The Sexy Neighbor's Dirty Invitation

I'd been coveting my neighbor's wife for what felt like ages. It started as a harmless crush, me imagining what it would be like to have a woman like her. To have those legs wrapped around me, that tight body pressing against mine. But over time, my fantasies grew bolder. I'd catch myself daydreaming about her during dinner parties, her husband none the wiser as I sneaked lecherous glances at his prize.

The neighborhood considered them the epitome of a perfect couple. He was a successful businessman, and she was his gorgeous trophy wife. On the surface, they seemed impervious to the struggles most marriages face. But little did anyone know, their relationship was far from perfect. I learned this the hard way—or rather, the best way.

It started one evening when I heard a loud crash from their house. Peering through the gap in the curtain, I saw her frantically gathering broken pieces of what looked like a porcelain statue. Her husband had left, leaving her alone to deal with the aftermath of his anger. It was then that she noticed me watching. Instead of looking away in embarrassment, she held my gaze, her eyes darting between mine and the shards of broken pottery.

"Come in and help me," she said, her voice thick and tired. Her directness took me aback, but the invitation was irresistible. As I stepped into their home, she closed the distance between us, her eyes drilling into mine. "I need you," she whispered, her breath hot on my neck.

Without another word, she led me to their bedroom, the very place where I'd imagined being with her countless times. She stood before their large wardrobe, her back to me, and undid the zip of her dress, letting it fall to the floor. I was transfixed as she turned to face me, her naked body shining in the soft light. My eyes drank in the sight of her: her full breasts, the swell of her hips, and the trimmed black bush that adorned her sex.

"I've seen you looking at me, day after day," she said, her voice a low purr. "I know you want me. I want you too."

I didn't need any more encouragement. My hands went to her breasts, squeezing and pinching her nipples, which hardened instantly under my touch. She moaned, pressing her curvy body against mine, our lips locking in a wet kiss. My hands explored her body, and every touch met with a shudder and a whimper.

"Make me forget him," she begged, her eyes glazed over with lust. "Make me feel like I'm the only woman in the world."

I swept her up in my arms and laid her on the nearby bed, kissing her deeply as my hands roamed over her skin. Her fingers entwined in my hair, holding me close as I devoured her mouth. The taste of her lips, the scent of her desire—it was all I could've dreamed of and more.

I moved down her body, nuzzling and kissing her neck, her breasts, and her stomach, relishing the goosebumps that formed under my touch. When I reached the apex of her thighs, I paused, taking in the sight of her wet, pink pussy. The sight of which made my mouth water. With a devious smile, she parted her legs wider, inviting me in.

I started with slow, gentle licks, savoring the taste of her. She was sweet and warm, her juices coating my tongue as I delved deeper. Her hips rose off the bed, urging me on, and I obliged, increasing the intensity of my oral assault. Her hands gripped the bed sheets as she rode the waves of pleasure, moaning and panting.

"Oh God, please... don't stop," she begged, her fingers digging into the mattress.

I looked up at her, admiring her body covered in sweat, her breasts heaving, and her eyes rolled back in ecstasy. I stood up and stripped off my clothes, my erection bobbing in front of me. Her eyes locked onto it, and she licked her lips.

"That's for me?" she asked, her voice a hoarse whisper.

I nodded and smiled, unable to speak as she wrapped her lips around me, her tongue playing along the underside of my shaft. She took me deep into her mouth, her hands working in rhythm, and the sensation nearly made me see stars.

"You're so beautiful," I managed to utter, watching her please me.

She released me with a pop and crawled back up the bed, her eyes gleaming with a mixture of lust and something akin to love. She guided me between her thighs and, with a confident smile, said, "Fuck me."

I thrust into her wet warmth, and the feeling was indescribable. She wrapped her legs around me, matching my every stroke with a desperate grind of her hips. Our bodies slapped together as I plowed her, the bed creaking beneath us. Her hands gripped my ass, pulling me deeper into her with each pass.

"Harder," she urged, her breath shortening. "Fuck me like you hate me."

I obliged, increasing the pace and depth of my strokes. She cried out, her fingers digging into my shoulders as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through her. I felt the tightening of her walls around me, signaling her orgasm. Capitalizing on her sensitivity, I kept up the relentless pace, knowing full well the effect it would have on her.

She came again, her screams muffled against my shoulder as she shook beneath me. Riding out her orgasm, I felt my own release building. With one last deep thrust, I unleashed myself inside her, crying out as my vision tunneled in on her captivating gaze.

Afterward, we lay together, our bodies slick with sweat, our breaths mingling. She whispered something about the devil being on her shoulder, urging her to do things she couldn't believe she'd done. But I shushed her, not wanting to hear any explanations or excuses. The reality of what we'd done was enough; words would only spoil the moment.

We lay there in the quiet, enjoying the post-coital calm, until the clock reminded me of the passing time. With a heavy heart and a final kiss, I left her there, knowing our trysts would continue behind the backs of our unsuspecting partners.