Janet McCoy: The wife next door

What would Harry think if he could see me now? she thought. In a way, Emma wished he could see her now. Perhaps it would snap him out of himself and tune him into her. Perhaps he would see she was a living, breathing sex addict with a very strong libido. Maybe he would get turned on, really turned on for the first time in their life together.

But Emma was too far gone to think for long about the source of her current frustration. She began to fantasize about Sam Robbins next door. She had seen the way Sam looked at her. She knew he thought she was a desirable woman. Besides, she knew he had a thing for tall, good-looking women, whoever they might be. She was vaguely aware that Sam and Helen had an agreement between them. That they both made love to other people.

That knowledge made Sam available in her mind. She felt free to fantasize about him. She imagined that Sam was watching her while she rammed her fingers in and out of her craving cunt, while she massaged her tits with her fingertips. She thrust her full lush tits out proudly and stared at the long, swollen nipples.

"Well, what do you think, darling?" she asked her unseen lover. "Do I look sexy enough? Does it turn you on to watch me play with myself… oh, God, it feels good! My belly's on fire! Oh Jee-zuz… Jeezuz!"

Suddenly the warm floods of orgasm were sweeping over her. Her body leapt into the pit of fiery release and bathed itself in the splendid flush of orgasm. She fell back onto the bed and lay groaning, clutching her cunt-mound while it throbbed out the last waves of her orgasm. Then she sat up and looked at herself once again. Her lush body covered in a light film of sweat. Her eyes dreamy and her lips laughing. She felt wonderful! The hot glow of the whiskey still tingled in her belly. She was very pleased with herself, with what she had done for herself.

The ring of the front doorbell invaded the sanctity of her fantasy-world like a gong. Emma leapt to her feet and searched feverishly in her closet for something to wear. She didn't even consider not answering the door. Somehow she needed to appear normal, to assure whoever was there that she had not been up to anything strange.

The intrusion of the outside world had suddenly made Emma feel very unsure of herself.

She was already opening the front door when she remembered her face was covered with makeup. It took a moment before she realized that was not unusual. Millions of women wore make-up. The stranger at the door should see nothing odd in that.

She stared as though frozen at the big man standing on her landing. He was very handsome – just Emma's type. He was over six feet tall and probably well over two hundred pounds. All of it muscle. He wore his blond hair fashionably long, but scrupulously trimmed. His broad handle-bar mustache flattered his large, Germanic face.

He could have been the answer to Emma's fondest fantasy-prayers. It took her a minute, in her confused condition, to realize he was a salesman. He was holding a bottle of lotion in one hand and a sample case in the other. His smile was very open and friendly.

Emma felt weak. She was not in the mood to deal with a salesman. But she was captivated by the compelling magnetism of the man's personality. Though he had spoken not a word, he had gained the woman's full attention.

"Hel… hello." Her voice sounded weak, even to herself.

"Good morning. I hope I'm not interrupting anything." His long, appraising look made Emma doubt herself for a moment. Did something show? Why was he smiling at her like that? She looked down nervously to make sure the sun-dress she had slipped on was not gaping open somewhere it shouldn't be. Everything looked all right in that department.

"Good morning. No… I was just cleaning house, that's all."

"That's wonderful!"

Emma looked skeptical. She could think of nothing wonderful about being a household drudge.

He laughed at the confusion in her face. "What I mean is, cleaning house is just what I wanted to talk to you about. I'm your Harrow's Household Helpers representative in this area, and I have this free gift for you if you will give me a few moments of your time."

He shoved the bottle of lotion into her hand. Before Emma knew what had happened, they were both sitting on the living-room sofa. She knew she had invited him in, but she wasn't really sure how or why she had done it. The big man began to assemble various bottles and jars on the coffee table, while she stared at him dumbfounded.

Wow, he sure has a lot of self-confidence, she thought admiringly. She liked being with a man who was one hundred percent male, and knew it. His bright blue eyes penetrated hers as he looked up from his display.

"First I'd like to tell you about our miracle floor care products." He spent close to half an hour describing the various items manufactured by his company. Before she knew it, Emma had given him a twenty-five dollar order.

"Can always use good cleaning equipment," she rationalized. Deep down, she knew she wanted to see the man again. "What did you say your name was again?" she asked out of the blue.

"Bob Cranach." He smiled. She noticed his teeth were very white and very even. She smiled back. "I should be back with your order in four or five days. When is the best time of day to find you in?"

"Between nine and noon," she answered automatically.

He rose to leave. "Well, I'll see you around Friday then."

"Good. I'll look forward… to trying your products."

"Good-bye, Mrs. Tate."

"Oh… call me Emma. After all, this is a democracy… and we are both about the same age." She felt awkward as she showed him to the door and watched him head down the sidewalk toward his car. She also felt excited. She was looking forward to Friday. It wasn't often she was alone with such an attractive man.

Of course their relationship was perfectly innocent… but still, it was fun.

Monday's solitary games did little to relieve Tuesday's horniness. Emma had scheduled the day for housecleaning, and she was up moving furniture and doing laundry even before Harry left for work.

She was surprised when her husband gave her a particularly attentive good-bye kiss.

"I was hoping you'd come back to bed this morning, Emma. I was in the mood for you."

Emma glared at his back as he went oat to the car. "Why the hell didn't you call me?" she fumed between clenched teeth. "Men! How am I ever supposed to know what's going on in your head, Harry Tate?" She relieved her frustration by taking it out on the walls and cupboards and furniture. She discovered a clogged drain in the bathroom and was dismayed to find she was out of Drano.

Rather than taking time out to go to the store, she decided to go next door to Helen Robbins' and borrow some. She went through the back lane and entered the Robbins' yard from the rear. She saw no sign of life, but thought she could hear voices coming from inside. Helen was apparently not alone.

As Emma moved closer to the house, she began to suspect that a visitor might not be welcome. The sounds coming from inside were those of passion. Helen was entertaining a man. His moans mingled with hers in a lustful symphony that assaulted Emma's senses like an aphrodisiac.

She felt compelled to draw closer, though propriety told her she should turn heel and run. Her breath suspended in her throat, she crept close to the glass doors that led to the living room and peeked through the drapes. What she saw turned her body to jelly and her mind to mush.

"Oh, Ken! That feels so wonderful! Eat my pussy, darling!"

Helen was lying on the living room rug, stark naked, with a naked man kneeling between her thighs. His head was bent low over her cunt, his nose buried against her clitoris. Whatever he was doing to Helen was obviously very pleasurable.