Roy’s Conquests: Courtney

*** Disclaimer ***

The following story is a work of fiction. It contains themes of cheating, cuckoldry, voyeurism, and NTR. If this isn’t the fetish for you, don’t waste your time flooding my inbox with hate mail– it’ll only make me want to write and post MORE cuck stuff (unless, of course, that’s your goal…).

Otherwise, I love hearing from fans, and welcome any suggestions, thoughts, criticisms, or fantasy ideas. Enjoy!

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ROY’S CONQUESTS: COURTNEY Part 2

***

Some might call it an affair. I think that’s a misnomer. An affair implies there’s a mutual emotional connection that’s formed, as well as a physical. I have too many women among my options that I sleep around with. And she had too much self-loathing and guilt over what we’d done for anything emotional to ever get off the ground.

Still… there was something about that embarrassment, that “oh my god, what have I done” guilt that drew me to her, yet again. She was a sheltered girl who had never done anything bad in her whole life. And in less than a week of living in her new home, she’d snuck over to her old neighbor’s house and had wild sex with him as her husband lay sound asleep in his bed, still believing that his wife wanted to be with him and only him.

I determined to have her again. If for no other reason than my own personal amusement. Her husband was a nice enough guy, but he was aloof… and men with so little self awareness need to learn that their precious things can be taken away. That, and she was avoiding me… nobody avoids old Roy David.

***

Welcome back, sinners. I can tell from your emails that you’re hungry for more. While I have plenty of conquests under my belt, I’ve already introduced my cute and shy new neighbor Courtney Hammond and her oblivious husband Steve.

They were an odd couple, to say the least. Steve Hammond was a sweaty pudgy kid with pale skin, a baby face and flaming red hair that was matted to his scalp. His features were lively– a man-boy who, no doubt, aggravated his wife from time to time with a penchant for all things juvenile. His sense of humor was underdeveloped– the kind of kid who probably thought movies like “Jackass” and “Borat” were comedic gold, and thought books were stupid. I’d be willing to bet any amount of money that he had been in the doghouse with his wife, at least once, for wasting time with video games instead of assisting with chores. I’d be willing to bet even more money that he’d always be wearing shorts, regardless of the time of year, not because he was always a hot sweaty mess who was immune to the cold, but because he was lazy and pants were an insurmountable obstacle.

His wife, Courtney, was a girl without self-esteem (as illustrated by her choice in men). That was a shame, really. Ever see a pretty girl who didn’t know she was pretty? One of those “She’s All That” types where a simple wardrobe change and a little makeup would turn her from a down-home 7 into a smoldering 10? Courtney was a lot like that. A good candidate for one of those makeover shows.

You’d look at her and call her “normal cute”. She had long curly brown hair– natural, not dyed– and large blue eyes. Her face reminded me of actress Minnie Driver, especially her nose and cheeks (if that makes sense). Sort of a curving nose that widened (but not unpleasantly). She had round cheeks that gave her nervous smile a small, somewhat chipmunk quality. She would be dynamite if she had the confidence or the know-how to style her hair and makeup… but she didn’t, so she fell into the “cute” category. Think of Beauty and Beast, Courtney looked like Belle still in her simple peasant’s clothes. The kind of girl where you’d notice her friend sitting next to her, before you’d notice her.

She was tall, probably about 5’8″. Must have hit her growth spurt early in life, and stood a full head taller than her classmates, before they caught up to her. As a result, she was a bit gawky, and tended to let herself slump forward to hide it. Pity really, because she was hiding a tremendous figure. Even her style of dressing was unimpressive and plain. She wore “mom clothes”, despite being in her early twenties. We’re talking plain tennis shoes, simple baggy shorts that didn’t give her long legs the credit they deserved, and pastel tank tops or t-shirts that hid the swell of her tits and the tuck of her tummy.

But I knew the truth– beneath that uninspired taste in clothes was a body that men like me can appreciate. She was all leg. Her thighs were thick, long, and smooth, and seemed to go on forever. And hidden by those nervously hunched shoulders was a pair of plump, round D-cups. Maybe even double D’s. I could only imagine how fantastic those puppies would look if she simply carried herself with a little confidence– shoulders back, and chest out. God, I’m drooling right now, just remembering the way they tasted, the way they felt, and the way they bounced as we fucked.

I’ve already told the tale of our first encounter– introducing myself as they moved in beside me in our quiet suburban hell, with manicured lawns full of flowers and half million dollar homes full of secrets and sins. I didn’t leave much out in my first story. I’d planted a few seeds, invited them to a backyard party. I’d made my advances toward Courtney, and though she struggled to stay true to her vows, her curiosity had been sparked, and there was no coming back from that. Sheltered girls who have been with the same guy their whole lives tend to be that way. In short work, she’d wrestled with my open ended invitation for a wild night of sex, and lust had won out over love. We’d fucked, and we’d fucked hard. Her husband Steve was none the wiser, and that was how we both intended to keep it.

It was obvious that she felt guilty for the sex we’d had. In the weeks that followed after my conquest, I saw her very little. If I was out cutting the grass or pruning the rose bushes, she would deliberately wait until I went inside for a glass of water before she’d dart out to collect the mail, or drive off to run whatever errand she needed to do. On occasion, if I stopped to make small talk in passing with her oblivious husband, I’d catch her spying on the conversation from the patio door or one of the open bedroom windows. The nervous anxiety was apparent in her face– she was afraid I’d disclose what we did to Steve, or let something slip. I never did, of course, but I knew that fear must be tremendous for her. She had been a good girl her whole life. I don’t think she’d know what to do with herself if the people close to her began to see her as a slut or a whore.

That was fine with me for the time being. I was a busy man, despite being retired. I may have dominated her thoughts with my enormous cock, casual approach to women, and animalistic sexual performance, but the honest truth was, to me, she was just another extra in an ever revolving ensemble of women I slept around with. I had other rendezvous, social gatherings, parties, and appointments to attend. Hell, I even had one couple whose husband *liked* to watch. Imagine that? Not my favorite type of dalliance. I’m greedy, and those arrangements make me feel like the 3rd wheel, even if I’m the star performer. But I’m getting off track.

I hadn’t given Courtney a whole lot of thought for those few weeks. That changed on the anniversary of the day our fine country was born. Independence Day… we made some big fireworks that day…

***

It began when I was outside weed wacking along the fence-line. Yard work is something I take pride in. It was mid morning, and I noticed Steve was outside, setting up folding tables and chairs. I threw him a friendly wave and a disarming smile… if only he knew.

He dusted his hands off and came over to me, offering a handshake over the fence. His hand shake was floppy and dead. What are kids thinking these days with that shit?

“Hey Roy,” he said without a care in the world, having absolutely no clue about the way I’d completely swept up his wife in a frenzy of passion the likes of which he could never bring to her. And why should he be suspicious? At 60 years old, I’m almost old enough to be his grandfather.

My appearance and my age has a tendency to put people at ease. I’m a very disarming man… probably why I’m so under-the-radar about what I do. Nobody expects to lose their hot young wife to a 60 year old single guy. Despite my age, I’m still a spry fella. I have a home gym that I use obsessively. There’s barely an ounce of fat on me. Every single muscle on my body is meticulously maintained and cared for, strengthened to its peak. In my older age, I’ve come to draw inspiration from Jack Lalanne. You want nice things? You gotta work hard for them. Which is why it’s so easy to snatch away nice things from young guys who take the path of least resistance…

I’ve been told on more than one occasion that I look like a door to door Mormon, mixed with a retired swinger. Clean cut with a broad, prominent smile and dazzling white teeth. I tan, so that makes them stand out even more. I still have a full head of hair (thank god), that is bright blonde. I keep it on the longer side, swept back like a surfer boy– it keeps me looking youthful. It’s the only part of my body where I have hair, but that’ll be our little secret. I usually dress in flip flops, khaki shorts, and pastel polos. I could be the manager at a golf course– disarming and pleasant. I like it that way.

Since I was working in the sun this morning, I elected to go shirtless. My tan abs and vascular arms were coated with a pleasant sheen of sweat. My biceps bulged, and my pecks jumped whenever I moved my arms. Even talking to Steve, I made sure the veins stood out, loud and proud. Psychological warfare, to let this little scrapper subconsciously know his place.

“Hey Steve,” I replied casually. “Whatcha setting up there?” I shielded my eyes against the morning sun as I gazed at the folding tables and chairs.

“Family cookout,” Steve replied. “I like to have a Fourth of July picnic with our friends and family every year. My way of getting drunk and blowing stuff up. You’re invited.”

He threw that in at the last minute. It made me resist the urge to smile even wider. I know that was an impulsive decision, made without Courtney’s approval. She wanted to keep me at arm’s length after her last mistake, but hadn’t been smart enough to fabricate some story to Steve about why he shouldn’t associate with the likes of me.

“That’d be great,” I said. “I appreciate that. Is there anything you want me to bring?”

He just shrugged. He wasn’t used to having these adult types of conversations. “Just yourself?”

I waved dismissively. “Get out of here with that shit. I’ll whip something up for you and your guests. And you tell them, if they want to get drunk and jump in my pool, they go right ahead. My gate is open to them.”

“Wow, thanks Roy!” Steve lit up. “Come over whenever.”

“You can count on it,” I pointed and winked.

And like a vampire who can’t invade a home without an invitation, I just had my invitation to this young man’s house. Especially that hot wife of his with the full round tits…

***

Potato salad is a cliché staple at all back yard picnics, but I’m a cliché kind of guy.

By the time I showed up, balancing the hefty bowl in one meaty paw, I saw that the party was in full swing. I suspect that the bulk of the family was Steve’s. There were a lot of red heads– like a cluster of Chucky dolls. Nothing against redheads, but since most of them shared Steve’s features, it wasn’t anything to get excited over.

I found Steve, who was busy at the grill. To be honest, I shouldn’t say ‘busy’. He had sort of thrown everything together on there, and was drinking and munching on chips while hoping the food cooked itself. If I really wanted to put him in his place, I guess I could have taken over his duties as the food provider to his whole family… but the fact that I was there to fuck his wife was enough. Let him feel like the man, while behind closed doors the real man is stealing his precious things…

I greeted him, made some small talk about a lovely day, and the meats he was cooking, and then showed myself around.

Mingling is something that comes naturally for me. I never understood the younger generation’s shyness or desire to avoid eye contact. To me, the act of walking up to someone, shaking their hand, and locking eyes is so laughably easy that I guess it makes sense why picking up women isn’t hard. I ought to be a life coach, really. …Nah… I’m too selfish for that.

I chatted up a lot family in my short introduction– noted names and some little tidbits about them. I could tell Courtney’s family versus the Chucky dolls in Steve’s. She had a few lookers. Her mother wasn’t so bad. And Courtney did have a rather fetching younger sister with big Disney eyes and a big smile (although she clearly hadn’t inherited the same set of tits that Courtney trotted around). I made a mental note to add her to the list. But on this particular day, I was in the market for a pair of big full hooters.

It wasn’t long before I found them. She was setting out chips and dip in the kitchen. “Hello there. Quite the pretty little hostess.” I greeted her, and she nearly jumped out of her skin.

Courtney’s eyes were as big as saucers, and her cheeks flushed when she saw me. The first thing she did was glance around, insuring that we were alone. “Roy, what are you doing here?” She asked, lowering her voice, as though we were doing anything other than having a neighborly chat. I’m not sure what she was worried about. With my arms wrapped tightly around a hefty bowl of potato salad, I was the spitting image of purity and innocence.

“Your husband invited me. Naturally I couldn’t pass up an invitation. I was beginning to think I was invisible. I haven’t seen you in so long,” I said, resting my bowl on the counter, stepping forward and giving her a casual hug. I folded her up in my large arms.

“That’s not what I meant,” she continued to whisper. “My family is here, and the last time I saw you… we…” she hesitated, looking guilty, ashamed, and something else… I couldn’t guess the emotion, but I saw the genuine struggle to resist glancing down at my crotch in my khaki shorts.

I couldn’t contain my smile. “Oh, that,” I laughed in a casual no-big-deal sort of way. “What do you think? We have so little self control that we’re just going to strip down right there in the back yard and roll around for everyone to see?” I paused. “Now that I say it out loud, that does sound fun.”

“N-no… but…”

“As much as I enjoyed our fun, I didn’t come here for any other reason than good food and good company. If you want to behave… we’ll behave,” I smirked.

Despite her nervous tension, she couldn’t resist resting her hand on her hip and shaking her head with a hint of a smile. “Why’d you have to say it like that?”

I grinned even broader. “Because if you don’t want to behave… that door is always open.”

She blushed, but seemed to relax slightly. I have a way of doing that with people– putting them at ease.

“Just don’t get me in trouble, please,” she was trying to sound composed and trusting, but it came out nervous.

I shrugged innocently. “Don’t get me in trouble, either,” I shot right back.

“Please, Roy. I’m begging you. Don’t say anything about…” she glanced around and lowered her voice, “…what we did.”

She looked so cute and nervous, that she was practically glowing, with that pink splash of color across her cheeks. It was all I could do to resist just taking her right then and there.

But I couldn’t torture her. I’m not a cruel man. “Don’t worry. I won’t bring it up if you don’t.”

Courtney breathed a visible sigh of relief. And I definitely watched those heavy boobs lift up and down as she did so.

“So how have you been, otherwise?” I asked, spreading my arms and resting them across the center island, peering over the snack spread at my prey.

“Fine,” she said. “Nothing new.” She was being guarded. I could tell. And though I knew she had no doubts that I would keep our past indiscretions between us, I think something else was troubling her.

“You kids sound like you lead such boring lives,” I shook my head sadly. “How are you and Steve settling into your new home? Got everything unpacked?”

“Yeah… working on it,” Courtney admitted. “Little by little. Steve hasn’t been much help though.”

I caught a glimpse of resentment in her expression. It wasn’t much of a green light, but it was to me. She saw her husband as unreliable and underwhelming. Comparisons could be easily drawn with just a few simple observations.

“Well, if you want my old man experience,” I placed my hand over my chest, as though I was a stage actor, drawing from some old fond memories, “Start with one room, make it your paradise. Then move onto the rest… but when you start to get overwhelmed, retreat to that one paradise that’s perfect.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Courtney replied thoughtfully. But then a little smile crept across her face. Her eyes gave me a playful glance that wandered dangerously close to my belt-line, but not quite. “But you are definitely not an old man,” she added.

That made me laugh. I thought of adding my own reply, but several party goers came and went from the kitchen, passing through on their way to the bathroom.

“Hey, there he is,” Courtney’s mother joined us at one point by the center island. “Is my daughter bothering you?” She teased.

Courtney reddened, especially at the way friendly way her mother rested her hand on my bicep. I would have thought nothing of it… but jealousy can show in the face of young women.

“She was refreshing my mind over the horrors of moving,” I replied.

Courtney laughed nervously, as he mother’s hand remained on my arm for a moment longer than she would have preferred. “I felt better once the coffee maker was hooked up,” she admitted.

She lingered for a bit, making light small talk, until eventually Courtney asked her mother if she wouldn’t mind carrying some things outside to the party. Was she trying to get us alone again? Maybe. But I thought I might tease her for a bit.

“I’ll help you,” I smiled handsomely at Courtney’s mother, and carried my share of plates and bowls outside to the back porch. I threw a glance to Courtney over my shoulder, waggled my eyebrows at her, and let me eyes wander to her mother’s rear end. A ‘hubba hubba’ gesture, that colored Courtney’s cheeks. I could see the conflict flicker behind her eyes– just a moment of jealousy, followed by an internal ‘why am I jealous?’, followed again by more jealousy.

That’s where I left her for a while. In the kitchen. And it was from the kitchen, that I could tell she was watching me. Maybe it was concern that I might not keep my promise, or maybe my ego wanted me to believe that it was for more desirable reasons. But I know the minds of young women. We had sex, and for that reason, she felt as though that bound her to me, like a possession. But unlike her husband, I didn’t play such juvenile games of ownership. I was wild and free. She couldn’t wrangle me in the way that she could with her husband. And that inspired feelings of insecurity in her– she knew I wanted her, but also couldn’t be sure she could have me again. Aren’t mind games fun?

Courtney’s eyes followed me as I helped myself to a few snacks, introduced myself to a few nice people, and offered up my pool if anyone was interested.

But like a month to a flame, I couldn’t stay away from my goal for long. I wasn’t here for the party. I never had been. I moseyed back into the kitchen after a short while.

Courtney glanced up from her prepping again and I could see the swell of her shoulders. I wouldn’t call it ‘lighting up’, but whether it was fear, excitement, or I just made her uneasy, she reacted. The exciting and nerve-wracking presence had returned to speed up her heart.

“Thank you for the potato salad, by the way,” Courtney gestured to the bowl I left on the center island. “It seems to a be a hit.”

“Oh sure, my pleasure,” I smiled.

She looked like she wanted to say more, but I took over for her. “I’m hunting for a drink. Steve said he had beers around here somewhere.” Snapping my fingers and glancing around like I was lost.

“There’s a couple of coolers outside. And some more in the fridge,” she spun and pulled open the refrigerator.

I came around the counter to join her. Boy am I glad that I did. That pesky center island hid that cute little blue flower sun dress from me. It was breezy and playful, something a young 1950’s housewife might wear. But it showed those long smooth legs, and her rebellious little butterfly ankle tattoo. It hid her figure, but certainly not those breasts. They swelled in her dress, and the neckline gave just the slightest peek of her cleavage. I felt my mouth watering.

She was tempting… very tempting. And I’m just a man. I could hardly resist stepping up behind her as she bent over to fetch me a beer from the bottom shelf.

I placed my hands firmly on her hips, and pressed my crotch to her ass, feeling her soft butt cheeks yield against my hard body.

A sigh escaped her lips. The only sound for half a minute. She froze, not moving, just standing there, halfway bent into the refrigerator with her neighbor pressing his manhood against her.

Finally she came to her senses, and stood. Her face was bright red, and her expression one of nervous guilty surprise. “H-here,” she offered the beer.

I stepped away, having already planted the idea in her head with that simple gesture. My intentions were perfectly clear. I opened the beer and took a sip as she smoothed her dress, having forgotten everything she was doing up until now, looking about herself, bewildered, and casting nervous glances to the patio door.

Just beyond the glass, the sight and sound of everyone at the party felt dangerously close. She was checking if anyone had seen.

I played it cool, as though that never happened at all. “So why are you in here, slaving away, instead of outside having fun, young lady?” I stood behind the island with her, leaning on my hand like I owned the place.

She was stammering nervously. I could see the fast rise and fall of her chest. I had jostled her with my brazen gesture and her brain was struggling to catch up to her racing thoughts.

“Oh… um…” her body was moving rapidly. Her hands and eyes were restless, glancing between me, the food on the counter, and the hallway and patio. Nobody was here. We were alone. But everyone was close. Very close. Close enough to make me feel alive. “Well someone has to take care of the chips and dip while Steve grills…”

She trailed off when my hand came to rest on the curve of her butt.

“I hate to see that,” I said, sympathetically. “You and I could have our own fun in here while everyone else enjoys the party.” I let my hand wander. First over one ass cheek, then to the other. I gave them each a little squeeze.

“Roy, we can’t,” Courtney’s voice had dropped to a low whisper. Afraid to even make a sound, should someone glance in through the door and see. I knew it was impossible. The center island was large, and nobody would be able to see where my hand had come to rest. “Everyone is right out there.”

I was hardly listening. My hand curiously began to lift her dress, inch by inch. I was gazing at her butt, curious to see what kind of panties she was wearing. She could have moved away. She could have pushed my hand off of her, if she was really concerned. But she did neither. She just stood on unsteady legs as I slowly revealed the backs of her smooth thighs.

“That makes it kind of exciting, don’t you think?” I asked casually, as the bottom of her ass came into view. Not quite a thong, but the white cotton of her undies tucked cutely between her plump fleshy globes.

Courtney sucked in a breath to say something, but suddenly the patio door opened. Steve’s mother looked a lot like Steve, if Steve was wearing a wig and weighed an extra hundred or so pounds. “Bathroom break,” she smiled at the two of us.

I sipped my beer in one hand, while my other continued to touch and fondle Courtney’s ass. From this newcomer’s vantage point, she couldn’t see my hand. Just an innocent casual chat between neighbors. Nothing more than that. Except for the red blush on Courtney’s cheeks and the nervous fear of getting caught in such a compromising position.

“Too much to drink,” I joked.

The woman giggled. “Are you going to be joining us, sweetie?” She asked Courtney.

Courtney struggled to find her voice. It took a moment for her to clear it and speak. During that time, my fingers followed the curve of her ass crack in a gentle caress, before digging in for the squeeze I’d been wanting to give her for a while now.

Courtney nearly jumped, but by some sort of luck, she didn’t. “I- I don’t want to step on Steve’s toes,” she said mildly. “I wouldn’t want to bruise his ego by kicking him off the grill,” she forced the joke, despite her voice sounding breathy.

The woman giggled again, before heading down the hall and leaving the two of us alone.

Courtney glanced at me, the alarm clear in her eyes. She tried to smack my hand away, but I was persistent. I roamed lower, slipping my fingers along the inside of her thigh. She gasped again, a soft sweet exhale.

“We can’t,” she whispered desperately at me. Gesturing with her eyes to all of her friends and family who were mere feet away.

“We can,” I replied softly. “I think what you mean is, we shouldn’t.” And my fingers slipped between her legs until I found what I was hunting for. Her soft panties were already damp. Behind that shallow nervous expression was excitement. This was clearly a new thrill for her. A taboo– being groped behind her husband’s back within glancing distance from everyone whose opinion she held in the highest regard. What would they think if they saw her now?

She whimpered softly, throwing her hands over her mouth to stifle the involuntary moan that escaped her mouth when I pressed my finger against her special spot. Her legs grew unsteady, her knees threatening to knock together as she stood frozen in place on her trembling legs.

“Do you think they’d have any idea?” I teased, and sank my finger into her snatch through the thin cotton fabric. With my free hand, I unzipped my shorts. When I pulled my cock free, she glanced at it, gasped, and darted her eyes away from my impressive length. But the damage had been done. Her body responded with a dampening of her panties.

It wasn’t until my fingers slipped around the edge of her underwear that we both heard the toilet flush from the next room. A moment later, Steve’s mother rejoined us in the kitchen. “Thanks for having us over, again,” she said to Courtney. “I can’t get over how lovely your new home is.”

She was completely oblivious that anything was amiss. She didn’t have the first clue that I was violating her daughter-in-law with my fingers, while Courtney stood, desperately trying to compose herself and catch her breath.

“T-thanks,” Courtney managed to choke out. Her hands clutching the granite for dear life. “We sure picked a good one.”

Steve’s rotund mother sauntered away, and Courtney nearly collapsed in relief when that patio door shut.

“You sure did pick a good house, alright,” I added as I pressed my finger into the folds of Courtney’s warm body, and enjoyed the way it was enveloped in her wetness.

She whimpered softly, and her body responded by pressing back into my hand.

She sounded out of breath when she spoke. “W-we could have gotten caught,” she panted softly, and her hips began to move ever-so-slightly from side to side.

I responded by sinking my finger deeper into her body, gently fucking it in and out of her while we stood frozen in the kitchen, gazing out at the sea of family members– any of whom could easily step inside and catch us in the lewd act.

“And then she would have seen what a horrible little slut her son married,” I glided my wet finger in a gentle circle around her clit. Courtney shut her eyes for a moment, and grunted.

“Oh god…” she said, her voice trembling to hear her worst fear spoken out loud. But then she opened her eyes, and glanced my way. Not at me… but down at my manhood, hard and proud, reaching a full foot towards her.

The protest was on her lips, but the lust was in her eyes. The two were dueling and Courtney’s face was the battlefield.

It was time to test the waters, and see just how into this she really was. Up until now, she just stood there and let me molest her with my fingers. And though I knew she was excited, I like some form of reciprocation– I’m not a monster. I glanced around casually, just to reassure Courtney, and then I found the nearest spoon and nudged it from the counter. It clattered to the floor in a jingle that made Courtney jump.

She looked from it, to my cock, then back up to my eyes. Her breathing was so hard, I honestly thought the poor girl might faint.

“Oops,” I shrugged in a nonchalant way, then I gently placed my hands on her shoulders, and eased her to the floor. She went willingly to her knees behind the kitchen island.

My eyes didn’t follow her. I kept guard, having complete faith in Courtney to make her own decisions. I wasn’t disappointed.

The warmth of her mouth wrapped around my cock so sudden and urgent that it was my turn to nearly jump. She knew that she was merely “retrieving a spoon”. A task that would only take a matter of seconds. She didn’t have time to dilly dally if she wanted to keep up the appearances that she desperately needed.

For a girl with Courtney’s innocence and timid nature, you’d think there’d be nothing aggressive about a blow job from her. But her mouth made me grip the edge of the counter. She needed to be fast, and for that reason, she was utterly devouring me. She took my swollen cock to the back of her throat. Her head bobbed furiously. Her tongue danced and tasted and flicked. Her cheeks puckered in, and her lips made harsh sucking sounds. She was doing everything she possibly could with her mouth in a matter of seconds. One hand gripped my shaft and stroked and spun, the other cupped my heavy balls and rubbed and played.

The girl felt like she was trying to pull the secret of life straight from my dick.

“Ugh… ugh,” I moaned softly. I couldn’t stop myself. She was sucking me like her life depended on it. “Oh you little slut,” I whispered, and glanced down at her. Those big eyes peered up at me. I could see the barely contained animal dwelling within her. I had seen it once before– that night in my backyard when she had broken her wedding vows with me and let herself give in to the wildest night of her life. It was an expression that her husband, her family, and her friends had never seen before.

I stood in the kitchen feeding Courtney my cock for much longer than it would take to retrieve a dropped spoon from the floor. Not that I minded. It wasn’t my marriage on the line. Her hungry mouth was hard to resist.

I glanced out the patio doors. Steve was at the grill. He offered me a smile. I waved back cheerfully, all the while his wife was out of view, on her knees sucking me like a cock starved whore.

Finally, as much as I didn’t want to be, someone had to be the responsible one. Courtney seemed to have lost track of time. A gentle pat on the head was enough to convey that it was time to put on her good girl face again. She let my cock drop, wiped her mouth on the back of her hand, and stood on unsteady legs.

On her feet now, her cheeks were pink, her legs wobbling, and I doubted her heavy breaths would ever stop. For her sake, I prayed nobody would walk in and try to talk to her, because I’m sure she wouldn’t be able to speak without sounding like she’d just run the Boston Marathon.

Despite the need for discretion, I was far from done with this repressed little slut. My cock was at full attention, and as Courtney tried to fix her hair and her dress, her hand was drawn down to it… okay, that may have been me pulling her hand. Her fingers wrapped around my shaft, and gave it nervous, tentative strokes, all the while her eyes remained glued to her husband and her guests, just beyond the kitchen windows.

While she stroked my girthy manhood, I couldn’t stop myself. I reached my big paws up to her ass and started to hike up that cute little sun dress (that may have fooled everyone else, but didn’t fool me). With those long legs of hers, it was a long journey, but when it reached the curve of her perky ass, I gripped her white cotton panties, and in one fierce motion, I yanked them down to her knees.

Courtney gave a cute little squeak of surprise. Her undies were soaked. Then I stepped behind her, slid my cock between her thighs, and let her dress drop around us once again. My cock against her pussy was our little secret. Just a harmless moment between a young wife and her old neighbor. I looked like I was coaching her in her cooking.

Thankfully my bowl of potato salad was close by, and I feigned directing her to add seasoning and give everything a whisk, when all the while, I pumped my cock back and forth between her smooth thighs.

With each little thrust, her pussy was growing wetter– salivating on my shaft. It glided along her lips. As she busied herself by stirring the large bowl with shaking hands, Courtney’s hips began to move with mine. Just a subtle little gyration and rolling movement that made her nether-regions kiss along my manhood. My body was folded around her as we both watched the guests outside with half-distracted caution.

But our lusty humping wasn’t enough. And when she felt me reach between us, she spread her legs wider, bending forward ever-so-slightly over the center counter. I grasped my cock, and I knew it was now or never. I teased the head between her folds and started to drive my hips upward.

She grunted, dropped the mixing spoon, and gripped the counter. Her eyes shut, her lip clenched between her teeth.

“Christ, you’re tight,” I grunted in that animalistic way that I do when I’m in the zone. Indeed, she had bounced back from the last time I invaded her body. Her pussy was achingly tight as a sank myself into her, inch after painful inch.

“Ngh,” she gasped as I pushed past the point where her husband could reach.

“You like getting fucked in front of your whole family?” I asked, teasing myself in and out of her slowly, and with each thrust, I contributed more of my length into her body.

It took her a moment to find her words. She managed a nod, and eventually, a very shaky “Yessss.”

It drove me wild, and I could hardly resist giving one last hard thrust that stuffed the remaining length of my cock into the warm embrace of her pussy.

She gasped, throwing her hands over her mouth to keep from crying out and alerting the entire family to her willful infidelity.

I didn’t give her the chance to regain her composure. With the party so close, and everyone coming and going, I was running on borrowed time. One hand grasped her hips. The other went straight to her tits and gave a squeeze over her dress. Her nipples weren’t difficult to find. They were hard as pebbles and pressing through her top. I rolled one of them between my fingers as my hips fell into their usual mating rhythm.

Bent over the kitchen counter, with her husband and entire family a mere glance away, I fucked her hard and rough. Our bodies moving together.

Once Courtney got over her initial shock, her hips found the rhythm as well, and she pushed into my thrusts. She rolled her hips in time with withdrawals, her body begging mine for more. Her hands were braced on the edge of the counter, and she tossed her head back. Her brown curls slapping me softly in the face. I didn’t mind.

Our pace was feverish. Courtney was good at keeping her moans contained to whispery little gasps, but I could tell it was a struggle.

“Look at him out there,” I whispered in her ear, my mouth threatening to nibble her ear in a gesture that there’d be no playing off, should someone happen to see us.

“Oh god,” she whispered back, knowing that I was teasing her. She looked at her husband at the grill as I fucked her rougher and harder. My cock stabbing into her body again and again– taking what it wanted from this happy couple. My words were already effecting her body. Her pussy grew wetter, tighter.

“He has no idea that his cute wifey is inside, panties around her knees, bent over the kitchen counter…” I continued my savage attack of her pussy with my steel-hard rod.

“Roy…” she panted, “Roy… I’m going to…” Her body was threatening an orgasm, and she was scared that she wouldn’t be able to control her voice, or contain her passion.

“… cheating on him… with the neighbor…” I was grunting too. My stamina is normally through the roof, but between Courtney’s tightness, and the adrenaline surge of our risky romp, my own release was fast approaching.

“I’m gonna… I’m gonna cummmmm…” She cried out. She tried to quiet her screams, throwing her hands over her mouth. It wasn’t good enough. I could tell by the way her muscles clamped down around my shaft that it was a powerful one. Thank god it wasn’t a gusher, or we’d be scrambling to clean up after ourselves.

Her body quivered, her pussy tightened and convulsed. She was in hell, trying to stop her cries of pleasure from alerting the entire party. Her hands weren’t cutting it. She scrambled for a cloth oven mitt and stuffed it into her mouth. She moaned into it like a pillow. The cheerful summer cartoon hand-holding bears that smiled from the fabric’s design were far too innocent for what this little slut was doing.

“Oh, fuck baby, I’m cumming too,” I grunted.

Courtney stiffened suddenly, even with her orgasm still coursing through her body, she was alarmed. “Not in me,” she knew what kind of load I was capable of conjuring, and the thought of it leaking from her pussy while she tried to maintain her appearance at the party would have been a Herculean effort. One that she was not up for.

She moved away hurriedly, my cock slipping out of her pussy. “Ohhhh, better hurry,” I grunted, my teeth clenched, my hand taking over where her pussy left off– feverishly stroking myself over the edge. There was no turning back.

Courtney grabbed for the first thing she could– which happened to be my bowl of homemade potato salad. Just as my cock began to launch the first of many ropes of my spunk, Courtney was there, catching it just in the nick of time.

The thick white cream that shot forth from my cock was immense, and it splashed right into the bowl of summer picnic food. My hand didn’t relent on myself, stroking wildly, indifferent to the housewife now knelt in front of me with a shocked and lusty look on her face.

“Ohhh Courtney! Oh!” I snarled through my teeth as my cock launched my load all over the potato salad. My cock jumping in my hand with each rope like a startled viper. By the time my orgasm had subsided, the potato salad was thoroughly basted with a new ingredient– my baby batter.

Courtney stood, heart pounding, cheeks red, and wonderful heavy chest rising and falling. She just stared at me in disbelief, oversized bowl cradled in her arms. My cock was still hard as a rock. That’s not uncommon. My recovery is quicker than a hormonal teen who just discovered his father’s collection of Playboys. Tucking it away now, would have proven almost impossible.

Thank god for that counter, because a moment later and the door opened.

“Hey, are you guys coming out? Burgers are almost ready,” Steve. He was wearing a wide grin of misguided accomplishment and a dopey expression of clueless ness to his eyes. I turned to face the counter and replied with something equally dumb and innocent– “Sounds great, buddy.”