Janet McCoy: The wife next door

She slipped into her bathrobe and went into the kitchen, looking for some sign of him, some expression of his love and attention. Maybe he had left her a note.

Sure enough, there, on a page of her memo pad, was a hastily scribbled note. It read: "Whew! That was a heavy night! I think I'm almost back to my old self. Hope you are too. Harry."

Not even a "Love, Harry". Emma was so disappointed she could have cried. But she was too damned angry to cry. Couldn't he have had a little more sensitivity than that? "Back to my old self"! Good God, that wasn't what she wanted. She wanted his new self. She wanted them to be excited, exciting lovers! She had enjoyed getting drunk with Harry. They had never done anything that carefree before!

The more she thought about it, the more Emma realized Harry had been humoring her the night before. He hadn't really wanted to do any of the things she had suggested. She had had to cajole and bully him into it. Sure, he had had a good climax – but he would just as soon have waited till bedtime and done it their usual way. Sober and quick.

Emma felt frustrated. She wasn't going to be her husband's lackey any more. That was all there was to it. She wasn't sure what she was going to do, but she was going to do something. She went into the bathroom and carefully made up her face. Then she put on a shimmery little low-cut yellow top and a matching, hip-hugging skirt. Now all she had to do was figure out where to go to be seen.

She decided what she needed was a little liquid courage. She went to the bar and poured herself a healthy scotch-on-the-rocks. It burned going down, as always. It fortified her.

Just as she was about to leave, she heard a knock on the front door. Feeling hurried and slightly annoyed, she rushed to open it. Much to her surprise, it was the Harrow's Household Helpers man. She smiled and felt an excited tingle all over.

The answer to a maiden's prayer?

Feeling saucy and flirtatious under the mask of her makeup, she motioned the big man in. "Nice to see you again. You certainly are prompt. I wasn't expecting you until tomorrow."

He smiled at her and gave a flattering once-over. "I didn't think I'd be by today, but luck was with me." He paused. "You look great, Mrs. Tate… er, Emma."

"Thank you, Bob. Won't you sit down while I look for ray purse?" She knew exactly where her purse was, but she was stalling for time. Did she dare commit herself to what she knew she wanted but what all the rules said was wrong?

Bob was staring at her as she pretended to look for her purse. He was stunned in the difference three days had wrought in this woman. She seemed shy and awkward on Monday morning. Now she seemed very outgoing, very sure of herself. Bob was pleased with this new side of his customer. He too had felt the immediate attraction between them the other day.

Now he was beginning to think it might be possible to do something about it. "I hope I'm not keeping you from anything, Emma." She was, rummaging in the coat closet by the front door. "You look like you were going out. You sure are pretty as a picture." He admired the full ripe swell of her ass as she bent into the closet and fumbled in a jumble of shoes and galoshes.

He was struck by her beauty as she stood up and turned to face him. Her tits were only half hidden by her blouse, and his eyes gravitated to them like a duck to water.

"I was going out," she said. "But there's no hurry about it. I just get bored with being in the house all day, day after day. You know what I mean?"

Ah-hah, he thought lecherously. A bored and frustrated housewife. Horny too, undoubtedly.

"Sure… I know. Anyone as beautiful as you, Emma, should never be bored. All you got to do is step out the door in that outfit, and you'll have all the attention you want."

Emma was aware of his eyes on her tits. She thrust them out proudly. "This is silly of me. I'm always hiding my purse somewhere save, so it won't be lying around if a stranger comes m… not you, of course, Bob." She blinked her wide blue eyes at him trustingly. "Now I can't find it. Oh well, I'll think of where I put it. In the meantime, would you like a drink? I know it's just noon, but I won't tell if you don't."

Bob's cock jerked a little in his pants. This was getting more and more promising. "Sure… I'd love a drink. Mine's bourbon."

She served them both, and sat on the opposite end of the couch from him. She turned and leaned against the arm, tucking her legs demurely under her. This way, he had a full view of her breasts. "So tell me about yourself. How did you ever get a job with…" She laughed. "What's the name again?"

"Harrow's Household Helpers. H.H.H. for short. I was between gigs, and they looked like an up-and-coming outfit. I've only been with them a couple of months, and I'm making a boodle."

"I can understand why. You're a very good salesman." What she really meant was he was a very good-looking guy, but she didn't quite have the nerve to say that. Bold as she was feeling, there were still limits set by the "old" Emma.

"Why, thank you, Emma. And may I tell you you're a very good customer."

They both laughed. Both knew what the other was thinking. They were giving each other signals, coded in the harmless talk of customer-sales relations. They had finished their drinks, and both were tingling with the effects, particularly Emma. She had had two. She rose to make them refills.

"Hey, Emma, go easy on that stuff. You'll have me too drunk to finish my rounds today."

She grinned suggestively at him. The drink was releasing her inhibitions. "So… you're already a day ahead of yourself, aren't you? Maybe you can afford some time off… eh?" She sat a little closer to him on the couch this time.

"Maybe I can." He reached out and drew her closer to him. His mouth bore down on hers. His tongue searched deep up inside her mouth.

"Mmmmmm… nice…" Emma sat her drink down and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. From the first touch of his lips, she knew for certain that this was what she wanted – the excitement of a new, unexplored male. One who was hot and ready for her. Her tongue darted out to dance with his. Her pussy flared inside her panties.

When they finally came up for air, he grinned down at her and began to run his hands over her breasts. "You're quite a woman, Emma. I guessed that before, but now that I'm touching you, I know for sure. You respond beautifully."

His remarks hit home. This man appreciated her sensuality. He was turned on, intensely, as strongly as she herself was. She took a quick glance down at the crotch of his trousers. There was a big promising bulge there.

Acting purely on instinct aided by the hot tingle of the alcohol, Emma reached up and untied her blouse. She slipped it off to reveal the full, pink-tipped orbs to his eager gaze. "Feel them now, Bob. I want you to feel them." She looked down. Her nipples were already hard from the soft caresses he had been administering through her blouse. Now they seemed to leap right into his hands as he touched her. Once again his mouth bore down on hers.

While his hands investigated every curve and swell of her tits, their mouths came to know each other's flavor and preferences.

Emma could feel her pussy responding hungrily. It was throbbing with need. The sensation made her groan into his mouth. She was shocked and disappointed when he drew back from her. She looked at his handsome face, at his broad shoulders and taut chest. Her whole being seemed to leap toward him.

She wanted him so much.

"You're beautiful, Emma." His hands held hers, caressing them softly, as though to sooth her. "I want to kiss you some more, Emma. Will you take off the rest of your clothes for me?"

Her eyes gave him all the answer he needed, but her lips added validation. "Yes."