Suzanne Mellows - The neighbor_s pet

Oh, where were the damned pickles…?

The sexually flustered young wife's entire grocery shopping excursion was marred by similar incidents. She couldn't concentrate, and finally in dismay, had called a halt, knowing she'd forgotten half the items on the list she'd made out and left on the kitchen table.

At one point, while retrieving a box of soap powder from a lower shelf, she had half-glanced behind her to see an older man pushing a cart full of groceries pause to observe the spectacle she was thoughtlessly offering him in her bent-over position. Though she had immediately straightened and turned to glare at him, his elderly, lecherous smirk as he pushed on only seemed to add unneeded fuel to the already glowing bed of coals smoldering in the hot, fluid hearth of her body. The male clerks, the homely, balding assistant manager, even the young carry-out boy, Jerry Adams, who lived in their block on Tasmen Drive, all were doing their unintentional share in provoking her private passion.

Lord, it was absolutely absurd to work one's self into such a lewd state. Yet, there was something erotically exciting about it, too… being caught up in such a lascivious mood right out in public… before God and everyone, and in broad daylight, she lightly mused, leading the way to where the Caddy was parked. And the manner in which she was unnecessarily switching her rounded hips for the young carry-out boy's benefit was hardly kosher either. She could tell after she'd bent down to open the car's trunk-door that his youthfully bugging blue eyes had briefly fed on the unexpected, engaging sight. His good looking teenage mouth was agape, his smooth, fair cheeks a flushed crimson.

Of course, she couldn't help but recall a sequence from one of Jay's novels in which a lecherous young wife had seduced a neighbor-boy in oral sex. At the same time, she'd thought the scene not only disgustingly obscene, but extremely impossible. What normal woman in her right mind would ever set out to lure a boy when she could have a man…?

"Thank you, Jerry," she warmly smiled at him as he opened the door and she slid in under the steering wheel, making no effort to hide her exposed nylon-covered thighs with their tiny garter-belt frills peekingly visible. She'd tipped him then, still smiling as he backed off with his handsome young face blushingly afire, offering her a little wave.

Damn, he was a sweet, young dream, the infused blonde wife reflected most of the way home. Some lucky girl either was, or was going to be made mighty happy with that gallant little darling crawling between her legs! Lord… if she didn't stop thinking this way she was going to be a mess of frayed nerves before the day was over! And it was her own fault, too! Her bewitching little scheme had worked perfectly with Stan… then, she'd had to goof it! Damn… damn! What she needed was a drink!

After lugging in the groceries and dumping them on the kitchen table, Beth made straight-away for the liquor cabinet and a gin-tonic. With this fortification, she returned to put meat and perishables in the refrigerator, then drained her glass to make room for a second.

Just how the devil was she going to manage another such situation with her impassioned desire of the moment, Stan Wilson? Or should she leave it for him to make the next move? Of course, that was the proper approach… if you could use the term proper in conjunction with adultery! The truth of the matter was that she'd turned chicken! No denying it, she had…!

"Which comes right down to one thing, Lady Beth!" she said aloud to herself, "you're not the wanton whore that you pretend to yourself… though if anyone knew the way you're boiling inside they'd never guess it! What you need is a cool bath to calm the fires before the genius comes home and you find yourself enticing him into bed for a repeat performance of last night! On second thought, better that you do it yourself and eliminate the middle man…!"

A tiny ripple of excitement added a new emotional arousal of the sizzling agitation already stewing in her soft belly and hot, moistened loins. Determined, she attacked the liquor cabinet a third time, carrying a gin-tonic to the bedroom where she quickly stripped naked.

In the adjoining bath she wound her long blonde hair into a top-knot, and started to draw water as she sipped at her drink, the gin beginning to effectively warm her. Her sultry green eyes glancing at her white nakedness reflected in the full length mirror and glimmered narcissistically as a tiny rippling sensation of pleasure flittered through her voluptuous, twenty-six year old body. For a moment, she stood unmoving, admiring her sensually harmonious curves, her full, pink-nippled breasts and slender waist, the sweeping flow of her arched hips into the long, white columns of her smooth, rounded thighs and tapering calves.

Stan Wilson, baby, wouldn't you love to see what I'm looking at right now? Nothing short of an erotically pleasing sight, I'd say.

She let her eyes sensually caress the secret ivory-like outline that her swim-suit halter had left across the resilient mounds of her uptilted, full young breasts, and below where her tiny bikini had cupped the curved moons of her satiny firm buttocks. But it was the milky-white of her generous hips and lower belly where the silken triangle of sparse, golden curls began to sprinkle over her vaginal mound that invariably fired her excitement.

God, would she do it first, right there in front of the mirror… or in the bathtub… or after on the bed…?

The harsh sound of the service-door buzzer startled her. Now, who the devil could that be? Irritably, she looked for something to put around her, finally settling on her husband's terry-cloth, swim jacket. Though a jacket for him, it was a good three-quarters length on her, covering enough that she could peek around the door and see what whoever it was wanted. She rolled back the sleeves into huge cuffs as she walked into the kitchen inching open the service door to look into the fair-haired young face of Jerry Adams. A stimulating little tingle raced through her at the recognition of his clean, youthful smile.

"Mrs. Durke… you forgot and left this on the counter in the market," he said, holding out her wallet to her. "It's got quite a bit of money in it, so Mr. Sheppherd wanted me to bring it right over."

For a moment, Beth stared at it in surprise wondering how in the world she could ever have done such a stupid thing? But undoubtedly, she had, for it was the hand-tooled, snake-skin one that Jay had bought her in Mexico.

"Good Lord, and I hadn't even missed it! Oh me… just how inefficient can a girl get, Jerry?"

He laughed, then said: "Maybe you better count the money, Mrs. Durke to be sure it's all there."

"I'm certain it is, dear… and it was so thoughtful of you to bring it right over," the blonde wife said, her brain beginning to function along a once believed extremely impossible vein! "Here, I must reward you for…"

"No! No, really, Mrs. Durke! We're not allowed to take rewards for such things!" he said, holding up his hand and backing away.

"Why… why that's ridiculous, Jerry! Besides, no one has to know…!" she insisted, leafing out a bill as he continued to wag his head and smile.

"Gee thanks, Mrs. Durke… but I can't take it," he repeated, shaking his young, handsome head.

"Well… well at least, you can come in and have a Coke or something," she said, stepping to one side as she opened the door wide for him. "Come on, I'm not going to take no for an answer on that offer."

"A-All right… I could sure use it. Boy, it's hot in that sun," he said, passing close to her, his arm lightly brushing the tip of one sensitive breast behind the white, fuzzy material covering her, raising a sparkling little ripple in her soft belly. In response, the young blonde wife pulled the hardly adequate jacket of her husband tighter around her aroused nakedness, smiling at him as he timidly looked at her. His face was flushing as it had in the parking lot of the market. He'd noticed the soft erotic contact, too!