Robert Taylor: Bored wife

Jim, wearing a sober gray suit and matching necktie, carrying his gray briefcase, not a hair out of place on the man, went out to his car and drove off at a sedate pace.

A few minutes later Tom Graham departed for work, his car careening out to the street on screeching tires, obviously late. A butterfly, Jim had called him.

Betsy chucked the dishes into the sink and put on yesterday's house dress and went out, crossing the yard toward Laura's kitchen door. In the bright sunshine she saw a smudge on the right breast of her dress, dirt from transplanting flowers yesterday afternoon. Damn it! But heck, Laura was not, the type to raise an eyebrow at a mere smudge.

At the screen door she called in, "It's Betsy."

"Darling!" Laura called loudly. "Come on in, I just know you've come to help, and I'm drowning in filth! Christ, I have to make this pigsty look presentable. Bring your friends with rakes and shovels!"

Smiling, Betsy entered and in the kitchen found her neighbor stuffing clothes into the washer. The dishwasher was gurgling away but the sink was still filled with dirty dishes and the drain board was a clutter of drinking glasses.

"My asshole husband brought people home last night," Laura said, "and tonight more are coming, and if they don't bring liquor I'll kick their asses out! My God you should see our liquor bill!"

She punched clothing down into the washer, then turned, knuckles on hips, and surveyed Betsy, dark eyes twinkling. Lustrous dark eyes, faintly slanted. She wore a stained t-shirt and shorts, had on a bra hitched wrong, one tit slightly higher than the other. She had long limbs, brown and sleek. She looked gorgeous but somewhat smudged and tousled and sweaty.

Betsy said, "I came to see if you'd like to go shopping, but I guess you have your hands full."

"It was going to be worse. I started dressing to go try to sell a house with a leaky roof and a flooded basement but the sucker phoned he couldn't make it till tomorrow for that. How I hate cleaning house! I let it pile up."

"I'll help," Betsy said.

Laura tuned a cigarette and matches from her shorts pocket and lit up, all the while eyeing Betsy. At last she said, "Betsy, you look fresh as dew, peaches and cream. I could just eat you! Like your husband fucked you for breakfast and you're still cumming!"

Betsy giggled. "Matter of fact, I've been kind of depressed."

"You mean he can't get it up?" Laura laughed. She reached for the knobs to turn on the washer, then noticed her t-shirt. "I'm filthy," she said, her lip curling. "Wash everything!" She tore off her t-shirt and stuffed it in the washer, then climbed out of her shorts. She glanced at Betsy and said, "You got a smudge on one tit of your dress. Throw the fucker in with this stuff."

Betsy, giggling, was so captivated by her neighbor that she obeyed, unzipping the dress and peeling it off over her head.

"Besides," Laura said, "this hot weather, we'll sweat our clothes to rags. How about if you start vacuuming? Then you won't have to bring booze to the party tonight. You're coming, aren't you?"

"I'd love to," Betsy said. "But Jim has a meeting."

"Then you come alone, that's settled. Now let's work our asses off for an hour and maybe we'll have this shit done and can start living. The vacuum's in the broom closet, darling."

Betsy tossed her dress into the washer and they began to work.

Betsy felt exhilarated. Never had she imagined that house cleaning could be fun! As she vacuumed the living room carpeting Laura dashed madly about, collecting overflowing ash frays and cocktail glasses, dusted, brought a hand vacuum to the sofa cushions, keeping up a steady barrage of bawdy talk. Funniest of all was their cleaning house wearing only bras and panties. At first Betsy giggled at the notion of two young women bustling about so dressed, but shortly she was used to it. It seemed quite natural.

However, she was becoming intensely aware of Laura's breasts and crotch, casting sidelong glances at them; high breasts with huge, dark caps, and her cunt hair, a sprawling fan of it showing through her panties. This reminded her of Alice, her high school girl friend, with whom she had not only shared fuck dates but who had initiated her into the mysteries of girlie sex. Like Laura, Alice had been a bawdy-mouthed spit-in-your-eye kind of girl, a bit bossy, but all warmth and heart.

Laura emerged from the bedroom hall with her arms fun of sheets, muttering, "Wet-cunted broods stain all the fucking bed linens!"

Betsy gasped. Did Laura and Tom have these kind of parties?

From the kitchen Laura called, "Help me with this glassware?"

Betsy left the vacuum. The dishwasher cycle was complete. They hauled racks of dishes and glasses to the cupboard, replaced them with dirty stuff and started the machine again, then dumped laundered clothes into the dryer. Laura filled the washer with bedsheets, then said, "Might as well throw in our underwear, it's all sweaty."

Betsy watched, gaping, as her friend tore off her bra and then peeled down her panties and threw them in on the sheets.

"Clean house naked?" Betsy gasped.

"Then shower, and we're clean from scratch, huh?"

Laura busied herself with twiddling washer dials and spilling soap powder in on the load. Betsy watched the girl's titties bob and toss, gazed at her high-sprung behind, thinking, what a luscious, plump ass! And, because Laura's suggestion had the force of a command, she curled an arm behind herself and unsnapped her bra hooks. As she untangled herself from the garment she found the cups practically glued to her boobies by sweat, and her panties too, as she toweled them down, though the dampness in the crotch band was slippery. Cuntal dew!

"What a luscious twat you are!" Laura said, as Betsy dropped her undies into the washer.

Laura clapped the lid down and started the machine, then, smiling broadly, threw an arm about Betsy and hugged her.

"I have the cutest neighbor!" Laura cried, and then kissed Betsy full on the mouth.

Surprise left Betsy limp. She and Laura were in contact from mouth to thigh, soft flesh all the way, plump breasts merged into a double cushion, ten belly softness and a tickle of pubic hair. For a split second astonishment held her. Then full realization came and she felt the prickle of hardening nipples, and a slick thigh squeezing her pussy. But above all the kiss, the creamy lips wobbling on her own, the impish bit of tonguetip playing tag with hers.

Then she had to face the truth, that she was not resisting, that the embrace provided a sweet and tender intimacy such as she had not known for years, and that she was returning the kiss, hesitantly perhaps, but yes, mouthing Laura's lips and slipping her tongue in, pursing the other girl's!

At last Laura sighed, and said, "Oh, darling, I'm so glad you dig girls! But first we do have to finish mucking out this pig pen. Get your ass moving!"

With that she gave Betsy's bare behind a slap, pushed away and grabbed up the dishwater powder.

Blushing but smiling broadly, Betsy returned to vacuuming.

Giggling! Yes, chortling inside as she worked the howling machine back and forth over the carpeting. She drove it up to a mirror and gazed at her winning self, at the glistening rivulet of sweat worming down between her breasts, and such plump tits they were, less round than Laura's, more conical, with big caps inclined to puff out as though showing off the a-nipples that tipped them. Pink in repose, the nipples now had more of a blush and were quite erect. She gazed at the tawny fluff of her pussy hair, not as broad a spread as Laura's, but, she thought, I'm really quite hairily twatted. And Laura says I'm luscious, and I'm so glad she thinks that. But more important, all of a sudden I like myself! And I like running a vacuum bare-ass naked! What would Jim say? Of course that's the clue, I'm spiting Jim, whose shirts must be ironed just so, his suits without a wrinkle, who makes me shower before bed so I don't smell like a woman. But I am one, a broad-hipped cunt whose sweaty and smelly and having the time of her life.