her compliments and paying some compliments of my own. She cooed at my words and pressed harder into me, resting her chin on my shoulder while urging me to go on. My hands rubbed across her back as I continued to tell her how wonderful I thought she was. Her hands worked their way down to the top of my ass, and her hands grasped it and squeezed.
I suggested she give me a tour of the rest of the house, knowing that nothing would happen on this couch. Moving out of this room would be a good idea. She took the hint and smiled, grabbed my hand, and started showing me her study, her media room, and then stopped at the bottom of
the stairs. She took one look at me as if deciding whether crossing this line is something she could handle.
In a matter of seconds, she had made up her mind. She took each step ahead of me, seductively. Her hips swayed, and her ass pronounced. I was hypnotized by the view, and the sundress left much of her legs exposed. Her long black hair rested just above that fantastic ass of hers. At the top of the stairs she stopped and kicked off her shoes, I walked up behind her and pressed my front to her back. My excitement was clearly evident to her. She pressed back into me, almost knocking me down the stairs.
Had it not been for the banister, this encounter could've ended with a trip to the hospital and set off a run of gossip around the neighborhood. We walked the second floor of her home as one step in step. Her hands grabbed my wrists, preventing me from unwrapping my arms from around her. In this fashion, we toured her guest rooms and eventually arrived at the end of the hall just outside of her bedroom. She released one of my arms, so she could turn the doorknob. She spun around in my arms and looked deeply into my eyes with her beautiful blue eyes.
