Curt Aldrich - Wild neighborly wife

Carol had just hung up on Hyatt, her husband, when the doorbell rang.

"Just a minute!" she shouted, trying not to sound angry. She was angry, though – not angry at whoever was at the door, but angry at Hyatt.

It was their fifteenth wedding anniversary, and Hyatt had completely forgotten it. Not only that, but he didn't know when he'd get home tonight from the office. He had a lot of work to finish before he could leave, he claimed.

Carol hadn't mentioned to him the candlelight dinner she'd spent all afternoon preparing, nor had she mentioned the black, see through negligee she was wearing, with nothing on underneath, the negligee that had in the early days of their marriage provoked him to jump on her like a randy animal whenever she wore it for him.

Why bother to say anything! He had completely forgotten their wedding anniversary this year – again! – and if she mentioned the fact to him, he would simply have told her that he was sorry, but he had a lot on his mind, and business was business, after all. And if she expected to be able to put dinners on the table in the future, or to buy fancy clothes and furniture, then she must learn not to get upset about his staying late at the office once in a while.

He'd been giving her those same lines for years. He was hopeless! Absolutely hopeless!

As she ran up the stairs to find her robe, the doorbell rang again, and she shouted loudly that she'd be right there. Despite her hurry, she paused a few seconds in front of her bedroom mirror to admire her large, but shapely tits and her slender waistline, which showed seductively through her gauzy negligee.

She'd kept herself in great shape for Hyatt. She surely had. But the man had no appreciation of her efforts to maintain her figure. How could he? In his mania for business and his quest for more and more money, he had let his own body go completely. They already had more money stashed in the bank than they'd ever be able to use, but Hyatt acted as if they were perpetually on the verge of poverty. His work had become everything to him. The only thing that gave him a hard-on anymore was the closing of a successful business deal.

The doorbell rang a third time as Carol ran barefoot down the stairs, tying her robe as she descended. There were a few impatient knocks on the door.

"Coming! Coming!"

As she yanked open the front door, she found Fritz, stepping down off the front porch to leave. When he heard the door open, he turned back.

"I didn't think anybody was home," he said. "I'm collecting again."

"Oh Fritz, I am sorry, but my husband still hasn't arrived home and I still don't have any cash in the house. I wish I'd told you to come back tomorrow instead. I'm so used to credit cards, you know, I hardly know what cash looks like anymore."

The teen's disappointment was evident despite his attempt at a smile. "I guess I'll come back tomorrow, then."

"I really am sorry, dear. I should have run oft to the bank after you stopped in earlier, but I really did expect my husband home sooner than this."

"No big deal," he said. "I just won't have fries with my Whopper tonight."

"You mean you were counting on collecting from me so you could buy your dinner?"

"Sort of."

"Oh, I am sorry – really." She thought for a moment. "Listen, I'm going to make it up to you. I want you to step inside this door right now and have a seat at my table. I won't have a growing teen like you starving just because I can't get my act together. I have a whole dinner prepared in here and going to waste."

The teen didn't argue. He stepped right in. He ate as if he hadn't tasted food for a week, seated at the opposite end of the table from Carol and chomping loudly. Juice from the roast beef trickled down his chin. It had been years since anybody had really appreciated a meal Carol had prepared, and she almost forgot the food on her own plate as she sat there watching him, a pleased smile on her face.

He had a cute handsomeness about him, with his bushy, reddish-brown hair, his brown eyes and freckles. Shorts and a red tanktop fit his body like skin. A few bare toes showed through a hole in one of his sneakers. She knew he was a student at the local high school.

"So, how's school?" Carol said.

"Great, now that it's out for the summer. Great food, Mrs. Johnson."

"Thank you, darling, but do call me Carol. Mrs. makes me feel old."

"You don't look old to me," the teen said. "You look just right."

"Why, thank you, Fritz. You certainly know how to flatter a woman. I'll bet you're quite the lady's man. Do you have a lot of girlfriends?"

"Nah – not yet, anyway."

"No! I don't believe it, a good-looking guy like you! If I were a girl your age, I'd be climbing all over you."

The teen grinned lecherously. "Too bad you're not my age." He mumbled the words as if to himself, but loud enough so Carol could hear them. He stuffed a slice of roast beef in his mouth.

Yes, it is too bad, Carol thought, then forced a wicked idea immediately out of her mind. What was coming over her? He was only a teenaged guy with freckles, and she was a married woman pushing forty. How could she have imagined what had monetarily crossed her mind?

As the meal went on, Carol took only token nibbles at her food, and each time the teen glanced up and caught her looking at him, she flushed with embarrassment and immediately looked away. She couldn't believe she was feeling this way, didn't want to feel this way, but she didn't know how to make herself feel any different. Her imagination was running out of control.

As she worked her naked thighs together under her negligee and robe, itchiness and heat pulsed through her pussy.

She was tying to imagine what the teen's cock looked like. It couldn't be very large, not on a teen so skinny and short. She was sure his cock couldn't be very large, but she was positive it could get hard, very hard, and hot. She imagined his prick sliding between her pussylips, searing her wet fuckmeat.

The teen smiled at her, as if he knew what she was thinking. She looked away, flustered.

She hadn't experienced her first sex until college. Before meeting Hyatt in her senior year of college and pledging herself to him, she had fucked maybe a half dozen college men, no more. She'd seen maybe seven cocks in her entire life, all on mature men.

The teen belched. He licked the grease off his fingers, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "That was great."

"Thank you," Carol said, more amused than annoyed by the teen's table manners. "I enjoyed watching you eat. Now, how would you like an after-dinner drink? A glass of wine, maybe?"

His enthusiasm made her laugh. He was so much more alive than Hyatt. Compared to this teen, Hyatt was a walking dead man.

She took him into the living room and told him to make himself comfortable. When she returned with the wine, he had his legs stretched out along the couch and his shoes off. His hands were clasped behind his head, revealing a few sprigs of hair under his arms.

"Here you are, darling. There's plenty more where that came from, so don't be shy about drinking."

She sat next to him as he drank, her right thigh resting against the bottoms of his bare feet. His Adam's apple bobbed, and almost before he'd begun drinking he was smacking his lips and holding up his glass for more.

"Already?" she said. "My, you are a connoisseur of the spirits!"

"It's good," he said, and he downed his second glass as rapidly as the first.

"Wow!" he said, shaking his head in a wobbly way. "I'm a little dizzy." He held up his glass.

"Sip it more slowly this time," Carol said, tipping the bottle.

He didn't. The wine ran down his throat in three swallows.