Hi, Phil here again. Look, I just need to say this... get it off my chest, if you like.
I don't normally make a habit of screwing other men's wives. It just doesn't seem a very nice thing to do. You know, hubby's out at work, grafting to earn a living, and you're there, banging the shit out of his missus. I do have some morals, and that doesn't sit right with me.
But in Gary's case, I will -- definitely -- make an exception. He's the kind of bloke who will try any form of grifting to make a bit of cash but would never dream of actually going out and getting a proper job. That would be too much like hard work. Here are but a few examples of Gary's misguided entrepreneurial spirit: There was the time he cobbled together a bird table out of pallet wood, then put it in the front garden, with a sign on it saying, 'For sale - £25'. No-one bought it, possibly because it looked like a piece of shit.
Another time, he came up with the brilliant idea of holding seances at an abandoned church and tried to get all the locals to pay £20 for a go at it. He even sawed a bit off one of the table legs, so it would wobble about.
Followed by the saga of the 'amazing fuel additive'... He bought 5 gallons of the stuff from someone, on the promise that it would 'halve your car's fuel consumption'. He tried hawking it round to everyone on the street, telling them that this was the secret the oil companies didn't want you to know about. He used it regularly (well, he had 5 gallons) in his own car. The one he used to do driving lessons. A few weeks later, the engine blew up. Hmm, cessation of driving instructor business.
To this day, I have no idea where he used to disappear to for hours on end. Maybe the local library, to research all kinds of wacky conspiracy theories. A more likely explanation was that Dawn just told him to stay the fuck out of the house for a respectable period every day.
It can't have escaped their attention, the amount I was exercising. I would go out running or cycling 4 or 5 times a week, regardless of the weather. Gary the slob obviously felt the need to lose weight, so in typical Gary fashion, came up with a scheme which involved almost no effort on his part. He basically wrapped himself in cling-film, then put on a heavy coat and a woolly hat, then took the dog for a walk dressed like that. In the middle of June. What a complete cock.
But Gary had basically landed on his feet. In spite of the fact that he was a complete waste of space, he had somehow managed to worm his way into Dawn's knickers, and eventually, her house. Personally, I wouldn't have left the slimeball alone with my two teenage daughters, but that's another matter.
So, against this backdrop, you'll understand that I had no compunction at all, about giving Gary's little lady what she really wanted in the bedroom department. Hee hee.
'The day after tomorrow.'
I deliberately limited my exercise that morning to a short gym session -- a bit of rowing machine, some running, a few weights, along with a few stretches. Nothing too strenuous... I wanted to save my energy! When I got back, Dawn was pottering in the front garden, dead-heading flowers, or something. It was a very pleasant sunny day, and she was wearing her typical, scoop-neck t-shirt, but unusually, instead of her regular jeans, she was wearing a mid-thigh denim skirt. Her tanned legs looked very nice in it. A pair of summer sandals completed her outfit.
"Hi Dawn, just going to grab a shower! D'you fancy a wet one?" I asked, with a wink.
She laughed and said, "That sounds rather appealing."
I went off, showered, and changed into shorts and a t-shirt. All clean and smelling nice, I hopped over the wall into Dawn's garden, clutching a couple of chilled bottles of fruit-flavoured cider, which I knew was one of her favourite tipples.
I offered her one of the bottles, but she said, "D'you mind taking them round the back? I need to gather up my tools and stuff, and the thing is, I know how nosey the neighbours are. We need to be careful how we appear together..."
She had a good point. We lived in a quiet cul-de-sac in a quiet village in Herefordshire, where nothing exciting ever happened. Even the slightest suspicion of two neighbours having a bit of extramarital rumpy-pumpy would get the bongo drums going at full pelt.
So, I sauntered round to the back of the house. Due to its location, if you were less than 10 or 12 feet from the house, you couldn't be overlooked by anyone else, which gave a nice feeling of privacy. I sat down on one of the patio chairs; Dawn followed me a couple of minutes later and joined me in an adjacent seat.
I handed her a cider, and she took a hefty swig. "That's good," she said, smacking her lips.
"How have you been?" she asked.
"Good, thanks. I can't deny, I've been looking forward to today, though!"
With that, she leaned across and we were soon engaged in a rather lovely kiss, my right hand on the side of her face, my left hand cupping her right tit. I could immediately feel my cock stirring in my shorts.
"Ohh, your nipple is so hard," I murmured.
"I've been thinking about what we might get up to this afternoon," she breathed at me, whilst running her hand over the front of my shorts.
"Mmm, not just my nipples getting hard, by the feel of it," she murmured. "I so enjoyed the other day... it took me bloody ages to arrange that, you know..."
I laughed. "You could have just asked, you know! It would have saved you a lot of conniving!"
Dawn leaned in and whispered in a confidential tone. "I would watch you go out running... look at your muscled legs and pumped thighs... your biceps... and wonder what it would be like to have my hands on you... More often than not, my fingers would soon be between my legs, as I fantasised about what we'd do..."
Her warm breath on my ear, her hint that she masturbated whilst watching me, and not to mention her hand stroking me, soon had my cock standing to attention.
