I gotta just say it. I like sex. Since my first time in high school, I just like sex. I like talking about it, I like thinking about it, I like doing it, and therein lays the problem.
Early in my marriage, I was going through some of the rough patches ---- the kind that all young couples go through in making their adjustments to one another. Our arguments had become so bad, my husband and I had separated temporarily. He had gone so far as to move out of the house to his own apartment while we sorted things out. The first thing that I felt was the sheer boredom of being home alone at night. Not only was I lonely, but I was horny as well.
That it seems was a large part of our problem. I wanted sex far more than my husband did, and it was causing some heated arguments. But now, after a couple of weeks of being alone, I had gotten to the point where my own fingers were just was not all that exciting to me.
We had moved to a neighborhood that where I felt isolated. I wasn't that familiar with my neighbors, but I had met the lady across the street, so one evening I decided to go across for something, anything to do, to take my mind off wanting to fuck. She was older than me, and had a daughter a little younger than I, and son who was near my age. He happened to be there this evening.
He had stopped by for some dinner after work, and was about to leave to cycle home. He was cute, so I tried to strike up a conversation. I was so bored; I did not want to go back home. He had a deck of cards on the counter, playing solitaire, and I asked if he knew how to play Hearts. "No," he said. "I'll show you, it's easy!"
We played a couple of hands, and then he said he had to get headed home. I asked if he would like to come over some evening and play hearts. "Sure," he said uncommittedly. "I'll let you know."
I went home alone again that night, but I had a different face in mind when I masturbated that evening.
The next day I asked his sister more about him, and somehow the conversation got around to cleaning his apartment as a surprise. She loaned me a spare key to his apartment, and my mind began to whirr. I just bet I could get rid of some of my horny urges.
I went over to his apartment while he was at college classes, and cleaned his apartment. During the time, I found a couple of Playboys, and immediately began thinking of a plan to rid myself of some of my current frustration... far better company, I was hoping, than my vibrator at home.
I hurriedly cleaned the apartment, and then undressed in his bathroom. I found a clean dress shirt and a pair of knit swim trunks in his closet. I slipped them on, lay down upon his bed, waited for him to come home.
When he first came in, he was a bit angry that I had broken into his apartment, even if it was to clean it.
"You know, Anna, I appreciate what you did, but you really should have asked."
He accepted my apology, as it was all in good intention, and we continued with a bit of small talk. He looked a bit pensive, then added, "You know, Anna, you're the talk of some of the neighborhood kids."
"Really?! Why?" I blushed slightly.
"You've been educating the young boys in the neighborhood. It seems that while retrieving their football from your yard, they got a wee bit distracted, when passing by your picture window."
"Why!? What was the problem?"
"Seems they have seen you screwing on the sofa with the curtains open."
I could feel my face redden, but I smiled at the thought. "I was busy," I said, "I didn't notice at the time. Did YOU ever peek through my window?"
"Of course not, though at this moment... I think I'm beginning to regret it."
As he spoke, I slowly slid my hand along my thigh until it rested just above the bulging mound between my legs which was made more prominent by the tight knit swim trunks. I nonchalantly began lightly fingering the cloth. I caught his eyes tracing down towards my hand, then he saw that I had caught him staring. I made no attempt to move my hand; instead, I slid my hand slowly up to the top of the trunks, slipped my thumb under the top edge, and paused. I continued to carry on our conversation, but all the while I was observing his reactions to me. At this point, my horny side overwhelmed my sensible side.
While he was looking directly at me, I stretched the trunks slowly downward revealing more of my belly. I pulled them down just far enough to show a few dark curly hairs emerging just above the waistband. And there I paused. My heart was racing and it was getting hard to carry on a conversation.
"I love that couch," I added, as my fingers lightly brushed what lay beneath the trunks.
"The couch, or what was happening on the couch?" he laughed. "You know, you really shouldn't be wearing my swimming trunks."
"Do you want me to..."
"Take them off? Yeah, You really should take them off... about now would be good."
He smiled then made sure I saw him looking at my hand.
I swung my legs off the bed, stood up, and began slowly rolling the trunks down over my wide hips. When they had rolled down to my knees, he knelt down in front of me and helped me to step out of them. He made certain, however, that when the second leg stepped out, that he was positioned so as not allow my legs to come back together.
So now I was standing, looking down at him, the tail of my shirt hiding what was now my bare ass. I was guessing from the few hairs that had peeked out from the swimming trunks, he knew there was a dark, hairy cunt there as well, which at this point, was at eye level -- only a few inches away from he mouth, hidden and separated from him by only by the tail of the blue oxford shirt.
