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A quick open-palmed push had the gate swinging open with a low creak that practically screamed his presence to the world. Someone obviously hadn’t been keeping on top of the building maintenance.
The alleyway between the two buildings leading to the back garden was inky black all the way to the steps of the back porch, but he could hear commotion up ahead. A sound like water bubbling on the hob.
There was something else too, something softer, almost indistinguishable from the background, but that made his dick instinctively stir to life. He couldn’t believe his luck. Heart hammering excitedly in his chest, he followed the sounds and, edging forward, slowly peered around the edge.
Elizabeth was in her hot tub, her head propped on a rolled towel beside an almost empty wine glass. It was a very deep model, more than half sunken into the porch, yet the steaming, bubbling water came all the way up to her shoulders. Nonetheless, the tops of her breasts were clearly visible as, eyes closed and biting her lip, she arched her back; her left hand fondling her cleavage.
In the soft golden hue of the back-porch light, it was obvious she had forgone a swimsuit.
Hugh greedily drank in the view. He’d been dreaming of this moment, picturing it ever since he first started noticing girls, no, since he’d started to notice women. He’d never been really interested in girls. They were always so prissy and uptight, or always playing games. They didn’t know what they wanted or how to satisfy a man. And while their bodies were fun to play with, they could never compare to the lush, full curves of a mature woman.
Mrs Clarke was the very epitome of a mature, beautiful woman.
His fantasy.
His goddess.
Patrick, that son of a bitch, didn’t deserve her. He’d neglected and abandoned her, so tonight, Hugh would make her his.
He could just hear her panting, soft, wanton moans. They were music to his ears and almost without realising what he was doing, his free hand began fumbling with the button of his far too tight trousers. He could scarcely breathe from the tightness. He had to be set free, to relieve the tension building in his groin…
“Mmm…” she purred, hot and breathy. “Fuck… Yes… give me that cock… oh-my-god… I need it, yes…”
Nearly tearing his trousers open, he grabbed his cock. He couldn’t see her other hand, but he didn’t need to. He could picture her fingering her slick wet pussy, working herself up, first one, then two fingers, her hips rolling and growing more urgent as she got closer. He matched her pace, pumping his cock, the shaft slick with precum, and greedily devoured the sight of her playing with her dusky pink nipple. Twisting and tugging, imitating the very treatment he’d given it just hours earlier.
He answered her low moans by thrusting himself into the tight coil of his fist. Still pent up from their earlier encounter, Hugh knew he wouldn’t last long, and though he’d seen his share of pornography, this was the first time he’d ever watched a woman masturbate in real life. It was the most erotic thing he’d ever seen.
Porn was cheap titillation. Sex manufactured with all the passion and intensity stripped away, like Ikea flat pack furniture.
Once you’d seen one, you’d seen them all.
This was anything but cheap titillation. This was seduction. Hugh would never tire of watching her.
She was a living woman, repressed and denied, A font of pent up sexual tension just starting to bubble to the surface and in desperate need of a good, hard-
“Oh, God… that’s it baby… pound that pussy… oh god… I’m gonna- fuck, I’m cumming, I’m cumming… Hugh!”
Oh shit!
He froze, his fist tight just under the head. The sound of her calling out his name in that ragged breathy voice, triggered a chain reaction that pushed him over the edge.
He came hard, shooting a thick stream of cum that arced into the darkness. Yet his eyes never strayed from the view of Elizabeth as her own climax ripped through her.
The orgasm she’d reached while thinking of him…
Elizabeth had never expected to be doing this. She’d only wanted a soak in the hot tub, but then everything had spiralled out of control.
Her idea had worked.
As she lay soaking in the hot water, all her tension had just seemed to melt away and she was content to do nothing more than let the jets work their magic, carrying her away, back to that sofa in Jennifer’s living room.
Hugh was with her, above her, topless, with his jeans hanging low on his hips.
He was kissing her again, hot and hungry kisses. She could feel his desire for her burning strong and pressing demandingly between her thighs as he rolled his hips.
Sinking deeper into her fantasy, heat that had nothing to do with the hot tub spiralled around her belly. A long sigh passed her lips as her hands mirrored her fantasy. Already stiff, her nipples tingled as her fingers teased around them and sensation rippled down her spine in a rush that had her cupping and squeezing her heavy bosom while her other palm moved down her belly.
“Mmm… Oh yes, you’re such a bad boy…”
