Margot looks exceedingly embarrassed.
“Buster, down,” she commands. “Ignore him. He gets excited whenever someone new comes over.”
I laugh and look around as Buster gives one short yelp and then disappears into the darkness once again. The setting is very homey. In fact, this house is exactly like mine except it’s much shabbier. That’s to be expected. When I was on the market, I was only looking at homes in triple-mint condition because renovations are such a drag. I didn’t want to move into a new home, only to be immediately saddled with dust clouds and construction workers clomping about in their heavy boots.
But Margot’s house has definitely seen its share of wear and tear. The wallpaper is a faded floral print, and the furniture looks spindly and outdated. In fact, the wooden kitchen table has scratches all over it, and the kitchen chairs look like they’re made of a cheap aluminum with plastic seats and backs.
“I’m sorry my place isn’t nicer,” she hedges while grabbing a glass from the cupboard. “I’m just renting, but it’s all I could afford.”
I nod.
“No this place is nice,” I say sincerely. “You’ve done a good job with it.”
My sentiment is real too because the house is spic and span. There’s no dust or grime anywhere, and Margot’s hung up cheery prints on the walls. Plus, the curtains at the kitchen window look to be homemade, with their scalloped edges and lacey sashes.
“Um, I like to craft sometimes,” she says, seeing where I’m looking. “I sewed those curtains using my grandma’s old Singer sewing machine,” she says ruefully. “I wasn’t sure that that thing even ran, but lo and behold, the foot pedal worked and I was able to put together those curtains.”
“They’re really nice,” I remark. Then I look at her more closely. She’s wearing jeans and a top, but something about the top makes me ask, “Do you sew your own clothes as well?”
Margot blushes again while handing me the glass of water. Our fingers brush momentarily and shivers go down my spine. Holy shit, she’s hot. I can’t wait to see what happens if even that small touch causes me to go hard.
She nods before smiling at me hesitantly again.
“I do. I’m surprised you can tell,” she says. “Most people, much less guys, never notice.”
I let my eyes roam over her ample figure as she quivers before me. Wow, her breasts must be Double Ds at least and her wide hips swing attractively as she goes over to the fridge. But then Margot pauses.
“Oh shit, do you want a beer? I meant to offer you that option, but then I got you a water instead.”
I laugh.
“No, it’s okay. I had three beers at the block party, so I’m good for the night. Water hits the spot.”
She smiles and then comes back over to sit in the chair opposite mine. I can hardly tear my eyes away from that giant bosom, her breasts cushioned just so within the scoop neck. Margot is exactly what I need right now, and hopefully I can literally charm her pants off tonight.
“So yes, this top I actually made myself,” she admits, looking down at the purple t-shirt. “It’s kind of ironic because you can buy t-shirts from Costco or Walmart for about five dollars, but I like making things myself even if it ends up costing more.”
“It’s beautiful,” I say sincerely. “It fits you really well.”
This is true because the purple fabric hugs those Double Ds without being vulgar, and the décolletage shows off her big breasts without giving everything away. Small cap sleeves highlight her arms, and then the fabric tapers and skims her middle.
“Oh thanks,” she says, blushing again. “A couple of my friends have asked me to make t-shirts for them too, but I always say no. It really is cheaper to go to Walmart or Costco, even if you have to drive to get there. And I’m always afraid that after I make something for someone, that they’ll see it and hate it. You know how these things are. Buying something off the rack is sometimes way easier than making something custom.”
In fact, I have no idea because I’m not really into clothing or design, but I smile in what I hope is a friendly manner.
“Yeah, I can see why that might be. Costco and Walmart are so good at keeping down prices that it’s incredible. I know what you mean about costs too. Sometimes I pack my lunch for work, but it’s actually cheaper just to go out and buy a meal sometimes. When you factor in the cost of the ingredients, plus all the time it takes to make a sandwich, sometimes it’s easier just to buy everything ready-made.”
Margot throws her head back and laughs, giving me a glimpse of that slender creamy throat as her brown curls bounce. Wow, this woman is really beautiful. How did I get so lucky?
But then she grows serious once more.
“Yeah, so about Buster’s handkerchief,” she begins hesitantly. “My dog actually has a couple handkerchiefs that he wears. He’s has a really silky coat, and I think it makes him look cute,” she admits.
“Where is Buster now?” I ask while making conversation.
She looks around the kitchen and then peers into the darkness of the living room.
“Buster. Buster!” she calls. “Where are you? Where did you go?”
There’s the scrabbling of doggie nails on hardwood and then the large, playful golden retriever reappears in the doorway. Again, he’s got a big doggie smile on his face and his eyes take in the scene with unabashed joy.
“Heya,” she greets as he rushes her while panting. “How are you, Buster? Where’d you go? I haven’t made formal introductions yet. This is Dane Jones. He lives down the street from us.”
Buster turns to look at me, his tail still wagging up a storm. Then he comes over and puts both paws on my knee and yips once.
“Down Buster,” says Margot sternly. “We don’t do that. Down.”
But I merely laugh and run my hands over the retriever’s silky fur.
“No, it’s okay. He’s friendly, which is part of the reason why I like goldens so much. I used to have one as a kid,” I confide.
“Oh really? What happened to him?” asks Margot.
I shrug and then smile.
“Bruno died after fourteen years with my family. But it’s okay. That’s a long and happy life for a dog, and we consider ourselves the lucky ones who got to know him.”
“Oh you’re a dog person!” exclaims Margot joyously.
“I definitely am,” I admit. “But yeah, Buster’s handkerchief was in my back yard. Care to explain how it got there?”
Margot looks totally flustered again.
“Well, I think I had in my pocket for a while, and maybe it fell out and then the wind blew it into your backyard,” she says in a rushed voice. “Yes. Like the balloons at the block party today. They’re probably being blown all over the neighborhood right now, and tomorrow, you might find one or two balloons stuck in a tree in your backyard.”
“I see,” I say slowly, nodding my head as if pretending to consider it. “I suppose there’s no way Buster got away, is there? Maybe he likes to eat rhododendrons? We have some of those in my yard.”
“Oh no,” says Margot stoutly. “Buster doesn’t run away like that. He likes his doggie bed just fine, as well as the ready food and water here. He didn’t escape.”
Dang, this girl isn’t even taking the out I’m giving her. As a result, I decide to be upfront.
“Margot, I know how that handkerchief ended up in my backyard. And I think you know too. We both know, in fact, because we locked eyes on that fateful day.”
Margot gasps then, her face going scarlet.
“Oh shit, you did see me,” she whispers.
“I did,” is my growly reply. “The question is: did you like what you saw?
7
Dane
The pedal’s meeting the metal now. It’s really happening. The curvy girl and I are going to talk about that fateful day when she saw me drilling my wife that final time. Or my ex-wife, I should say.
“Um, I’m really sorry,” she begins quickly. “I was walking B
uster and I heard these sounds, so I decided to investigate. I know it was stupid because I went into your yard and trespassed on private property, but I just wanted to figure out what it was. Maybe it was a burglar?” she adds in a hopeful tone.
I laugh.
“Margot, did you actually want my house to be burgled?”
She gasps.
“No, of course not. I guess … well, I guess I was just curious,” she admits.
I chuckle again.
“Yes, but you haven’t answered my question. Did you like what you saw?”
She bites her lip and looks away and then looks back up at me. But she doesn’t answer the question straight away.
“I have to ask, Mr. Jones. Was that your wife you were with? I heard that … well, let’s just say there are a lot of rumors in this neighborhood, and I don’t want to assume anything.”
I nod, my expression calm and relaxed.
“Amelia was my wife that day, but she’s no longer my wife anymore. We got a divorce,” I say matter-of-factly. “Actually, we finalized the divorce right after that session that you witnessed.”
Margot gasps.
“You signed the divorce papers right then? And got approval from the Court already?”
I nod.
“Well, we signed the papers right after, but Court approval took another two days. You’re now looking at a single man,” I say wryly. “I haven’t been single in over a dozen years, so if I’m coming off as weird, you’ll have to excuse me.”
Margot blinks at me, trying to absorb this all.
“But why would you hook-up with your ex-wife if you knew that the next thing you’d be doing was signing divorce papers? I don’t understand. Don’t you hate her guts?”
I let out the lungful of air I’ve been holding while I shake my head.
“Divorce can be more complicated than that. It’s not always a cut-and-dried “I hate you, next” type of thing. In our case, we married young,” I say. “We started out as freshman sweethearts and then tied the knot immediately after graduation. But when you get married that young, there’s a lot of opportunity for things to go wrong. People grow, change, and mature in different directions, and unfortunately, that’s what happened to me and Amelia.”
“So you don’t hate her,” Margot says slowly.
I shake my head again while pondering the question.
“No, I definitely don’t hate her. We started growing apart years ago, although it really only became palpable these last two years. We didn’t even sleep in the same bedroom anymore, you know. The bedroom you looked in on was hers.”
Margot scrunches her nose adorably and I can see her trying to see the bedroom in her mind’s eye.
“You’re right,” she says slowly. “I recall a pink coverlet as well as a lady’s vanity. Those weren’t yours, were they?”
I laugh, showing off a bright white smile.
“No, I definitely don’t have a pink coverlet on my bed. I have a blue comforter that’s very masculine.”
She nods.
“Yeah, I can’t see you using anything pink actually. But I guess my question is ‘why’? Why would you even touch her when you knew you’d literally be signing divorce papers next?”
I shrug my shoulders.
“To be honest, I’m not even sure. It was kind of a good-bye fuck, if you will. Excuse the crude words, but it’s true. Amelia and I were together a long time, and it was our way of saying adios to one another. Now, could we have accomplished that with a nice handshake and wave? Yes, definitely. But what happened happened, and it’s done now.”
Margot nods although I can still see that she’s confused.
“But Mr. Jones, I have another question. Is that usually how you make love to women? Upside-down with crazy acrobatics? I know these questions are really personal, but I have to admit I was blown out of the water. You could be in a porn movie, if you’re able to do that.”
I laugh again, genuinely amused.
“I’ll take that as a compliment, sweetheart. Do you watch porn often?”
She goes beet red again while stammering.
“Well no, but I was just saying that it’s possible. I mean, if I were imagining a scene, you could be in it.” That gets her into even more hot water, and I let out a huge belly laugh to her chagrin.
“I understand, Margot. You’re saying that my innate athleticism combined with my handsome features, muscular body, and huge tool make for a successful male porn star right?”
“No!” she says with a shocked expression while waving both hands in the air. “Well, maybe yes, if you put it that way.”
I merely grin at her this time.
“It sounds like you liked what you saw.”
This time, Margot has relaxed enough to nod slightly while shooting me a lustful look from beneath her lashes.
“I did,” she admits. “It was wild and so hot. I can’t believe men and women do that with one another.”
The opening has come and like a tiger, I pounce.
“Then sweetheart, would you like to try it out for yourself? I’m more than happy to give you a preview, and seeing what you’ve told me, I think you’ll really enjoy it. So what do you say? Should we adjourn to your bedroom?”
From the way her mouth parts and that pink tongue comes out to lick her lips, I already know the answer that’s coming.
8
Margot
Oh my god, is this really happening? Is my gorgeous neighbor propositioning me? Judging from the look in Dane’s eyes, he’s serious. He wants a piece of my curvy body, and I have to admit, I’m tempted.
After all, I have no dating life right now. Because I’m so busy at work, I hardly ever go out. Or more accurately, after working an eight-hour shift at Pretty Pink Nail Salon, I have absolutely no energy to go out. The most I do is sift through the emails I get from various men on various dating sites, and sometimes I’ll go to dinner with one of them. But as I mentioned before, it’s more for the much-needed calories than the companionship.
As a result, I haven’t been with a man in ages. I’m definitely in a dry spell, and my gorgeous neighbor looks like a feast for hungry eyes. Dane is huge, yet confident and self-possessed sitting in my kitchen. His powerful frame dwarfs the tiny chair, yet he’s completely relaxed with one hand loosely curled around his drinking glass.
Well, there’s a part of him that’s not relaxed. From the corner of my eye, I see the snake in his shorts begin to grow. It’s an incredible sight because as I watch, the bulge increases in size down his pants leg until it almost reaches down to his knee. Again.
This time, I have to address the issue.
“Before I say yes, I have a question,” I say breathily.
“Oh good. You’re going to say yes?” he interrupts with a sly smile.
I blush.
“No! Yes! I mean, before we go to the bedroom –”
“Oh good, you are going to say yes,” he drawls. “Why don’t we go there now and have our conversation in bed instead?”
I giggle before looking at him from beneath my lashes.
“Well, I just want to get this out before the clothes come off. Did you … well, you knew you were flashing me during the block party right? That your cock was doing this?” I ask, gesturing to the head of his pole poking out from beneath his shorts.
He laughs a bit, but this time the sound comes out choked and raspy.
“Oh, I knew, pretty girl. I knew you would get a look, and I wanted to see how you’d react. My enormous dong did its job because if I’m not mistaken, you can’t wait to get a taste of it now.”
I nod, my cheeks scarlet.
“Well, that’s very brazen of you. Do you say that to women often?”
He throws his head back and laughs again, that black hair falling rakishly over one eye.
“No, sweetheart, I do not. In fact, I can assure you that I haven’t played that particular game in over fifteen years. Like I said, I haven’t been single for a long time,
so you, my sweet, are the only one who’s witnessed my disappearing / reappearing pole.”
I gasp again, but then I look at him, my gaze coy.
“Can I taste it?” I murmur. “I’ll bet you’re absolutely yummy.”
As I say those words, a bead of white appears at his tip, beckoning to me.
“Yes, Margot,” Dane growls. “Put your tongue on the pearl and take a sip of my seed.”
With a small cry, I slip off my chair and kneel before him on the linoleum floor. Then bending my head forward, I reach my tongue out to sample his semen. Mmm, he’s salty and musky and absolutely, one hundred percent male. I can’t get enough.
At that point, I pull away. But Dane has leaked so much that a goopy string of seed connects my tongue to his tip still, trembling in mid-air before it breaks.
“You’re a dirty girl, aren’t you?” he growls, looking down at me with blazing blue eyes.
“I am,” I admit. “I love tasting men’s personal recipes.”
“Good,” he growls. “Because when ladies taste me, I like them to be nude. Take off your clothes Margot. Let me see that lushness.”
I blush, but then I nod and get up, trembling. Oh my gosh, this is really happening. Dane is going to see all of me, but the question is: will he like what he sees? I’m bigger than your average girl and it’s definitely given me some ups and downs over the years. Usually I try to be positive, but sometimes I just can’t. Sometimes, I look in the mirror and absolutely hate myself when looking at the extra rolls and saggy tummy. But will Dane feel the same? He seems very into my generous curves, so I decide to go with it.
Taking a deep breath, I slowly pull my top off, and then my jeans, leaving me in nothing but lacey panties and a demi-bra. The fabric is so sheer that you can literally see my nips through the gauzy material, as well as the dark shadow between my thighs. Dane lets out a low growl of possession.
“That too, sweetheart. Take it all off.”
Slowly, I obey. I unfasten my bra and let the cups slip off my arms before dropping the material to the floor. Then, I pull my panties down, letting the lace slip to the floor before stepping out and presenting myself nude for my handsome neighbor’s gaze. His blue eyes eat up my curves, loving their fleshy generosity.
My Neighbor's Husband Page 4
