Joyce, Across the Street Ch. 01

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The live-in girlfriend is gone for the night. Staying near the beach with one of her girlfriends so that they can get an early start tomorrow, she won’t be back until tomorrow afternoon. So I’m sitting and watching TV, and working on my next Literotica submission. The Callie and Rebecca stories seem to be receiving good scores. And it’s time to write the next chapter. It’s been almost fourteen years since some of those incidents and trying to remember them has not only allowed me to remember a very interesting time in my life, but made me horny in a way that I haven’t been in a while.

I rarely drink. The common joke is that I will drink for my birthday, but since the date of my birthday is also the date of a yearly party for my friends and it is near Christmas, I usually don’t get the chance to imbibe. Since “I don’t drink”, I usually get to be the designated driver for those who do. It’s cool; I don’t mind. But my chance to get silly and act the fool is usually missed. But tonight, I had nowhere to go, no chance of trying to drive while impaired. I can sit and write my story and chug Jim Beam until I pass out. No one will be endangered and no one will know. Or so I thought when I started drinking a few hours ago.

I was pretty concerned about either being stopped by writer’s block or by my own inebriation. The neighborhood kids outside making noise attracted my attention. When I looked out the window, I saw almost every kid in the neighborhood riding down the long hill past my house on scooters, skateboards, bicycles, roller blades, and go karts. Sneaking a long look through the blinds, it was funny to see such an odd assortment of conveyances all rushing down the steep hill with young kids of all ages—girls and boys—flying down the slope laughing and calling after each other. Since it is such a long hill, they usually don’t come back to the top for a long time after one of these excursions. When I saw Brent, the next door neighbor kid roll by on his gas powered scooter with his little dog sitting in his lap, I looked to see if his mom was outside.

Sure enough, Joyce was standing in the front yard watching them. She had a drink in her hand and was clearly dressed up to go out. In heels and a skirt, she looked hot. She is short, has dirty blond hair, medium sized tits, and a great ass. But when she wears a skirt, I feel like a voyeur when I see her in her yard. I want to stand behind the blinds and jack off while watching her. She’s not model-hot, but there’s something about her that makes me want to empty my nuts. Since her boyfriend moved out a year ago, she has been taking better care of herself and has been going out more often. She doesn’t drive, so a girlfriend always picks her up and they don’t come home until after the bars close. With her new Friday and Saturday night bar crawling schedule, I was getting to see her more and more in her “pick up” clothes. I swear she was dressing to get picked up and laid, but she always comes home alone.

It was all I could do to not drop my shorts and run a nasty batch onto the Hummel figurines near the window while watching her walk around her front porch. She was pacing the boards and leaning over the railing every once in a while looking down at her well-manicured yard. There’s something about her that turns me on. She’s not a kid anymore; she’s probably my age which puts her in her forties. She’s not as fit as a younger person would be, but neither am I. In fact, I would characterize her as “sloppy”. It’s not meant to be a put-down. She just comes off as not very disciplined in her manner or dress. If I didn’t know her better, I’d say she was poor white trash. Her clothes are always a little out of style and her body is always a little too unrestrained by her clothing.

But her hip-swaying, tits-jiggling, poorly-combed hair, and drink in her hand attitude is a turn on for some reason. I’ve always thought that given the chance, I’d probably fuck her silly. I watched for another minute and she was clearly growing impatient as she looked up the street for her ride. She drained the last of her drink and went back inside, most likely to pour herself another one, since she soon re-emerged with another clear glass full of brown liquid. Her hipshot stance and anxious look at her wristwatch belied the fact that someone was late. I watched her for another five minutes while weighing my options. Since I enjoy talking to her, I made an impulsive decision. If I acted quickly enough, I might get to talk to her before her friend Sheila showed to pick her up.

I wobbled to the bathroom just off of my foyer. I hadn’t realized that I would be wobbling but whatever, the liquor was making me brave. I checked my look in the mirror (thanks Bruce Springsteen) and noticed that I was quite a bit more red faced than usual (thanks Jim Beam). I poured a fresh Beam and Coke in the tall glass and slipped on a pair of shoes and walked out the door. Halfway across the yard, I realized that I am no prize. What on earth is she going to give me a second look for? She’s always been polite to me, maybe even vivid porno friendly, but I’ve always assumed that’s because I pay her son to cut my yard and in her household, every penny counts. Untucked t-shirt, untied sneakers, no socks, athletic shorts, why was I—as shabbily dressed as I was–going to talk to her? My large glass of liquid courage was half gone by the time I stepped from the street into her yard, which was about the same time that she noticed me coming.

She lit up and waved. “Hey, neighbor!” she enthused and started to walk towards me while also looking up the street. She came down the steps from her wrap around porch and greeted me in the middle of the lawn. It was getting darker by the second and I wondered when her fourteen year old son would come back. If my plan’s timing didn’t work out, he might catch me railing his mom in the backyard on the picnic table.

“I noticed you out here all dressed up and it doesn’t look like your ride is on time,” I said. “So I thought I’d come over and hit on you.”

“About time,” she said.

Hey, I was joking, but this was starting off well.

“What’s in the glass?” she asked.

“Uhhh, whiskey…and cola. I’m alone tonight, so thought I’d get drunk since there is nobody to piss off in my house.”

“How sad. You should get drunk with us,” she replied.

I made a show of looking up the street at exactly zero cars coming down the hill and said, “Who’s ‘us’?”

“Well, Sheila is supposed to be here by now. Should have been here half hour ago.” She looked down at her watch again and then looked at her drink which was nearly empty, and said, “Time for another of these.”

As she turned to walk back into the house, I drained the last of my tall glass. I wobbled a little as I had my head tilted back and I felt her diminutive hand on my arm, “Steady there, cowboy,” she whispered. I looked down and saw her in a new light. The lines on her face from caring for a young son and a house alone were gone. The blue of her eyes was not the tired shade that I’d always seen before. The body was not that of a forties-something single mom who had no time for herself. I saw the young girl that she’d been twenty or so years ago. That “something” that had always attracted me to her was now clear. At any age, she was hot. The look in her eyes told me that she too saw me as the younger, more virile man that I had been in my twenties. Recognition of this fact, showed in her eyes, and she looked away sheepishly.

She looked at my drink and back up at me. “You need a fresh one?” she asked.

“Yeah. What’re ya drinkin’?” I slurred.

“Rum and coke, big guy. But are you sure you need one?”

I looked down at her heels, legs, and skirt, and feeling my liquor, said, “I need something.”

She laughed and headed towards the front door of her house. “Come on. I’ll make you one.”

I stood in the open doorway while she worked at the kitchen counter mixing two more Captain and Cokes for us. I figured I could switch from whiskey to rum without much fuss and quietly eyed her up and down while she poured. I knew she could feel my eyes on her but didn’t care. I absently adjusted my dick in my shorts; I had to pee. I watched her walking to the refrigerator to get more ice and checked out her legs again.

“I’ll be right back. I walked around the side of her house on the wrap around porch and in the shadows pulled down my waist band and pissed on a bush. I was apparently drunker than I’d thought since I don’t do that sort of thing in my own neighborhood in front of ladies. But I didn’t know that it was in front of a lady until she cleared her throat. I looked up, startled, but continued to piss. The gathering darkness did nothing to conceal my cock and the hot stream hissed and steamed in the mulch under the bush below.

“Uhh, sorry,” I said, “I didn’t wanna walk back to my house and I thought you’d take longer.” I had no idea that she’d walked outside let alone sneaked up on me while I was pissing in the bushes.

“Speaking of ‘longer’, are you aware of just how big your cock is?” She continued to stare at it and I began to feel self conscious. I looked down and apparently my thoughts about her had caused an erection, because I was now pissing on the side of her car with a boner. (What can I say? I’m a classy guy.)

It did look kind of big, but the stream of urine shooting out of it couldn’t have been much of a turn on for a woman. I finished and shook it off, stuffed it back into my shorts which was no easy feat in that condition, and turned to take my drink from her.

I must have looked embarrassed because I took to noisily slurping my drink while she giggled at me. “Whoa, you’re going to need another soon if you keep drinking it that fast!”

I stood looking at her, silently wishing my boner would stop tenting the front of my shorts. But staring at the little blond in the short skirt, heels, and tight top with no bra was no way to get a boner to go away. I finished the rum and coke and she stepped towards me to take the empty woodman casting porno glass from my hand. I had to look away from those fantastic blue eyes. They bored through me as if to say, “If you do ever get the chance to get in my pants, it might kill you. Be careful.”

She turned away and headed again for the front door. She looked over her shoulder at me and I was afraid that she was going to catch me checking out her legs again. “Come on, I’ll make you another one.”

This time I went into the house with her and stood in the kitchen while she held the door. She closed it behind her and stepped behind the island again and poured me another. The air conditioning of the house popped her nipples through her thin top. I just stood, staring at her, and she let me. Again, I knew she knew I was checking her out but she didn’t look up. She just let me stand there in her kitchen while me and my boner checked her out. The drinks were making me brave.

When the phone rang, I jumped and she nearly dropped the drink. The sexual tension was broken by the insistent ringing and before she answered, she handed the glass to me.

“Hello?” she said after pushing the receiver up under her hair. As she listened to what I can only describe as what from where I stood sounded like Charlie Brown’s teacher, I walked around the kitchen’s island to stand quietly behind her, taking in the smell of her perfume and the close up view of her back. Two thin straps held up the sheer material of her top and her lovely shoulders were bare. A light smattering of freckles decorated the tops of her arms, shoulders, and back. The dirty blond hair hung from her head and lazily curled down to the tops of her shoulder blades. Looking down, the short blue denim skirt did nothing to hide her legs where they ended at the very high heeled sandals she had on her feet. I noticed with surprise that her toenails and fingernails were painted different colors; pink on her toes and red on her fingers.

The only other word she said while I was standing behind her was “Good.” She hung up and turned to look for me but I was not where I’d been when she’d answered the call. I let her know where I was by reaching around her with both hands and feeling her tits through her top. It was like she melted in my hands and just fell back against me. When my boner hit her in the ass, she reached around behind her and grabbed it through my shorts.

“That was my ride,” she whispered. “‘Car won’t start. She’s not coming. So I’m not going. But you’re going to be coming.” I pressed my cock harder against her backside. “And I’d better come too,” she added for good measure.

She turned her head to try to look up over her shoulder at me as I mashed my hands into her breasts and she ground her ass against my cock. I bent my head down to her and kissed her hard. We’d never touched each other before now, never talked about this, never even stood close to each other before, but this was inevitable. Our tongues dueled, our lips were crushed together, and my hands roughly caressed her tits.

As she turned to face me, I pushed her against the closed front door. As I began to pull at her top, she reached down and locked the door so that her son could not walk in and catch us. Never breaking the kiss, I practically tore the thin top from her torso and she was topless. I pinched and twisted her nipples while all but holding her tits up by the pointy little nubs. She began moaning into my mouth and yanking at my shorts. The elastic waist band offered very little resistance, but it still stuck on my cock. She broke the kiss to get a better grasp on what was keeping my shorts on, figured out the trick, and yanked the shorts roughly down until they fell around my ankles in a pile.

I twined my hand in the hair at the back of her head, nipped at her neck with my teeth, and in a low voice commanded, “Suck it.”

She looked up at me as if to say, “I’ve never heard you talk like that,” but without further hesitation, pushed me away from the door to make room, dropped to her knees, grabbed my cock in her small right hand, and spit on the head. She tentatively licked at the slit and then opened wide in a futile attempt to engulf it. Her pretty face bobbed up and down two or three times while I held her head in both hands. She was only able to get her petite mouth about half way down the shaft, though.

“Come on, suck it. Get it.” Where was this coming from? I never talk to women like this. The combination of the liquor and the “surprise sex” was apparently making me bolder than usual.

She pulled her mouth from my cock and said, “Help me. I like it rough. If you want it, say it, make me, do it!” With that she stuffed it back into her mouth again and tried to force her head into my crotch. I continued to hold her head with both hands and basically pushed the rest of my cock into her mouth, forced it really, because she gagged when it hit the back of her throat. I pulled her head back a little and heard her make more noise in her throat. I decided to see türkçe alt yazı porno how serious she was about being rough and without warning, shoved her head down on it while also pushing forward with my hips.

Her gag reflex made muffled slobbering noises in her throat but I pushed past the back of her mouth. I made seven or eight more strokes like that, watching her trying to accommodate me, seeing the saliva covering my cock every time I pulled out, and catching the strained look on her face as she attempted to catch her breath every time I gave her some slack. She pulled it back out and said, “Yeah, like that. Harder. Make me swallow it…”

She didn’t finish the instructions because I roughly crammed it back into her mouth. Now I was fully fucking her face. Both hands were pulling her head to me and my hips were shoving my long meat into the back of her throat. She had both hands on my thighs trying to hold on to the action a little to get herself some control of the situation but she was too small to resist what was coming. Her eyes seemed to be bugging out of her head while her cheeks bulged, full of my cock.

I allowed her the chance to take some control. She pulled it from her mouth, and ran her tongue from the root to the tip while looking me in the eye. “Do it now, come for me. Do it,” she hissed. She stroked it hard several times, her little hands making my cock look even bigger in comparison. The sight was too much. The pretty neighbor on her knees in her own kitchen, sucking my cock, pulling at my balls, stroking the shaft, asking me to ejaculate. I did.

Jets of white cum streamed out of it, landing on her tongue, in her hair, on her nose, and all over her lips. She continued stroking until she thought she’d had it all and her fierce attachment to my shaft kept me from losing my balance and sinking to my knees while in the throes of the orgasm. Her hands were covered from the last few pulses of sperm that she worked out of it. The scene was straight out of a porn movie. She was smiling and wiping at the cum that had missed her mouth and spooning it onto her tongue with her fingers. My recovery was helped by the fact that she seemed to be enjoying the feel and taste of my offering.

I reached to my side and grabbed at one of her pink dish towels hanging next to the microwave. I made a few wipes at her face and the juxtaposition of the lewd scene with the feminine colored towel struck me as funny just as she took the towel from my hands and finished cleaning her face. She couldn’t do anything about the spunk in her hair, but she did get the majority of the mess off of her face.

She stood and looked at me in just her heels and skirt and I reached for her nipples again. I was still hard from watching her and determined to fuck her. When I grabbed both nipples and pulled them towards me and up, she moaned loudly and took a step in my direction to alleviate some of the force that I was applying to her tits.

She smiled when she realized that I wasn’t done for the night. When I grasped her by the shoulders and spun her around, she squealed in surprise. I pushed her against the island forcing her to bend over it in the process. When I pulled up her skirt, exposing her thong, she said, “Shit, come on! Fuck me!” I started to bend down to pull her undies down, but after spying a pair of scissors on the counter, had a brainstorm. I reached over and before she could protest, I’d grabbed the scissors, slid the blade under the thong where it thinned down just before going down the crack of her ass, and snipped it. The thong separated into two uneven pieces; the small flap that hung loosely above her ass and the longer flap that ran down the front across her pussy, between her legs, and up to where it hung loosely with nothing to attach to.

“Shit, you fucker! Those aren’t cheap!” she exclaimed.

“I’ll make it up to you. Bend over, dammit.”

At about the same time that she got fully bent over the counter, both from her own action and from me pushing her, I reached between her legs and felt for her opening. The sopping hole was easy to find. I deftly used two fingers to push the lips apart and then guided my cock head to it. When the big bulb of my dick began to split her lips, she said, “Oh shit, you may be too big.”

I replied, “‘Bet I’m not,” and pushed in two or three inches. She howled and wiggled her hips in an attempt to let me in without hurting her. I grabbed an ass cheek in both hands and insistently forced them further apart exposing her asshole and allowing me to see where my shaft was stuck up in her. As I bent my knees a little to make it move around in her quim, I also shifted my weight to one foot so I could use the other to push her feet further apart. Once she was suitably opened for me to push farther into her, I asked, “Are you ready?”

“Yeah, give it to me.”

I looked down and worked up a gob of saliva and aimed it so that it would fall directly onto her anus. When she felt it hit, she really began to move, pushing back in an effort to increase the stimulus in her pussy. My cock sank into her another two inches. Still holding her open down there, I spit on her ass again and watched the bubble filled saliva run down over the brown eye and further down her crack to where it could lubricate my dick. “Yeah, come on,” she insisted.

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